The trouble with truth...

The trouble with truth..
Is the bags it fills..it tears..
The trouble with truth ..
is not the truth..but the fears..
The trouble with truth ..
is not that it must be spoken..
the trouble is that it cant be shut..
the trouble is not that ..
It cant be ignored..
the real trouble is that..
it cant be avoided..

Dont know!!:(

The last few days following the weekend have been very restless for me. Mentally I have been churning around and trying to get something ‘out’. The issue is not so much of framing as to the issue of ‘what’ is to be framed? My thoughts have been incoherent and often self contradictory. I haven’t ever faced this crisis of mental coherence since a long time. I haven’t grappled with myself very many times.. I am pretty much love in what I think..most of the time. But this time ..I have been cutting circles in air. Brownian motion..thats something I am never mentally in love with…but that’s what precisely defines a state I am in….

I anbhor the concept of strict ‘right’ or ‘wrong’.. just because I think everyone has his ‘rights/wrongs’..but to be in a state of grey myself. ..? Am I thinking too much? How do I stop it? Can I ‘relax’ ?

There is no problem. That’s the main problem. Since there is no problem defined..how do I solve it?

And the trigger has been Imtiaz Ali’s “highway”. Ever I experienced that film..I have been pretty restless. Very restless. Thinking as to what to think. Why has this film disturbed me? I don’t know? I really don’t.  Should I stop thinking about it? Its just a film. Why is it making me restless? I know that I cant take anyone else’s answer for it. I have to think of a way out. The ‘convinent’ answers wont do.

The film has touched something deep inside me and turned my thought processes inside out. Its just a film.Goddamn it. It shouldn’t screw my head. See it..forget it. Its not cult-ish. It’s a normal film about ‘Stockholm syndrome’ ..its just a fim..a story. It isn’t anything else.

Why is it then I am thinking about it? Even now? I tried all justifications..atleast the ones I knew. I even wrote a shitty review about it..to get it out and move on. Not working.

Even now I cant ‘catch’ it. I thought writing about it would make me comfortable about it. Nope..this is not working. I am even more confused about it. I hate it when such an idea catches you and spins you around against your wishes.

What do I make out of it. ..? I don’t know…I just don’t know! Hate this!

tomorrows sky

Today is a bad day..
A grey day..
Today is a day of noises and babble..
There was always a day like this..
There were darker days..
Worser days..
Today is a bad day..
And its not the only one..
Today is not clear..
Today is a blur..
But there is always a tomorrow..
Tomorrow is a day of rise..
A day that always..always comes after
Today will be your day..
Maybe many more today's will be yours..
massless molasses ..you will have my today..
You will win today..
With your gabble and teeth..
But you have made a mistake..
You have thought of today..
You have been winning ..
And that makes you smile..
But you have made a mistake..
You always had..
You don't have tomorrow ..
For tomorrow is the day of rise..
Tomorrow is the day I flew..
Always..
Above you..much above you...
And I will ..
Yes..I just have a sliver to hold on..
Yes ..I just have my truth..
But it will see me thru..
It always has...
The slush has hidden your weakness ..
The slush has given you the mass..
But a sliver I have will see me through..
It always has..

You can laugh at me..
You can laugh at the sliver I clutch on to..
Its a small sliver..
Its only you to miss the iron in it..
The silver will take me through..
And you will see..
Long after today..
When you still will be staging your mini plays..
I will be in the deluxe seats of the play..
For tomorrow is the day I rise..
Tomorrow is the day I fly..
Count the pennies today..
Its all you will have..
Tomorrow I will have the sky..

Dehli Belly

I have written reams on how I hate Delhi. While some have taken it as a personal attack on their inherent 'Delhi' spirit..some have counselled me to 'just wait..you will fall in love with it..give it some time'. Despite the fact that I have hated Delhi from the 'guts' I thought of formalising my thought process to see why I hate this place so much ..

First disclaimer: All people are not 'bad'. This is a stupid disclaimer. Of course all people are not bad. Its like saying that all apples in crate are rotten. Its statistically dumb. There will always be a minute probable chance that there will be good apples(or there will be small good portions in the 'bad' apples). But we throw away the crate when we are convinced that the number of 'bad' apples are beyond our acceptance level. For a poor starving guy a crate of 90% bad apples are 'good' enough..! Depends upon your quality acceptance criteria..! So I use my own criteria..and I am not really starving..plus I have had loads of crates of apples,oranges and grapes(sour ones included) to benchmark my own level of acceptance . By that bench mark ..Delhi crate seems to be the most rotten .
But enough said ..lets get to the points:-

1.  Delhi middle class - Middle class are drivers of a city's ethos. They decide the cleanliness/gentileness/ and the overall culture. The lower middle class ..a derivative of the set define the ethos of lower level workings. The guards/plumbers/drivers etc are drawn from this class which is again driven by the ambitions of the majority upper/middle - middle class. Delhi's middle class is rotten to the core. Its a mindless bungle of ethic-less and stupid community which feeds off each other. It lacks 'education' (not degrees) and the primary indicator of cultural degeneration ie. status of women is dismal to say the least. Since women are stupid they spawn generations of stupider offsprings. The middle class in delhi can be characterised as a class which lacks 'respect' . Primary being respect for itself. When that respect is lost the core of a society is left to 'grab and run' ethics..slightly better than a stray dog's ethics of survival. However the irony of the situation is that since they dont have respect , they are aggressive and erratic. When you dont have the concept of 'respect' ..its an easy life. You dont expect or give quality.

2.Professionalism- I have found a profound sense of lack of professional ethics that underlie delhi. Its surprising because the amount of professional companies/organisation investing in delhi is high. Drawn from the rotten middle class, the employees of these professional organisations ,bring in an overarching sense of un-professionalism and erraticity(labelled as 'dilli dilwale syndrome').Its sad to see this spirit triumph over the professional ethics of the organisation..perhaps because of lack of options of finding non-natives wanting to stay and work in a hostile society.This is even more visible in Govt and service industry which lies in close contact with 'aam aadmi'.

3.  Accountability and policing- The lack of public and civic accountability ..blostered by the fact that the police is largely conspicous by its absence(why?).

4. The 'Chalta hai' attitude. Of course this is not endemic to Delhi but has been taken to a new level by the residents. Everything chalta hai. I guess when you dont have self respect or ego ..everything does chalta hai.

5. Confusion between EGO and Vanity. There is almost basic confusion between EGO and Vanity. So you have the vanity of Bling and cars but lack of ego to have the decency of parking. Or the vanity of splurging money on weddings but lack of ego to secure a clean toilet. This basic difference is almost absent and confused.

And I could go on and on..but then I realise that its really not going to make an iota of difference in these ass holes who are assholes just for the academic reason of being assholes. Loud smelly assholes . In all its naked putridness.
But what I can do is this..: I can tell my foreign freinds to not judge India by Delhi. Delhi is the worst face of an Indian city where fuedal mindset meets village garbage. Its basically a village with buildings and utter lack of respect for itself. The only sadness is that its the capital of this great country..

PS: One mystery I havent been able to solve is this..Why does a typical Delhi man wear a pant so ill fitted that he has to arrange his dick every five seconds..and why does a fat delhi woman wear a low rise jean where the crack takes on an ominous meaning.Why ..why the fucking hell why?

paintings

And today..

Today I got up early morning to realise that there was no power. which meant that I couldnt see anything(the weather outside was really cloudy and foggy)...I couldnt make tea..I couldnt warm water ..And worst of all the hot blower which gave me some bit of comfort in this cold weather..that was off. The room was freezing and worst of all..I had to reach office because of an important meeting. And somehow the hopelessness of the situation was so bad that I almost took two minutes to sit down and think as to how suc small things like tea in the morning was something so crucial to my day that I was almost disoriented due to its absence. And somehow that made me even more sad. So I did what I generally do when upset. I sat down and thought. I kept feeling sad and kept thinking. It was one full hour of self pity and somehow a long pentup anger that surged through me in sinusoidal waves ..as I felt so alone..suddenly alone in a cold dark freezing room. For that one hour I felt away..a long long away from home..surrounded by black rainbearing cumulo-nimbus...cold wind biting through my shirt and a long winding road infront of me. It was the nadir..and that too at the starting of the day. .
Then I gathered my thoughts and realised that I was sad not at the situation but the singular fact that the cold had made me get into an impossible position as regards to taking a bath. I was actually not scared of the situation but at the thought of standing infront of a bucket of ice cold water.
So I thought..we will cross the bridge when we come to it. I dont have to get into a towel before the bath so I could stall the situation. Which meant that I could brush,flush and shave all clad in three inches of wool. Relieved ,I started out on mission 'get ready'....
As things started rolling,I realised that my freind downstairs had his geyser working..so there was a way out. It was just a mental block that I had to take a cold bath. So to cut a long story short..I was all up and shining by the time it was office time. Suddenly i felt that the clouds had lifted and given me a new day.
I thought of writing it all down because of a singular thing..the rainbow and variety of depression caused by a small disruption..was something I thought was very abnormal..plus more abnormal was the fact that I do vividly recall it...
So I thought why not...:)

happy bday...

Sometimes I think ..and maybe its true that I am so much obsessed by myself that I rarely have time for other people. Be that as may..I feel that if I am able to understand even one guy..why shouldnt that guy be me. After all I am investing so much time in 'understanding' . If I have to improve why not me? If I have to love..why not me? Before someone gets me started on sharing and caring bullshit..I sincerely hope that he/she/it is not an Indian. Because I dont know why but I have lost faith in anything said by an Indian(Generally..I am sure there ARE great Indians..but they are too miniscule to make any real real difference).And why 'they' Indians? Because I feel that majority defines the state of the nation..the feel of the nation and the nature of reaction. Somehow I do have a feeling of being caught up in a melee of bumbling Idiots who do not say what they mean..they scarcely know what their true feelings are..shallow dumbasses who are given to loud rhetoric and sheer cowardice. I feel ashamed that I am by birth within a nation thats lying itself away. Lies that start with ones own self. What do I want?What do I love? What do I feel? The 'I' factor has given away to 'living for others' which is an anarchoism for getting into each others face and making life miserable. Gaining small cheap 'one upmanship' and sacrificing the real happiness of being a 'man' or woman.At some level I do sympathise with the killer spirit of 'anything goes' in pursuit of some aim. But here the aim seem to be 'any thing goes system'. And shallow deep within..yep oxymoron but entirely true. You can scarcely make an indian speak the truth. He just cant do it. He has been groomed on lying ..lying to please..lying to achieve..lying to be happy. At the end of the day he has forgotten what its like to think the truth..! Feelings like love,kindness, respect which arise from deep within are games which this country is playing with each other on an olympic level. And everyone seems to be happy...And so be it. If the mentally retarded are happy..I have realised that its dangerous to show their medical report to them. Fatally dangerous. The only way out is to just leave ...for life ,love and hapiness.
And whats the rigmarole of this whole rhetoric? The moot point is that there is no 'I' as a culture due to which instead of a cooperative collective there is a collective mob with high expectations but low morals. Of high decibels and low efficiency. Of high slavishness and low leadership.
Frankly I dont know why I am writing this..Maybe because its my birthday and I wanted to write something. And sometimes I think I write because I cant stop. Its a stupid excuse to write poppsychology shit that I have just written but 'frankly my dear..I dont give a damn' ..not on my  birthday.

happy bday...

Sometimes I think ..and maybe its true that I am so much obsessed by myself that I rarely have time for other people. Be that as may..I feel that if I am able to understand even one guy..why shouldnt that guy be me. After all I am investing so much time in 'understanding' . If I have to improve why not me? If I have to love..why not me? Before someone gets me started on sharing and caring bullshit..I sincerely hope that he/she/it is not an Indian. Because I dont know why but I have lost faith in anything said by an Indian(Generally..I am sure there ARE great Indians..but they are too miniscule to make any real real difference).And why 'they' Indians? Because I feel that majority defines the state of the nation..the feel of the nation and the nature of reaction. Somehow I do have a feeling of being caught up in a melee of bumbling Idiots who do not say what they mean..they scarcely know what their true feelings are..shallow dumbasses who are given to loud rhetoric and sheer cowardice. I feel ashamed that I am by birth within a nation thats lying itself away. Lies that start with ones own self. What do I want?What do I love? What do I feel? The 'I' factor has given away to 'living for others' which is an anarchoism for getting into each others face and making life miserable. Gaining small cheap 'one upmanship' and sacrificing the real happiness of being a 'man' or woman.At some level I do sympathise with the killer spirit of 'anything goes' in pursuit of some aim. But here the aim seem to be 'any thing goes system'. And shallow deep within..yep oxymoron but entirely true. You can scarcely make an indian speak the truth. He just cant do it. He has been groomed on lying ..lying to please..lying to achieve..lying to be happy. At the end of the day he has forgotten what its like to think the truth..! Feelings like love,kindness, respect which arise from deep within are games which this country is playing with each other on an olympic level. And everyone seems to be happy...And so be it. If the mentally retarded are happy..I have realised that its dangerous to show their medical report to them. Fatally dangerous. The only way out is to just leave ...for life ,love and hapiness.
And whats the rigmarole of this whole rhetoric? The moot point is that there is no 'I' as a culture due to which instead of a cooperative collective there is a collective mob with high expectations but low morals. Of high decibels and low efficiency. Of high slavishness and low leadership.
Frankly I dont know why I am writing this..Maybe because its my birthday and I wanted to write something. And sometimes I think I write because I cant stop. Its a stupid excuse to write poppsychology shit that I have just written but 'frankly my dear..I dont give a damn' ..not on my  birthday.

The clay of our lives

I seem to have an intrinsic fetish for clay products. These are the some of the pictures I took of clayware at Dastakar..

An apostrophe

A convinent wrapper in the dustbin of memory..
Forgotten sighs and a dusty story..
Faded letters..jaded words...
Bitter thorns ..crossed rusty swords..
glitter of nightlights ...
smogs of smokey highlights...
Flashes of mirrors and smoke..
All around the dead fires that stoke...
Hands reaching through the thick fog..
Hands searching for the branch rogue..
Its a long way back..
Its a lone one way track...
Come alone ..go alone..
rest all flesh and bone..
elusive ... games..
petals and stems..
Fall today..fall tomorrow..
the autumn of the days ..and days of sorrow..
This ..this and this ..
empty games of hubris..
A convinient wrapper..an apostrophe..
Lights out and a break..

My ideal life

One of these days a freind asked me (in context of marriage), if I felt 'alone' coming home to an empty house with no one to welcome me. I thought over this and seriously said 'no'. That set me thinking as how different my 'ideal' life would be from others. I decided to frame it out in this post.
In my ideal life, I should be working in a R&D  company with a single studio flat in a preferably European town. I would get up in the morning, brew my own mega-cup of tea and sit over a newspaper for few mins with a large crust of my favorite bread. I would finish it and read my favorite book in the loo. I would then go to my office, work with a bunch of creative and happy people, give great outputs. I would have my lunch in an open air cafe. Finish with awesome coffee and head back.Finish my work and go back home, change into running gear, go for a run , come back, take bath and fix myself a great salad/soup. I would then read a book, finish any office work and generally kill time on the net. If freinds are over, we would have a nice beer and dinner..otherwise I would go to bed.If weekends are free I should have sufficient moolah to trek/visit places and pursue photography. Sometimes I should be able to find time for sketching and painting. Once in a year I should go out for a really long trek with my camera. I would frame good enough prints of my pics and hang it around my apartment. My freind circle would be small but nice. No stupid social obligations or family functions. I should earn enough to pay my bills and save a little for my retirement and insurance. I would preferably have a cheap car and an expensive cycle.

the coming home part really doesnt figure...

Tall order?