Saturday, February 14, 2009
in the same vein, i am an india apologist. how many times have i apologised for my country - almost every time i pick up the newspaper a fleeting feeling of apology escapes me.
richard gere - im really sorry, sir, that some people in my country do not GET a harmless kiss. and how the woman could be okay with it.
how 'loose, forward and pub-going women' should be molested in order to 'preserve their dignity' because such women cannot be from 'decent families'.
i apologise for the blind faith, the senseless violence, the prudery, the misplaced morality, the pettiness, the lethargy, the filth, the ignorance, the politics, the immaturity.
maybe i'm just a liberal. but it's too late to apologise for that now.
Friday, January 30, 2009
And the man In the corner… why does he never agree?
And If I soar on the back of an eagle… will I be able to identify with the bird?
Can you unlearn a language? Listen to the words of a familiar song without understanding what It means?
A friend who’s gone far ahead… will he ever look back?
Why don’t I look back to see those I’ve left behind?Does it get any softer? Is it better in pink? Will water destroy it all?
What do you really want?
in your head, put a Needle through a thread
Look into my eyes and tell me what im thinking
put a Mirror to a mirror and witness infiniteness
Loop the loop in a car
Imagine the happy place
Red will destroy white one day.
The saxophone will just not let me go…
Whisky on the stars
Morning somehow always wins…
And then who should walk in through the door… but the man. The man himself. The cigarette out the window, it lights the sky while the red ember rains upon me… and we pray… I fold my hands only to crack my knuckles, and then throw the thought away. The crack. Where is the dream I thought I was dreaming… rainforest dewdrops on my ragged jeans… and her sweet stale breath through the wafting coffee… strains of last night’s song… the god we thought existed… thought. Taut. Tight. And I hold on… sieve me through the strains and I will become complete… wires, glass and pumice… and will she find her way… the green streets lit with gold… and I flow…
I know that any of this doesn’t matter. The hungry boy is still starving. He’s still starving and my formatting in size 12 Times New Roman will not make any difference. But if I was responsible for him, I would wish I was here, where life was about double line spacing and footnoting in Harvard bluebook style. And without my efforts here, I cannot help him anyway. I might just BECOME him. I know that any of this doesn’t matter but I must still do it, because the alternative is not an alternative. I must do it while realizing that it doesn’t matter and do it anyway, because in the end, it does matter. Just don’t get obsessed. Its all maya, if this is maya, then the little boy is also maya. And if he is real, then This is real too. There is heartbreak and agony here too, just because it isn’t so stark or so impoverished doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. The ‘lipstick and powder classes’ may be obsessed to a point of foolishness, but I am not one of them. This is the way out for me. but it is also the way in. Do what you have to do in order to do what you want to do.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
the intelligent are not so one dimensional. they are more street smart, more worldly. they may not achieve as much in one field because their energies are dissipated in various areas. their finances and houses are in order. they can be called 'patrons'. success for the intelligent is guaranteed for they will only invest in the winners. they select which intellectual they wish to patronise, for such person will achieve for them vicariously what they cannot achieve for themselves. the businessman becomes famous for buying the artist's work. is not akbar remembered for birbal?
as people become older, everyone's field gets so diversified - i hardly know what to say to my friend in medical college - but its all cool, as long as we can catch up over a smoke together. talking to diverse people is so much easier when you smoke - coz then a common bond is instantly formed. non-smokers have to search so much harder - not everyone is a jazz musician or a footballer, but they come together as smokers, which they might have not done otherwise. and so if you cant find friends coz you cant play either the guitar or football, start smoking. it doesnt require any particular talent - any fool can start - and most do. experience taught me that.
so ok here's one realisation i had kinda recently -
there are 'smart' kids and 'stupid' kids. the smart ones try new stuff. they are willing to explore. but they never stagnate - they dont get stuck in the stuff they've tried. that's the important thing. so rather than the stupid ones, its the smart ones who would do weed first. and its not coz they know what it is - but precisely coz they do not. its the novelty, the curiousity - its mysterious and adventurous. they do it, get over it and move on. the stupid ones do it when they see the smart ones at it, and they get caught in it. thy stay stagnant, sometimes for life. these are traps, i believe, that must be crossed along the way - that's life. they must be experienced and overcome.