India Today

1.) Babus cannot impersonate war widows for too long.

2.) It's a colourfully vibrant and awe-inspiring spectrum. The two G's could mean gaffe (the whole episode) and gallows (for it remains to be seen whom). And we're all poised for 3G. We're so gullible.

3.) The news about America saying, "LOL, we were just kidding" about the UNSC permanent membership promise has been given the cold shoulder. We trust Obama even if he's taking his policy of change a bit too seriously.

Stupid

Sometimes I wonder

If my life is a dream

And everything I value

I am making up

Hallucinating.

Sometimes I fear

that I will wake up

Realise there was nothing

Or worse, that the dream will continue

Ceaselessly.

I know I'm tiresome when I get all wondery. I know all this sentimental nonsense is making you want to bury your computer in an unmarked grave and forget the location. But I can't help it. Bear with me.

The Minor Irritations of Daily Life

There are times when you think all's well with the world, when you can't think of any grudges you have against anybody, when, in short, you are feeling on top of the world; and suddenly something strikes you and all your happiness evaporates: in my case, that something is grammatical and spelling errors anywhere and everywhere including, horror of horrors, in print.

Some sad examples:

The present's...packaging?

Thankfully, they don't teach English.

Proof-readers! Where are you all?

That spelling is a criminal offence.

Why don't I think that news is very good?

P.S. : It is true that these signs depressed me at first. But as soon as I had decided to put this up here, I kind of started looking out for them. :P It's fun.

Madness

If I remember correctly (and I am too lazy to get up, open the book and check, so forgive me if I have got this all twisted) Osho said something about Picasso being a horrid painter because he vomited out all is madness into his paintings and therefore the paintings were madness personified. I am mentioning this because this blog post is going to run on similar lines: I am going to write everything I feel right now, and I am going to feel better after writing this. Writing a candid diary is no use because you never can be sure it won't be read; and if you have to be cryptic, you might as well make your writings public. So that is my justification for this piece, and in any case, the reader is strongly advised not to read further.

I feel vulnerable, like I am rope-walking, and if I am not careful, I might fall any moment. Don't you have this feeling sometimes that you have narrowly avoided disasters, and if you let your guard down for the tiniest amount of time, you might ruin everything you have? Like not being able to feel carefree, ever?

I know I have friends; I know I am loved. Yet I feel I am very close to dependence, or am already there. I am wondering what happened to the whole detachment philosophy I have been living under for so long. Will there be things that will be so frightening that they will make my life meaningless? I know it is within me to remain independent, mentally, not to need anyone to keep sane. But what if it all changes?

That's it, those are all the bad things I am feeling. The good things are that my life is a lot better than I ever thought it would be, but naturally, I want it to be still better. I see a very good future ahead, and lots of smiles, and lots of fun, not to mention success.

Life is good. Now.

Tweedledum and Tweedledee

Tweedledum and Tweedledee

Agreed to have a battle;

For Tweedledum said Tweedledee

Had spoiled his nice new rattle.

Just then flew down a monstrous crow,

As black as a tar-barrel;

Which frightened both the heroes so,

They quite forgot their quarrel.

Lewis Carroll, Through The Looking Glass (And What Alice Found There)

Tweedledum and Tweedledee have been fighting over their rattle (which is also known as heaven on earth, incidentally) for a long enough time. They each have been claiming stake to its shikaras and its lake relentlessly. Let's hope that Nature in the form of a rather watery crow, which spells danger for both Tweedledum and Tweedledee, brings them back to their senses and makes them forget their, ah, quarrel. Unite against a common enemy, or at least cower together before it. Save your necks and run.

The Waiting is Like Water

The water
Is ever-moving, flowing
Breathing life
Into a river.
Looked at from miles away
By an impassive eye,
The water is still
And the river is still
Like movement is unreal,
Stilled
And the waiting is like water.

The rock
Is steadfast, immobile
Giving shape
To the river.
Looked at from a broader spectrum of time
By a knowing eye,
The rock is moving.
It is being eroded
By the water
And hope is like the rock
And the waiting is like water.

Yet the water cannot be stilled
Unless I am impassive
And the rock cannot be eroded
Unless I know
Therefore
I choose to be impassive
And I choose not to know.