Sometimes all you do is, you give.
If you’re one of the lucky ones, sometimes all you do is, you take.
Remember that girl who you had that crush on in school?
Or that guy…
Whenever you saw her, you made sure you followed her around, for at least a few
corridors.
You gave attention.
She never did know that you existed.
Unless you were one of the lucky ones, and all you did was, you took.
Do you…do you remember leaving school? It was hard enough
leaving the place you’d grown up in…it was harder to finally say goodbye to
that girl, who you had never talked to…that girl who, it was finally evident,
you were never going to have a chance with.
Your friends, you’re sure they never realized what they meant to you. They
meant more to you than you ever did to them.
Give and take…
You give, thinking that some day you’ll receive…in turn.
The day that never comes.
That girl, your friend…that girl in college, who you
always pay special attention to. Yes, her…
You’re always depositing…in that account. There’s bound
to be a big return in the offing… It’s coming…soon.
Do you know that this is one of more than 184 million
blogs on the internet?
That is 184,000,000.
The population of human beings on earth just crossed 7
billion.
That is 7,000,000,000.
You are 1.
You and I make 2.
There is so much that you and I have not seen.
There is so much that you and I, given ten more
lifetimes, could not possibly see.
There are so many places I want to see.
That yet undiscovered beach on Africa’s western coast.
The grand canyon on a moonlit night. The Inca ruins of Machu Picchu. The canals
in Venice. Gangotri, where the world’s holiest water body is born. Base Camp
below Mount Everest. Stonehenge.
The white light at the end of the tunnel.
We are so afraid, you and I.
We are afraid of consequence. The unforeseen, we are
afraid of it.
The dark is unforeseen, and so we are afraid of it.
Death is unforeseen, and so we are afraid…
We are afraid of what MIGHT happen.
A girl will not go out with a boy because she’s afraid
that this MIGHT end up messing up their friendship. She does not know that they
might end up living that great fairy-tale life, having babies, growing old together.
Being happy for the rest of their lives together. How many of us will get to
experience that?
A father will not let his son join the navy because he’s
afraid that this MIGHT end up in a situation, an unlikely situation, where his
son is in mortal peril. He does not know that his son might end up living an
extraordinary life, that he might end up finding mates and friends the likes of
which he could never have thought of. Brothers. How many of us will get to have
such friendships?
A friend will not go on an ‘illegal’ (at home) vacation
with his college buddies, because he’s afraid that his parents will find out
and it MIGHT end up making things difficult at home for a few weeks. He does
not know that this trip will be their last together, one they will remember for
the rest of their lives, one which will affect each of their lives in such a profound way… How many of us will
get to have such memories?
We are afraid…
Do you know you are standing on a rock, flying around another
rock, which just happens to be on fire, at more than 100,000 kilometers an
hour? And that this rock has been doing this for the last four and a half billion years?
A girl is in love with a boy. This boy lives a very long
distance away. There is absolutely no chance of them being together.
A boy, being a boy, is in love with this girl…this girl
who is in love with some other boy. There…is…absolutely…no…chance…of…them…being…together.
What do you expect him to do?
What do you expect her to do?
Do you know that there are more than 7 trillion galaxies
in the observable universe?
Most of these galaxies have more than 100 billion stars.
You, sir, are a speck…like I am.
No, wait…we are not specks. The sun might be a speck, or
perhaps the Milky Way is a speck.
We? We’re nothing. In the grand scheme of things, when
you look at it as a whole, we are a cosmic accident. We are an anomaly in a
vastly barren universe.
God? Perhaps he has not yet had time to look over at this
side of the universe to see that something is going on here, which he probably did not intend.
Life, we call it. It is inexplicable.
It seems like simple chemistry, yet it is not.
Do you know that the observable universe is a sphere with
a radius of about 45 billion light years.
That is 45,000,000,000 light years.
That is 425723778000000000000000 kilometers.
Are you naïve enough to think that you matter?
Yes you are…I know I am.
You will, in this lifetime, or in some other, spend 14
years in school. You will then probably spend 4 years in college. And then for
the rest of your life, you will work.
Throughout this, you have already met, or are going to meet, so many unbelievably extraordinary people…they will be your
friends, your siblings, your teachers, your lovers, your parents, your children…
We…are afraid of what might, or might not, be.
People will come to be infinitesimal distances close to
you. And then, poof!
People will pledge their undying love.
You will swear that things will never change.
You will swear!
And then…
You will swear at the way things turned out.
You…will…swear!
If it makes you happy, do it. You are afraid of what might,
or might not…be.
If it is morally
wrong, but it makes you happy, do it. Morals, or laws, or rules might, or might
not be written in ink, but you are that one unique cosmic accident that got you
where you are now.
Nobody has lived your
life. Nobody has ever felt what you
have felt.
I may be paraphrasing Dr.Manhattan here, but it’s true…it’s
true that if out of all those years of evolution, your dad just happened to meet your mom, and that one
cell won the race against a million others, and out of everything that has
happened in the entire thirteen and a half billion
year history of the universe, it all resulted in you sitting exactly where you
are sitting right now.
You simply cannot
ignore that you are a miracle… and yet you are afraid of what might, or might not be!
If there is that girl who you’ve been putting off talking
to for the last six months, talk to her. If nothing else, it will be a
flattering experience for her.
If there is that story you always wanted to put down on
paper, write it down. If nothing else, atleast your mom will love it.
You do not know what is going to happen . Then why be
afraid of it?
At least you have a computer to read this post on...
At least you know how to read.
At least you're studying in a good college.
At least you're studying...
At least you don't have to worry about where your next meal is coming from. At least your parents are paying for your next meal. At least you have parents...
At least you know where you're sleeping tonight.
At least you know you are sleeping tonight...
At least, even if if someone broke your heart, you know how it's like to have someone who has the capacity to break your heart. At least you have a heart to be broken.
At least, even if you're sad, you've once known happiness. At least you've known happiness.
At least you had friends once, even if you think you have none now.
At least you have money, to drive, to take a bus, a train or some other thing to get where you want to go now. At least you know how to drive.
At least you have a friend to call, whenever you're feeling low as shit, when you feel you can do nothing else except to cry to this person, lay your soul bare.
At least you have a soul to lay bare.
At least you have a friend.
At least you have a phone to call this friend.
At least you have a phone with more features than you care to do anything about...
At least you have someone to thank, for whoever you are now, because without them you could not possibly have been here. At least you have someone...
At least you have the money to go out, have a good time, with people who you think are your friends.
At least your parents trust you enough to not give you a hard time about where you've been the last night, when you came home an hour later than you told them you would.
At least you still believe in your own abilities.
At least you have some abilities. At least you think you do...
At least with all your possessions, all your friends, your family, all your achievements, all your potential, at least after all that...at least you think you're happy...
I am not perfect, I never claimed to be.
I never told you that you could expect perfection out of me.
I have lost before. Again, I concede defeat.
You win.
Enjoy.
There is no doubt that the fault was entirely mine. But the key word is 'was'.
You, like only dumb, callous, conceited individuals like yourself have the ability to, have managed to take my original fault, multiply it, and take it upon yourself.
I applaud your stupidity.
*clap...*clap...*clap...
The correct way to have gone about an 'intervention' of this kind would probably have been to tell the perceived villain, ie. me, about my faults, wrong-doings and generally evil deeds and told me to correct my ways or that you would correct them for me.
The wrong way, your way, to have gone about an 'intervention' of this kind was telling the 'victim' of my faults, wrong-doings and generally evil deeds about my faults, wrong-doings and generally evil deeds (this is getting redundant) and causing a great deal of emotional distress to the aforementioned 'victim'.
But you, being your usual dumb, callous and conceited self-righteous self, are too dumb, callous and conceitedly self-righteous for your own good.
And so you fucked it up.
I again applaud your stupidity.
*clap...*clap...*clap...
Let us view the facts-
1. She already knew.
Well, those are all the facts, really. You dumb, callous, conceited 'individual', she already fucking knew.
All you managed to do was push a relationship already going through some trouble past the tipping point, hurting two people in the process, completely and forever losing my trust and maybe hurting yourself a little too.
Had you managed to not be so dumb, callous and conceited, you would have managed to put a relationship going through some trouble back on a morally healthy path, retained and enhanced my trust in you, gained my respect and hurt no one.
But you fucked it up.
Once again, I applaud your stupidity.
*clap...*clap...*clap...
I do not know the path from here on.
I will never be perfect. But I will always be a better man than you.
Do you remember your college counselling?
Do you remember walking into that auditorium, with so many people, kids like you and their parents, some anxious, some disinterested, others nervously excited. The seats kept filling up, while you waited with all your forms and your certificates, all the proof they wanted to let you get into that college (and you did not even really want to get into that college, did you?)...all your achievements, or lack thereof, laid bare, scrutinized...
Do you remember your first day? Do you remember seeing so many new people...strange people, people who you thought you'd never be able to get along with. Do you remember noting down that first semester time table? Do you remember your very first lecture? Do you remember finding a familiar face in your class, perhaps someone you met during counselling, perhaps someone from your old school, perhaps your new roommate... You sat close to people you barely even recognized from the day before.
Do you remember that ugly, ugly teacher who took your first class?
'Aise teacher hain yahan?'
Do you remember hanging on to every word that ugly, ugly teacher said? It seemed important then.
Do you remember getting lost in the labyrinth of corridors, nervously asking people who you assumed were seniors (they looked happy!) for directions.
'First year?' they usually asked, an evil grin crossing their face. You nervously nodded, and went about your way.
Do you remember your first weekend? How perfectly wonderful it felt to not have classes! You hung out with your new friends, still trying to get to know them. You saw that pretty girl/cute boy from your class outside college for the first time, buying hot chocolate fudge from Sahni's.
Do you remember the first time a teacher scolded you in college? It was infuriating! You're in college! You're not supposed to be talked to like that anymore! Do you remember how naive you were?
Do you remember talking to your old school friends over the phone, sharing some of the same experiences elsewhere...do you remember telling them how you missed them, and wished you were still together? Do you remember that girl/guy you fell in love with in school, who you couldn't see anymore...do you perhaps remember how hard it was to be in a long-distance relationship for the first time?
Do you remember the cliques that started to form by the end of the first month? Those groups of five, maybe ten, sometimes fifteen twenty people that always, always hung out together. Do you remember your own group? Those same people you sat down with each day after classes, at Jaggi, or somewhere else...D block perhaps...oh, do you remember D block? Do you remember doing really stupid stuff with these people? Really stupid stuff...juvenile!
Do you remember your first mid-sems? Do you remember thinking, 'I'm definitely failing!' and then managing to scrape a passing grade somehow, although if you had these kind of marks in school, your parents would probably have disowned you? Do you remember finding out for the first time who was the guy/girl to get notes from for your end-sem? Bloody chussus...Do you remember when you used that term for the first time?
Do you remember your first Aranya?
Do you remember Jal? Do you remember thinking, 'this is the awesomest thing EVAR!'? Do you remember that that was the fest where you had the most fun ever (maybe simply because it was your first!) Do you even remember the number of photographs you took/were part of?
Do you remember your attendance almost never falling below 80% in any subject? Yes, you bunked classes, but even bunking one a day seemed like an adventure! Do you remember not worrying at all about your attendance?
Do you remember making the best friends of your lives? Your classmates, maybe your roommates, boys and girls who you spent all day with, who you cracked the stupidest jokes around... do you remember all the fun you had?
Do you remember the first time you visited 'the canal'? It was so absolutely thrilling! Do you remember the times you lied to your parents about where you were?
Do you remember your first CGPA? Some of you were horrified, like I was, some of you (bloody chussus) were not!
Do you remember going home for the winter, and then thinking you couldn't wait to get back! Do you remember feeling at home in that second semester? Do you remember hearing about the first few 'couples' in first year? Do you remember liking somebody yourself, and telling your friends about him/her, wondering if it would be wise to ask them out.
Do you remember Saturnalia?
Do you remember feeling for the first time, you should be careful about your attendance?
Do you remember thinking how it would be really sad when next year, you'd be split up from a lot of your friends, some of your best friends...do you remember thinking how unfair it all was?
Do you remember promising to stay in touch, when you left for the summer, and actually doing it? Do you remember promising to still meet everyday next semester, when you'd be in different classes?
Do you remember how, at the end of that first year, you realized that the last twelve months were the best, and definitely the most fun twelve months you've ever spent in your entire life?
I remember...
Graduating college in 4 years is like leaving a party at 10.30...
I was sitting in class a few days ago, bored out of my mind of course, when I decided that a constructive use of this time would be to think up my new blog post, which has been delayed for so, so long. It’s been two months since I last posted, I think.
Anyway, this is what I came up with – listed below are things that I consider…EPIC! Yes, I realize that some people are quite irritated by the use of that word in this fashion, but I rather like it.
EPIC!
These are the things that have epic epicicity (oh go cry somewhere else, lexico-nazis) ->
The cover of NIN’s ‘Hurt’ by Johnny Cash.
Driving the eight something kilometers of the Panipat by-pass on NH1.
Here's what I want you to do.
I want you to read this post as slow as possible.
Ten minute read, I'd say.
Let me take you somewhere nice.
And no, don't turn off the music. In fact, let it buffer if it's stopping in between. Don't read this without the music, please.
This is not you reading something I wrote. This is you reading, and imagining events of your own life. This is a movie playing in your head. This is your life.
Okay.
It's ten years from now, you've just come home from a long day's work. You don't want to do anything; you're so exhausted you just want to sit in that comfortable chair, dim the lights and think...just think...remember.
You're suddenly remembering this chapter of your life, when everything was new. Maybe it was the start of college, maybe you'd joined a new school, perhaps you'd started work somewhere.
You'd started, and felt out of place...you knew no one, no one knew you. The first few weeks were hard, not fun.
Then you got the hang of it, you made friends, you started living. You were enjoying yourself.
You remember a particularly fun day, maybe after working hours, you were just hanging around with your friends, laughing, being stupid.
And it was then that you saw her for the first time.
Who is she, you thought, she's beautiful.
You pointed her out to your friends. You asked them if anyone knew her name.
You wanted to know her name. You must have her name, you thought.
You thought about her before you slept that night. Then you didn't think about her for a while.
A few days later, you saw her again. You remembered the effect she'd had on you the last time you'd seen her. If only you had the guts to go up to her and talk.
You kept seeing her from time to time, always in a crowd, always from afar.
You found out her name. You sometimes stared at her long enough to have her look back at you. Your friends told you you should go and talk to her.
Naaa, you thought, I don't do things like that.
You asked about her from a few friends who knew friends of her's.
Is she seeing anyone?
No?
...
Okay, so what's she like?
Yeah, you talked about her a lot. And your friends, those idiots, they put ideas into your head.
Dude, she was looking at you today.
You should totally go and talk to her, man.
At night, before you sleep you fantasize about actually having the balls to go up to her and say, 'Hi, I'm...'
You fantasized about you two talking, and going out, being in a relationship, having the best time of your lives, making each other the happiest people alive. You fantasized about making her feel like the most special girl in the world, doing something for her on her birthday. Talking to her on the phone before you sleep each night.
You fantasized...
Then you started making all these plans in your head about how you're actually going to do it. About how you're actually going to go up to her soon and say, 'Hi, I'm...'
You thought to yourself, this is entirely plausible, I could do this. You felt that weird excitement when you thought this.
Plans turned into targets. You were going to do this that very week.
The week's about to end, it's Friday, people are excited about the weekend.
You have to do it today, your friends tell you.
She knows you like her, man!
Dude, she was totally checking you out.
Go fucking talk to her, you pussy!
You see her across the crowd, standing with her friends.
It's a perfect evening, the breeze is beginning to pick up. It's cool.
You're suddenly very aware you have these huge arms hanging at your side. You run a hand through your hair.
You need to go and talk to her, man, they say.
Man up!
You suddenly say 'screw this!' and now you're walking towards her.
Time suddenly slows down, and each step you take takes so much more time than usual. All this while, you're looking at her...as you walk.
You see everything in slow motion. The wind is making her hair sway. It's so bloody brilliant!
She flicks a strand off her face. You're three feet away now.
You're still walking.
You're almost next to her now.
You're still walking.
You've reached her.
She suddenly realizes you're standing next to her. You extend your hand forward and say, 'Hi I'm...'
Yes, you know what I'm talking about.
This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time...
Atlas Shrugged is a strange book. Full of extreme ideas, some which perhaps do not appeal to most people. That's the reason it is so criticized. I'm not here to judge, hell I haven't even read all of it yet. There's this passage though, about three pages long, which is, to me, the most moving part of this book yet, and there have been many. For those who have already read it, you're free to tread the web elsewhere, but those who have not, I implore you to read this passage first, and then try and read the book.
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“Do you remember what I said about money and about the men who seek to reverse the law of cause and effect? The men who try to replace the mind by seizing the products of the mind? Well, the man who despises himself tries to gain self- esteem from sexual adventures–which can’t be done, because sex is not the cause, but an effect and an expression of a man’s sense of his own value.”
“You’d better explain that.”
“Did it ever occur to you that it’s the same issue? The men who think that wealth comes from the material resources and has no intellectual root or meaning, are the men who think–for the same reason–that sex is a physical capacity which functions independently of ones mind, choice or code of values. They think that your body creates a desire and makes a choice for you just about in some such way as if iron ore transformed itself into railroad rails of its own volition. Love is blind, they say; sex is impervious to reason and mocks the power of all philosophers. But, in fact, a man’s sexual choice is the result and the sum of his fundamental convictions. Tell me what a man finds sexually attractive and I will tell you his entire philosophy on life. Show me the woman he sleeps with and I will tell you his valuation of himself. No matter what corruption he’s taught about the virtue of selflessness, sex is the most profoundly selfish of all acts, an act which he cannot perform for any motive but his own enjoyment–just try to think of performing it in a spirit of selfless charity!–an act which is not possible in self-abasement, only in self-exaltation, only in confidence of being desired and being worthy of desire. It is an act that forces him to stand naked in spirit, as well as in body, and to accept his real ego as his standard of value. He will always be attracted to the woman who reflects his deepest vision of himself, the woman whose surrender permits him to experience–or to fake–a sense of self-esteem. The man who is proudly certain of his own value, will want the highest type of woman he can find, the woman he admires, the strongest, the hardest to conquer — because only the possession of a heroine will give him the sense of an achievement, not the possession of a brainless slut. He does not seek to . . . what’s the matter?” he asked, seeing the look on Rearden’s face, a look of intensity much beyond mere interest in an abstract discussion.
“Go on,” said Rearden tensely.
“He does not seek to gain his value, he seeks to express it. There is no conflict between the standards of his mind and the desires of his body. But the man who is convinced of his own worthlessness will be drawn to a woman he despises–because she will reflect his own secret self, she will release him from that objective reality in which he is a fraud, she will give him a momentary illusion of his own value and a momentary escape from the morel code that damns him. Observe the ugly mess which most men make of their sex lives–and observe the mess of contradictions which they hold as their moral philosophy. One proceeds from the other. Love is our response to our highest values–and can be nothing else. Let a man corrupt his values and his view of existence, let him profess that love is not self-enjoyment but self-denial, that virtue consists, not of pride, but of pity or pain or weakness or sacrifice, that the noblest love is born, not of admiration, but of charity, not in response to values, but in response to flaws–and he will have cut himself in two. His body will not obey him, it will not respond, it will make him impotent toward the woman he professes to love and draw him to the lowest type of whore he can find. His body will always follow the ultimate logic of his deepest convictions; if he believes that flaws are values, he has damned existence as evil and only the evil will attract him. He has damned himself and he will feel that depravity is all he is worthy of enjoying. He has equated virtue with pain and he will feel that vice is the only realm of pleasure. Then he will scream that his body has vicious desires of its own which his mind cannot conquer, that sex is sin, that true love is a pure emotion of the spirit. And then he will wonder why love brings him nothing but boredom, and sex–nothing but shame.”
Rearden said slowly, looking off, not realizing that he was thinking aloud, “At least . . . I’ve never accepted that other tenet . . . I’ve never felt guilty about making money.”
Francisco missed the significance of the first two words; he smiled and said eagerly, “You do see that it’s the same issue? No, you’d never accept any part of their vicious creed. You wouldn’t be able to force it upon yourself. If you tried to damn sex as evil, you’d still find yourself, against your will, acting on the proper moral premise. You’d be attracted to the highest woman you met. You’d always want a heroine. You’d be incapable of self-contempt. You’d be unable to believe that existence is evil and that you’re a helpless creature caught in an impossible universe. You’re the man who’s spent his life shaping matter to the purpose of his mind. You’re the man who would know that just as an idea unexpressed in physical action is contemptible hypocrisy, so is platonic love–and just as physical action unguided by an idea is a fool’s self-fraud, so is sex when cut off from one’s code of values. Its’ the same issue, and you would know it. Your inviolate sense of self-esteem would know it. You would be incapable of desire for a woman you despised. Only the man who extols the purity of a love devoid of desire, is capable of the depravity of a desire devoid of love. But observe that most people are creatures cut in half who keep swinging desperately to one side or to the other. One kind of half is the man who despises money, factories, skyscrapers and his own body. He holds undefined emotions about non-conceivable subjects as the meaning of life and his claim of virtue. And he cries with despair, because he can feel nothing for the woman he respects, but finds himself in bondage to an irresistible passion for a slut from the gutter. He is the man whom people call an idealist. The other kind of half is the man whom people call practical, the man who despises principles, abstractions, art, philosophy and his own mind. He regards the acquisition of material objects as the only goal of existence– and he laughs at the need to consider their purpose or their source. He expects them to give him pleasure– and he wonders why the more he gets, the less he feels. He is the man who spends his time chasing women. Observe the triple fraud which he perpetrates upon himself. He will not acknowledge his need of self-esteem, since he scoffs at such a concept as moral values; yet he feels the profound self-contempt which comes from believing that he is a piece of meat. He will not acknowledge, but he knows that sex is the physical expression of a tribute to personal values. So he tries, by going through the motions of the effect, to acquire that which should have been the cause. He tries to gain a sense of his own value from the women who surrender to him– and he forgets that the women he picks have neither character nor judgment nor standard of value. he tells himself that all he’s after is physical pleasure– but observe that he tires of his woman in a week or a night, that he despises professional whores and that he loves to imagine he is seducing virtuous girls who make a great exception for his sake. It is the feeling of achievement that he seeks and never finds. What glory can there be in the conquest of a mindless body? Now that is your woman chaser. Does the description fit me?
“God, no!”
“Then you can judge, without asking my word for it, how much chasing of women I’ve done in my life.”
They'll call me a woman-hater after this. But no, I might just in fact love women too much.
Men age much better than women, that's for sure. Look at the average age of male stars in both Hollywood and Bollywood, and the average age of female stars. Also, in both cases, compare the average screen-life of these people. When men age, they appear rather more 'distinguished' and 'weathered', in a good way...of course this, unless they go bald or develop a pot belly or something. When women age, they...well, lets just say its not pretty.
Why am I writing this? Well, because all us guys, you guys reading it, and me writing it, we need to realize something right now...we're in a society which over-values women at our age. We're never going to win. No girl is going to fall in love with you, swoon, go crazy and try to woo you any way possible. It just doesn't work like that. There are exceptions, of course, but screw them (pun intended). No girl is going to seduce you, like you fantasize about, like you watch movies about...like you have wet dreams about. Naaa...that just won't happen now. You're just going to have to go batshit insane about a girl, and let her screw with your thoughts, and play with your emotions if you want to get into the game now. Face it, at this age, with the value we put on females, and the value they put on us, its like trying to play football and score a goal on an uphill ground. Sure, some of us will bicycle kick our way into the history books, but most of the time, shit just sucks.
But ... HALFTIME!
Wait...don't go nuts about that girl just yet...wait. Wait till the market stabilizes, and then gradually turns in your favour. Once they're on the wrong side of 30, they won't be being hit on by every guy they know. No! It sounds stupid, and I'm not suggesting we all sit on the bench till we're 30, but don't beat yourself up about it. I see guys doing all sorts of crazy things over a girl. Oh I'm in lurve... Hell, I've done crazy shit too, being all messed up over some female! I still do it! But it's not worth it! Don't commit yourself, we're too young. Wait tillitbecomes a man's market, and then sell yourself. And our generation's way too messed up to think that there are no girls going to be left by that time. Hell, half the people I know are going to end up divorced, I'm sure of it! Things are changing...this is not the world of our parents, things are going to be wild, baby...WILD! So, have fun...sleep around(my mom reads my blog, I shouldn't be writing this...), don't take things so seriously...we're the underdogs here, and we're supposed to get pushed around this early in the game. But wait a few years, when they're not the center of attention anymore. They'll come running.
And do post a comment if I outrage you. I'd love to hear about it.
The mark of a mature man, is a certain scar he bears: the memory of a perfect woman never won, or of a once true-love, forever lost... However much he may love you, he is only here because she is not.
free verse from radiohead (from the album 'OK Computer')
Fitter, happier, More productive, Comfortable. Not drinking too much, Regular exercise at the gym (3 days a week), Getting on better with your associate employee contemporaries. At ease, Eating well (no more microwave dinners and saturated fats). A patient, better driver, A safer car (baby smiling in back seat). Sleeping well (no bad dreams), No paranoia. Careful to all animals (never washing spiders down the plughole). Keep in contact with old friends (enjoy a drink now and then). Will frequently check credit at (moral) bank (hole in wall), Favours for favours. Fond but not in love. Charity, standing orders. On Sunday's ring road supermarket. No killing moths (or putting boiling water on the ants). Car wash (also on Sundays). No longer afraid of the dark, Or midday shadows, Nothing so ridiculously teenage and desperate, Nothing so childish. At a better pace, Slower and more calculated. No chance of escape. Now self-employed, Concerned (but powerless).
An empowered and informed member of society (pragmatism not idealism), Will not cry in public. Less chance of illness. Tires that grip in the wet (shot of baby strapped in back seat). A good memory. Still cries at a good film. Still kisses with saliva. No longer empty and frantic, Like a cat, Tied to a stick, That's driven into, Frozen winter shit (the ability to laugh at weakness). Calm. Fitter, healthier and more productive. A pig, In a cage, On antibiotics.
I don't know why I posted this. I just did. It's brilliant.
When I'm supposed to leave, I'll probably miss it like hell. Believe me, I'm as bad as they come at goodbyes. When I'm supposed to leave, I'll probably be the one who's sitting in the corner, not looking at anyone, because I'm afraid I'll tear up saying goodbye to one more person. When I'm supposed to leave, I'll probably read this post and I'll laugh, and I'll cry.
But that doesn't mean I can't bitch about it now.
First of all, it's hell to wake up at 7 in the morning in winters, well its hell in the summer too, and go to class at 8. I honestly have no idea why I don't have any course backlogs, the number of classes that I've missed in the morning. I drive to college, and the crappiest thing about that is the fact that students aren't allowed to park (forget drive) their cars INSIDE the campus. We have a perfectly large, and empty lot next to the parking lot they just constructed near the gates, and the reason why they did not include that empty lot in the parking area they've constructed, and allowed for at least fifty more cars to be parked inside, is beyond me. It's no secret that there are about forty or fifty people who drive their cars to college everyday, and we park outside the gates, on the side of the road, or that 'parking khudda' we've all seen next to the gate. What the logic is behind not allowing students to park cars inside, I do not know. There's the fact that allowing cars inside would maybe result in people going on 'gehris' inside, but there's a very simple solution to this too - Have a few barricades at the parking, so that no student can drive their car beyond the parking. Voila! We're all above 18 here, why should we not drive to college? And if we do, why should we park our cars on the side of the road, where its potentially unsafe; and it's a traffic hazard.
RANDOMIZE!!!
What is it with the way people sit in classes? Girls all together on one side of the room? Or is it just my class that does that? Hell we never even did that in school! I promise you, us guys in class aren't all that bad! We won't do anything unsavory. We promise.
And oh, the girls at TU! Maybe its just because the sex ratio is messed up, it is an engineering college after all, or maybe it's because engineers make do with anything and everything...I don't know what it is, but wow, every halfway-decent looking girl in this place walks around with her nose so high up in the air, we've begun to recognize chins. Maybe we guys just build them up into something so extraordinary, for sheer dearth of any real beauty, but the things that pass for 'cute' around here, it's...well, never mind... The flip side of that coin is that there are so many guys, saali koi value hi nahi hai.
RANDOMIZE!!!
There are far too many people in this college who take themselves wayyy too seriously.
RANDOMIZE!!!
Why is there no fortnightly, or even a monthly student newsletter? We had one in school, and although I admit, that particular publication wasn't extraordinary either, but at least we had one. All we have here is 'Thapar and I', which is only published twice a year, if that. And honestly, although I've heard about it, I've never actually physically seen a copy of T&I. If we're going to have to make do with what we have, then the least that should be done is to ensure that every student has a copy of it whenever it comes out. I know it's all easier said than done, and I'm sitting pretty here, talking about it, doing nothing else. But I tried in my time; at the end of my first year, I talked to a few teachers about a plan for starting a monthly newsletter. I was met mostly with blank stares and one word - 'Funding?' Wait, isn't the college that takes about a lakh rupees, bi-annually(!!!), as fees from every new student, supposed to provide funding for such an undertaking. All it would take is money for printing. Let's say 2000 copies every month, at 3 rupees a copy, 12 issues a year. Comes out to seventy two thousand rupees a year. Less than half of what one student pays in a year in this place. There are all sorts of people who would be extremely eager to work on such a project. But no, why would TU want its students to do something creative?
I realize I could be acting very naive here. I realize I'm acting like I have all the answers. But I have some. A lot of us do. We, we're a generation of geniuses.
This post may have been affected by the fact that I have 'Blink 182' on very high volume in my room right now.
Rise, Rebel, Resist.
If you haven't turned rebel by age twenty, you have no heart; if you haven't turned establishment by age thirty, you've got no brains. -Kevin Spacey
Continuing with "the best of 2010"... part 1 of which was The Best Movies of 2010, part 2 is, the best books that I read in 2010. Mind you, I didn't read too many, probably around 14 or 15, but because I hadn't read more than two the previous year, this is a big deal.
Oh, and Happy New Year!
I rediscovered my passion for books this year, by discovering the website flipkart.com. Almost every book I read the last year was ordered off this website. And again, as it was with the movies, rarely if any book on this list was released in 2010...actually, none of them...but anyway, I read these last year.
So here goes...
5. THE GODS THEMSELVES - ISAAC ASIMOV Bantam Books 'Against stupidity, the gods themselves contend in vain...' Perhaps not for everyone, this science fiction novel had been on my reading list for quite sometime, and when I finally got around to reading this a few months ago, it was certainly worth the wait. Isaac Asimov, the author of the 'I, Robot' collection of short stories is a famous name in sci-fi. A very intriguing piece of fiction, if you're interested in sci fi, or not. Do try and read it.
4. SURVIVOR - CHUCK PALAHNIUK Vintage Books The novel which starts with page number 289 and ends with page number 1. In typical Palahniuk style, the author of 'Fight Club' manages to pull off another bizzare story in a highly gripping, and engaging fashion. Palahniuk, a cult figure, has made quite a name for himself with highly satirical and very dark commentaries on modern life with books such as this one, 'Fight Club', 'Choke' and 'Invisible Monsters' (which I also recently read). Survivor is certainly one of his best works.
3. THE GODFATHER - MARIO PUZO Random House Perhaps I have been very late in reading this classic, but my mother forbade me from reading it when I once asked her, some eight years ago. But I finally got around to reading it last year, and although I'd seen the movie, more than once, the book is another experience.
Michael Corleone, and Don Vito, brought to life by Al Pacino and Marlon Brando, have, if possible, even more class in this novel than in the movies.
2. AMERICAN PSYCHO - BRET EASTON ELLIS Picador Probably one of the most disturbing books I have ever read in my entire life, American Psycho, based on which a movie of the same name, starring Christian Bale was made, is clearly a modern masterpiece. Bret Easton Ellis is a genius. His extremely violent and graphic, third piece of fiction is a bestseller. Not at all for everyone, American Psycho is graphic, it is sick, it is disgusting, it is vulgar, it is...brilliant!
The only reason I wouldn't rate this as the best book I read this year honestly, is because, well, the best book I read this year has been on my reading list for the last seven years.
1. THE SILMARILLION - J.R.R. TOLKIEN Harper Collins What can I possibly say about this...I dare not even call it a novel...this...mythology. What can I possibly say about this work of genius, that can do it even the slightest bit of justice. I have wanted, well...yearned to read this book for the last seven years, ever since I read the 'The Lord of the Rings'. I have searched through entire libraries for this, but somehow I always found it already issued, or later on...missing. But last year, when I was going through the catalogue on flipkart.com, this was the first book that was on my shopping cart. A fantasy novel, a creation myth...call it what you will, 'The Silmarillion' is, in many ways even better than 'The Lord of the Rings', if that is indeed possible. From the beginning of the 'world' to the beginning of 'The War of the Ring', 'The Silmarillion' satisfies all that a Tolkien fan could ever dream of. Probably the most nerdy choice possible for the number one book I read last year, but 'The Silmarillion' is...by far.
Every single book that I've mentioned in this post is amazing...definitely worth reading. And more on my reading list now are 'Island' and 'Brave New World' by Aldous Huxley, Dennis Lehane's 'Shutter Island', and Ayn Rand's 'Atlas Shrugged'.
Any other books, you think I should consider reading, please do drop the title in the comments, I'd rather appreciate it.
Have a good start to the year.
"My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone, in fact I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape, but even after admitting this there is no catharsis, my punishment continues to elude me and I gain no deeper knowledge of myself; no new knowledge can be extracted from my telling. This confession has meant nothing." -Patrick Bateman
