Could this be the most intelligent moment of life?

Till date the book "Lila" did not inspire me enough to start noting down my thoughts on cards.  I wanted to and maybe even tried to but nothing came out of it.  The book suggested we write down our thoughts on a piece of paper or card as soon as it comes by.  If this is not done, the thought will be lost soon; never to be remembered again.  I definitely like my thoughts and think very highly of it.  I am obviously ahead of my times and so the world does not agree with me or care for my thoughts.  I am probably destined to get a statue at the center of some busy intersection that will act as a perfect restroom for the birds many years after my death.  To ensure that the birds do not miss the statue I started this journal to record my ahead of times thoughts and the nearly Arabian Nightish incidents of my life.  Fortunately, this journal has confirmed my being ahead of times.  No one reads it.  I write it as a record of my genius for posterity.

But now a question creeps in - why am I writing this?  I did not plan writing this rot.  It does not reflect my cultivated intelligence.  What was I planning to write?  Why did I start this entry?  I think I need a glass of water to remember. 

I was driving back home and to take my head off the nincompoop in the car ahead I started exploring the meaning of life.  I thought death to be the best place to start the exploration of the meaning of life. I traveled from there right up to the time I entered college.  Rather than understanding the meaning of life I had ended up focusing on all the embarrassments of my life.  I thought it was better to go back to cursing the nincompoop when a revelation of saintly proportions struck.  This moment I am living through is the most intelligent moment of my life.  The very next moment to the most intelligent moment of my life will become the most of intelligent moment of my life and so on ad deathum.  

When I look back at my life most of my aspirations, dreams and expectations have turned to dust.  I thought something great was round the corner only to find another corner.  Ultimately, I ended up in places I did not plan to reach. These were not disappointments but were not moments of pride and greatness either.  The moments of greatness came unexpectedly and in most cases I did not seem to deserve them.  It was more due to my being at the right time and the right place, which seems to be my only strength.  So my dreams of today would turn to dust tomorrow.  The name Ozymandias comes to my mind.

"My name is GVK, king of fools:

Look on my dreams, ye Mighty, and despair!"

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.' 

So this is the most intelligent moment in my foolish life.  Compared to now, I was a fool till now.  But these thoughts will turn foolish a moment later.  One side of me hopes this to be false but a second later I have become intelligenter and I begin to worry how I can survive old age if the trend reverses.  As it is, I am barely managing to stay alive; what will happen to me if I get any stupider?  No, no way, this is the most intelligent moment of my life and my intelligence will reach its peak at the time of my death.  No one, not even I, will know the most intelligent thought of my life.  I cannot go searching for cards and pencils then.

Football shoes

Nothing's as exciting as the visit of a favorite uncle with gifts from the US.  We had been polite enough to turn down his offer of gifts from that prosperous land. We said a decent "just having your company for a few days is good for us".  But somewhere in the middle of the conversations Kris had sneaked in an urgent request for football shoes.  From the time the uncle reached our home, Kris started eyeing his uncle's large suitcase and his excitement reached a crescendo as the suitcase was opened.  Out popped the football shoes.  He could not subdue his jubilance as he took out the colorful shoes.  "Oh! this one has spikes and this one is a turf" he cried.  The uncle wore a satisfied smile.  Kris dropped the shoes on the table and sneaked out with one of our phones.  A few minutes later he came back with a request to take the shoes to school the next day.  "These shoes are for next year" we responded.  "But my friends want to see it.  They don't believe these are from US; they say these are duplicates". The uncle cried an indignant "these are as original as it gets.  Your friends are crazy.  Change them and not your shoes".

The shoes went into a secret space in our closet and Kris continued using his old shoes.  Soon, uncle's departure date arrived.  He was leaving from Mumbai and called up to speak to Kris.  As usual Kris' conversation consisted of a number  of "hmmmm", "Ok", "Yes" and "No".  Somewhere in the middle he mentioned "I promise"; not once but twice.  We were curious about the promise but decided to ignore it.  But by the second day, we lost control and asked about the promise to Kris.  "Oh that, he asked me message anytime I needed something" said Kris nonchalantly.  "We will kick your butt if you ask him anything" we warned.  Kris coolly responded "Oh don't worry! I will only ask him something when he comes over to India".

Contact

If we like them, they are freedom fighters. If we don't like them, they are terrorists. In the unlikely case we can't make up our mind, they are only temporarily guerrillas.

War and peace

I have heard of this book for long but did not have the guts to pick up something this heavy.  Finally, I picked the ebook and started reading it.  The book is fun to read and it has many wonderful things to say.  Somewhere in the middle of the book I started noting down some of the cool lines from the book.  This capturing went on for a few hundred pages.  

Marshal Davout was one of those men who purposely put themselves in most depressing conditions to have a justification for being gloomy. For the same reason they are always hard at work and in a hurry. "How can I think of the bright side of life when, as you see, I am sitting on a barrel and working in a dirty shed?" the expression of his face seemed to say. The chief pleasure and necessity of such men, when they encounter anyone who shows animation, is to flaunt their own dreary, persistent activity

A Frenchman is self-assured because he regards himself personally, both in mind and body, as irresistibly attractive to men and women. An Englishman is self-assured, as being a citizen of the best-organized state in the world, and therefore as an Englishman always knows what he should do and knows that all he does as an Englishman is undoubtedly correct. An Italian is self-assured because he is excitable and easily forgets himself and other people. A Russian is self-assured just because he knows nothing does not want to know anything, since he does not believe that anything can be known. The German's self-assurance is worst of all, stronger and more repulsive than any other, because he imagines that he knows the truth - science, which he himself has invented but which is for him the absolute truth.

Pfuel was one of those theoreticians who so love their theory that they lose sight of the theory's object — its practical application. His love of theory made him hate everything practical, and he would not listen to it. He was even pleased by failures, for failures resulting from deviations in practice from the theory only proved to him the accuracy of his theory.

Sometimes—when there is not a coward at the front to shout, 'We are cut off!' and start running, but a brave and jolly lad who shouts, 'Hurrah!'—a detachment of five thousand is worth thirty thousand.

What science can there be in a matter in which, as in all practical matters, nothing can be defined and everything depends on innumerable conditions, the significance of which is determined at a particular moment which arrives no one knows when?

Not only does a good army commander not need any special qualities, on the contrary he needs the absence of the highest and best human attributes—love, poetry, tenderness, and philosophic inquiring doubt. He should be limited, firmly convinced that what he is doing is very important (otherwise he will not have sufficient patience), and only then will he be a brave leader. God forbid that he should be humane, should love, or pity, or think of what is just and unjust.

"So others are even more afraid than I am!" he thought. "So that's all there is in what is called heroism! And heroism! And did I do it for my country's sake? And how was he to blame, with his dimple and blue eyes? And how frightened he was! He thought that I should kill him. Why should I kill him? My hand trembled. And they have given me a St. George's Cross… . I can't make it out at all

A doctor's usefulness did not depend on making the patient swallow substances for the most part harmful (the harm was scarcely perceptible, as they were given in small doses), but they were useful, necessary, and indispensable because they satisfied a mental need of the invalid and of those who loved her—and that is why there are, and always will be, pseudo-healers, wise women, homeopaths, and allopaths.

Dron was one of those physically and mentally vigorous peasants who grow big beards as soon as they are of age and go on unchanged till they are sixty or seventy, without a gray hair or the loss of a tooth, as straight and strong at sixty as at thirty

He had managed people for a long time and knew that the chief way to make them obey is to show no suspicion that they can possibly disobey.

At the approach of danger there are always two voices that speak with equal power in the human soul: one very reasonably tells a man to consider the nature of the danger and the means of escaping it; the other, still more reasonably, says that it is too depressing and painful to think of the danger, since it is not in man's power to foresee everything and avert the general course of events, and it is therefore better to disregard what is painful till it comes, and to think about what is pleasant. In solitude a man generally listens to the first voice, but in society to the second.

Such magnanimity and sensibility are like the magnanimity and sensibility of a lady who faints when she sees a calf being killed: she is so kind-hearted that she can't look at blood, but enjoys eating the calf served up with sauce. They talk to us of the rules of war, of chivalry, of flags of truce, of mercy to the unfortunate and so on

"If there was none of this magnanimity in war, we should go to war only when it was worth while going to certain death, as now. Then there would not be war because Paul Ivanovich had offended Michael Ivanovich. And when there was a war, like this one, it would be war! And then the determination of the troops would be quite different. Then all these Westphalians and Hessians whom Napoleon is leading would not follow him into Russia, and we should not go to fight in Austria and Prussia without knowing why. War is not courtesy but the most horrible thing in life; and we ought to understand that and not play at war. We ought to accept this terrible necessity sternly and seriously. It all lies in that: get rid of falsehood and let war be war and not a game. As it is now, war is the favorite pastime of the idle and frivolous.

Most of the people at that time paid no attention to the general progress of events but were guided only by their private interests, and they were the very people whose activities at that period were most useful. Those who tried to understand the general course of events and to take part in it by self-sacrifice and heroism were the most useless members of society, they saw everything upside down, and all they did for the common good turned out to be useless and foolish

Krishna rambles

Long time ago, when humans wasn't there only apes, I just for fun thought apes used to do what we do now, but they don't talk. So there used to be a city in idta (India) which was called neingai (Chennai) there was a man in neingai called driska the greatest musician
of all in that time.He got a letter 1 day for the first time,opened it and read it aloud to himself "you,son of geanga meet me at miplo cafe,in 4 minutes from when you got the letter." When he finished reading the letter he thought who is geanga,and who everhe is.

In memory of

I received the news late one night.  It was shocking and unexpected.  In most cases, death comes as a shock for friends and family.  When unexpectedness is added the shock increases.  For a few minutes, the news stunned me.  Soon the phone calls started and everyone discussed what next.  A few hours later, I was sitting besides a freezer box which contained the mortal remains of my uncle.  His friends and family stood around with sadness.  A few of them had tears running down their face. Everyone looked at the immobile face in disbelief.  Many of them had talked and seen him a few hours earlier but now he will not be heard and in a few hours not be seen either.

My uncle was a principled person and almost everyone who came in contact with him ended up respecting him.  He helped his friends and family to the best of his ability.  He was a pillar not just for his immediate family but for many of us belonging to the extended family. We looked towards him for help and advice.  I don't remember a situation where he has refused help to anyone.  For him, relationships were more important than almost everything else (many a times his own self).  He also talked his mind and so many of us had no confusion about his thoughts and intentions.  I remember him recounting an incident, which displayed his courage to speak out his thoughts.  He worked in the North for many years in a Government organization.  Some people of his organization came to him to collect money for the Dusshera celebrations.  He refused to pay them saying that both he and Ravan come from the South and he will not support the burning of a South Indian's effigy.  

Such instances of courage and love will not be seen or heard anymore.  The person responsible lay frozen before us.  Many people came and all of us waited as long as we could.  As the evening gave in to darkness, wails were heard as he was taken away from his home.  A few minutes later, flames enveloped his lifeless body and he remained only in our hearts and mind.  We walked away, with the grief settling in and the everyday happening burying it slowly.   His family would support each other and grieve for the next few days.

On the fifteenth day, a ceremony was conducted on the shores of a river to ensure that his soul would be in peace.  The inability of rationalism to explain everything that happens around us ensured all of us to took part in the ceremony wholeheartedly.  The priest's calm voice and lucid explanations enabled us to envision the transcendence of his soul.  In a way, the ceremony is like the closing of a chapter.  The contents of the chapter will remain with us.  Its impact depends on the quality of the chapter itself.  

At the end of the day, the little grandson who had taken part in the ceremony turned towards his father and said "What a fantastic day! So many new experiences and learning.  I now know what to do when you die".

Listening Station - a new blog on music

Let me branch of here and add a Listening Station