~~The Imperfect Society~~

There was a time when I thought about what a perfect society should be like; I still do sometimes. Eventually, there were two painful realizations: First, there probably isn't such a thing as a perfect society, even in theory. Second, even if there is, I don't live in one.

Wham!!

For years I kept thinking over the wrong question, seeking the non-existent Utopia... because it was the easy thing to do. Just hide away from the world, sit alone in your room and work out your own version of a Republic. Convenient. Except you can't hide forever. Sooner or later, no matter how individualistic you may be in ideology, you realize that there are lives attached to you. Sticky organic lives, which you can't tear apart without bleeding yourself. I was suddenly thrown into the whole mess unprepared. What is a guy, whose head is full of potential blueprints for a perfect society, supposed to do when he is forced to live in an imperfect society?

Wham!!

Suddenly all those 'lesser mortals' appeared more well-adjusted to live in this world, because they had never asked the question "What is Utopia?". They had never sought a higher world, and had learned to live in this one. I had sought a higher world, and I learned to live in none. So, it was after the realization that I began to ask myself the question: "How should one live in an imperfect society?" This is the question that matters. How should you compromise between what you think is right and what the society expects you to do? What should you do when you don't even know what's right? What values to keep, what values to sacrifice? Perhaps this requires what we call 'sense of judgment', 'wisdom'. And wisdom cannot be codified and systematized.

We cannot suddenly radically transform a society; nor can we create a society out of nothing. We have to work with what we have got, and what we have got is a small but significant sphere of influence. Your very own micro-cosmos: that tiny little world where you can make your own decisions, where you can speak your mind, where you can be yourself, where you can influence others. This could be just you and your best friend. This could be your Facebook life. This could be your blog.

Find your micro-cosmos. Use it to start a ripple of change. You cannot build a perfect society, but you can try to build your life, whatever you can, as much as you can. Be yourself because a life is more convincing than an argument.

~~Lets Have a thought process over Love~~

The cheesiness implied in the title drew your attention didn't it?Well that was the purpose anyway since Blogger seems to be suffering from CDS (Comments Deficiency Syndrome) now-a-days with few active bloggers around who care to drop by and offer their valuable feedback.
And without a reader's opinion the existence of a blogger becomes pointless.
Anyway let's come to the topic.
To all Celine Dion fans worldwide..I'm sorry to disappoint y'all but this is not about her famous album.
But in any case this post is dedicated to love.
The significance of this mere 4-lettered word weighs so heavily on my shoulders that I feel unsure about doing this topic justice.But I'll try my level-best nonetheless.

Our lives are based on need and convenience.We always hanker after the things which are worthy in our opinion.When presented with a set of options we always choose the one which suits our needs perfectly.So basically when we are getting involved with another person it's either because being with that person is the most convenient alternative available(meaning it makes us happy and/or enhances our social standing) or that person is really important in our eyes.There's little or no love involved.

This is USUALLY the case.
There is of course the situation when you feel an undeniable attraction towards a particular person and your heart pines for their company.Now would you call that love?
Maybe or maybe not.The attraction for a person stems from their good character traits or physical appearance agree or disagree.
What if the person in question loses some of those qualities?Would your feelings remain the same?-The answer to that will be fraught with uncertainties.

Think about the whole institution of arranged marriage-from matrimonial ads in a newspaper column to profiles on shaadi.com it's all about flaunting yourself and inviting the choicest of proposals.(Unpleasantly reminds one of some business deal.)Isn't all of this about making the best bet?Where is the love in that?

Some of you will opine that in such cases love sprouts after marriage like that Platinum Day of love ad depicts.But is it really true?
Maybe being with each other turns into a habit with the passage of time and the companionship of one becomes indispensable to the other.Which brings us back to square one-Need and Convenience.

About 'love relationships' one gets to see everywhere these days...the less said the better.To know what I mean by that read down.......

Have I tortured you enough at a time when love is 'supposedly' in the air?
My apologies but this is not what I had set out to do.
Denouncing love or its existence has never been my intention.How can I reject one of the fundamental truths about life?

I had a friend once-a companion,a confidante,a partner in crime.
We laughed at the ridiculousness of things,we argued over a million topics under the sun,we talked nineteen to the dozen over a drab cheese sandwich and a hot cuppa coffee.We had prolonged telephone conversations about everything and nothing,we engaged in deathly verbal battles and although rarely, we agreed with each other at times.No there was nothing lovey-dovey in this relationship.No stirrings of the so-called romantic love.

And yet I loved him....not in the way a woman loves a man but in a way one human being loves another.
I still care for him.I want him to smile and be happy.And I don't want anything in return.
Some part of my heart firmly believes that the feeling is mutual.
But we don't speak to each other anymore.One has become invisible to the other.
I can't really say what went wrong.One moment everything was fine...and in the next one everything fell apart.If you ask me what was the reason behind I won't be able to explain properly.But I fear our life-sized egos got in the way.
He would never apologize to me and I am too proud to go say a sorry to him.But we would feel what we feel from a distance.There's absolutely no hope that we'll ever make up but we continue to wish each other well.

So what do you call such a thing?a relationship devoid of any words,gestures or any kind of communication?a relationship where there are no needs or demands,no gains or losses?
I think I know what it is....a love between friends that few will understand and most will find strange.

A mother's pride in her child's achievement,a father figure silently watching over his family,an act of compassion towards a total stranger,a friend always ready to help you out in times of need-love is omnipresent in all its myriad colors.
But we are often too blind to notice.
Love exists....not to boost the sales of diamond trinkets,cards or cute teddy bears for V-day but to make life worth living.

"Love is always patient and kind. It is never jealous. Love is never boastful or
conceited. It is never rude or selfish. It does not take offense and is not
resentful. Love takes no pleasure in other people's sins, but delights in the
truth. It is always ready to excuse, to trust, to hope, and to endure whatever
comes."-quote from Jamie's Bible in A Walk To Remember

~~Be very wary else you'll be very weary ~~

Now now, see there are a lot of things one should be wary of. But never be wary of what you can be weary. The problem basically arises when you realise that the two words are actually homonyms. Not that they're words of the same kind and indulge in sexual fantasies, no. It's basically got a lot to do with the fact that homonyms do not have anything to do with the sexual preferences. I'm sure all of you actually know the meaning of homonyms. No, it's not a colloqial way of calling out homosexual nymphs. It's homo-NYMS, and that's it. But the whole motive of me writing this remains that you forget what homonyms really mean. Homonyms are basically HOrMOnal synoNYMS. Like Testerone in men is synonymous to Oestrogen in women. This really shows my biology is terribly weak and now you're actually wary of reading any more of this. But I'm sure I'll continue till the time you're actually weary of reading this. I'm quite sure you still know the real meaning of homonyms. It really means Horticultural Momentary NY (New York) MudfighterS. Ha! You still know the meaning of homonyms. Hollywood Mallu NatYa Madarsas - It's an elite association formed in Hollywood, CA by Mallus following the religion of Islam and are from the any of the basic Indian dance families/schools like BharatNatyam, Kuchipudi, Kathak, Kathakali, etc.

Somehow I have a strange recollection of weird thoughts that tell me that we all have been discussing precisely the wrong meanings of Homonyms all this while. They're just the long form of the colloqially shortened word, 'hymns'. You actually sing homonyms to the lord. But on second and third thoughts I feel homonyms are just homonyms and we should let them be else they'll all form an assemblee and come for us with vengeance and furious anger, then take us to the hangar and dump us in an airplane and make sure we're flying on a different plane and promise us various spiritual planes and soon enough our career graphs, our ECGs will all be plain plain and our bodies found in the next lane.

Is this enough insane?

A brief guide to being a muse:
First, find a sufficiently impoverished artist. If this is not possible, a poverty-stricken writer or director or, if truly desperate, a poet will do. A typical example of this specimen has long, unkempt hair that is usually a nesting ground for various insects, small birds and – in one recorded instance in 1874 – a very frightened kangaroo. His face tends to be typically oval-shaped, unless it is round or perhaps square in which case it is not, in fact, oval. He is also conspicuous by a look of perpetual failure and a general state of sulkiness.

Second, strive to look as muse-like as possible. Try to be genetically-endowed with impossibly long legs, an exquisitely small curvy waist, voluptuous hips and goddess breasts. Remember to exhibit at all times a perpetually pained expression not unlike that of one who’s just walked past an open sewer. One is advised to grow to be a staggering 6 feet.

Refuse to wear clothes as a mark of protest against society’s obscene fascination with materialistic possessions. As one will soon learn, this stance will stand you in good stead when one realizes that a poverty-stricken artist will usually not be able to afford Prada. Gucci maybe, but not Prada.

Do not talk. Ever. Merely grunt when spoken to. When one desires a ridiculously expensive object of no functional value whatsoever – as a muse, being unreasonable is a way of life and a deep philosophical principle – a light tip of the head 1/8th of an inch in the general direction of the desired object will fetch instant results.

Strive to be as volatile as possible. In fact, the more explosive your mood swings, the better a muse you’ll make. It helps slightly to break a small but expensive object from time to time. As your inspired artist/poet/writer/struggling dentist will typically be monetarily-challenged, this may not always be possible after a certain point of time. In which case, one may try breaking windows, doorknobs, body-parts and an egg occasionally.

As a muse, you will be required to do something sufficiently inspiring from time to time. This being the arrangement, in exchange for free food, housing, various shiny objects and the undying adoration of a struggling albeit genius-before-his-time-on-the-

brink-of-stupendous-success artist. Or if not an artist, at the very least, a mildly disillusioned plumber who feels he was destined to be greater things, like say, Picasso.

But not to worry, evoking inspiration is effortless for a muse of great talent. The easiest thing to do is to drop one’s clothes, and stand poised in a state of heightened rapture, one’s face glowing with the borrowed radiance of the rising sun. Of course, it is easier to exude a quality of heartbreaking beauty if one is not an over-weight East-European hag with a rather conspicuous mustache. If this is unfortunately the case, consider instead living in absolute darkness and find a sufficiently disillusioned dentist to inspire.

A brief guide to being an intellect:

Intellects are those strange creatures whose sole aim in life is to one day have an entire closet full of tweed jackets with leather elbow patches and 7 pairs of horn-rimmed glasses. An intensely annoying high-pitched nasal voice is highly desirable. If one is doubly blessed with a lisp, then this may be the perfect profession for you.

When you invite friends over, make sure to have none but the most boring people in the history of mankind invade your abode. Serve only shredded duck in oyster sauce canapés and foie gras with fig and orange blossom chutney – carefully fashioned into exquisite mickey mouse shapes. Always serve wine to your guests. Remember to announce that is only the best fleufdelablooblahbleh, made with grapes hand-pressed by Louise the X1V himself.

As an intellect, you are expected to be well-read. Take pains to pepper your home with books. Playboy does not count. The more incomprehensible, the better. If you can, always surround yourself with books by French authors. It helps if it’s the original language. It also helps if one actually knows French.

A good reply to the question, have you read (insert book title here) would be: Not recently. This absolves one of resorting to mendacity.

Have highly-opinionated opinions on everything, particularly life, philosophy and the universe in general. For reference, try Kierkegaard and Nietzsche for Dummies, 2nd edition. Whenever anyone objects to your opinion, invoke the double-core induction theorem. Hence proved.

Never enunciate and always speak with a drawl, as if it is too much effort to discipline one’s tongue to frame a coherent sentence. In fact, the less understandable you are, the greater your intellectual standing among your peers. When faced with a particularly difficult philosophical question, remember that square root of negative 73 is always a good answer.

Invent your own philosophy. If you can, invent your own system of ethics. Do not, however, invent your own language. That’s just plain stupid. If somebody objects to your system of ethics on grounds of deep flaws and blatant moral relativism, invoke the double-core induction theorem. You will soon realize it’s a good theorem to know.

Hence proved.

A brief guide to being an insufferable snob:

To paraphrase a famous green furry er person: Be or be not. There is no try. In the same vein, one cannot become a snob. One is either born with the gift, or isn’t.

Never call anyone by their names. Snap your fingers instead. If you can, avoid any sort of tedious labour, like snapping fingers. You will find a barely perceptible flick of your fingers in the general direction of the hired help should be sufficient to elicit response. If one is forced to use words, choice vocabulary includes: garcon, slave and minion. While talking to entities of lower bearing, make sure to scrunch up your nose like you’re in the vicinity of a dead animal in the advanced stage of putrefaction.

Refuse to drink any water except a particularly obscure brand of water bottled at the foothills of the glaciers of Ukraine. When it comes to clothes, only wear obscenely expensive brand labels. And no, made in china does not qualify as a brand label.

Ostentatious display of jewelry is considered tacky. Instead, request your local cosmetic surgeon to inject your cheekbones with 200 carat Belgium-grade A diamonds set in gold. You may die, but it’s a small price to pay for such a noble cause.

When you die, leave your house, cars, diamonds, and all your money to your dog. To not seem like a heartless wretch, remember to leave 64 paise and a wad of used chewing-gum to your bastard son.

Of course, it helps greatly if in addition to these traits one also possesses a shit-load of money. Preferably old (read: inherited) money and a ‘name’ – not the ones they call you behind your back. It’s always a good sign if one can trace one’s ancestry way back to one’s own father. If one finds oneself insufficiently endowed in this regard, fret not, find a decrepit old person and get married immediately in the presence of a lawyer and two witnesses. A Russian oil-baron is always a good choice.

Happy hunting.

"Rain & Rainbow"

Karan looked out of his window again. The rain seemed to have increased again. "The heavens seem to be reflecting my mind, he thought". He had lost an opportunity at a promotoin the previous day. At night, he had drowned his sorrows in two bottles of whisky. His efforts for the firm had been belittled.

A small mistake on his part, and his world had fallen down on him. He had shared the idea with his colleague, and done most of the work. Yet, the previous day, his trust was betrayed as the colleague took utmost credit leaving him a blank paper of promotion. He hads the audacity to deny it when confonted and Karan did not have anything to prove that he had done all the work. He took a sheet of paper.

I trusted some one ; I paid the price for it. The bretrayal has effected me in ways I dont know.My efforts for the firm havent been recognized. I leave this world...."he stopped writing the note. The effects of the whisky seemed to have worn off, and when he stood up, he did not sway. He took shower, and got ready for what was to him, his final day at office. He opened his umbrella and walked out.

Nearing his office, he saw the watchman's kid playing without worried in the rain. He yearned for those days, when he used to enjoy life wothoutany worry. He yearned for a world where no one would bask in his glory but him. He entered the building, closed his umbrella and went to his desk. He saw that colleague walk by.

Bastard, he cursed under his breath, I will be in a much better world soon than with you are." He saw karen, his boss's secretary approaching him. He did been in love with her for some time, but did not know how to express it. "did it matter now?" he thought.

Oh Karan, the boss wants to see you now, she said. He went. his face was expressionless and his mind calm. His boss saw him enter and in gis direct manner asked him, "KAran can you explain this code to me?" He took the sheet opf paper from his hand, saw his own idea there. He explained with ease.

Well done. Shekhar could not explain it. Its your code isnt' it?, he asked, Karan nodded. His boss gave him an envelope. He opened it to find a letter of promotion there. He thanked him and went out. Karen was smiling. She knew "karen, I am in love with you. Would you have dinner with me tonight?, he asked. She said yes, came to his side and kissed him. He smiled, went outside and started walking in the rain.

Soon, he reached home. He kept the envelope on his desk. The breeze blew away the note he'd written in the morning. The rain seemed to have stopped. He looked outside and saw a rainbow, beautifull like his life.