Why can't we be friends?

"Why can't we be friends?
Why can't we be friends?
I know you want me dead.
Why can't we be friends?"
                                    - Ancient Chinese Proverb.

It strikes me as highly ironic that anyone who would understand the humour in this post will never read it. That's curious, right? If I'm cracking inside jokes in a blog entry that's accessible around the world, then it stands to reason that the people I made these quips with, wherever they are, can read it and chuckle softly to themselves. Why aren't my friends following my blog entries?

We're slowly moving toward a world where your cell phone wallpaper says more about you than the wallpaper in your home. Your status will change with the death of a relative, but your face won't even twitch. It makes me infinitely sad that we're replacing the human touch with touch screens. Will our children ever know the unbridled joy of isolation? Can they imagine what it's like to think without assault?

Give me solitary confinement.

Love and Other Drugs

This post is not about you. Get over yourself, really.

I've decided that this is the appropriate font for a blog entry. It feels right. And typewriter-y. Na?
I have a few questions about relationships and since I'm pretty much talking to myself, I'm going to attempt to answer them truthfully. These queries deal with societal generalisations and will therefore be addressed accordingly. Some may seem trivial but I urge you to read through them. They might change your life. Probably won't, but why take a chance, eh?

1. Why does one need to have 'boundaries' in a relationship?
What are boundaries? Who defines them? If they're individualistic, then they might as well not exist in this context, right? When I say boundaries I mean like I can't date an ex-girlfriend's best friend, or younger sister. I don't get it. She's attractive, I can get her to like me and she reminds me of you. It's perfect. It's weird? What does that even mean? That doesn't mean a damn thing. You're only assuming that it will be awkward. It's forbidden because those with authority and influence deem it inappropriate, unfit.
Human beings aren't born with ties, not even those of blood. Babies come out of the womb with only one attachment, and that's severed very soon by the mother herself. I can foresee a horde of conditioned people being repulsed by this very soon, so let me illustrate with the help of an example.

Maggie was born to John and Jane but put up for adoption. She was taken in by Laurie and Leslie. Laurie and Leslie also have a biological son, Hector. Can Maggie and Hector fall in love (assuming love has a type, but we'll get to that one later)? What if Maggie didn't know she was adopted? Would it be incest either way? Is it 'wrong'? How about if they were Parsis, does that make it alright? If John and Jane had a son called Peter, could he see Maggie if he didn't know they were related? And if he did? If Maggie dated Garth and then turned him gay, would it be okay if Garth and Peter hooked up? What if Peter was a girl instead and Garth cheated on Maggie with her? Is that as bad as cheating on someone with their sister? Why is cheating with the sister or mother or cousin worse?

I don't get it. Boundaries are constructed. You go with what you feel, that's fine. Ultimately, you've got to sleep at night (or whenever, whatever floats your boat), I understand. All I'm saying is that if you're allowed to express your emotions, I shouldn't be restricted from following mine just because yours happen to slot into the majority category - also known as normal. Marginalisation happens to everyone. Don't get agitated about it, just accept it.

P.S. - I will update this post as and when I can. If you have a question (even an agony aunt type one, I'm actually very good) please leave a comment and I'll get back to you. Thank you for your time.

What she said

"...she thought my problem was that I was too impatient, my fuse was too short, that I was only interested in instant gratification. I said, "Instant gratification takes too long." The glib martyr."
                                                             
                                                                                               - Carrie Fisher.

Life philosophy

Thank you Lisha Almeida.

Nobody said it was easy

   It's such a shame for us to part. The need for safety is a terrible epidemic.

What A Girl Wants

  Also what a girl needs, incidentally, is not for you to listen. Though I set great store by the cliched wisdom of chick flicks and the like (people seem to think that just because certain ideas have been repeated a number of times, they lose all value), an important element is missing while 'listening' adoringly to conversation.

   The evolution of female assertion and the 'metro sexuality' of the man now means that women are not the only ones who need to express feelings, while men don't possess the sole shoulders to cry on. Being on this shaky, equal footing - what now endears is conversation and a stimulation of wits, before other things. You know?
One needs to listen automatically and respond in a true-to-self vein, otherwise it is probable that both of you will lose interest beyond a point in time.

   However, if by chance you do find that person who engages your senses and titillates your mind, by god hold on to him/her. It's those journeys that make up your life and your heart, piece by piece.

The Opium of the Masses

 Mustafa Kemal Ataturk got screwed because he tried to free the minds of those who didn't have the mental strength to face reality. That is the ultimate failing of man. Equality doesn't exist. Stop trying to make it happen so that you can feel better about your own flaws.

Just another pretty face

Today I used an excuse to start a conversation with a girl I think is super hot. We had a normal, slightly fake chat about this and that.
Today I used a Facebook chat as an excuse to make a new blog entry.

She was really hot, though. *sigh*

Dear Mr. President

In the last few days many reporters have sounded very disappointed when I told them that I didn't particularly want to ask Barrack Obama a question. Well, gun to my head:


In a pre-dominantly post modern world where perspectives, priorities, psychology and other words with 'p' are different among people, and constantly changing within them, how does a state decide that the barometer it's using is appropriate, without taking the easiest route of majority opinion?


I know, right? FML.

The Mass Media

"Pervez Musharraf's government failed to provide adequate security cover to Benazir Bhutto."
                                                                          - The Dawn, Pakistani newspaper.


How did she die again? Oh right, she was assassinated in a public square.
Idiots.

Just Do It

   What makes life worth living? Now I know this has been done, and redone. I'm also aware of the whole we're here to make a difference and we're here for no reason at all. "Why does it matter?" doesn't faze me either. Well no one's listening, so I might as well rant.

   Routine annoys me. So does non-productivity and a lot of other jazz. However, there are a lot of people out there. Consequently, there are tons of things to do. Too many. Far out. Okay.

   So, I'm not happy. For some reason. Any reason. Normal to average to bizarre to nothing. There will always be someone who feels the same way. Out of eight billion people? For damn sure. Now all I need to do, is find that person. Perhaps even plural. And then do something about it.

No one likes to go it alone. WE will make it happen.

Yeh dosti hum nahin todenge

Advertisement I saw on Facebook:

Provoke your friends with a virtual slap in the face, then beat them up and take their money on the new StreetRivals.

Why would I do this to my 'friend', again?

Speak now, or forever hold your peace

The tag line for on online marriage site:

We clicked, we married.

No, really. How do these things work?

Quote unquote

"Hell is other people."
                                - Jean Paul Sartre.

Well said sir, well said.

Far Away

Far away is a term much overused, much abused. It implies many things, spaces of distances, time, circumstance and people. Here it implies none of the aforesaid things. It possesses only a single meaning at this juncture, that hopefully will be apparent by the end of this book. The protagonist of this story was far away, in a world of her own. It was cold in that world, where only darkness reigned. It was bitter in that world, where there were no shades of grey. It was forbidding in that world, where the silence was heavy. It was the only thing that could be heard for miles, and it was permanent. The only thing that could be discerned from the shadows, were the gnarled, knotty trunks of old trees, trees that worked as pillars for the lord of the skies. As far as the girl could see, there were trees, and further, there were more trees still, mingled amongst the last vestiges of sight. From what could be glimpsed of the ground below her, it was enveloped by a murky mist, one that came with neither sound nor source, but chilled her with an icy feeling that none other could bring. The girl looked up, and saw the darkness of Erebus. She looked down, and saw the swaying, alluring and harsh twist of fate. She looked forward, and saw hope. She took it.

The End

It’s cold here, where no one believes in you. It’s lonely here, where there is nothing to hope for. It’s dark here, where the silence is your saviour, and your tormentor. It’s scary here, where your worst nightmare, is you.
The rain starts to fall, and for a moment, the weather seems to shed my tears, before the blinding lightening unleashes the insane cackle of thunder. The light died a long time back, and I slump huddled against the trees, trying to coagulate the last vestiges of warmth. As the forked white tongue of the serpent of the sky flickers in the distance, I glimpse my fate in these haunted eyes. Lucifer is coming, and God has forsaken me. He has run away to his sheltered abode, and left me for dead. When my destiny sounds its arrival, rustling through the grass, I can no longer feel the temperature. I stand to meet it, I stand to meet him. I am thinking of you. He does not smile, he does not gloat. He raises his hand, and ends the torture. I wearily rise above my abode for the past 18 years, silently, without despair, not a backward glance. Bliss does not await me, but it promises more than what I left behind.

Tashan

Memories we don't bring up huh? I remember. I remember every time he says your name, and you say his. I remember every time you ask me about who's new, and I introduce you. I remember every time I hear that song. I remember every time you touch me, every time I hug you. I remember when we go to your house, and I remember when we're alone. I remember every time you say that word. I remember, and I wish I could forget. Because not only does the memory hurt, but no one will ever come close to what we didn't have.
All for the best isn't it? Must be dude...

Cloy death

Sound was the first sense to hit her. The continuous pounding, the rhythm of nature and time, flowing together. The sense of peace the sound brought, it was like everything slowed down. Thats why it took her so much time to notice the smell. Distinctive to the surroundings, she smelled the stench of guano that lay compressed under her feet, and the aroma of general greenness that overrode it. She could have taken in that odour forever if it hadn't been for her sense of touch to be stimulated by the sudden spray. After being rustled by tender grass and caressed by nurturing wind, the fine mist finally caused her to open her sense of vision. She looked across and below, at the lovely horizon, at the breathtaking cliff that made this world so majestic and wonderful and inspired awe in so many. It made her sick.
She jumped.

All lies

"Be happy with what you have." they tell us.

Lets say that I am. What next?

Bloody religious and moral indoctrination. Nobody knows anything.

In other news...

A few days ago I read an article in the TOI that talked about a rehabilitation scheme for a slum which would involve use of technology, unorthodox occupation and the like.
The article ended with 'However, there are fears that this will erode the prevalent slum culture.'

Slum culture? You have got to be kidding me. I will tolerate celebrating diversity, discuss the sons-of-the-soil argument, remain sceptical about the need for Telangana but when the most widely read English daily in the world expresses sorrow for the loss of 'slum culture' I put my foot down.

Progress; or its uglier facet, globalisation, is going to eventually wipe out all traces of diversity. We will become homogeneous, something that will be necessary for our species' survival when the culmination of millennia spent desecrating nature descends upon us.

The sooner we accept this, the better.

On an unrelated topic, the Times of India washes its cars on the road in clear violation of the BMC law. Bastards.