Dead end

The whole idea of living is to get through the day so that one can sleep at night, only to wake up the next day and live through it. That does not sound encouraging. But it depends on how one looks at it. If getting through the day is a chore then life does not seem very encouraging. The activities of the day would seem dreary and at the end of the day, one would hit the bed dreading the dawning of the next day. But if there are activities of interest that sparkle among these chores, then the days and nights seem more welcoming. Of course there are exceptions.  Regardless how one looks at one’s life, some nights seem to last forever as the next day is so exciting that sleep eludes and one keeps tossing and turning in the bed waiting for sleep or dawn to arrive. When the dawn finally arrives, one finds that the sleep of the previous night was not enough and that some of the excitement from the previous night is lost to the lack of sleep. Through half open eyes one looks at life spinning around and wonders when one will be able sleep well. At that moment, one... 

Damn it! It's about time one replaced all these ‘one’ in the previous paragraph with ‘I’. From now I will use ‘I’ instead of ‘one’. If necessary, the one who is reading this piece for God knows why can reread all the above written material replacing all the ‘one’ in the previous paragraph with ‘I’. Note: one of the ‘one’ mentioned in the previous sentences refer to ‘you’ and not ‘I’.

... At that moment, I heard the words from the Pink Floyd song 'Free Four', which goes 'Life is warm short moment, death is a long cold rest'. The second part of that line has made me look at death yearningly. I mean one (this ‘one’ can also be replaced by ‘you’ but I don't want to tell this to you directly and so am using ‘one’ instead of ‘you’. I now think I am taking this ‘one’ business too far and should stop it. One hopes... I mean I hope I stop it now. Damn, there are too many sentences here. I should not have placed it inside bracket but I have already placed the opening brackets and so I have no choice but to close it now. Here it goes.) Oh lord, where was I? Oh yes, the 'long cold rest' from Free Four.

You might think that the cold of the long cold rest might detract me from the resting part. Nope, It does not! I have lived most of my life in Chennai and love the cold rest when the air conditioner is blasting at 16 degrees and I am lying under a thick layer of blanket. If the line in the song went 'death is a long hot sweaty no fan due to a power cut rest' then I would have looked at death with dread. But then this song was written by folks from Britain, which is a cold country where people are buried in the cold earth. So cold rest makes sense from their point of view. But I live in the hot, hot Chennai and belong to a creed of people who cremate people. Cremate is a word used to hide the word burn. So, in my case I am not sure if will be a '...long cold rest'. It probably would be '... long and terribly hot rest'. Damn! I should not have thought about that. Now I don't look forward to death. I must add that people in my creed go through a lot of post death customs involving close relations of the dead dipping a million times in a river to cool down the soul of the dead. But in case, that will not be of much help either. The other day the one who should do all this dipping on my passing away informed me "Listen, don't expect me to do all this shit, ok? Nothing more than burning for you." So, no cooling down for me, no departing for me. I am going to be around haunting my loved ones and unloved ones too. 

Going off on a tangent, I love this song. It's a happily sung miserable song. Such songs in the background make the miserable parts of life hummable. I love the way the group starts off with "One, two, free four". For a long time, I thought they went "One, two, three, four" but no, it is not 'three, four", it is "free four". Cool trick. This song is a part the album called 'Obscured by clouds" and the whole album is brilliant. This album was followed by "Dark side of the moon" and already many elements of the latter album appear in a raw form here.

I find death fascinating. One day you are a person who is giving pleasure and pain to others, the next day you are a body, the day after a memory and soon not even that. But that is all in the mind of others but what about you? What happens to you? Do you exist beyond death? There are many who think so. Some believe in heaven and hell which is a concept that cannot be written off, but it sounds ridiculous. I can’t imagine a world where Amul butter grows on trees, nor one in which one is fried in Amul butter. Reincarnation is not believable at all. I mean I can't remember my previous births and so I have no reason to believe that they exist. Of course, it is possible that this is my first birth and so I can't remember my earlier births. But I know almost no one who remember their earlier birth. There are one or two who think they have some idea of their previous births, but I am not sure if I agree with that side of their mental faculties and so I am ignoring their beliefs So, I don't think reincarnation works. The same goes for ghosts. Never seen one and so won't believe it. The day I start seeing one I have to start checking the functioning of my brain. Soul is a possibility but what the fuck is a soul? It does not seem like anything other than heat and dust. So maybe soul wins! This is a comforting thought. After going through the hardships of life, one ends up becoming heat and dust. No afterlife of any sort, just live, die and become poof. Life is a warm short moment and death, cold or not, is a long rest anyway. 

So I live

Through the hardships

Thrown at me

By life and the people in it

With the hope that one day

Neither they nor I would exist

To give and take hardships

All I have to do is to wait

Wait for that day to come.

The end.

Toilet Tales

People usually don't display eagerness to visit a toilet, much less spending time there. One uses it when one needs to. A dialogue from the movie 'Godfather' describes it best - "You gotta go! You gotta go!" As I write the dialogue, I get the feeling it does not sound the way it is supposed to. That's not surprising! It has to be heard as it is mentioned in the movie, only then does it make sense. But the dialogue become understandable when I expand it, I mean add more words to it. Then it sounds as follows. "If you want to go, you should go". Here go could mean going to the toilet or doing what one has to do in the toilet. But, as I read the expanded version of the dialogue, I see that it does not have the feel that the words had when it was uttered by a character in the movie. It does not have the effect "you gotta go! You gotta go" has. It's probably for that reason that the dialogue appears in the shorter form in the movie. 

I have digressed. As David Coverdale sings 'here I go again on my own..."

I don't like the toilet at school. I don't know why! I just don't like it. I will not delve into this matter for I think it will be a waste. Only when I am stuck in a meeting do I think of the toilet fondly. I make it a matter not to visit it at the beginning of the meeting. That way, I can go the toilet when the discussions in the meeting become dull and repetetive. This actually happens within the first thirty minutes of the meeting but I hold my patience till 75% of the meeting is complete. Of course, the process of taking a loo break from the meeting has to be done carefully; only your near and dear friends should realize that I am actually taking a break from the meeting. The others should feel that I am disappointed to leave the meeting. To achieve this effect, five minutes prior to my planned break, I lean forward to look at the speaker intently. Sometimes, I actually listen to what the person is saying. If the topic of discussion is a serious one, I hold the tip of my pen between my teeth and increase the intensity of my look. Fifteen seconds prior to the planned departure, I sit back, close my eyes and shake my head faintly for ten seconds. Next, I get up from my seat slowly while looking at the speaker keenly. Then, I turn and walk away. Most times, I control my urge to pump my fist in joy.

The toilet is considered an haven from the mundaness of life by many. Almost in every class, at around the half way mark a child would walk up to the teacher and say "bathroom". This child will usually be one of the children who utters this word to every teacher at around the halfway mark of their session. Depending on his/her mood, the teacher would either let him/her go or try to dissuade the child to get back to his/her seat. But at most times, the child is deteremined to take a break and stands his/her ground. At the end of half a minute of stand-off the teacher usually waves ths child off in the direction of the door. The child happily walks away. When he/she returns from the 'bathroom' is dependent on a number of factors, viz., the teacher's temper, the subject, the topic being discussed, the side of bed the child chose to get out of in the morning, the time of sunrise, the probability of an ant finding a cube of sugar in the football field, ... The list is long. If it was to be put on paper, it would be longer than 'The Suitable Boy'. Note: Though I am at a risk of being labelled a sexist, I record here that the child, in most cases, is a boy. I mean, the first child to ask to a 'bathroom' break is usually a boy.

For reason not known to mankind, the word toilet is only used as sign boards in public places. In private places, there exists a taboo against the use of word 'toilet'. No one really uses it, I mean the word and not the toilet itself. Instead, the word 'bathroom' is used. Toilets being a part of the bathroom is a recent occurence and yet, the toilet is referred to as bathroom even when the facility to take a bath is not available in most toilets. For example, a child requesting to go to the 'bathroom' in between the class, has no means to take bath in the 'bathroom' even if he/she wishes to. So why refer it to as 'bathroom'? With the rising popularity of the American culture, the toilet is referred by many to as 'restroom' . I do this and am trying to break out of this habit. I checked the dictionary and the following is the meaning of the word 'restroom'.

1. a room in a public building for people to relax or recover in.
British

2. a toilet in a public building.
North American

Note: For the next few lines, I only write about boys. 

The boys in the school, have taken the definition of 'restroom' a step further by combining the British and American definitions. For them, the definition of 'restroom' reads thus.

a toilet in a school for the students where students are also allowed relax or recover.
School boys

Toilets are places that can and should only be placed at hidden locations. As a result, anyone who is new to a place, has no choice but ask to someone who is familiar with the place "Where's the toilet/bathroom/restroom?". This question is usually a matter of pride for the latter. He/She stands erect and goes on to give the precise directions in detail "Go straight then take the second left, walk 1.32 m before taking a right and then walk through the dark tunnel. You wade through the stream at the end of the tunnel, climb the rock on the other bank. The toilet is on top of that rock". While speaking these words, the person giving the directions moves one of his hands so that the listener can understand clearly the direction refered to when he/she say left or right. These actions are done with such finesse that an observer would be reminded of Brucelee's words "Be like water...". A recent study has found that in 99% of the cases people do not get lost while following the direction to a restroom/toilet/bathroom. Yet, when following directions on the road, the success rate is reduced to a mere 1%. The human brain is a wonderful creature.

"Here I go on again on my own..."

The above paragraph should have made it clear that the toilets are placed in locations that give a lot of privacy to its users. The location is a perfect spot for the children to catch up on each other's lives and the lives of others too. The kind of bonding that happens outside a toilet cannot be acheived by any of the workshops on teamwork conducted by many of the corporate companies. The children bond across ages. They have many incidents and opinions to share and almost every sharing is listened to with rapt attention by all. It would be interesting place a microphone outside the toilet to capture these discussions. The revelations from these recordings could result in the emergence of new pedagogies and which in turn could revolutionize the world of education.

I hope someone, someday will make an award winning documentary titled 'Toilet Tales'.

Bounce

Bouncing back and forth,

Searching for a place to be still,

Searching for some quiet,

At distance from everything else.

But, a push on the butt,

Seizes away any chance to settle.

Sending back to where it all began.

Bounce, bounce

Bounce, bounce

Bounce, bounce

Panting for breath, wondering

"How did this back and forth start?"

But many moments of thought,

Bring no recollections.

Probably was always bouncing,

From the moment of birth.

Wait!

Wait!

Wait!

A memory strikes.

Up, down

Up, down

Up, down

"Oh yes! There was that time,

Far worse than now."

Though every up was better than the down,

Wounds of the previous down remained,

Anxeity of the next down surfaced.

Thus, the joy of the up not felt

"Oh! I prefer the back and forth 

To the up and down.

Here, only movement exists.

No time for thought.

There, only thought exists.

Movement's always better than thought.

So, let me stop the search, 

For quiet, peace, aloneness.

Let me go back and then forth

Back

Forth

Back

Forth

Back

Fourth

Fifth

Sixth

Seventh

Eighth

Nineth

Tenth...

Still I'm sad...

From the deepest corners of my mind rises dark thoughts that have nowhere to go. They swim around in circles in my head. Everyplace they go, they leave a mark, a scar that never heals. I attempt to channelize the thoughts towards the outside. I try to free myself from them. But every time they slip out of my control. They refuse to leave the comforts of flesh and fat. Soon the scars spread all across my mind. I am unable to differentiate happiness from sadness. Ideally, tears should flow from my eyes. But I am unable to cry. Sadness only approaches me when I am alone, when I lie on my bed waiting for sleep to reach me. When I am with people I turn into happiest person on the planet. But every time I feel happy, I realize that I am not actually happy and this increases my misery.  I am vying for the crown of being the saddest person on the planet and yet I realise I am nowhere close to being the saddest. There's too much misery on this planet for me to claim the title of being the saddest. A feeling of frustration rises within me. How could anyone bear more sadness than me? I realise that I am being selfish. I have the inherent need to be happy but everyone else too has this need. Many a times, these individual needs clash with each other and unhappiness results; not just for one person but for all the persons involved. As one ages, the load of unhappiness and the resulting scars become unbearable. One's own view of life seems straightforward. So, one starts to wonder why other's cannot see the same. This brings in a new set of unhappiness. The world seems to be stuck in this cycle of misery.

I started writing this two or three days back. Yesterday I came across a news article on the suicide of someone named Stephen tWitch Boss. The article has a quote on Stephen from his wife. She said "Stephen lit up every room he stepped into. He valued family, friends and community above all else and leading with love and light was everything to him. He was the backbone of our family, the best husband and father, and an inspiration to his fans." I saw a few videos in which he can be seen dancing with his wife and kids. He seemed to be a nice person, a happy person. When I see him dancing I think that the guy would be considered by many as a 'cool guy'. Yet, on Dec 13/14, he decided to put a bullet in his head. I don't believe people would want to kill themselves due to excessive happiness. It is misery and sadness that drives them to that. What was Stephen's misery? If depression is the cause of suicide then are we living in a world where everyone's depressed? I can't believe that.

This is what I feel is happening. Life has become increasing complicated with time. We have a lot of expectations within us, most of which we can't achieve and if achieves not done so with satisfaction. So we feel unhappy. In earlier times, life was a struggle and so we did not have time to sit and think. We had to toil to live. So we did not have time for expectations and disappointments. But today we have time to think as our everyday life is not hard. So we feel miserable and when the misery gets too much to handle and we get an opportunity to kill ourself, we just do it. Is this depression? I don't know. Actually, it depends. I have written lot of unhappy things here. Now, if I go and jump off the balcony then people reading this would probably say I am depressed. Instead, if I continue to write many such useless write-ups and die at the age of 97, then I am just bull-shitting. 

I have no idea what I am writing. So I will stop. I will publish this shit but I am not sending it to anyone. This shall remain here for people to analyse, if I decide to jump off my balcony.

Invincible

1:11 AM to 1:52 AM

I swear

I swore

For I wear

A tear

In my gear

Which I fear

Is not clear

To the dear 

NOTE: The word dear is a compromise. I got tired of rhyming and decided to throw the dear into the worse (aka. verse). It would be interesting to note that I decided to write these words after I the second usage of a popular curse word below.  

So if you don't care for swear, 

I advise you to not proceed to the vice words below.

I find it difficult to maintain sanity and yet I am forced to act sane and yet people around me find a great deal of insanity in my sanity and yet they have no choice but to accept that I am sane. The fact that I am wide awake and writing these lines at 1:11 AM just four and a half hours away from my usual wake up time seems to be a sign of insanity and yet I believe that it is the world that is insane and my wakefulness is proof enough of my not being insane enough to fit into this insane world. But no one notices. They don't even have a faint idea of what a misfit I am. Everyplace I have been I seem like a perfect fit. It seems that there is no better place for me but its not true. No way! I don't fit here, there or anywhere and hence I find it easy to be anywhere. Can you see the logic? I don't fit in anywhere and so I can fit in anywhere. Everyplace is as good as the other. Of course, I utter such words only when I observe the half full part of the glass. But there are times when I see the half empty part of glass and I scream within my head "What the fuck am I doing here!" Pardon my language but that is what I scream. I wish I did not use that word and used "hell" instead. But I will not be true to my feelings if I used "hell" instead of the word I use. But I being where I am should not use that word. I feel terrible! Sorry, I was lying. I don't feel terrible. I am happy I uttered the word. It seems to have released some of the tension in my head. But not enough for me go back to bed. That's right, go back. I was tossing and turning in my bed when I suddenly decided that I cannot do this anymore. I had to get up and continue writing my latest travelogue. I wrote a few good words when I realized that I should be insane to be writing a travelogue at 1:12 am. I am sitting on a chair with the laptop on my dining table. Above my head an ellipsoid lamp is trying its best to light my room. But like me it is a misfit too. The bulb does not have enough Wattage to brighten the place. Suddenly I feel empathy for Lal Bahadur Shastri. Damn! That sentence was tough. I am not going to explain why I said that. That would be too convoluted and I have decided to only be convoluted tonight. No fucking too convolutedness tonight. Ooops! I did it again (not related to the song by Britney Spears). 

Four hours and ten minutes of sleep time left. That is only if I sleep now. 

I am not sleeping yet, which means I have less than four hours and ten minutes of sleep time left. Also, I am hungry. I did not have much of a dinner last night but that is not good enough a reason to feel hungry. I know there is food sitting in the refrigerator but I am not ready to mess my hands by touching food. Maybe I will drink some water and hopefully then I will be allowed to sleep for three hours and fifty two minutes. 

Before I go, I have to say why I started writing the above words. As I lay on my bed in desperate search of sleep the following words formed in my head "A head that is Messi will only create a world that is Ronaldo!" 

I can hear a bird crying "ko kooo" at some distance. It has been doing that for the past thirty minutes. 

It is not a pleasant "ko kooo" but a series of desperate "ko koooos" that start low prior to reaching the higher pitches and then going back to the lows. Another misfit in the vicinity in search of sleep that continues to elude.

Self-censor

I try and avoid vulgarity or use swear words in these write-ups. I am not sure how I came up with this pre-condition but I have held this to a great extent I can. However, a few time frustration got the better of me and I have used words and written thoughts I should not have had. The one given below is an example, of such a thought. I have removed it from the original article and have saved it for posterity here. 

"the meaning of everyone's life always begins inside two undergarments. In some cases, I wish some had continued to stay in one of those warm and moist places. It wouldn't have been very different from the tropical conditions they live in now"

Mind you, I am not a goody two shoes and all. Put me inside a car in city traffic and you will be amazed at the colourfulness of my language, in multiple languages too. Only yesterday, I enjoyed watching the movie '8 mile'. If someone decided to make a clean version of the movie, they would have ended up with a silent movie.

Let me end, by expressing my appreciation for the best bad movie I have seen till date (and I have seen quite a few, and in my opinion Govinda's 'Hero no: 1' is not a bad movie). The hero of the movie Bolo Yeung is also the director of the movie. Though I did not realize it when I watched the movie, he is the actor who fights against Van Damme in the climax of 'Bloodsport'. Bolo is ridiculous beyond words. The second half of the movie has large gaps in it. I could not stop watching the movie and only took a pause when some of my family members came back home. There is a small sequence during the climax fight, which is amazing.  Must watch, if you have the spherical objects used during playing games!

Me head's gone to dogs

I observed the passing of time by watching the second hand of my watch move second by second to a minute and then starting all over again. In the background words were being spoken. A few enter my brain through my ears while most reflect away and float around aimlessly. I preferred observing the passing of time than understanding the words uttered by the learned ones, who are learned enough to utter words on immense intelligence. I have come to a phase of my life where intelligence is of little use for me. I prefer the pointlessness of a string of words over profoundness. For example, Facebook threw the following at me yesterday.

How does spider man think of such witty comebacks?

Because with great power comes great response ability

Or for that matter, the following.

Me: Someone we know is possessed by an owl

Friend: Who?

Me: [narrows eyes]

And sometimes something like this.

Today a clown opened a door for me. I thought "Nice jester."

And during desperate times, the following.

What is Neil Armstrong's name in Tamil?

Nila Armstong, obviously.

As silly as the above statements sound, they have an inherent intelligence embedded within. Also, they are not profound enough to make one feel queasy. But for some reason, I find myself surrounded by people spouting statements filled to the brim with profoundness. For years there have been people around me uttering profoundness and I have desperately tried to understand them. But no! In some ways, they are important for evolution and they are in our midst showing kindness to the illiterate by revealing the meaning of life and all other nonsense embedded in it.

At times, I have tried to raise my own thoughts to the profound levels. Regardless of the words I used I found that thoughts remained mundane and ordinary. For a few years, I cheated myself into believing that my thoughts suffered due to my limited vocabulary. A few months back I realized that the problem was not with my vocabulary. My mind refused to move out of the mundane and the lower than mundane levels. Once I saw a dog excreting by the side of a road and I remembered reading an article a few years back, in the BBC, that dogs positioned themselves in the north-south direction when they attempted to defecate. But this dog was not positioned in the north-south direction. I started observing other dogs as they when through the defecation process. None of them were positioned in the north-south direction. As a result, an important question rose in my mind "Who is at fault? Did the publisher of the article pick too small a sample size? Or have the dogs in our country not been taught about defecating by positioning themselves in the north-south direction. As I think about it, I think the latter could be the reason. The dogs in our country too are stuck in the issue of illiteracy. Poor dogs".

You see the problem! My thoughts are stuck at the rear end of a dog. If you notice, the problem is not with vocabulary. I used the word 'defecate' instead of putting it plainly as 'shit'. So the problem is not with the vocabulary. It's the thought! How do I raise myself to profoundness? I am as close to profoundness as humans are to finding extra-terrestrial beings. The only silver lining in this cloud is that people have started mistaking my attempts at profoundness as humour. Every time I utter something profound they find me humorous or sarcastic and laugh their hearts out. They praise my "humour sense" and at times pat my back too. It's a good way to hide my humiliation but I try to hide my pride.

... skip - skip - skip - skip. One hour and 12 minutes since we started. Another God knows how many minutes for this session to end.

A charmer, on whose forehead I see the words profound written in 73 languages has started reading. I can't read all the 73 languages but the few language I can read have made me understand it is all profound and so the remaining 69 language should be referring to profound too. I sigh and look at him with envy. They are six or seven characters around who know everything about everything on this planet. They probably know what my thought was when I was twelve years, three months, two days, seven hour, fourteen minutes and sixteen seconds old. Not that they would be interested to know! The trick is not to let them look straight into your eyes. I usually look at the leaf of a tree that sways behind their head when I talk to them or they talk to me.

... skip - skip - skip - skip...

The issue was deeper than I thought. I was not just disinterested in the conversation but have started imagining that they were conversing on a topic interests me. They seemed to be talking about dogs! Not defecating dogs; even my imagination refuses to bring down their esteem to such depths.

DISCLAIMER: If the reader, if any, believes that I am a dog lover from my constant reference to dogs, I want to make it clear that I am not a dog lover. I don't hate dogs but I am not the type who hugs dogs and bring them home as pets. I remember having a dog at home when I was seven. I did not bring the dog home, my uncle did. I don't think any of the people at home, including the uncle who brought the dog home, were dog lovers either for they named the dog loda loda. It comes from the phrase "yenda loda lodannu satham podre?" ("Why are making the loda loda sound?"). But our roads are filled with dogs and one cannot help notice them and think about them.

To my ears. it seemed that the profound ones were discussing the cause for dogs chasing vehicles. Ehhh! May be not for my ears for ears don't think or understand or reach a conclusion. So it was probably my mind and not my ears. I think the conversation went thus.
"Why do dogs bark at vehicles and chase them?"
"By vehicles do you mean cars or buses or lorries?"
"Mostly cars, but at times vans and a few times buses too."
"OK! It's good to be specific."
"That's true! One has to be specific and not vague."
"Agreed! So do you mean cars or buses or vans or lorries."
"Let us consider cars first."
"Two wheelers too."
"Yes, yes! Two wheelers too. But let us limit our discussion to cars."
"It's dangerous for the rider of a two wheeler than the driver of a car."
"True, true! But let us limit our discussion to cars."
"Eh! What are we discussing?"
"We are trying to discern the reason for dogs barking and chasing cars."
"Which cars?"
"What do you mean 'which cars'?
"Do you mean small cars or mid-sized cars or luxury cars?"
"How is that important? I was only thinking cars."
"No. We cannot generalize. It is better to first look at the specifics before we move to generalization."
"I agree! The specifics might throw up details that we might miss otherwise."
"I have noticed that the dogs tend to focus on the car and not the driver. It does not understand that the driver is controlling the car."
"Hold on! Let us not jump the gun. Let us first decide the area of focus."
"True! We might end up missing the details."
"It is also true that the dogs are not very consistent. Some days they do not bark at a car but on other days they do."
"You mean they do not bark at the same car they had barked earlier."
"Yes! That queer."
"Wait, wait, wait, ..."
"Maybe dogs are moody."
"But hold on ..."
"Cats are moody and not dogs."
"Cats! Cats don't bark!"
"Of course not! Cat meow!"
"Is meow an accepted word in English?"
"Yes it is. Like caw-caw!"
"Caw-caw is not English."
"Wait a minute! Hold on! We are discussing about dogs chasing cars."
"Did we decide on which car? You see we might miss important insights if we do not discuss the specificity of the issue. We should not try to generalize too quickly."

The discussion had turned a corner and come back to where it started. I was hearing Elton John's "Circle of Life" and started to hum the tune. My neighbour stared at me. I asked her the reason for the stare by pulling up one of my eyebrows. She whispered "Your humming is too loud". I was shocked and asked "What! Are you following the discussion?" "Of course I am and you are distracting me. This is an important issue. So you should listen to." I did not consider dogs chasing cars to be an important discussion point but I could not tell her so for I was not sure if they were discussing about dogs and cars. Actually, I had no idea about the topic under discussion. I was stuck in a parallel universe that was truly ridiculous unlike this seriously ridiculous universe. I covered up with a "Hmmm! Aaaaah!" and looked at my watch. It screamed at me "Its five minutes since tea time." I shook my head at the watch. Obviously, it came from the other universe and had no idea about the profound thoughts being discussed. I whispered quite firmly to my watch "You better watch your attitude, watch. Tea is nothing but a hot drink but this conversation is important. They are not talking about dogs chasing cars. The implications of this discussion are important and it is imperative you do not disturb me. It is time you placed your impatience under watch, watch."

Tea time went by and lunch time was not in the distant future and yet the discussion has not come to an end. As a matter of fact the points under consideration were so profound that they have not even started discussing them. I look around the room and see 7.35 people sitting with their hands up in the air in an attempt to put forward their profound thoughts. I looked at the seriousness on their faces and felt the heat of their eagerness. I realized the topic under discussion was important and attempted to listen.
"What if the dog goes too close to the car?"
"Which car are you talking about? Small, midsize, large or luxury?"

I gave up! My mind, that is if I possess one, had gone to dogs and can never achieve anything profound. I looked at my watch and started discussing about the best tea shops in the country with it .

Across worlds

I am not sure where I am. Everything around seems familiar and yet I am unable to identify my location. I think I know what is happening but I am not sure. As is usually the case, I have very little control of the events taking place but somehow it seems the events are beyond my control. Just the previous day, my spectacles frame decided to break without any warning. One of the screws decided to disappear without trace and I ended with two pieces of the frame and a missing screw. The situation landed in my life out of nowhere and I looked up at the residence of Gods and poured out my feelings as abuses. But I could find a resolution for the situation quickly. But this is different  for I am unable to resolve anything and somehow my life seems to be in a spiral. Suddenly I am surrounded by darkness and the I hear the sound of the rain outside. I realize that I was dreaming; a dream that I no longer remember but something that was not pleasant and yet not unpleasant. 

I realized at that moment, that during the dream I was awake in another world and as soon as I woke up I came back to the real world. I did not hear the rainfall in my dream. I woke up suddenly and almost instantly I heard it. It was disorienting and shocking.

It is better for me to be me!

I wish I cared about things. I do care but unfortunately not consistently and definitely not long enough. By things, I don't mean people, I mean things. Damn! This morning my ability to say anything with clarity seems to be marred by the usage of the word things. Let me try once again - By things, I mean issues. By issues, I mean

"Save the World"

"Vote for the Walruses"

"Stop obliteration of our Ozone"

"Don't mar Mars with human exploitation"

"Treat Trees tremendously"

"Antarctica is for Penguins"

"My language is the mega language among all languages"

"Don't impose your language on my beautiful language"

"For creatures walking on four legs"

"To eat a fin is a sin"

"Let us not choke the world in smoke"

"Cows can camp in the centre of any road"
"Let's wow the whales"

So many movements! Millions passionate souls display their uncontrollable passion in these movements. Yet none of them interest me. I look at them with disinterested half closed eyes, make a sound that sounds like "Gnaaah" and move on. I am very disturbed that I am not interested in any of these. What disappoints me is that I am not even interested in declaring myself to be a staunch supporter of any of these issue even if I don't care about it.

For example, why can't I declare that I am a staunch supporter of secularism. I could throw some acidic statements at people who claim that something written in 20000 BC in India talked about Black holes and the General Theory of Relativity. That would be fun. But I am not even intelligent enough to hate our current Prime minister and his party. While I am surrounded by people who have no hesitation in shouting out from either sides of a microphone about the unfairness meted out by Indians (which probably includes them) on Kashmir and its people, I listen to them with disinterest. Sadly, I don't fit into the other end of the spectrum either. I am not a staunch right wing religious fanatic either. Actually, I am not even religious. I almost follow nothing that any religion recommends. I have no qualms about doing things that the religions prohibit. I make promises to God but do not keep them and when it seems that the respective God is punishing me for not having kept my promise, I look towards the sky and throw abuses at him/her. That said, I am not an atheist or satanist either. I don't go around the world announcing "God is phony". I actually love visiting temples - not all them but certain temples. So I don't fit there either.

Thus I feel I am a misfit in this society. Anytime I find myself stuck in the company of people who are passionate about some cause or the other I look at them in wonder and say "Why can't I be like him or her!" But as the discussion proceeds I invariably end up feeling "Why can't they be like me!"

Many years ago, I was having a dining table discussion with a person whom I considered a friend for three months. He thought he was expounding the value of vegetarianism. In reality he was busy abusing non-vegetarianism by talking for many minutes about the cruelty of being a non-vegetarian. I had no intention of becoming a vegetarian for I loved meat. I also loathed the saintliness projected by some of the vegetarians. This temporary friend was one of finest specimen belonging to this category. I humoured him for sometime by letting him recount the goodness of being a vegetarian before letting him know "I do not kill animals and I only eat animals that are dead. I give meaning for their death for they would continue to live through me". As stupid as that argument sounds, it was sufficient to quieten his vegetarian frenzy.

With the advent of vegans, vegetarians got a taste of how non-vegetarians felt when they preached about the cruelty of being a non-vegetarian. The vegans made the world believe that milking the cow is as cruel as killing it for through milking you are affecting the cow and its calf too. So consuming curd or paneer is as cruel as consuming meat. Ha ha ha!

Even now I feel amused when I remember that fellow who tried to convert me to a vegan! Ironically, he did not last being a vegan himself for much longer for within a few months he degraded his status by mixing ladles of curd with rice.

All this took place prior to 2014 when the party ruling the country decided to save the cows for they considered the cows to be more sacred than Gods themselves. At many places consuming meat in public was considered suicidal. It went to the extent that one had to be careful not to lick one's lips while uttering the word cow. Thus the life of the beef-lover became miserable. I was thrilled for I only had to consume beef to feel like a revolutionary. For the first time in my life I had an opportunity to be an anti-establishment person. All I had to do was walk into a thattukada and order "porottayum beef fryum" and imagine being surrounded by millions waving red flags while bellowing "inquilab zindabad". Che Guevara and Karl Marx showered flowers on me from their respective heavens.

The world is a funny place. In a matter of decades, vegetarianism and veganism has moved from being benevolent to being oppressive. Many are now trying to convince the world that beef eating represents the culture of real India for the tribes have always consumed beef. We are told that they have been oppressed by the powerful vegetarians. You cannot wave the flag of vegetarianism proudly and you better not preach its benefits to all and sundry for you will then be considered an oppressor. As Bob Dylan has prophesied in 1964.

For the loser now

Will be later to win

For the times they are a-changin'

Such is the whimsical nature of the world as far as passions and their related movements are concerned. So how can I even act passionate about an issue I don't really care when I would be considered an idiot for having supported a trivial or harmful issue within a few years? Should I not be thankful for being a cynic and look at the noise makers with benign tolerance as they scream throats out believing they are saving the world?

Pat,pat,pat....
Tchh, tchhh, tchhh,...

This isn't ridiculous!

As is usually the case, I slid to the status screen of WhatsApp. I saw two messages from a stranger who had crossed my path at a miserable phase of my life. It seemed I did not wish to remember them and so I have forgotten about them. But the contacts application in my mobile phone has a mind of its own and so continues to remember them. Status message containing sayings and quotes are usually puke worthy but I like to test the strength of my mind and stomach by reading each of them. I am glad to observe that even the worst of these messages have not affected my insides. So I continue to read them and end up with the feeling of a finger poking down my throat. 

These messages were different. They were like a pendulum that swayed from puke worthy to ridiculous through profoundness. I have not been able to decipher the category to which they belong but record it here to ensure they are not lost in the eternity of time.

A racoon crooning in at a coroner's office sounds cryptic for a circumspect mind - Dr. Tacor Oner

If ducks could run, they would have run and that would have been unfortunate for the ducks. You know what I mean - Anonymous

I love watching T R Ramachandran movies. In one of the movies, he finds a baby in the back seat of his car and says "Adada baby!" in the most endearing manner. His ability to appear foolish on screen has not been surpassed by any. Recently, I saw his 1941 movie "Sabapathy". He was brilliantly funny in the movie. His essay about a train journey, written in Tamil, left me in splits. Ironically, the funniest episode of the movie was the result of a literal translation in the subtitle. This occurred when one of the characters mentions

"siru villayattu Pillainu ninaikatheppa"

Promptly the following subtitle appeared underneath.

"don't think I am a small playboy"

Stormbringer

They convinced him that the view from the thirteenth floor would be spectacular. They coaxed him to pay extra for the sea view. They were not lying for a line of blue was visible close to the horizon and on a clear day the thought the sea existing at a visible distance brought peace to his mind, which loved to be in turmoil at most times. The view, as they had said, was spectacular but not on this day. This day the sea was in turmoil and it exchanged angry words with the air above. They whooshed and swooshed at each other and wooooo of their exchange sounded eerie. The thirteenth floor seemed lonely and naked. At some point, the wind, as is usually the case, got emotional and started weeping. Anger merged with sadness resulting in tears. A blanket of wetness covered the earth. As droplets of water settled on the glass door, his view was obstructed. He opened the door and walked outside. He let the door remain open. The ever curious droplets entered the house and started running everywhere touching everything on its way. 

He stared at the wildly swinging trees below. They seemed to hypnotize him for he too started rocking back and forth to the beat of the swinging trees. His mind started wandering and he felt a slight breeze blowing at the back of his mind. He heard Perfect Circle's "Freedom of choice" in his mind.

Freedom of choice

Is what you got

Freedom of choice!

He preferred Perfect Circle's version of the song than the version by FuManchu or the original by Devo. The pleasantness of Maynard Keenan's voice did not hide the pain, anger and sadness. He wanted to go back and listen to the song but the swinging trees captivated him. He could not move and so he did not move. The breeze inside his head strengthened steadily. The song had not sneaked into his head out of nowhere. The seeds of the song were planted during the annoying two hour long meeting at his work. A circle of people talked about "Freedom". He did not take part in the discussion - neither did he talk nor did he listen. He heard voices and words but he did not have faith in most of them as he believed his colleagues had more regard for words and diction than their inherent meanings and actions. To make matters worse, they were discussing about the abstract and non-existent concept called freedom. He had struggled with the concept of freedom for many years. The many combination of beautiful words and sentences by men and women of greatness did not mean much to him. He could not determine freedom's meaning in the absolute sense and hence had thought it pointless to think about it. But the discussion that day brought it back to the fore.

The slight breeze in his mind had strengthened. He could not ignore it anymore. The winds were threatening to rake up a storm, inside and outside. The winds were now strong enough to push him away. He held onto the railing to maintain his balance. His eye hurt due to the impact of the droplets. He closed his eyes and listened to the strength of the wind and water. It cried and howled. Maybe it was trying to tell him something but his mind was busy minding the storm building inside. In the background, he realized that the song hand changed inside his head. John Garcia was chanting "Freedom Run" in an infinite loop. He let the chant continue and his mind latched on to the word "freedom". Words started flowing in. No! That's not right. Words started rushing in; if his mind was not preoccupied he would have been reminded of the song "Rosetta stoned".

Freedom is nothing but a word that like many other words have different meanings for different people at different times. All organisms on this planet is dependent on each other and on the planet itself and thus it is ridiculous to think of physical freedom. Pressure and gravity are the greatest enemies of physical freedom. Unfortunately, our existence depends on these two entities and so we have no choice but to accept our physical bondage. Freedom of the intellect is more complicated. Humans really do not understand what constitutes intellect and thus it is ridiculous to talk about it and its freedom. Ironically, freedom can only exist within the four walls of the intellect. We can think what we want without worrying about right and wrong, good and bad, beautiful and ugly, black and white and similar opposites. I have the freedom to think what I want. In theory, no one has the power to stop me from thinking about anything. But reality is never so straight. Humans quickly realized the danger posed by the freedom of intellect for they guessed, rightly, that freedom of action would follow and this would result in people doing what they want. To counter this possibility humans created organizations - kingdoms, castes, professions, religions and educational institutions. These organizations are all based on control of thought. We are made to believe that there are good thoughts and actions and bad thoughts and actions. The organizations help us to move away from bad thoughts and actions and in the process make us good. We end up believing that it is a sin to even let certain thoughts enter our heads. We end up controlling our own thoughts and force us to restrict our own freedom.

The winds had pushed him away from the railing. He carefully walked back to the door. He entered the apartment and closed the door. Everything in the room was wet. He looked out and through the wet glass noticed the fallen trees. The winds carried leaves and other debris everywhere. The peace and calmness of the land was lost. The storm continued to rage and it seemed it would never end. The glass on the doors shook vehemently. They seemed to screaming "We can't take this anymore. We will give in for sure. We cannot take care of you any longer". He did not hear the scream. Unlike the storm outside, the storm in his brain had subsided. It had scattered debris across his mind. Old and hidden wounds lay exposed. The storms made his head hurt. He sat on the wet sofa and let the cold and wet seep in through his cold and wet clothes.  He held his aching head in this palms and thought.

When a storm passes through a town it is left in shambles. A brainstorm has a similar effect on our mind.

Dream on

Dreams can be pleasant or not. The latter, referred to as nightmares, usually refer to frightening experiences. But I have experienced a number of unpleasant dreams that cannot be categorized as frightening. Funnily, I have never thought of pinching myself to check if I am living through a dream. I drudge through these dreams hoping that its only a dream. These dreams take me from one embarrassing experience to another and many I end up going  through an extremely boring and irrelevant process that never ends. I am usually desperate for it to end and for me to escape the situation but it never ends. Allow me to explain through an example.

I was standing at a counter. It was probably a ticket counter. It did not seem like a counter in an airport. It seemed more like a bank with a piece of glass, like the ones seen in the teller counters, separating me from the lady behind the counter. I seem to be waiting for her to do something. She is looking down at something and not at me. At that moment, I felt an urgent urge to urinate. When I say “felt” I do not mean a normal feeling. I mean the I-have-to-do-it-now kind of feeling. So I decided to act on the feeling. One has to remember that the I of the “I decided” is not me; it is “the I” in my dreams who never listens to me. At that moment, I was actually saying “What! What! What! ...” but the dreamy I did not listen. So I urinated right there; on the board below the glass.  I felt relieved. I looked up and found the lady continuing to stare at something below the counter. I continued to wait for a few minutes. I did not say anything to the lady behind the counter and she did not bother to look at me. I waited patiently. 

To my utter shock, within a few minutes I felt like urinating again. By now it my next step should be obvious.  I urinated once again right under the counter. Once again I felt relieved. But my relief soon turned to horror when I noticed the disgusted expression on the face of the lady behind the counter. I realized that she was looking at a monitor on her side of the counter. An uneasy suspicion crept into my head. I started feeling, with my hands, under the glass on my side of the counter. I felt a small ring with something smooth inside. It felt like glass. I realized it was the lens of a camera. The camera underneath the counter was focused exactly at the spot I had used to urinate. I looked up and realized that the disgust on her face had increased. She did not look at me but started typing something. I was sure she was informing the police (not the security) about my behaviour. I knew I was in trouble and had to leave immediately. But I could not do so because I had to complete the record I was writing. The counter had disappeared and I was sitting on the floor and filling up the pages of a science record. I wanted to get up and leave but I could not do so till I finished writing. I continued writing thinking "I have to leave now." I woke up!

Why on earth would I have such a dream! As gross as I am, I now understand that my brain has the ability to reach grosser depths. Thankfully, it has not done so in my waking life. I am amazed at my brain’s ability to seamlessly change the scenario as the dream continues. I mean the thread of the dream remains the same but the scene and situation changes. I recount a snippet from another of my dreams to elucidate this point.

A woman and her mother are walking with two men. The mother is walking with the woman’s lover. It starts raining and the lover opens an umbrella. The mother asks the love to walk under the umbrella with her daughter. he agrees and walks towards her. Instantly, the scene shifts to the insides of the car and the mother and her daughter's lover are sitting in the front seat of the car talking. The funny thing is that the mother has now become the lover of the lover and the daughter is forgotten. It continues to rain outside. I woke up. I tried to go back to the dream but as is usually the case, the dream had ended and another dream commenced.

Many years ago, I dreamt that I was sleeping in my then home. It was the ground floor of an apartment close to the sea. As I slept in my sleep I felt that the water flow into the bedroom. Soon I woke up and was shocked to find that the water level was rising. I felt panic grow within me. The next moment, I found myself on the terrace of a tall building. It seemed like a lighthouse but I thought that it was the LIC building, which during my growing days was considered the tallest building in Madras. The city was swamped in water and the sea was pouring more water into the sea. It was a terrifying and yet fantastic sight and I was living through it.

As weird as the dreams are, I love the feeling of relief that flows through me when I realize that it was only a dream.

Democrazy works

The first of the days that the country has been waiting since 2014 has arrived. In the red corner, the supporters of the current Government have been thumping their chest while shouting out a song, which I believe contains the line "we shall overcome in 2019 again". And in the blue corner, the haters have been screaming for the Government's and its leader's blood from the minute they formed the Government. They too have a song, which only has the line "We will, we will rock you in 2019". In the middle, a few sit with their heads in their hands singing a song that contains the line "between the devil and the deep blue sea" while wailing intermittently. Except the third category, which in any case is a minority, the other two have been waiting from 2014 for the 2019 general elections with bated breath. Thus the days preceding voting have been filled with speculation and conjecturing. Political analysts were taking birth in every corner of the land. 

The prevalent mood in the country suggests a change in the Government. The current Government expended a lot of energy in making noise and being jingoistic. Many of their actions were not free of controversy, which should not come as a shock as the people involved are politicians. But the issue, in this case, is that the leaders of the Government acted like Mahatmas and Saints and hence became dubious figure when their own activities seem doubtful. During the past few years, I have realized that the human mind has little tolerance for hypocrisy. So politicians and people, in general, should not talk about doing good and being principled if they can't live up to it. It is much better to be seen as a weak person than a hypocrite. Thus the hypocrisies of the Government seems to have caught up to them. But they could still shrug it off and come back to form the Government as the opposition is in a pathetic state. I don't think there are too many people in the country who believe that the opposition better than the current Government. They have proved their worth earlier and I am sure they will put us through a lot of nonsense if and when they come back.

The only saving grace is that Donald Trump was elected and continues to be the President of United States of America. Shit happens anywhere anytime somehow.

I would be lying if I said I do not support the ruling party. I always have. Not because I support their ideology or am interested in seeing a temple built at the various sacred spots across the country but simply because the leaders in the party come from different walks of life. I think we have no choice but to make this Government work. The media and many intellectuals have used every weapons available inside their head to attack the Government. I believe they did not give any chance for the Government to survive and this will ultimately prove harmful for the country. But they don't seem to care. I feel that their love for the country is no different from that of the right winger and the hard core patriots. They are the two sides of a coin. 

So I am a peripheral supporter of the ruling party. Though I would like them to continue ruling the country, this is not a feeling of hope. I don't think they will do much for the country. But I don't think they will ruin the country like the other parties. As the date of voting approached, I became aware of the the ruling party's terrible coalition partners in Tamilnadu. Of course, the word terrible can be associated with most political parties in Tamilnadu but some of the parties in this coalition were terribler than terrible. I was shocked when I realized that the coalition had fielded a candidate from a hegemonic and nepotist party in my constituency. I would not have voted for this party in 2014; in 2019 I could not even think about it. Thus it became clear that I did not have a preferred candidate to vote. Actually, I preferred not to vote for any candidate. The NOTA button loomed large in my mind. But I did not like that button. It seemed pointless to go all the way to the polling booth to press a NOTA. So I had to pick a candidate.

A few days prior to the voting day, the younger one's homework dealt with elections and getting information about our constituency and booth. He informed us that our polling booth continues to be same as the one ten years ago. This meant we had to travel 35 km one way to get to vote. I was certainly not going to travel 70 km to press the NOTA button. He, very helpfully, came forward to inform us the list of candidates. Voting for the ruling and opposition party candidates was out of the question. So I was left with the peripherals. The break away faction of the ruling party in the state was headed by a shady figure and I think it is better to kill oneself than to vote for anyone in that party. I had to choose from a few etcetera and independent candidates.

During my growing years, the concept of patriotism was driven into my head. It is done through different mechanisms - lessons in schools, movies, music, documentaries, sports, functions and national days, biographies and autobiographies and history. The idea that we are great is rammed into our heads and we grow up being proud about everything that our country does and not. This is not only true for our country but also for any country on the planet. Actually, it is not just the country but also state, district, village or town or city. Patriotism, which is synonymous with pride, is driven into our heads to such an extent that we believe and circulate the messages on our national anthem being selected or elected or awarded as the best national anthem on the planet. It is not enough for us to have a national anthem; we are not even satisfied at having good national anthem, it has to be the best and nothing less than that. The concept of democracy and the purported power that the common man is a major weapon of patriotism in our country. We are made to believe that we choose our leaders and if and when we decide, we can change our leaders. While at a high level this seems true, I think there are many issues hidden between the lines. First, it does not matter whom we choose, they are all the same. No one seems to be better than the other but ironically everyone seems worse than the other. So as was done by Bharatha in Ramayana, it would be better for us to have a pair of chappals as our leader. At least, it will not do us harm. Second, we choose the leader and not I. The "we" in the previous statement is a large "we"; probably as large as 272 multiplied by at least half the average population of a constituency in India. I don't have the ability to convince the people in my family that "Yuve yuve yu" is the greatest song on the planet, how am I expected to convince so many people.

These thoughts did not come to me out of the blue one Thursday morning in the shower as I was struggling to soap the middle portion of my back. It has been building over the years. Every time I walked to the polling booth, a voice whispered "What's the point!" in my head. But I was scared that someone would check the index finger on my left hand and scream at me "traitor". I was worried that my boss would notice my ink-less finger and reduce my rating by 0.762. What would happen to my increment! What would happen to my promotion! What would happen to my family! And last but not the least, what would happen to me! So I trudged under the hot sun to the polling booth stood in line and happily let the officials at the booth to place the ink on the index finger of my left hand.

By 10 am on the day of polling, my social media pages and message boxes were complaining about the number of pictures of fingers they were receiving. The pictures could be broadly classified into two categories. Number one: I voted so should you. Such pictures were to the point, they showed the close up of an inked finger, potentially the sender's own finger. The index finger seems to be pointing accusingly at the receiver and ordering him/her to get to the polling booth. Number two: I am/We are happy citizen(s). These pictures typically has people with large smiles plastered on their faces holding aloft the index finger of their left hand. These are kinder people than the former and are only trying to express their joy about being good citizens. As an aside, I wonder if Facebook is running some AI algorithm to understand people's purchasing pattern based on their nails or the way they hold their hand.

By 10:04 am I realized the ridiculousness of the situation. I was taking the elections too seriously. I was trying to apply logic to a ridiculous situation and regardless of the brilliance of my logic, the result would be ridiculous for the country and I. So why not choose the person and party to vote based on a totally ridiculous logic. I loved Kamalhassan in my growing years. During younger days I thought he was greatest human being and actor alive after watching him in Uyarndha Ullam and Mangamma Sapatham. I decided to take the thought of the younger and innocent version of me seriously and vote for Kamalhassan's party, Makkal Needhi Maiam. At the point of time, I was not sure about the party's name or its emblem. I knew that it was referred to as MNM and thought I will get the required information while I waited in the queue at the polling booth.

Besides the voting card, we used carry a small piece of paper that was given to us by one of the political parties. I thought the piece of paper had some vital piece of information that I could not decipher. Soon after I reached the vicinity of the polling booth, I approached a table full of party members and asked them for the slip. They did not have the slip. They had sheets containing lists of people and their photographs. They asked me for my ward number. I shrugged. Someone snatched my voter card and typed a number on it into their mobile phone. Soon they copied some details from their mobile phones on to a small slips of paper and handed them to me. It contained information about the ward number and serial number. I felt silly. I had checked the site in the morning and had all the information stored in my mobile phone, which was getting baked inside the car standing under the hot sun. We walked to the room that contained our ward and was surprised to find it nearly empty. I stood behind two people waiting to be inked. Tension grew within me. I wondered what the shape of the marking that the official placed on my index finger on the left hand would be. I have to live with the marking for the next month or two and did not want it to be messy. Sometimes, the official would place excess ink that runs along the edge of the nail and leave crescent that in the coming days starts moving up. It would look ghastly. I did not want a fat drop of ink. I prayed for a thin and elegant marking.

After giving my information and placing my signature on a form, I extended my trembling left finger to the official. He took out the stick from the bottle containing the ink and placed it on my finger. I closed my eyes and prayed. I only stopped when I heard the official asked me to go ahead and vote. I walked into the booth, which consisted of a table with the EVM on top. The EVM was surrounded with pieces of cardboard to ensure that the process remained secret. I looked at the list of candidates and the party symbols.  To my utter shock I realized that I did not know the name of MNM's candidate or its symbol. I had forgotten to look at the large poster with the list of candidates placed outside the polling station. I thought the first two entries on the EVM would be the ruling and opposition party and so looked at the third entry. It was a candidate with an air conditioner as his/her symbol. I did not remember MNM's symbol but was quite sure that it was not an air conditioner. My eyes ran through the list of symbols in desperation but I could not remember any of the symbols. I felt that time was running out and that all the eyes in the room were on me. My hands moved towards the NOTA but stopped two entries ahead of it. I pressed and held a button. As I held the button down, I looked at the symbol used by the candidate I had voted for.

I walked out of the booth and looked for the symbol in the list of candidates pasted outside. Against the symbol, I noticed the photograph an independent candidate. He was a pleasant looking fellow who smiled pleasantly at the camera. I felt happy for I liked the him. He looked familiar and that is always a good sign. I made an effort to remember his name and symbol as I was curious to know how many people voted for him. Since then I have forgotten both the information but hope to remember his name when I see it in the newspaper or website.

At the end of the day, I feel I ridiculed the system, which in turn ridiculed me. Of course, I do realize that regardless of who gets ridiculed in the process I am the one who will be ridiculed the most.

Do the right thing!

The place would have been quiet. The irrepressible voices of the 23 children reverberated through the path. They were excited to be present among the wilderness. The city did not offer them with open spaces and clean air. The city offered them with a lot of noise, which they had got used to. They loved to carry it with them wherever they went. The important gift of silence offered by the wilderness went unnoticed. The elders in the group were too few to control the children. 

They reached the rock strewn bed of a stream. The water that had flown over the rocks had rounded them over the years. They lay strewn on the stream bed. The children sat down and marveled their shapes and colours. They took the rocks in their small hands and caressed them. They discussed their discoveries with their friends excitedly. They exchanged ideas on building stone towers. They traded stones and sticks to make their stone towers exciting. They were walking from one place to another carefully and at times without care. The rocks let out metallic sounds as they ran into each other under the children's feet. The adults watched them for a few moments. While their excitement was good to watch, the adults weren't happy. 

The intent of the walk through the jungle and the time spent on the stream bed was different. It was to bring in a sense of quiet. It was for the children to understand the importance of quiet and even enjoy it. But the children did not understand the need for quiet. They wanted to share the excitement of their findings and this resulted in a clash of intents. In such situations, the adults do everything in their power to ensure the children follow their way. They raised their voices and humiliated the children to silence. The children looked at each other unhappily but continued to work on their stone towers. The clink of the stone against the stone was the only sound besides the sounds of the forest.

The adults were not happy with this sort of silence either. They did not want the children to do anything. They wanted them to contemplate either through plain thinking or through thinking and writing and/or drawing. They stood on the beautiful dried stream bed and lectured the children. The children listened to the adults in growing bewilderment. They were not quite sure what was expected of them. So they started to talking to each other in hushed up tones at first. Soon their voices were heard in various parts of the jungle.

In the evening, they walked further to a nearly dried river bed. The river bed was strewn with many more rounded rocks. They seemed like giant pebbles and the children christened the place "the pebble place". This place was even more beautiful than the dried river stream. They ran to the puddles of water and looked into them expectantly. They squealed in happiness when they saw a crab tentatively prod its surroundings for food. One kid took out a peanut from his peanut candy and threw it into the water. The crab used its claw to investigate it. The investigations concluded satisfactorily and the crab slid back into its home between the rock under the water with the peanut in its claw. This crab was a small one. At another spot in the same puddle was a larger crab which did not bother to investigate but strode out of its home briskly, picked the peanut and rushed back inside. The squeals of delight drowned the peace and calm of the jungle. The adults seemed to be disturbed more than the residents of the jungle.

At another puddle, the children found a weird looking snail. If the creature was magnified a thousand times we would all have been running through the jungle screaming. It would have fit very well into a B-grade Hollywood science-experiment-gone-wrong or alien attack movie. Fortunately for us it was just a little larger than an adult toe. It glided through the water slowly. Its antennae moved here and there. The children looked at it intently for they were trying to decipher the location of its eyes. "There it is. That little dot under the antenna. Do you all see?" The children spent many minutes watching the apple snail move through the water.

At another puddle, a child gently threw a stone into the water to determine if a stick was a snake. When the stick moved, the children realized that the stick was a snake. One of the children said, it could be an eel. They craned their neck and looked at the creature intently. "No, its not an eel. Its a snake!" They spent the next few minutes tracking the snake go in and out of its home under the rock.

One child walked up to an adult and demanded that she wanted to meet the forest officials. The adult was perplexed and asked for the reason. She pointed at a puddle at some distance and said "that was such a quiet place. I wanted to sit and look at the water for sometime. But when I approached I saw three beer bottle peeping out of the water. The place stinks of alcohol. How can people be so irresponsible? I want to place a complaint with the forest officials." The adult's face lost its perplexed expression and gained a bewildered one.

A child lying quietly on the rock got up disturbed. He looked at the adult close by and said "why are these people being so noisy? This is such a peaceful place. Why are they disturbing the peace of this place?" The adult got up and led the child away. Seeing them, the other children followed them. The adult's face turned red with anger. She turned around and shouted at the children. She shamed them for not having noticed the dried animal poop on the river bed. It was children's turn to be perplexed. "Poop! Why should we notice the poop?" "How disgusting?" "Eeeks! Animal poop." The comments frustrated the adult further. She turned around and said "Forget it! Let us all go back. You don't deserve to be in this place."

One of the adults walked up to the girl sleeping peacefully on a rock. He had to nearly scream into her ears to wake her up. She woke up with a start and said "Oh! Did I sleep? I have not slept like this ever. I feel refreshed." She got up slowly and said she would be the last person to leave the place.

As they walked back, they crossed the river stream. A boy looked up at an adult and asked for permission to kick down two of the stone towers. The adult responded in a shock drenched voice "I knew you would say this. Why are so destructive?" He went on to lecture the child on the necessity to respect others and their works. He requested the child to avoid taking pleasure at the expense of other. The boy listened to the adult politely and shook his head in agreement. The next day at around the same time, the adult found that the two structures destroyed. He did not know for sure who had done it but he knew that the boy had passed the spot a few minutes earlier.

As warned, the walk next morning was long and arduous. The thorns that lined the path poked and prodded the walkers. At many places, the path was not really a path. It seemed that the path was identified through the whims and fancies of the guide. At many points, he would stop look left, right, up and down before turning around , walking some distance back and taking a left or right from the path. So it was a bewildering experience for the children. They could not fathom the reason for traversing through the millions of thorns. But they forgot about the thorns and pain when they reached the first stop; a pool of water in a dry riverbed with a large rock overlooking it. Some of the children climbed the rock and sat at the edge. Other looked at the fishes and plants in the water. The adults got into a huddle to discuss their next move. The guide and one of the adults wanted to go back as one of the children was finding it tough to walk. The remaining adults wanted to proceed. Finally the group decided to proceed.

On the way back, the hot sun took a toll on the children's stamina. Soon everyone's water bottles were empty and hunger started gnawing the children's stomachs. The adults bi- and trisected a few bananas and distributed them among the children. One of the adults promised to provide a magic potion. He went behind a tree and came back with a water bottle filled with the magic potion. He did not handover the bottle to anyone, instead poured a mouthful of the potion into everyone's open and demanding mouths. The children loved the potion and started identifying it. Someone said "it's Limca". Another said "no, it Gatorade", which was promptly rectified to "Getorade" by many. They demanded the identity of the potion but the adult laughed and moved on.

Just as the walk was nearing its end one girl said "I am going to faint". "No, you will not" said an adult. "I have fainted in Chennai itself" said the girl. "This is not Chennai" was the response. The girl completed the walk without fainting. But the girl whose ability the guide doubted struggled to get back. She was made to walk in the front to avoid being left behind. This slowed down the group and they were not happy. They complained constantly about the girl being slow. This and the tiredness affected the girl's morale and tears streamed down her cheeks as she walked back.

As Kenneth Anderson had written many years ago, the afternoon sea breeze started blowing in at around 2 pm. The verandah of the 99 year old guest house was the perfect place to relax. One of the adults started reading one of Kenneth Anderson's account on his hunt for a man-eater in that very forest.  The place had changed much from those days. Today, tigers and bears do not roam the forest. A few people talked about sighting wild dogs, leopards and deers in the forest. Cows and buffaloes grazed through the forest fearlessly. Like many forests in the country, the forest was called a forest due to the tree cover. In this case, there were more bamboos and shrubs than trees. There were more empty and broken alcohol bottles than animals in the forest. Kenneth Anderson's accounts were detailed and at times gory. But the description of events were done well and one could see the decapitated head rolling from side to side as one listened to the reader.

As the group walked along the jungle paths it seemed that hardly any life existed in the forest. This opinion changed when the bird watchers pointed out the many birds that resided in the jungle. Almost every tree had a bird. The cries of the birds were no longer the background music. The laughing dove laughed and even gave a glimpse to a few. The Grey Jungle Fowl cried from this bank of the dried river bed. A few moments later a fainter response came from the other bank. The two fowls conversed for a long time. The tone of the exchange seemed aggressive and a few thought that something foul was being exchanged between the fowls. But one of the guides informed that the two fowls were discussing the the time and location they would meet for a drink in the river.

At the end of day, the trip, like many other trips, threw more questions than answers. What is the intention of the trip? Is it to help the environment or the children or the adults? Humans tend to be loud and are capable of creating a mess easily. So how did the trip help the environment? The feeding of the crab seems innocent but ends up meddling with the life habits of the crab. That doesn't seem fair. Children learn about life and their environment through curiosity and exploration. They like to share their learning to exhibit their learning and also to validate it. They are in the process of discovering their world and discovery takes place through exploration and exchange of views. While silence and quiet are important in life, is it important at this young an age? Do we all remember ourselves when we were young? How silent were we? Can our own lack of silence be attributed to our lack of awareness? How aware can a 12 year old be?  I am sure there are "right" answers for these question but I wish we could have realistic answers for we do not live is a "right" world but a real world.

It is not necessary that we should do the "right" thing and not cause harm to the world. In many cases, we brush aside the harm we cause by trying to be "right". This has caused more harm to the world than good. We cause harm to the environment when we visit a forest or go for a trek. It is done for our own pleasure than to save the planet or to show our love for the planet. So why don't we accept this fact and enjoy life, instead of putting in artificial criteria to prove to ourselves that we are all the good citizens of the worlds unlike the beer-bottle throwers.

I hate long talks

King Crimson sang a song not in the present century but in a decade full of classic songs. It begins with a line that touches my heart. "Talk, it's only talk" sings Adrian Belew who then chants different words; all synonyms of talk. 

Verse one starts with synonyms

Of talk starting with letter A

Verse two starts with synonyms

Of talk starting with letter B

Verse three starts with synonyms

Of talk starting with letter C

Verse four starts with synonyms

Of talk starting with letter D

Verse five starts with synonyms

Of talk starting with letter E

The synonyms do not proceed beyond 'E' as the song is titled "Elephant Talk". The reason for the Elephant in the title is "because of the sound elephants makes is similar to all speech must for this broken man, desperately seeking refuge from the cacophony." The tension in the song brings out this feeling brilliantly. 

If ever a movie is made on my professional life, this song would play in the background through the movie. My career has been submerged in cacophony of talk except for the two years when I was allowed to run an organization as per my wish. At every other point of time and place, the importance given to talk was unbelievable. Unfortunately, this has become true for the past two years too. There is too much of talk; talk that tries to decipher the inner nature of a person, which runs into a big problem. It is not static. By the time, we think we have understood the nature of a human, it has changed. Of course, I don't believe we have the ability to understand the nature of a human. For if we possessed this ability, there shouldn't be so many humans walking on the planet believing they are good. 

Humans have good in them but they possess a lot of evil too. The biggest evil that we possess is the belief  "I am good person who wishes good for everyone and everything". Rubbish! Most of us are not capable of thinking beyond our respective noses. When we do think about others it is usually to make our nose prettier. So I don't understand why we spend hours on hours discussing about our concern for the betterment of others. Instead, we can spend our time doing. Do something! Do anything! Just don't talk. Don't bloody ejaculate the right words to make others weep. It does not achieve anything other than you appearing like an angel, which you are not. As Eliza Doolittle sang

Words Words Words

I'm so sick of words

I get words all day through

Ridiculosity

The word ridiculosity exists from the mid-nineteenth century. But it is still considered ridiculous to study ridiculosity. It is high time humanity declared ridiculosity an important field of eduction and research. Please don't say "how ridiculous is that!" Everyone should realize the importance ridiculosity has for our existence. No one believes me still! All of you look at me with pity and say "poor fellow, he never stops talking nonsense." But it is flow from nonsense to humour and ultimately to ridiculosity that would help save humanity (not the planet; the planet can take care of itself - it has and it will). Let me try to elucidate through two example of current day incidents.

Let us look at the Sabarimala row. There is a hue and cry about women in menstrual age entering the shrine. Almost everyone I have met seems to have very strong opinion about it. If you don't have an opinion then each party assigns you to the opposite camp. One lady asked what my stand about it was. I said its not important. It has only caused a lot of trouble and will not change anything on the ground. The Supreme court should have probably left the issue alone and looked at something else. I was promptly assigned to the male chauvinist pig category. There are girls and women being kept away during their menstrual cycle in all parts of our country. I have heard of two instance of deaths caused in such cases. Does anyone think that letting women in menstrual age to Sabarimala would change such ostracism? The small change will lead to the betterment of women all around the world is what I get as a response. Right! Like reservation has changed the lives of the Dalits and Schedules Castes and Tribes.

Now let us look this issue through the multicoloured lens of ridiculosity. Look at the Pro-Hindu groups standing and fighting for this issue on the streets as though the God's reputation depended on their actions. The God is so fragile that he will break down if women of the said age enter one of his temples. Why do we pray to such fragile Gods who cannot take care of themselves? The gheraoing of the Kochi airport when the activist Trupti Desai landed was ridiculous beyond anyone's imagination; even mine. One lady said "I am from Palakkad. I saw in the news early this morning that a set of women is flying in to Kochi to try and enter Sabarimala. I decided to drop everything I was doing and come to the Kochi airport to protest. BTW, this is the first time I am seeing the Kochi airport". If this isn't ridiculous, I am not sure what is.

Through the day, different channels showed Trupti Desai and her group sit and stand at various parts of the airport. They were looking into mobile, talking to each other, talking animatedly to the police personnel or sometimes staring at the protesters. At the end of the day, she calls for a press meet and declares victory. "We have made the protesters come to the airport and protest. That in itself is a victory". Of course, the protesters also claimed victory. I think J Krishnamurthy would have loved this situation. Everyone's winning and no one's losing.

I also loved the coverage of the women in the said age attempting to enter Sabrimala. It was a competition for who gets in first - to have their names written in history. They announced their intention on the social media and any other media that listened to them. The police were present and so were the local, national and international media. Somewhere in the crowd the members of the Guiness and Limca book of records might have been present too. Of course on the opposing side multitude of Bhatkhs, Sanghis and other right-wingis were present. Then the race sets off. The police ran with the women in the middle. The opposition ran along chanting saranam to their beloved God. At some point, they gave up and ran back faster than earlier. The opposition continued chanting. Maybe someone should make a collage of these video with the Pink Floyd track "Run like hell" in the background. The saviours of the women's issues and Swami Ayyappa made a joke out of their respective issues.

Finally, the new year produced the first women in the menstrual age to enter the Sabarimala temple post the Supreme court decision (Phew!). Two women risked their lives to enter the temple complex at 3:34 am. The Kerala Police planned and executed the operation in a manner that it should inspire a movie on the lines of Uri. The women were sung as heroes (or heroines, I am not sure which is more appropriate) by one section of the society. They were shunned as villains by the other. They went into hiding to save their precious lives. Two weeks later, when the situation seemed to have cooled down, they came out of hiding and go home. One of the women was given an hero's/heroine's welcome. While the other was hit on her head with a log by her mother-in-law. She landed in the hospital and was seen in photographs with a collar around her neck. A few weeks later, the Supreme court or high court ordered that she should be let into the house. Her mother-in-law, husband and family walked off the house and left her alone in the house. I have not heard about a case being filed against the mother-in-law for violence. This does not sound like life. This seems like a scene from some black comedy. I am reminded of the movie Panchavadi Paalam.

How can anyone take all this seriously! I think the big problem the world faces today is that we take everything seriously and so spend all our effort convincing people that the issue is serious and we should all take it seriously. We do a lot of talking but no action. So while women across the world continued to be abused grievously we are busy labeling each other.

The other case requiring urgent attention are the issues related "saving the environment"and "global warming". Every one has an opinion with respect to these issues and everyone's convinced that their point of view is correct. Not just that everyone's convinced that the other side is composed of fools. So no one quite explains the meaning of global warming and many do not bother to understand the phrase's meaning. Trump takes advantage of this fact and comes up with a statement that all the snow is the North of US proves that the world is cooling down and global warming is a preferred situation. It's unbelievable that the President of the US can come up with a statement like this one. As much as we like to believe that he is a fool I don't think it is true. I think he is sure that there are people foolish enough to believe what he says and on the other hand people are foolish enough to believe that he is a fool. Both ways he wins.

While there is so much noise about these issues in the media ,very little action happens on ground. Many a times, conferences are held at exotic locations to discuss these issues, which by itself add to the harm caused to the environment. We are in the age of cloud computing where everyone can interact with everyone else through any device and we are always in possession of at least one device that is capable of connecting to anyone else around the globe. Yet, everyone travels everywhere. There are no work from homes, e-conferences or e-meetings. Where is the reduction in the abuse to the environment? All we do is talk. These are the disturbing aspects of the world today. Ridiculosity comes in when people talk about saving the environment and tch-tchs at people buying bottled water as they carry their own water bottle while they travel around the city in their own private cars. When holding placard on the road seems to make a difference. Yesterday, I saw a set of students standing in front of college holding placards about road safety photographed by two people standing in the centre of the road. The traffic rushing on the two sides of the road nearly mashed the two people taking the photograph. Should we feel angry or sad about such a situation? Its ridiculous and deserves to be laughed at.

As I have said earlier, the problem in both the above cases is that we seem to take ourselves too seriously. Worse, we want everyone to believe that we are serious about some issue or other and this becomes more important than the issue itself. You shout from the rooftops that you have a serious outlook about a serious issue that everyone should take seriously. The issue itself gets addressed poorly. As an example, I have used so many words telling how serious I am about ridiculosity rather than getting into ridiculosity itself.

Ridiculosity is the analysis of every thought and event from the point of view of it being ridiculous. The intent of the analysis is to determine the lack of intention or presence of dubious intention behind each thought. Sometimes, the analysis also tries to bring out the presence of intention behind a ridiculous thought. The study of ridiculosity is important to differentiate it from absurdity. Many a times, we believe ridiculosity and absurdity are same but I believe that is not true. I am not sure any of us understand the reason for this but it should be understood. Ridiculosity is important for the well being and ultimately the survival of mankind.

Here are some example of analysis of perceivably ridiculous statements.

1. H and B are brothers with one being more rounded than the other.
The two character display an obvious similarity when placed next to each other. But in the alphabet series they are separated by five characters and these distract our attention for one should remember that the most frequently used character in English 'E' lies right in the middle of the five. There are some lessons to be learned.

• We are not capable of observing everything that is obvious. 
• Our similarities will become more obvious than our differences when the distance that separates us decreases.
• Differences exist so don't try to hide them.

2. I discovered something interesting today. Take the word teaching. Exchange the position of 't' and 'ch' in teaching results in the word ...

First we were taught that the Earth is flat. After many centuries, we were told "Forget that flat earth nonsense; the Earth is spherical." Now we are told it is not exactly spherical. In another 500 years, students would be taught that the Earth is a cube. Is this teaching or cheating?

3. Some of us are non-vegetarians and others "naan vegetarian"
This statement is beyond my abilities of analysis.

4. When there are many objects moving in different directions, even the object moving straight seems to move randomly.
Even when you are surrounded by chaos, you should move in a straight path. But you should understand that for an observer, you will be a part of the chaos and hence would only perceive your movement as chaotic. Thus, if you choose to move along a straight path, you should only do it for your on self but not for any observer. If you are doing it for an observer, the point is lost and you are no better than the others.

5. A brahminiccal view of a predator: a predator is a non-vegetarian.
As offending as it sounds, it seems to be true. One cannot find an argument against it. A non-vegetarian is a predator.

6. Take leader and exchange the positions of 'd' and 'l'. You end up with the true nature of leadership.

A leader is nothing but a dealer. Its like Clark Kent becoming Superman and vice versa. Dealing, compromising and solving issues form a major part of a leader's activities. No wonder the two words are alike.

7. After death there is no sense; there is no nonsense either.
This is a comforting thought. The nonsense that one goes through in life makes life unbearable. All the sensibility in one's life is not sufficient to bear the pain caused by the nonsense. So one should not rue about death but welcome it as it would be the end of nonsense.

8. As the old Nordic saying goes "If you want an ear to hear, there are two here"
The saying shows that people don't have the ability to identify the support and resources present around them. They require constant reminders.

9. I have heard of the existence of an old Celtic saying that goes "To sin with sugar is divine for even the Gods cannot resist the temptation of the sweet."
The whole world is out to destroy sweets. Every wall on every street has posters on the ill effects of sweet and sugar. But it is said that the Celts had direct connections with the Gods and they are aware of the goodness of sweet and sugar.

10. Loftiness and humility are always in the listener's head and not in the utterer's tongue.
How can someone insult you if you don't consider the words uttered at you as insult? So you are responsible for the insult and not the utterer.

11. Never leave a sentence hanging. It could land anywhere and then there will furore.
In reality, even a non-hung sentence could cause a furore. This is a good complement for point 10. One has no control where a sentence would land and furore it would cause.

12.A post lands up on the wall and says "Witzelsucht is a medical condition in which one makes puns in socially unacceptable situations". The owner of wall instantly realizes this condition exists in him. He decides to advantage of the situation and posts it in a WhatsApp group with the line "I was diagnosed of this illness last evening :(". Concern starts flowing in the group. One raises a question "Who is your doctor?", which is responded with a prompt "Dr. Punjabiskesan". The group went silent for the next two days.
Ultimately, the irrepressible urge to pun is a necessity for ridiculosity. Some might find the pun to be a punishment but they don't understand that life itself is a punishment and hence they tend to wrongly believe that pun's are punishment.

Ridiculosity would help humanity survive the oncoming centuries. If we take ourselves seriously, we will feel miserable when our house sinks in the rising oceans. But bring in ridiculosity and you will laugh at the time and effort you spent on the sunken house. Your most important possession would be housing fishes. You built a house for fishes. Isn't that ridiculous?