Sunday, 30 August 2009

Destined path

What I write is an imperfect,incoherent,abstract piece. Nevertheless, writing gives me the comfort of the fact that there is a certain chain of thoughts in my mind. The prime influence on me is of Bhagat Singh and of Ayn Rand, who both said, that reading a lot and writing a lot helped them clarify their thoughts. Their individual achievement of clarity in thoughts is an embodiment of their suggestion. The capacity of sticking by their thought, idea, once formed has been never better manifested for me.

Thursday, 27 August 2009

Golden Mean

As a kid, I used to wonder, why do film music have to have so many songs based on "love"? While , at this stage of life, the question appears to be too stupid. But I am sure, many still don't understand , perhaps the ones who haven't had a whiff of love.

Tuesday, 25 August 2009

Who works the hardest?

Who works hardest? Businessman, researcher,bureaucrat,politician,daily wage labor,office workers. Who does ? How do you characterize hard work? I recall over here , Mark Twain's Tom Sawyer and his painting of fence, where he posits, "Work consists of whatever one is obliged to do and play consists of whatever one isn't ". For determining comparative "hard" nature of the work, we should only compare "work "only, which is one that one is obliged to do. Considering this, I am sure we can keep out some obvious hard working group members, like say, Pete Sampras,Federer,Sachin,Michael Jackson,Amartya Sen,George Bush and many many more such people.

They don't work , they play , rest work and among them the fight is on for the class of hardest working. In order to do that , first we have to separate means from its ends, as we are concerned over here with the excruciating nature of the process and not the benefits accrued by the ends. However, each of these latter group of workers, work with a focus or aim, which is wide apart of the immediate work they are doing.In other words, their main aim doesn't relate directly to their work, but rather to something outside it. Hence in order to identify the gruesomeness of the process we will have to compensate with the relevance and quality of the end product to some extent . But lets look at t the process first.

Broadly , there are three class of workers, based on what they use the more, physical or mental capacity.

  • Physical capacity workers -consists of daily wage laborer, peddlers, hawkers, newspaper vendor, etc. They claim reimbursement mainly for their manual effort employed in the work.
  • Mental Capacity workers- consists primarily of academicians,researchers,writers,business analysts,software engineers and almost all blue-collared jobs.
  • Physico-mental Capacity- consists mainly of businessmen, agents,Engineers (civil and mechanical) and all such people whose basic task is to get things working, in whichever way possible.
It will be difficult to compare mental and muscle capacity, yet in order to measure the "hardness" of work, we can place greater value on muscle (as a socialist) , although mind would score well speaking as a capitalist. The obvious choice or group, is the first one in this manner, followed by the third one and second in descending order. To add weight ti its claim, we find that the returns for this class of workers are bare survival or existence, and thus they go on to manage their existence. Even when we compare the returns we find that the other two classes enjoy huge returns , third group in particular.

I think thus,I have the answer. Its the first group people who work the hardest,and this result is further corroborated by the fact that the poorest countries of the world, work hardest, to acquire at least the bare minimum returns for survival.

Indian Frustration.

I was going through a bunch of pics sent by my friend in Canada. Velvety roads, smoother than a damsel's cheeks, bastions created over riversides. How I wish to live at such a place! But here I languish In India. A land that will never provide me with those serenic beauty , maintained with utmost care. Howsoever, I long , I know , I wont get it.

The obvious question for me is to create it, but I ask myself, whether I will be ever able to create that. Haven't there been so many lucky one's born in affluence who will never have to worry about that question of creation, they own it , by virtue of birth and chromosomal luck. I belong to this land , over here, which I don't know for sure is, how much mine. Haven's I heard that phrase , "Ask not what your country could do for you, but what you could do for your country", but how can I do anything If I don't know what benefit is to accrue out of that effort.

However, at any level of thought, I am Indian. I have born Indian and never ever thought myself separate from it. My country, this country, is moving on path of rapid progress, taking giant strides, but I will never get that world. I know that for sure.

Friday, 14 August 2009

A Farewell of its kind

"I'm leaving alone for the journey. Babu, will board me on the way at his station , and I'll leave from there.", My Grandpa declared. How can you go alone? You aren't strong enough to travel alone to such places. Moreover one of us could come with you to assist you . Once the medical checkup is done , you'll be in better condition. Though they pleaded, my grandpa was adamant on his decision. He wanted to leave alone. I knew for sure , if he leaves he is not coming back, and I guess all of us knew. Good riddance , many thought.

Monday, 10 August 2009


I love new things. New dress, New friends,New place,New books,New work, you name it. There is something unique about new things. When my day starts with a new cloth on, I feel the joy of a newborn. When I meet new friends the intrigue of knowing him/her is just too exciting. A new place offers an excitement of discovery at each step,and new books promise the manifestation of an another truth , perhaps another tactile truth.

However, in order to experience the joy of new , I need to get bored of old. Thankfully, I don't have to make too much effort for that . Its easy to get bored. Just take things at their face value, a value, attributed by conventional wisdom, by defaults , and boredom follows.
My shirt, prim and starched, looses its vigor, and then it no longer entices me. My friends, get too trite with time , for they have nothing different to talk about,a visited place exhausts its surprises. And then its nothing more than , just an another piece of land.A book once read, looses the charisma of promise hidden within to considerable extent. I no longer get lured by it and look for something else.

What is the period during which that thing is neither new nor old. Neither too dear nor too abhorrent. And what is the point at which it ceases to be tolerable any more. Boredom gives vigor to newness and newness paves way for boredom. They both work together.

Friday, 7 August 2009

The free things

Best things in life are free.This cliched phrase seems to reinvent itself in different ways at different paths and thus constantly reaffirming its pertinence. Just when I was bored of everything that I wanted, I thought of a free thing. Ah! water was one , although its not free in Bangalore, and next was music. Classical music.
I zeroed on you tube's collection of classical music and found a rich repository of classical blends. Jugalbandi of tabla and bansuri, tabla solo,bansuri solo,ghazal and so on . It was just awesome or rather awe inspiring. Come and discover it, its free.

Monday, 3 August 2009

When I met Hitler

When sleep overtakes, mind comes into action, of altogether different kind and under some spell of its own creation. Ideas, hope, joy, sorrow all start rushing through incoherently. But the dust settles soon and contrived plot begins to unfold. Who created that for me ? They all seem to foster their own creation, their own growth.

I am in Berlin now, working with my friends, in the field. Its harvest time and I have managed to get a bumper crop this year, which would be followed by bumper cash in no time. There have been several plans chalked out for the coming harvest period. Buying a new house, new clothes for everyone, jeweleries for mother, which she had to sell out last year due to drought. There were hardships nevertheless at present, torn clothes, leaking roof, yet as we were together, it didn't smite us strongly enough. My brother was lying in the arms of my mother, he was just too beautiful a baby. Large bubbly eyes, dark eyelashes, lanky fingers. While I was lost in the prospect of a beautiful future, heavy roar raised in the near distance. Jeeps filled with armed men came screeching towards us. Dust engulfed the entire scene, but darker was the fear raised within our hearts. We trembled.

In no time, three corpulent man, unloaded off the jeep and rushed towards me, shouting commands at the top of their voice. "Lie down! Put your hands back!", they shouted. I fell prostrate on the ground confused of the events. They came to me and picked me up, tied my hands and dragged me , "What's the matter ? What have I done? Who are you ?", I fired questions out of confusion. But they seemed to be in no mood to answer. I struggled to get free , when all of a sudden the man with baton in his hand, flashed it at me and said, "No questions for now, just know that you have been sought by Hitler".

Hitler! did I hear it right? He has long been dead, where am I , I was resident of India and there had been no Hitler here, I closed my eyes and reopened, I was in India, they were Indian police men around me. I thought I was in Berlin. In any case, who is this Hitler?

But the policemen had changed , they were much less corpulent and bulky now. My field was no longer around me, instead a roof top filled with technical gadgets laid around. I rushed towards the edge, freeing myself of the police men arms. It was too high, a deep bay laid on the edge. Turning sideways my eyes locked with the friends looking into that deep bay . They too were filled with the same questions, when all of a sudden a tall , burly man appeared behind him with a sharp razor in his hand. "Jump! " I retorted. He did jump , however ,only after his throat was slit.

I cowered with fear, petrified, I fell back on the floor. And then I heard the sound of the boots bashing on the floor. I raised my head, a short stout man stood in front." Who are you ?" I whined. Why are you killing us? What the hell is your authority ? Dont you fear law or god?

He smirked and bent down to my face. "I am Hitler. No, don't be surprised. If you seem to think that with death of a Nazi Hitler, idea of HITLER could be killed, then you are wrong . You can kill the man , but not the idea. Our idea was always stronger, always desirable. In the pursuit of betterment of civilization , some people have to exhumed at the cost of others, and this is what I do, this is what Hitler has been . I am powered by nature to exterminate the undesirable weeds of filthy human beings born out of trash. One race has to always decimate the other one, to maintain their pride.Lines of division may change , but it will always be "us" against "them". Unfortunately you belong to "them", the feeble , weaker, filthier category. Turn around your thought and look with clear eyes, all the shouts of freedom are nothing more than an extended pursuit of the vested interests. I do not carry that sham. I have been only fighting for my race, the race of rich and intelligent. It is us who are supposed to be at the helm always, you laborers deserve to be crushed at best. You have few minutes to death, take a good look at me , and wish that you were reborn to our race , the race of superior beings of rich and intellectual, else, this cycle would always have short term. Hitler never died, and it will never die, you and your ilk will".

I could see the end now, very soon all of my ilk would be abolished, I would just leave earlier. This fault lay not with my "labor" capacity, but with my incapacity to be rich or intelligent. This Hitler stood in front of me , now in this life who I hate so much now,he didn't seem to be wrong however, as I ruminated over those invidious words. I dont want to be born poor or unintellectual. However, before I could think for long, I was pushed over to death.

I woke up , saw around me , I was in Bangalore, sighing, I got up , to accomplish what my master has commanded us individuals to. Which master ? Hitler , of course.