com·mu·nal·ism
\-nə-ˌli-zəm\
Noun: loyalty to a sociopolitical grouping based on religious or ethnic affiliation

That’s right out of Webster.
And reason why I needed to look up Webster for the most commonly used word in Indian politics today is because am fast realizing that this could possibly be the most misunderstood word in politics as well.

So, Mr. Narendra Modi won Gujarat elections yesterday for his third consecutive term. I remember five years back when he had won a similar majority I was extremely distraught. Afterall, how could someone who ought to be tried for letting rioters go berserk in aftermath of Godhra can be head of a government. And inspite of my greatest regard for Atal Bihari Vajpayee, one reason why I supported Congress in last elections was because I was convinced that BJP needs to be punished for what it allowed to happen in Gujarat.

But yesterday, as I streamed webcast of CNN-IBN to follow Gujarat election results, I was hoping Modi would win. And for simple reason that I have begun to realize that Congress’s brand of communalism will hurt this country more in a long run. I must clarify that I still blame Narendra Modi for Gujarat riots and I have little respect for him given his outright cheap and demeaning political speeches in last election.

But as I said before only reason why I wanted Modi to win, was because I wanted Congress to lose. Same Congress that I supported in last elections, which in hindsight was a mistake. Why? Let’s just sample few of the great steps being considered by this government to figure out why:

1. Muslim policemen in Muslim dominated areas
2. Preference for Muslims in Indian Army
3. Higher UGC grants for colleges with more Muslims
4. Directive to banks to include lending to Muslims under priority sector banking
5. More Muslims on government job interview panels so that more Muslims get selected

So if you just mistook Muslim for a synonym for Indian, you ain’t the only one out there to make that mistake. Apparently, Government of sovereign, socialist, secular, democratic republic of India led by Mr. Muslimmohan Singh err Manmohan Singh seems to have similar misunderstanding.

Now, just in case anyone here thinks that I have turned Hindu nationalist. Hold on.
I HATE COMMUNALISM.
And I hate communalism in its all forms. And you can refer the definition of communalism at the beginning of this post because communalism means religious bias and not just Hindu bias as Indian politicians seem to believe. So, while there is no denying that BJP has communal shades all over, but is Congress any different? BJP at least kept Army out of its communal agenda. And so, when on TV you hear a congressman call Narendra Modi communal, you just can’t help liking it to pot calling the kettle black.

We the people of India are today faced with a choice between devil and deep blue sea. Either we can side with a Communal BJP or a Communal Congress. Either we can vote for Gujarat rioters or Sikh rioters. Either we can elect a government which would thing twice before hanging Dara Singh or a government which would think thrice about hanging Mohammed Afzal. But the real tragedy is that while one of them would always win, we will always lose. We may help one of them to get elected but in the end we will be the ones who’ll end up being sorry for making that choice. Just as I today rue supporting Congress in 2004, I might be sitting and sulking few years down the line for supporting BJP in 2009.
And that’s why I say Frustration thy name is Indian Politics.

He again woke up in the middle of night. He figured it must be around 3 in the morning. At first when he started getting up in night, he used to keep his watch close by to see the time. Now he just has to look out of the window. One of many lessons time taught him that he never thought himself capable of learning.

It was another dark night, clouds held rein over the night sky but thankfully it was not raining. He absolutely detested that sound of rain lashing against the window pane during the nights. Initially, when he used to wake up to find rain beating hard against the window, he used to feel like screaming at the top of his voice to silence that rain. Now, he just prays for a rainless night before going to bed. But not so long ago, he loved the sound and sight of rain.

He poured himself some water from the jug and started sipping it slowly. He was not thirsty but this is one of those routines that he had invented to spend these almost unending hours. At first, he got himself some books to keep company but then he realized that eyes that can’t sleep through the night can also not read through the night. He stayed awake for three consecutive nights without turning a page and then he realized that sipping a glass of water in dark is a better bet against the night than making oneself conspicuous in the light of table lamp. Now all his books sit in the shelf opposite to his bed, reminding him of days when life was still about hope, ambition and dreams.

And life indeed was good to him till not so long ago. But then he played and lost the most important gamble of his life. Fate conspired with his dreams to make him give up all he ever owned in pursuit of one thing which he can never own. And he fell for it. He staked his entire self to win something which he then realized could never be his to keep. And so at the end of it, all he was left with was a sense of betrayal and bitterness. His dreams betrayed him, his fate embittered him. And they took away everything - his sound sleep, his enthusiasm for life, his little joys and mobility of his lower body.

As his half-paralysed body lay on that hospital bed waiting for dawn to arrive, he suddenly heard the sound of raindrops hitting the window. Another of his prayer went unanswered...

Last Friday, this blog turned 1.

And as I look back, it has been an eventful year. Over the course of this year, a lot changed and still a lot remained the same. I went through times which took turns being joyous, sad, anxious, calm, desperate, exciting, frustrating and boring but this blog stayed with me through all that.

I weaved stories, analysed politics, reviewed movies, mulled over the past, dissected nothings and acted wise ;-) But through all this, what kept bringing me back here was that I could be myself here. I could weave fantasies, create characters, voice my frustration, criticize what I disliked and yearn for what I wanted.

And hopefully this is one thing that would not change with turn of calendar.

Other day I was finding my way through a shopping mall and as I looked down I found a really old couple going down the escalators. They must be really old, I guess both of them must be somewhere in mid-70s. Must have been married for around 40-50 years or so. And just when I was about to take my eyes off them, I saw uncle getting off the escalator and holding out his hand for the auntie. She took his hand and came off the escalator, she held a walking stick and was walking very slowly but uncle not for a moment walked ahead of her. It was visible even to my untrained eyes that he is taking those little steps just to walk together with her. I was really distant to notice any facial expressions, but I guess there wouldn’t have been any – there was no need for them. All that was there was - a silent understanding, an unstated awareness of each other’s need and trust developed over so many years that one would be there when other will need him/her.

It was just a little incident, but it was beautiful and left me with a smile that was happy for someone I may never see again :)

Do you know why Will Smith titled his movie – Pursuit of Happyness?
That’s because God had copy rights on the phrase “Pursuit of Happiness”. Yeah, that’s what He calls life up there.

And isn’t it what life is all about – Pursuit of Happiness. Just in case you think, key word there is Happiness – gotcha – you are wrong. Key word there is “Pursuit”. A pursuit that gets defeated by shortness of life. I suggest that next time they find a star really distant from earth – they should name it ‘Happiness’. Just think about the headline in newspaper next day :
Happiness discovered five million light years away from Earth
Apt. Isn’t it? Even if man can travel at speed of light, longest one has ever lived is 110-120 years, so no would ever get to even reach closer to Happiness. [- the star]

Did any of you used to see those mythological serials on Doordashan long back – they used to show Gods talking and whenever they wanted to punish someone they would pack him to earth. I used to think of it as a pretty easy deal on the culprit ;-) Guess, now I have discovered my Godliness ;-), now I can make perfect sense why anyone would do that. Probably, earth is actually a prison for souls that did something wrong on some planet beta and so they were given a jail uniform (read human body) and sent to this prison, where they get to do jail hours (read work) to earn their living and serve their time (read life) till they can go back again to planet beta ;-)

Now am sure you would have seen those smiling faces and must have heard those ringing laughter – don’t be fooled. It was joy, not happiness. Yeah, life does have enough joy to offer – that’s God’s way of making it up to us. So He packs the joy in small boxes and drops it from up there for us to catch. Remind me again of DD – news this time – that footage of army men dropping food packets from air force planes in flooded areas. That’s how life is - flooded with unhappiness – but for humanitarian reasons – God keeps dropping us those packets of joy – few of us catch them, thank God for that and rest of us wonder what’s there in that packet. We look at that smile and mistook it to be happiness, but its just joy my dear friends. Joy which will not last anyone for ever, coz it’s just instantaneous & ephemeral.

I wonder, why God even gave hope to humans that they can be happy – its sheer cruelty – I mean, just plain tell them, you gonna be a wretched lot down there. One learns to live with his lot. But nopes He chose to be sheer mean and cruel. And for His sadistic pleasure He invented ‘hope’, so that He can look at people living in a constant hope that they can be happy, things can be better. And poor us, we cling on to hope and keep up the ‘pursuit’.

I remember that tale about Lord Buddha, where he had asked a woman whose young child has died, that go get a bowl of rice from a home where no one has ever died and then He would bring her son back to life. Similarly, today I wanna play God, so just show me a man who has been truly happy in his life and I will put you in a constant state of bliss as well !!!

And so he stood again in the battlefield of Kurushektra with a feeling of déjà vu. It felt exactly the same. Same as it was a day before. No one else remembered it but him. Only he knew that what is going to start in few minutes has played out earlier also.

And he also remembered how it has ended. Abhimanyu was standing again in Kurushektra just a day after he got killed by Jaydrath. Army of Kauravas had the same Chakravyuh formation. He was still the only one who knew how to get into this chakravyuh, he still didn’t know how to get out of it. But this time only thing that has changed was that now he was aware that last time he got himself killed battling his way out of that Chakravyuh.

It was not supposed to be like this. Battle of Mahabharata was to proceed without him. He had played out his part and he was no more to be part of this. But he wanted another shot. Life rarely gives another shot but he insisted. As he stood before God in Heaven, he asked Him to let him live that last day of his life once again. He wanted to get it right this time. He wanted to beat Kauravas, he wanted to be the victor and so as he insisted, God relented. And so Abhimanyu got another chance.

He had thought that this time he wont make the mistakes he made earlier, he would be more cautious now, he would benefit from his knowledge of past. But suddenly as he stood in his chariot moments before conch was to announce beginning of day’s battle, he realized none of that was to happen. He didn’t even know if he made any mistake last time – he hardly did, he was also as cautious as he could be and knowledge of past was hardly an asset as it only reminded him that his best was not enough last time, that no matter how hard he tried he still couldn’t figure a way out of chakravyuh. And he suddenly realized that there is nothing that could go any different this time. If he chose to enter the chakravyuh, he would not get out. And then he remembered face of God as He agreed to let him go and live that last day again. He had just smiled, just as you let the kid has his way knowing fully well that he still can’t change anything.

He suddenly realized how naïve he was to think that he could change the course of life, that he could challenge the fate and come out winners, that just because has lost once before –he would win this time.

And then he heard the conch, and he made his way to chakravyuh. Knowing fully well how it could end but hoping it would end some other way. But when have hopes ever got better of fate? It all played out just as it did a day before. Jaydrath killed Abhimanyu again. Fate & life conspired to get their way once more.

Living on foreign shores, away from hustle and bustle of India, one thing that I have realized is that those festivals which used to announce themselves months in advance back home, slip by quietly like strangers here.

I remember that as I kid I grew up with, dusshera, lohri, rakhi, janmashtmi, basant panchmi etc. and navratri & ganesh chaturthi joined in during later years. And Holi & Diwali the Big 2 were always there. But somehow over years, I kept losing touch with them one by one, and am more or less left with only Holi & Diwali now.

And though I don't know why, but Diwali was always been my favourite festival. As a kid, initially it were the firecrackers which used to be the major draw but as I grew up and gave up on patakhas, Diwali's place in my list of favourites saw no change. Rather I only got further enamoured by Diwali; sight of diyas lighting up the night held me spellbounded every year without fail. Frankly, if I have a choice I would do away with all the electric lighting and just put Diyas everywhere on Diwali night. They are so beautiful and so surreal. Reminiscent of old world beauty and elegance.

I know I gonna miss all that this Diwali. May be I won't have any diyas that day, even if I find few for my house I know I can't walk out and find every house lit up, doors open, children running around, people all dressed up and smiles just having a field day on everyone's face.

But I just hope everyone back home in India will have lots of such sights.

And as for me, if i switch off all the lights and light up a lot of diyas - it would make a decent sight, rite ;-)

HAPPY DIWALI to one and all :)

शुभ दीपावली !!!

While putting together few words recently, I realized they ended up looking like couplets.
So thought will post some of them here...

कुछ हवा का ज़ोर था, कुछ बादलों की मर्ज़ी थी
वो उड़ गए वही से, जहाँ छीटों की कुछ ज़रूरत थी
-------------------------------------------------

किसी ने पी के भुला दिया ग़म को
किसी ने रो के बहा दिया ग़म को
इक मैं हूँ जो ना पीता हूँ, ना रोता हूँ
इसलिए तमाम रात, आँखों मे गुज़र करता हूँ
-------------------------------------------------

रश्क करता हूँ मैं सितारों की किस्मत से
काश की मेरे पास भी हर रात , मेरा चाँद होता
-------------------------------------------------

अब तो तुम ख़्वाबों मे भी नहीं आती मेरे
कोई भला किसी से कहाँ इतना ख़फा होता हैं
-------------------------------------------------

चलो कुछ देर और इंतज़ार किया जाएँ,
किसी उम्मीद से रोशन जहाँ किया जाएँ,
दुआएँ असर होने मे वक्त लेती हैं
इतने जल्दी मायूस ना हुआ जाएँ
-------------------------------------------------


Album Recommendation for the day:

While my attempts at poetry may not cut much ice with many but hear the Poems CD of Dus Kahaniyan. It has got some terrific pieces of poetry by none other than Gulzar. You better brush up your urdu though as it does have fair sprinkling of not so common words but trust me its a must hear.

My current fav from this album:

तुझे भूलने लगा हूँ मैं अब... & उसे फिर लौट के जाना हैं ये मालूम था ...

One of my friend’s gtalk tagline read “when you do NPV of life…u should use a discount rate of approx. zero”. Now given my interest in DCF (Discounted Cash Flow analysis for non-MBAs), it was quiet natural for me to get intrigued by this statement.

After all, if you use zero as discount rate than effectively you don’t discount future at all. So implications are:
(a) NPV (Net Present Value for non-MBAs) of your life gets artificially high,
(b) You come up with a seemingly tough to digest logic that say if you hungry today still you are indifferent to getting a meal now or a week later and
(c) Since you have made discount rate zero so it also means that any return on effort in life is equivalent to nil…so either you having a really wretched life or you just don’t have anything left to achieve or attain.

Therefore, I was a little confounded and I just assumed that what she might have meant is to actually live in present and not worry about the future in which case she should have ideally used a discount rate of infinity ;-)

It was upon broaching this with her when I figured that she came up with this line while reading a book called Secret by Rhonda Byrne and the philosophy inherent in that. So I picked up the trail to chance upon what is known as Law of Attraction. Now, I have a very strong opinion on this “law” but before I prejudice you with my perception, let me just state what it actually stands for, so I would borrow the definition from the link above ( while strongly recommending that you go through that link once):
“It states that people experience physical and mental manifestations that correspond to their predominant thoughts, feelings, words, and actions and that people therefore have direct control over reality and their lives through thought alone.”

Interesting right, let me put it a little simply …it says that “for something to happen, all you need to do is to believe/hope that it would happen” So how life will pan out is suddenly not a function of your actions but simply a function of your thoughts. Now, critics would argue that’s not what it means - one obviously needs to act on his thoughts. So even if I allow lee way for a one to one mapping between functions of thoughts and action i.e. we use a prototype subject who puts all his thoughts into action, then for him things should just pan out the way he wants them to. So suddenly life would become fixed and definite because now there’s no uncertainty. But wait, there is a contradiction, what if two equally deserving and earnest individuals decide to want the same thing with equal fervour and dedication. Now if both of them think that they should have that thing then who would eventually get it. When thoughts of different individuals are contradictory what course would nature take, how would the universe react?

It goes on to say that if you really want something just assume you have it. Now that’s an interesting treatise with long term disastrous results guaranteed. So if you hungry just assume you just getting back from the grandest buffet you ever had and try surviving on this assumption for a week, or if its raining just assume you carrying that black umbrella you lost last week (and hope not to get drenched) and so on… I know am pushing it to logical extreme but then this “law” kinda asked for it.

So now since you have assumed you have everything which you could have ever hoped for, life has suddenly nothing more to achieve. Rather life just becomes a constant wait for your thoughts to turn into reality. And then I see another logical contradiction here. If you assume that you have all you ever needed, would that satisfy you, give you delights of owning what you wanted to own – coz if it does, then there is no need for your thoughts to ever change into reality because you are pretty happy with the virtual reality of your own but if this assumption doesn’t give you any satisfaction or benefit then won’t it leave you disgruntled and dissatisfied - in which case you are back to where you had begun…

This philosophy did have some echo in another popular book – Alchemist by Paulo Coelho (Another popular book that I couldn’t bring myself to like) – “when you really want something, all the universe conspires in helping you achieve it'”. But here it’s far more subdued because it doesn’t guarantee achievement; it just talks about a conducive atmosphere where final result is still a function of your actions.

Nevertheless, my logical & sensible self completely revolted against the entire premise of this theory. But remember, few days back I wrote about little rules of faith and how each one of us need to have some illogical friends like that. Well, I would have let this one pass as one such rule of faith but then what made me write something this long about it is the pretense of this ‘law’ that there is more to it than faith, that you should believe it because it has its roots in quantum physics or its effort to gaining credibility through blatant misinterpretation of Hinduism or Buddhism.

Faith and physics - they make strange bedfellows. I have always believed that faith is as much an ally of a man as logic is. Just that when you base your actions on faith don’t look for support in science and when you act on science just don’t hope that it would turn out any different from how it always does…

I got back home by 6:30 today and for want of anything better to do, switched on Sony. It was showing some recent hindi movie which I don’t really think I would have seen in a better frame of mind , but when you are acutely bored –anything goes. So I ended up watching this flick.

Now it was another of those usual formula hindi movie – Mr. Hero and Ms. Heroine falls in love in first 60 mins, sing songs, exchange vows of true love. Then some misunderstanding crops up and they get apart in next half an hour. Enter Mr. Nice Guy, he supports our Ms. Heroine for next one hour. Mr. Nice Guy gets into good books of Ms. Heroine though our Ms. Heroine still cries all night for Mr. Hero in one or more of those sad songs. With half an hour to go, she comes round and agrees to marry Mr. Nice Guy. Now we enter the climax, just as they were about to get married, misunderstanding between Mr. Hero and Ms. Heroine gets resolved by some twisted stroke of fate. But all this happen almost always on the wedding day. Now Mr. Nice Guy is left with no choice, he steps up and lives up to his name by bringing together Mr. Hero & Ms. Heroine and walking away himself. And without fail, he does this with a perfect smile playing on his face at the end. Result – everybody is happy at the end of three hours. .

I have seen this plot numerous times, two movies I can immediately remember are Kuch Kuch Hota Hain and Mere Yaar ki Shaadi Hain and I seriously felt bad for characters of both Salman Khan & Jimmy Shergill. I mean poor Mr. Nice Guys, why should they always step aside. Why should fate be cruel on them? Why can’t all these misunderstandings get resolved well in time before these poor chaps make an entry? Now you can’t sympathise much with Uday Chopra but u can’t fault SRK for falling in love with Ms. Heroine at first place and we all want things to work out between the leading pair which eventually does. But someone must spare a thought for our poor Mr. Nice Guys. That way Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam was a little different, while Mr. Nice Guy, as usual, decided to step aside but in the end Ms. Heroine came back to him. But then that happened because Ms. Heroine was already Mrs. Heroine by the time movie entered its climax. Now in almost all hindi movies if Ms. Heroine ends up marrying Mr. Nice Guy then we all know happy ending requires our leading lady to stay put in the marriage. That’s why I think Mr. Johar came up with an excellent story for Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna though he spoiled it entirely with frivolous execution of that movie. Now that’s more or less the only movie I recall where Ms. Heroine walks out on a seemingly perfect hubby to pursue her heart’s calling – guess it was too mature and complicated a story for Mr. Johar to handle but I just hope somebody more competent tries a remake of KANK. Am sure this is one script that has immense potential to change the standard formula of hindi movies.

But coming back to tried and tested love triangles of hindi movies (which upon applying rules of geometry should be isosceles in my opinion), I was just wondering could these stories have any other ends? Probably not. On careful thinking, the very reason why the third angle of this triangle is called Mr. Nice Guy and not Mr. Hero 2 is because he is never supposed to be the hero. He is just there to fill in for Mr. Hero till fate plays one of its tricks and set right all that was wrong so far. I mean while all Mr. Nice Guys are immensely likeable but they are not really supposed to be loved or are they? Not really, if any of the hindi movies are to be believed … I don’t seem to recollect any flick where Ms. Heroine (and not Mrs. Heroine) chose to prefer Mr. Nice Guy over Mr. Hero (and not Mr. Anti-Hero).

Frankly, if you ask me if I would like the original formula changed so that Ms. Heroine forgets Mr. Hero and fall in for Mr. Nice Guy, I myself would have serious apprehensions. One or two offbeat movies ok but always …ummmmm no please. Reason – if misunderstandings did them apart in first place then it would be really hard on Mr. Hero as well as Ms. Heroine, if they are kept apart just because it was too late by the time it all got cleared. Guess that’s why our directors prefer to play the game of brinkmanship and chose to clear air just in time i.e. on wedding day ;-) And so if there got to be one sacrificial lamb in the whole thing, its only fair that it is Mr. Nice Guy. After all, Ms. Heroine was never meant to be with him at the first place.

But then, just for the sake of being different. I really wish to see one movie where our Mr. Nice Guy is both liked and loved. And it’s not him who is required to make way at the end. I mean even by the law of large numbers Mr. Hero should run out of luck at least once after repeated success in all the hindi movies in walking away with the bride. Some bright guy somewhere should come up with a believable excuse why Ms. Heroine can live happily ever after with Mr. Nice Guy instead of going back to Mr. Hero.

Now only guys I can trust to do justice with something like this are either Vishal Bharadwaj or Sanjay Leela Bhanshali. But given Shakespeare never thought of a drama like this so Mr. Bharadwaj might just be long way off a movie like this and as for Mr, Bhansali, well…does anyone know what’s the story of Saawariya ? ;-)



Song recommendations:

Now that I have established my knowledge of hindi movies beyond dispute. Let me recommend my favourite tracks from Saawariya. Excellent album and it was really tough to choose one song as favourite over rest and actually I couldn’t do it in the end.
So, two of my fav songs from this album are:

1. थोड़े बदमाश हो तुम, थोड़े नादान हो तुम….. sung by Shreya Ghoshal; &
2. माशा अल्लाह….. by Kunal Ganjawala

There are lots of things I like about night.

Like darkness which hides you from constant glare of the world, quiet that let you steal some moments of peace, solitude that let you be yourself.

After a long day, night is like nature’s gift to you. A gift, wrapped in a beautiful starlit sky and laced with a ribbon made of moonlight.

It's so beautiful and fascinating and still people spend it sleeping…

I wonder why...

I once told myself that tougher it gets for you to get something; greater are the chances that you would eventually get it. Because when something is very precious, God just wants to be sure that He is giving it in the right hands. So, when He makes it difficult for you it’s not to scare you away, but all He wants is to be absolutely sure that you really want what you asking for. And so all one needs to do in such moments is to stay put and not give up.

And while this may sound a little childish, but this invented “rule of life” of mine has stayed with me since then and actually helped me slug it out in moments when everything seemed lost. I would be the first one to agree that this little principle of faith may not be able to stand slightest of test of reason. But then I turn to it only when reason refuses to stand by me.

There are times when you want something very badly but you can’t seem to get it and in these times, your wisdom, your reason, your logic all gang up and ask you to turn back, assuring you that there is nothing wrong in giving up, convincing you that best thing to do is to just step aside. And still you just don’t want to give up, because something deep down tells you not to – at least not just yet.

And in such moments, all of us need our little friendly rules of faith, ones to which we can turn and who can tell us to ignore all the sane advice and just heed to call of our heart – rules of faith which can tell us to stay put and not give up as yet. And they may be childish but all of us need one or two childish friends like these. Because just like little kids these little acts of faith also don’t question you, they don’t argue with you, they just look at you and smile approvingly – and that smile is enough to bring back your confidence and hope. And sometimes this little faith is all that’s needed to bridge the last stretch between your dreams and reality.

And even if it is not enough to take you to the end but it at least takes you as far as you could have possibly gone and doesn’t leave you with a regret of giving it up when you could have still made that last ditch effort.

After all, so often what comes back to haunt you is not that you lost but that may be you just didn’t try right till the end…

It was very dark. Nobody could have seen it. Nobody could have even seen the drops of red dripping from his fingers. But he could feel the hot blood on his hands. And he could see her body lying in front of him.

It must have been a very painful death. He had slit her throat and as blood drained and her body twitched, he stood there watching. But she didn’t scream. She had not even shouted when he took out knife in that dark alley. She had just looked at him for a moment….and then she closed her eyes. And in that single moment, her eyes didn’t ask him “Why ?”, rather those eyes asked herself “How could he?”. She didn’t say a word thereafter. Not when he pressed the knife to her throat, now when he made the first cut, not when he slit her throat open and not a sound when she lay there fighting a painful battle with death. She just took it all with a stony silence.

And silence is all that he was left with now. He touched her body, it was cold - it had none of the warmth that he was used to. Her eyes had popped out - they had none of the twinkle that he has known. Her lips had turned blue – not the rose red that he remembered.

He had killed her.

He knew he had killed her but it was still very dark so no one else might have seen it. So he decided to wait by the body till the day break. They might just need a witness or two to prove that he killed her…

And he didn't want to take any chances with the hanging....

It was just 5 in the evening, on a normal day this time of the day would have been mildly lit by a sun preparing to call it a day, but not today. It was dark as a night outside, clouds held the rein, flashes of lightning were warning about the thunderstorm that was readying itself to strike and destroy. May be the cloak of darkness was borrowed by the storm to hide the destruction or may be it was just another tool of its, when you can’t see clearly, you often get sucked in by forces of self-destruction.

But thunderstorms just don’t appear out of blue. It was raining since morning, clouds were building up and light was fighting a losing battle since day-break. No one can complain that storm just slipped in, whoever didn’t see it coming was guilty of either looking the other way or closing their eyes in a hope that all this would just blow over.

Clouds were roaring now and it has started raining harder. How strange it is. Same rain that till yesterday was a welcome relief, a thing of beauty, an object of romance has suddenly turned into a terror, a dance of destruction. There were people who waited for rains, waited to take a walk in the light drizzle or get drenched in the mild one. Waited to smell the fragrance of raindrops falling on the soil. Waited to sit by the river to see raindrops creating ripples in the river. Waited to pick freshly washed flowers from the garden. Today all of them were scurrying for shelter, praying that rains go away, wondering if those summer days albeit a little hot and dry were better than the current madness. How strange it is that situations and events can turn something that was an object of desire till so recently into a distant disenchantment.

But wait, not everyone was hurrying for shelter. There was a lone soul out there, looking up in the sky as if challenging the storm for a duel. He too had waited for rains and he has not yet given up on his dreams. It was pouring hard, nothing like what he had expected. But he was ready to brave these rains, in a hope that at some point they would relent, skies would give in to his desire and storm would pass on to let him dance in the rain. But hopes, that’s what storms enjoy destroying most. Longer he stayed out, harder it rained. Each shower was striking at his confidence, trying to weaken him, making him to give in. But he held out. He fell few times but every time he stood up again. Each thunderstorm comes with a shelf life, and in only that much time it needs to destroy all dreams, desires and hopes. If one can hold out for that long then storm does blow over. But you hold out not by hiding but by facing up. And that’s what he was doing. The storm was running out of time. Soon victory was to be his…

And then the lightning struck.

And this time he fell for one last time, not to get up ever again.

Storm won again. Storms always win. They always do.

I just wonder, why?

I never asked for the moon…
But He grudged me even the moonlight that found its way into my room
I never asked for the world…
But He grudged me even the little space I wanted to call my own
I never asked for the gold…
But He grudged me even the oysters I had found deep down in the sea
I never asked for the ocean…
But He grudged me even the light drizzle I wanted to get drenched in
I never asked for the whole night…
But He grudged me even the little while that I needed to dream
I never asked for the stars…
But He grudged me even the twinkle of those eyes which were all that I had ever asked of Him

Can one just know hope and not know despair?
Can one just know affection and not know anger?
Can one just know joy and not know depression?
Can one just know passion and not know envy?
Can one just know love and not know hatred?

Am wondering if we can label emotions as good ones and bad ones, and then pick and choose which one to keep and which one to let go.

If I don’t know how to love then may be its understandable that I can’t hate. But if I am capable of love, then by definition I should also be capable of hatred. Emotions are spontaneous response to certain events and situations so all that should matter is do I get inspired by those events or not. Because if I do - then whether my response is positive or negative should entirely be dictated by the context. Just like you can’t have a pendulum that swings only one way, similarly I don’t think one can have emotions that are always nice and good.

So should I be embarrassed of negative emotions? Or should I be embarrassed of denying their existence because that would be hypocritical?
I think I would rather admit them.

But is it good to flaunt hatred, envy, anger? or Is it good to have depression, despair?
Definitely not.

But denying their existence is not the solution. I think solution should be to admit their existence and then try and cure them. And sometimes even a cure is not needed. Sometimes, its good to get angry. Sometimes its good to hate. Sometimes its good to envy.

So, preferably we should just let emotions be what they are – spontaneous, instantaneous and honest. There ain’t any perfect emotions because perfection is meant for machines. Man by definition needs to be imperfect



Album recommendation of the day:

By the way, listen to Saawariya, absolutely amazing music. All the songs are so good that I have not yet been able to decide which one is my favourite. Had not heard of Monty Sharma before but now I really wanna hear a lot more of him.

It’s so difficult to tell at what point dreams just quietly turn themselves into illusions. And since we can’t tell the difference, so we unknowingly keep running after those illusions, believing all along that it’s our dreams that we are pursuing.

Problem is both illusions and dreams look so similar. Both have a touch of fantasy and a touch of yearning. And so often feelings that dreams inspire, illusions are able to fake them very well. The last is the most dreadful bit of the whole thing. Even long after your heart is no more there in something that you are pursuing, still you keep running after it, just because till very late, you never realize that it is not what you want.

And that’s not all, if you are smart enough to smell the rat then illusions have other tricks up their sleeves. First they try and confuse you – in trying to keep up the masquerade they repeatedly tell you they are not what they seem, if that fails than they threaten you by trying to tell you that if you turn away now, you would lose more a great deal more than what you are ready to bargain for.

So, one need to get through all this before he can put his foot down and tell himself that there won’t be any more running behind illusions. And then begins far more difficult journey to find those dreams that got lost somewhere while you were too busy running behind illusions.

I don’t know how many people succeed in covering the distance between smelling the rat and belling the cat. But may be its too harsh of us to stand at finish line and judge people just by their success in crossing the line. Sometimes, what takes more effort and guts is not running the full course but stopping mid-way and letting everyone pass as you stroll towards a bench by the track. To stop and to quit are two very different things I guess.

-siddhartha

Song recommendation for the day:

Totally unrelated to the post, this is one beautiful song that I discovered yesterday and no points for guessing that it is now playing for almost 24 hours on my lappy :)

अच्छी नहीं सनम दिल्लगी दिल-ए-बेकरार से

क्यों रो रहे हो, छेड़ा था हमने तुमको तो प्यार से

.

Rather than writing the entire lyrics, I tried to get a bit techie and upload the audio here.But for reasons best known to Google that didn't work out. But its a nice song Kishore-Asha-Pancham-Gulzar combo from the movie Rakhi and Hathkadi ( What's in a name anyways, however tacky it is !!!). So try it.

She was painting the morning. I walked up to her and sat by her side. It was a beautiful morning and she has made it look absolutely stunning on her canvas. But admiration is not what I was about to voice ;-)

“So, you again busy painting a picture that has no part for me? “ I asked her teasingly.

“Who says you not there? You are pretty much a part of this, why don’t you find yourself? “ She said those last few words looking right into my eyes with a wicked smile playing on her face.

I didn’t have a choice but to pick up the gauntlet. And frankly I enjoy such games :)

It was a painting of a day break, with wide expanse of the river with blue water seen from top of the cliff, sun just making its way in his usual splendour and sky looking fresh and beautiful in early daylight.

So where can I be in this painting?
And instantly I noticed the morning sun, yes that’s what this painting is about. That’s what every morning is about - the sun, the central figure and isn’t it what I am to her. So if am there in this painting, I can’t be anything but the sun.

“Easy it was” said I, pointing to the sun.

“You wish it was that easy, would you mind looking harder.” she said laughingly.

So, I looked harder this time. What could she have in her mind. Where could she have hid me here? The sky, oh how could I have not thought of it first. It has to be the sky. Sun sets but sky is always there, looking at you and there for you whenever you want to look upto it. So that’s what she thinks about me. I was feeling good.

“So, sky it is, rite !!!” I said smilingly

“Naaaah, you were sharper and smarter earlier. You are losing it. Try again.” Her tone had that naughty tinge to it. She knew I don’t like to be to be proved wrong and she could see that it’s her turn to have some easy fun at my visible discomfort.

River - can I be the river? Now I was not too sure. Is it the image of all encompassing expanse of the river which makes her think of me? Is it the unstoppable restlessness of river that reminds her of me? Is this what I am? The river - in depths of which she can drown herself so as not to be found by anyone else ?

“Is it the river?” For the first time, I was asking her rather than telling her.

She just nodded her head to indicate am wrong again.

Now, it was no more a game for me and neither was I enjoying it anymore.

“I know - must be these stones and pebbles. One of these must be me right. Guess, that’s the best I mean to you.” It was no more about the painting now. I myself could notice the irritation in my voice, there is no way she could have missed it.

“Nooooooo” she resisted the provocation.

I got up. I have had enough.

“So, have you given up?” she was in no mood to let me off the hook that easily.

“Rather, I guess, you have given up on me” sarcasm was dripping in my voice. I knew I started it this but then I have never been a good loser. I started to walk away from her.

“Did you notice the bird ?” she asked me from behind.

“Which bird?” I turned back and asked.

She showed it to me on the painting. For the first time I noticed a tiny bird on the left side of the painting, soaring up the sky.

“The sun, the sky, the river - they were just part of a setting – a pure and pristine setting for this bird to take to sky. But this painting was never about them, it was always about this bird. And, this bird is you - my dreams taking wings - my hopes soaring high. “

She finished but her eyes were still asking me if I have any unanswered questions left.

I walked up to her and whispered a sorry.
Now I knew, she was not just painting the morning.

It has been a while since he had gone there. He was the only one who had key to that place. But he was so busy trying to play catch up with life that he could hardly take out time for himself recently. Even today he had no intention to go there but an appointment that lasted lot less than what he had expected and left him with lot more time than he had calculated for made him take a walk up there.

He unlocked the door and went in, it was pitch dark. It takes time for eyes to adjust to the dark and he knew that well. He waited, but during that wait, it seemed as if he was staring a darkwall with nowhere to go. It was scary; someone else might have turned and taken the door out. But he stood there, one must be scared of life at times, fear at times is the bridge that brings one back from fantasy to reality. It took longer than usual but when he started seeing the cob-webs, he knew he could see in dark. Yeah there were cob-webs. Webs made by those tiny spiders who find an ignored corner for themselves and then surreptitiously start weaving a web, which you don’t even seem to notice till those delicate yet complicated webs appear out of blue in their full glory (or lack of it). He wanted to brush them away but now it was not that easy. He kept getting entangled in them, and after some effort he cut through few of them to move forward. He reached out to touch the books on the shelf, there was a thick layer of dust on them, a heap of unopened letters from friends and acquaintances were lying on the centre table. There was lot of heavy furniture around. He always liked to keep furniture to the minimal; it allowed him space to move freely around. When did he order all this? He went up to his favourite floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the garden. Earlier, he used to sleep on the floor by this window and when he used to get up in the morning, first rays of the sun used to meet him by this window. They always used to bring a pack of relaxed smiles with them. He looked around but there was no such pack there. Thick curtains on the window were keeping out both the sun and smiles. He tried to pull the curtain but he couldn’t, he didn’t remember putting a curtain on the window but there was one right now and he didn’t know how to pull it off. Dark and dusty rooms which have stayed close for long carries an unsettling smell and a damp feel, he couldn’t miss it. It was a depressing setting, he wanted to relax. He took a chair but it made a creaking noise as if it could give way to his weight anytime. It didn’t break but as long a he sat there, he remained conscious that it can all snap anytime.

He tried hard to remember when did the bright, airy place of his turned into this damp, dark and dusty place. Did someone else come here while he was away? Don’t know why we always start by blaming others for all that befalls us but he corrected the course. No one could have come here - He was the only one who had key to this place. He recalled he had ordered those window curtains last summer when he had started sleeping late and used to feel irritated by sun on his face in the morning. He had stopped opening his letters around the same time, he only read and replied to sms. And that furniture, he liked them in the shop and he kept bringing that home and before he knew that room resembled the shop, just that it was never meant to be that way. Yes it was all his doing. It was all coming back ...

He sat there and looked around. There were things that needed to be cleared and things that needed to be cleaned. There were curtains to be removed, stuff to be fixed and windows to be left open for fresh air to get in. He felt good that he at least knew what ought to be done but he was still at loss to figure what ought to be done first. He sat there brooding for some more time but on some days if you don’t get it right at first, no matter how often you try you just don’t get it right.

He decided he would come again the next day. It was anyways getting late. So, he made his way out. He got out of the door and then took out the solitary key to this place – key that only he has - he then locked the door to his mind and walked away.

I wonder why at times I act the way I don’t really want to. Actually in most such situations, I don’t act – I react. React to people, situations, perceptions, prejudices. But it’s always a reaction. There ain’t any justification for the reaction but I just feel forced to behave in a certain way, which on any other day in any other situation I would definitely not choose as my preferred course of action.

Sometimes people irritate me and I just want to be mean.
Sometimes situations frustrate me and I just want to bulldoze my way through them
Sometimes I am taken prisoner by my own perceptions and prejudices and then I do as they want me to do.

It’s not that am washing my hands off my behaviour, it’s not that I act like that in some fit, rather my reaction in such cases seems the best response to me in those moments. But once those moments pass, I realize that I could have actually done better than that.

But may be once those moments pass, their intensity gets lost somewhere and so is my view on appropriate response.

May be, may be not.

Guess, reactions by definition are instant natural response to a moment and that’s what I should let them be, till they change for better themselves or I change for worse…

Nice one by Shekhar Gupta on “presumed” crisis in in Indian Politics

http://www.indianexpress.com/sunday/story/211291.html

With just a year to go for UPA government, you need not be an Einstein to figure out why Congress would rather play the hardball with Left this time. They know that if someone gonna start this race at the pole position, it would be them. But then elections in India are a tricky lot.

Following Indian politics and elections has been a favourite with me since the time of Prannoy Roy and Vinod Dua till Rajdeep Sardesai and Barkha Dutt. I still remember my mom wondering why am I so glued to election analysis long after everyone knows who is going to make the government. I just love those debates and analysis. And I love checking predictions against results. If my memory is not failing me, first ever exit poll on Indian elections was hosted by Nalini Singh and I jotted down their predictions to check it against the actual results just to see how they measure up.

I remember during last general election, with everyone almost resigned to BJP sweeping the elections, when I predicted that Congress has as good a chance of making the government as BJP, everybody was like “what are you talking”, I backed it up with detailed state wide analysis of possible election results and that analysis was not out of blue, when you are watching almost every exit poll, opinion poll and following election news quite closely then if you just absorb the data and make your conclusion then sometimes you get it right. And I actually did. (though my numbers suggested that NDA would be the largest party but Congress + Left would make the government, election result were far more straight forward. )

So, when I read this article by Shekhar Gupta, I suddenly got alerted to possibility of another Indian elections round the corner. And gosh since I would be in Singapore, I gonna miss all those debates, analyses, claims, counterclaims ;-) Build up to Indian general elections has a funny way about it. Though when you get into the character details of all those candidates, it’s no more funny. But would save that outburst for another day.

Anyways, however little I have read about standoff between Left and congress on N-deal, I would go with Shekhar in suggesting that an early poll is inevitable though I disagree that Congress will have it all easy. With Indian elections, you should just wait a wee bit longer before you pick the right horse because I guess that’s what most of the Indian voters do as well.

So right now, let’s just wait and watch and for greater good let’s pray - May the least bad win!!!

At the stroke of midnight hour, when the world sleeps, India will awake to completion of 60 years of unfulfilled promises, unrealized potential and shattered dreams. In few hours we would celebrate our 60th Independence Day, which by definition should be a celebration of our nationhood but in reality seems nothing more than an annual holiday.

Pandit Nehru in his famous “Tryst with destiny” speech has said:

“Freedom and power bring responsibility. The service of India means the service of the millions who suffer. It means the ending of poverty and ignorance and disease and inequality of opportunity. The ambition of the greatest man of our generation has been to wipe every tear from every eye. That may be beyond us, but as long as there are tears and suffering, so long our work will not be over.”


60 years have passed since then and today…

We have more poor than we had then.
We have still not eradicated polio.
We still look towards quotas to provide equal opportunity.
And worst of all, most of us seem to be ignorant about all this.

We are ignorant because glitzy malls that have come up everywhere have hidden the acres of slums.
We are ignorant because bollywood fund raisers for AIDS have made us forget that even today more people in India die of typoid and malaria.
We are ignorant because our media screams out that India has most number of billionaires in Asia but hundreds of people dying of hunger and cold are dismissed as too repetitive a news.
We are ignorant because Raisina Hill has a woman president and so we no more remember how frequently women get raped in capital of Republic of India
We are ignorant because what brings us out in streets is debacle of Indian cricket team in world cup and not our government’s lousy decisions.

And in this ignorance , what we are celebrating today is …

Fact that even after 60 years of independence, our country’s politics is still dictated by casteism, regionalism, communism and appeasement.
Fact that every year with alarming regularity we read about deaths due to floods, cold winters and hot summers but we have done nothing about it.
Fact that we have still not eliminated dowry deaths, female infanticide and polygamy.
Fact that our laws still read as Hindu undivided family act and muslim personal law instead of Uniform civil code
Fact that Biharis are beaten out from Mumbai and Tamils are mobbed in Bangalore
Fact that in one form or another we are facing civil unrest in Kashmir, Assam, Nagaland, Chhatisgarh, Andhra Pradesh, Jharkhand and Mizoram.
Fact that we are biggest democracy but we have more criminals in parliament than anywhere else in the world.

Frankly speaking, people who would be celebrating tomorrow will only be the ones who can’t look beyond BPOs , Sensex, IT czars, Retails Malls, Multiplexes, Private engineering colleges, IIM salaries and Sania Mirza .

And somehow I believe there is more to India than just that.

And so tonight, 60 years after Britishers left us to chart our own destiny, we shouldn’t have been celebrating our freedom from foreign rule but instead we should have been celebrating fulfillment of the dream of a modern, just and vibrant India that inspired our forefathers to lay their lives for the freedom of this country.

Alas, in all these years we seem to have forgotten that what those thousands of “unknown volunteers and soldiers of freedom” fought for was not just independence but everything that can be gained from independence.

And so I believe that tomorrow is not a day to celebrate, but it’s a day to renew a pledge that Pandit Nehru read out on 14th August 1947.

“The future beckons to us. Whither do we go and what shall be our endeavour? To bring freedom and opportunity to the common man, to the peasants and workers of India; to fight and end poverty and ignorance and disease; to build up a prosperous, democratic and progressive nation, and to create social, economic and political institutions which will ensure justice and fullness of life to every man and woman.
We have hard work ahead. There is no resting for any one of us till we redeem our pledge in full, till we make all the people of India what destiny intended them to be. We are citizens of a great country on the verge of bold advance, and we have to live up to that high standard”.

.

And so if we want to celebrate our INDEPENDENCE DAY in its true spirit, let's go and get what independence should have brought and let's promise ourselves that we would do more than just cribbing to make India how we want her to be.

Jai Hind

I usually believe by the time you have finished half a book, you must have fair idea of which way would it go. No, I don’t mean how it would flow or how it would end. All am saying is, we must be through with the introductions, building the preface, setting the stage and story should have had hit the expressway, which means signs must be telling me that I am 150km from A or 70 km from B. Now there is this book which am currently reading and am already half way through it but still, I won’t bet a buck on where is it going – and forget me - am sure till this point even author didn't know which way he wanted to take the book.

It’s just not about books, there are so many things in and around that you would prefer to see follow some rule, some pattern. These rules usually are a mix of experience and expectations. Get a clean bowl, put some experience then add expectations as per taste, stir well and you get your rules/patterns. Romantics prefer these rules to taste of expectations, Pragmatists prefer these patterns to taste of experience and then there are anarchists who would give a damn but I don’t really care much about them. I never had.

Now, generally, whenever something fits into the patterns created by you, you like it or enjoy it. And if it doesn’t, you wouldn’t. And that’s plain simple common sense. But then there are times, when even if something doesn’t fit in your pattern, you still don't dislike it, just like this book am reading. I didn’t say you like it – I said you just ‘don’t dislike’ it. It’s only in mathematics that two negatives make a positive, almost in everything else in the world they never do. But anyways, so there are definitely times when things won’t fit in your patterns but you would still like them – these are new experiences and you would add them to mix of patterns next time you make one. But am talking of times, when you know – this is not how it should have been – but some voice is telling you –don’t jump to the conclusions, you never know it may just come around. So while I will read on this book that am reading, it’s not because I am hoping for a new experience but because am still hoping for it to fit into my pattern, albeit a little late.

And that’s interesting because come to think of it, how often we just let things be. How often do we genuinely don’t give a damn how things would turn out. We swing usually between ‘hoping for the best’ and ‘fearing for the worst’, between ‘experiences’ and ‘expectations’, between ‘how things had turned out earlier’ and ‘how I always wanted them to turn out’. We always have a view. A view of how it’s gonna shape up. Krishna might have said in Gita that do your karma and don’t worry about the ‘results’ but unless there is something that makes us shudder and look the other way, can we really keep ourselves from thinking about the results. So whenever we pretend to be nonchalant and wait for things to unravel themselves in due course, it’s usually just a hope that it would turn out good and not a genuine pursuit of unknown.

So let’s just hope my book turns out good, it has been a long while since I really loved something I read.

Someone asked me a day or two back, why my posts have an undercurrent of pathos. Someone else sometime back had asked me why should my posts always be so philosophical and another person few months back asked me to write ‘happy’ posts.

All these are fair questions. But then, there are people, who ask a totally different set of questions after reading few of my posts, questions like, “So what’s wrong ?”, “You don’t seem too happy ?”, “Is everything fine?”

Now, I don’t really know why people end up getting such impressions. But I find it a little far-fetched to draw conclusions about one’s life merely by his blog posts. At least, not if blog posts are your most reliable source of conclusions.

For me writing is liberating. So often, when you come back home weary from work or you are spending a really lazy afternoon, you want to do something that can unshackle you, free you, let you and your imagination soar into sky. For me writing is that liberation. I am not writing any autobiography here, most of the times it is just a random thought that become a fertile ground for an entire story or some other times it’s a train of thought that may lead you to write your next post. You just pick up a thought flying past you and tell yourself let’s see what treasure it holds. It’s not like I get back home and then write about events of the day or my psychological state. I agree experiences do have a major role to play in what you think or what you write, but trust me it’s not always recent experiences and they don’t always play a lead role. There are times when what I write mirror my mindset at that point of time, but there are equal number of times when it doesn’t.

So...

If I write about fear, it doesn’t mean that I am scared tonight
If I write about loss, it’s not that I have just lost something precious
If I write about distress, it need not imply that I had a bad day
If I write about yearning, it doesn’t mean that I am missing something in life.

Can’t I take a creative license and write things, create characters and weave stories that are no more than just my brainchild. Why my stories need to be put under microscope to find out where am I in them? Why can’t I just be seen as a creator and spared the hardship of being a protagonist?

Also, I admit am no versatile writer – am just a plain amateur blogger afterall, I can’t write in each and every style. So if my writings border on abstract then may be that’s my style, if my writings are always searching for answers then that’s how I like to shape them, if my stories are about yearning and loss, may be that’s the mood I prefer to write about.

But why am I giving explanations at all?

When I write here, I write because I want to and not because someone is going to come and read it up. I write because I like writing and not because I like to be read. I wondered for a while if I should take away the link to my blog from orkut and gtalk but then I didn’t want to be dictated.

So nothing gonna change here, mood, style and content would remain just as it always was and if someone thinks I am going through troubled times, humour yourself – but for God’s sake don’t ask me for confirmations ;-))

Birches
by Robert Frost

When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy's been swinging them.
But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay
As ice-storms do. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust--
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows--
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father's trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig's having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.



This is one of my favourite pieces of poetry.

And lines which particularly fascinate me are:

It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig's having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return.

I get a similar feeling during times when I am ambling aimlessly, or in times when I feel weighed down by circumstances beyond my control, or when I get frustrated in face of endless contradictions. In such times, there are moments when I wish I could take a break – a break from all the tensions – a break in which I can travel back to times when life was simple and innocent and so was I. And, don’t mistake this to be escapism, because it’s not running away but just a simple wish for a breather– a short little break from which I want to come back with renewed vigour and a clean slate so that I can start afresh.

But then I guess only games have breaks, battles just go on and on and on…..and life I believe resembles a battle far more than a game. Though had it been a game, it might just have been much more fun … but then would we have taken it this seriously ?

And that's why I always come around saying, it's good the way it is :)

He called out for her but she won’t come, she likes playing hide and seek with him once in a while. He didn’t even know where to look for her, he switched on the table lamp and picked up a book which he hasn’t read for a while, he couldn’t read it still. His mind was elsewhere, words can’t just be read by eyes. His closed the book, switched on some music and switched off the lamp. He tried again and failed again. She was playing hard to get. Now it was no more a game, he wanted to tell her aloud, “Ok you’ve won…now come over”. If he was sure, she could listen to him, he might have just said it. There was a nice breeze blowing inside the room from the open window, he thought for a minute about going out and taking a walk, but then he discarded the thought, he didn’t want to give in to her as yet. He tried to think hard, how he has found her earlier, he couldn’t think of anything he has not already tried. Today nothing seems to have any effect on her.

But he would keep trying….

So, he called out for sleep again, hoping this time she would come over.

Words are not man’s best friend; they just don’t know how to keep secrets. Even most discrete of the words chosen with great care have a habit of giving it away. If not entirely by themselves then between themselves they always blurt it out. You try and confide in them and they go out and conspire against you telling the world what you wanted to hide deep down.

It’s better to be an artist, colours speak but they still leave a lot to imagination. A stroke of grey can mean lot more than just a sad mood, a bright yellow may not always give away your secret joys, a red may not always be window to one’s fears, a blue need not just be a hope taking shape. They can be all this and they can be so much more and that’s enough to keep your cover.

But alas, I am no artist and words are all I have…

-siddhartha

Song recommendation of the day:

If I ever get to sit and compile a list of my favourite songs, this beautiful song written by Gulzar and sung by Kishore and Lata would always find a place, what better day to recommend it then Kishore Da’s birthday ( for me, it’s still night of 4th August). I especially love the last two lines.

हज़ार राहें मुड के देखी, कहीं से कोई सदा ना आयी
बड़ी वफ़ा से निभायी तुमने , हमारी थोड़ी सी बेवफ़ाई

जहाँ से तुम मोड़, मुड़ गए थे, ये मोड़ अब भी वहीँ पडे हैं
हम अपने पैरों मे जाने कितने, भँवर लपेटे हुये खड़े हैं

कहीं किसी रोज़ यूं भी होता, हमारी हालत तुम्हारी होती
जो रात हमने गुज़ारी मर के, वो रात तुमने गुज़ारी होती

तुम्हें ये ज़िद थी कि हम बुलाते, हमे ये उम्मीद वो पुकारे
हैं नाम होंठों पर अब भी लेकिन, आवाज़ मे पड़ गयी दरारे

My peak TV watching season usually coincides with EPL and depends on how many Chelsea games are on air. Apart from that, catching up on movie trailers on weekends and an occasional movie once in a blue moon is best I can come up with if I have to justify paying my Cable TV bill. But of late I have hooked on to something new – Indian Idol.

In Singapore, we only get three Hindi channels – Star Plus, Zee and Sony. And 24 hour obsession of first two with some “how could someone see them” serials mean that whenever I tune in a Hindi channel, it is always Sony. So, it all started with those guys carpet bombing their channel with Indian Idol. Rather Indian Idol and Boogie Woogie, coz I remember there was a time when I would have bet all my savings on the fact that when I will switch on the TV and whatever be the time, one of these two shows would be on. And trust me I would have won that bet 10 out of 10 times. Anyways, so I still maintain that I started watching Indian Idol because stars conspired to make me watch it, though I would admit that listening to Hindi songs and Javed Akhtar played some part also.

But the reason why I stay tuned and didn’t surf away was different and it was the reality TV factor. Now I know lot of people believe that reality TV is all sham and mere playing to the camera and I would agree to that to a large extent. But what’s not sham is the joy and disappointment on the face of winners and losers when what is at stake is not money but dreams. And when dreams are at stake, emotions are real and contagious. I remember how often I found myself smiling looking at a beaming face of someone who was told he is selected and how I sympathized with someone who was trying hard to keep a straight face upon rejection.

Frankly, while for us it’s mere entertainment, for channel – just TRP and more ads and for celebrity judges it may just be some extra bucks on the side. But for all those guys and girls who aspire to be singers, this and rather such programmes mean much more than that. I guess it may not be any different for them as it is for so many appearing in JEE or CAT. It’s a test for them to give wings to their ambitions, prove themselves to their own selves, to their families, to their friends and may be to the whole world. And you can see how much success in Indian Idol means for them, while their tears when one of their competitors get thrown out may be meant for camera but when they themselves get selected or rejected, emotions that come out then – they are not for anyone, they are just so real. And these genuine emotions are what I watch Indian Idol for. I agree the producers of this show sometime really try to add ridiculous stuff and unnecessary drama, and I really wonder why they do that. Because there is no bigger drama than a constant effort to pull oneself through, no bigger drama than working through the pressure to live another day, no bigger drama than watching one’s dreams getting shattered. And I just wonder why producers insist on changing this drama into melodrama – there is no need, I wish they knew.

Overall, it’s interesting to note how an anxious face in a moment can turn into a rainbow of joy, what different shades people take up in face of rejection and how people gather their shattered dreams as they walk away from what was supposed to be their flight to fame. And if someone is not in mood for all this – trust me these guys and girls sing pretty well too :-)

पेडों से छन के, किरणों के रथ पे, धूप छत पे उतरी तो थी
फिर जाने क्यों वो, मेरी चौखट पे आके, ना जाने कहॉ मुड़ गयी

थोड़ी उनींदी , थोड़ी जगी सी, सुबह ने आँखें खोली तो थी
फिर जाने क्यों वो, करवट बदल के , मुह फेर के सो गयी

भीगी हुई सी, छीटे उड़ाती , बारिश ने मुझको बुलाया तो था
पर जाने क्यों वो, मुझको भिगोये बिना ही, जाके बादलों मे कहीँ छुप गयी

बन के, संवर के, चन्दा से सज के, रात घर से निकली तो थी
पर जाने क्यों वो, मुझ से मिलने से पहले, थक के कही सो गयी

यूं तो नहीं हैं कि खुशियों से मेरा, कभी मिलना हुआ ही नहीं
मगर जाने क्यों वो, जब भी मिली हैं, रुकी हैं पर ठहरी नहीं

Ten days is a long time. And seems even longer when you are Down Under with no internet and no intention to check news channels on TV.

So, in last 10 days while I was busy exploring rainforests, coral reefs, pristine beaches and blue waters around Queensland, lot of water flew through Ganges.

We got a new president – someone whose name I never heard till a month back and since I have heard her name, it has more to do with one controversy or another.

I understand we would also be getting a new vice president soon, someone equally obscure and whose main qualification is that he is a muslim, important consideration given ruling coalition opposed APJ for another presidential term.

Sensex not only crossed 15K rather almost kissed 16K – on Monday it was 15,732 and my returns on investment were making me look like some stock market expert though we all know any body would have made money in such a bull market.

Sachin Tendulkar scored a 171 against some English side in a first class game, long time since one would have seen such a mammoth score against little master’s name. Though what happened in test match subsequently is for all to see.

But of all this, bits that are hard to digest are that Pratibha Patil ( Who?) is President of Republic of India and Hameed Ansari ( Who ? What? Why? ) would mostly probably be our next vice president.

If my memory serves me right, first president of India that I got to know of was Giani Jail Singh, He was the president when I first started keeping track of Who’s who. Then came R Venkatraman, Shankar Dayal Sharma, K R Narayan and finally APJ Abdul Kalam. And now someone who answers to the call of Pratibha Patil and next one could be Hameed Ansari.

I wonder why, highest position of our country can’t be taken by someone who is deserving of that honour. APJ was at least a known name, someone most of us respected and held in esteem. Given, President of India is no more a rubber stamp so I would agree that ambitious politicians would not be interested, and for distinguished citizens we have Bharat Ratna and they need not be made president, but while some political sense and a forward looking outlook should be required, I would seriously believe that President of India should be a man or woman whom people can respect.

Let’s see whom would I like to be installed as next president. Narayan Murthy’s name was discussed widely in media and though I would prefer to see him in active politics but frankly he would have made a president I like. Then, there is Atal Bihari Vajpayee… a politician everyone respected, he is too old for active politics but I guess he would have made a good president too. APJ Abdul Kalam, well I was all for another term for him. Atleast with his vision he could have contributed to education and other areas while continuing in President’s office. T N Seshan, well that’s another man who could have been brought back from oblivion, but politicians would find it too uncomfortable to have him around.

Among seasoned politicians, Jyoti Basu is too leftist for my comfort so I would give him a pass. S M Krishna could be an interesting choice, he might not have been able to achieve much in Karnataka but I think he tried and then he was a congressman and not completely obscure.

And why just politicians, we could have chosen an ex chief of armed forces or someone very active in social upliftment space, a mature academician or any other visionary who could use the office of President to contribute to society and lend some kind of grace to the office.

Alas, that is not to be. So we have Mrs. Pratibha Patil as President of India and Hameed Ansari as potential Vice-president of India. And my frustration with Indian political scene strengthens further.

Yesterday on my flight back to Singapore, I finally finished reading ‘Life of Pi’. Interesting in parts, though didn’t really match up to ‘Old man and the sea’, one of my favourites which made me pick Life of Pi at the first place.

But I came across a very interesting passage in the book yesterday which seems to resonate what I wrote about ‘Fear’ few days back (and also what I didn’t write).

Thought would quote the passage here :

“I must say a word about fear. It is Life’s only true opponent. Only fear can defeat life. It is a clever, treacherous adversary, how well I know. It has no decency, respects no law or convention, shows no mercy. It goes for your weakest spot, which it finds with unerring ease. It begins in your mind, always. One moment you are feeling calm, self-possessed, happy. Then fear, disguised in the garb of mild-mannered doubt, slips into your mind like a spy. Doubt meets disbelief and disbelief tries to push it out. But disbelief is a poorly armed foot soldier. Doubt does away with it with little trouble. You become anxious. Reason comes to do battle for you. You are reassured. Reason is fully equipped with the latest weapons technology. But, to your amazement, despite superior tactics and a number of undeniable victories, reason is laid low. You feel yourself weakening, wavering. Your anxiety becomes dread.

Fear next turns fully to your body, which is already aware that something terribly wrong is going on. Already your lungs have flown away like a bird and your guts have slithered away like a snake. Now your tongue drops dead like an possum, while your jaw begins to gallop on the spot. Your ears go deaf. Your muscles begin to shiver as if they had malaria and your knees to shake as though they were dancing. Your heart strains too hard, while your sphincter relaxes too much. And so with the rest of your body. Every part of you, in the manner most suited to it, falls apart. Only your eyes work well. They always pay proper attention to fear.

Quickly you make rash decisions. You dismiss your last allies: hope and trust. There, you’ve defeated yourself. Fear, which is but an impression, has triumphed over you. The matter is difficult to put into words. For fear, real fear, such as shakes you to your foundation, such as you feel when you are brought face to face with your mortal end, nestles in your memory like a gangrene: it seeks to rot everything, even the words with which to speak of it. So you must fight hard to express it. You must fight hard to shine the light of words upon it. Because if you don’t, if your fear becomes a wordless darkness that you avoid, perhaps even manage to forget, you open yourself to further attacks of fear because you never truly fought the opponent who defeated you.”

In all those fairy tales we read as a kid, there was plenty of magic and all that was needed to create that magic was a wave of wand or snapping of fingers. Magic was always instantaneous and spell always used to last a long while. Unfortunately, there ain't any such wands in reality and try snapping but it won't bring you anything other than few raised eyebrows. In real life, one needs to work really hard to create any magic and if you succeed to create some, there isn’t any motor that’s going to keep the spell going for ever. Real life magic just lasts for a short while and then it fades away unless you can quickly get back at weaving it all over again. So often, I wonder if I could just sit back, relax and enjoy that spell for much longer. But then I have realized that’s not how it is meant to be.

How it works is that every time you want to pull that rabbit outta hat, you need to work right from the scratch. Ok, may be not from the scratch but from somewhere not too far from there. And if you are pulling a rabbit out of that hat daily – 3 times a day, then sometimes you just expect that bloody rabbit to come back and quietly slip into the hat at the designated time. Why can’t he spare me the effort? Why should I always create him from nothing? Why can’t he already be in the hat once in a while for me to just pull out?

I wish it was like that and I know it is not and this gulf between 'want' and 'have' is something we all gotta live with. Unless ofcourse, someone can wave a wand and change it....

Fear thrives on fear. One gets scared only when he or she wants to be scared. As a kid, it’s only when you imagine a monster under the bed or in the dark corner of the room that you get scared of it. It’s amazing that as soon as you stop imagining those monsters, fears fail to find a way to pin you. It’s only when you fear a failure that a fear of failure starts keeping you tense, It’s only when you are scared of losing something precious that you always fear that you might lose it. It’s only when you are scared it might go wrong that you keep fearing that indeed could go wrong.
And as long as they last, fears play great havoc. They say in physics that for every action there is an equal reaction. But fears throw this law out of window; suddenly reactions are bigger and bitter. You are suddenly alert to even most irrelevant and insignificant detail. Your life hinges on anything and everything, priorities are beaten up beyond recognition. And life becomes a constant race that you are destined to lose because fear has a way to catch up with you, wherever you go, wherever you hide. And as you keep losing the race, fear starts taking a more scary form which makes you feel chained and then you start doing its bidding. Unknowingly you start destroying everything because you believe this is the only way to get rid of them.
I have tried sometimes to look the other way, try tricking fears by ignoring them, hoping that moment you refuse to acknowledge their presence they would just fade away like they never existed. But this approach has never known to succeed, because you can’t wish away their existence by just closing your eyes, sooner or later they would slip onto your side and face you and then you would just be more scared than before.

So trick lies in facing the fears. But as you start fighting the fears, they come back with equal ferocity, you try and reason with them but they won’t listen. You try punching them and they would punch you back harder. You try finding a way out and they would always reach before you to block the door. And that’s when you need your confidence the most, because the moment you tell yourself that I’ll take care come what may, suddenly clouds of fear are blown away and light of calm and control find its way to you. If something is precious, all you got to say is no matter what I will hold on and then you would no more be scared of losing it., the very day that little kid decide to look under the bed with confidence…monsters just take the nearest window out. Fear takes control only when we let go of the control. It’s only when I shrug my shoulders in helplessness and say “what would I do if this happen” that fears start scaring me with terrible scenarios. It’s only when you let your confidence be shaken by apprehensions that fears find their opening to get into your mind. The day “what if” in our thoughts get replaced by “whatever” it just becomes too simple. The day I face my fears with my supreme confidence in myself, fear accept defeat and bow out.
It’s easy to blame life for scaring you, but fact is we scare ourselves. No one drives us into a corner, we ourselves get into the corner and then complain that we have no way out. There isn’t any monster under the bed waiting to snatch what we want to keep close, monster is in our mind and all we need to do to drive it away is to retain our faith in us.

It hurts when you know you are hurting someone and you can do nothing about it. It frustrates you when you are just reduced to a mute spectator, when you can do nothing, can’t say a word of comfort, can’t lend a helping hand, can’t wipe a rolling tear. You just pray that it would all be fine, you just plead that it won’t hurt a lot, you just look down because you can’t look straight into someone’s eyes. You just stand there as a prisoner of life, not even sure if you should plead non-guilty because you can see someone is suffering and you know that pain knowingly or unknowingly bears your stamp. You wish it was simple, you wish it was different, you wish someone had warned you that life can come to such a pass. But ….you know it’s too late for all this. And so you stand still as life goes on to make a case against you and you nod in agreement when it passes a judgment finally………………............…Guilty !!!...........................................Yes Sir !!!

I don’t know who invented the word ‘perfect’ but I am sure either originally the intended meaning for the word was quite different or this was just meant to be one of those exotic words that are to be used in fairy tales and nowhere else.

I have lived long enough with the idea of perfection that now I am more or less convinced that ‘nothing is perfect’. Because nothing ever was supposed to be perfect. You don’t get to see a rainbow every time it rains, sky doesn’t turn an enchanting collection of colours every time you are enjoying a quite sunset by the beach, not always do you get from a moment what you got from it last time. But then wouldn’t it be boring, if life just gets stuck in a pattern that keeps repeating. We tend to believe that perfection is a permanent state of bliss. But then can such an idea ever be real? And why should it be real?

I am an absolute believer in the fact that one should never compromise with life, should never settle for anything less than what one wants. But sometimes the whole idea of perfection can play havoc with such a mentality. When we end up wanting what is never to be had or at least can’t be had always then life just become an endless chase for nothing. I don’t know when we started mistaking perfect for happy. Happy lives and perfect lives, I am sure are very different. Very idea of happiness is to seek joy in what you have, while perfection makes you seek what by definition is something very few can have.

No one has ever experienced perfection. There can be moments which may seem to be the best that one could have but that’s only till you live a better moment sometime later. So when we seek perfection, we are actually seeking something that we are not even aware what is it like. So often, problem with perfection is that it’s driven by a NOT operator. So, in any given moment, we just think it should NOT be like this, while knowing little what it should be like. And so while sometimes our gut feel can be right there would definitely be equal times when it won’t be and it is those times that I fear. Because in such times our fascination with perfection can make us pass what might have been just good enough for us.

May be Holy Grail of this confusion lies in knowing what we want but that’s definitely asking for too much. When are we making compromise and when are we just chasing a non-existent perfection is something which is hard to tell. I know even if we sit and talk to ourselves it may not always help because we are capable of convincing ourselves both way and so we would keep making right and wrong choices. So while we would learn from the mistakes but may be a realization that magic is only meant for fairy tales, would help people hold on to joy that is meant for the real life.

While clearing my room today, I chanced upon something that I brought back from my recent India visit. They are nothing but some pages of my diary and some loose pages where I had jotted down few lines from some of my favourite books.

Jotting down interesting lines from the books was never a habit or hobby of mine but I think for a short while I did try and toy with penning down few paras that I really liked and were not too long to write ;-). Soon I gave up on that, but during that short period few lines did make their way from print to pages of my notebook. Come to think of it, these may not even be the best lines of the novel, not even the most potent ideas. While reading these papers, I could think of several other pieces in those novels which should have been noted but they were not. I don’t know the reasons, may be they were too long, may be I was too tired to write, may be I just didn’t care to write but then this post is not about what was not done but rather about what was. And if there are lines that I jotted down then they must have had something in them to make me put pen to paper. Isn’t it ?

Now given, loose sheets are prone to slip out of sight and have a tendency to play hard to get so I have decided to transfer few of those lines from those sheets to this webpage. Hopefully, this will make it easy, just in case I want to re-read them at a later date.

So here we go.

Anna Karenina

All happy families resemble one another, but each unhappy family is unhappy in their own way.


Far from the Madding crowd

Advice is one of those things; it is far more blessed to give than to receive.


It has been observed that there is no regular path for getting out of love as there is for getting in. Some people look upon marriage as a short cut that way, but it has been known to fail.


To Kill a Mocking Bird

[Courage is] when you know, you are licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what.


“They are certainly entitled to think that, and they are entitled to full respect for their opinions”, said Atticus, “but before I can live with other folks I’ve got to live with myself. The one thing that doesn’t abide by majority rule is a person’s conscience.”


Wuthering Heights

My love for Linton is like foliage in the woods - time will change it, I’m well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath, a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I’m Heathcliff, he’s always in my mind not as a pleasure, any more than I’m always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.


Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I’m living. You said, I kill you-haunt me then ! The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe – I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always – take any form – drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh God! it is unutterabl I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!
- (Heathcliff upon Catherine’s death)



Fountainhead

Roark walked home. It was dark and the street was deserted. There was a strong wind. He could feel the cold, whistling pressure strike his cheeks. It was the only evidence of flow ripping the air. Nothing moved in the stone corridor about him. There was not a tree to stir, no curtains, no awnings; only naked masses of stone, glass, asphalt and sharp corners. It was strange to feel that fierce movement against his face. But in a wastepaper basket on a corner a crumpled sheet of newspaper was rustling, beating convulsively against the wire mesh. It made the wind real.


Self-sacrifice, we drool, is the ultimate virtue. Let’s stop and think for a moment. Is sacrifice a virtue? Can a man sacrifice his integrity? His honour? His freedom? His ideal? His convictions? The honesty of his feelings? The independence of his thoughts? But these are man’s supreme possessions. Anything he gives up for them is not a sacrifice but an easy bargain. They however are above sacrifice to any cause or consideration whatsoever. Should we not, then, stop preaching dangerous and vicious non-sense? Self Sacrifice? But it is precisely the self that cannot be and must not be sacrificed. It is unsacrificed self that we must respect in man above all.
- (Gail Wynnard defending Howard Roark in one of his editorials)


All growth demands destruction, you can’t make ommlette without breaking the eggs.


1984

If you love someone, you love him and when you have nothing else to give, you still give him love. When the last of the chocolate was gone, his mother had clasped the child in her arms. It was no use, it changed nothing, it did not produce more chocolate, it did not avert the child’s death or her own, but it seemed natural to her to do it. The refugee woman in the boat had also covered the little boy with her arm, which was no more use against the bullets than a sheet of paper.


Being in a minority, even a minority of one did not make you mad. There was truth and there was untruth, and if you cling to the truth even against the whole world , you were not mad…Sanity is not statistical.


Physical facts couldn’t be ignored. In philosophy, or religion, or ethics, or politics, two and two might make five, but when one was designing gun or airplane they had to make four.


He examined the chess problem and set out the pieces. It was a tricky ending involving a couple of knights. ‘White to play and mate in two moves’. Winston looked up at the portrait of Big Brother. White always mates, he thought with a sort of cloudy mysticism. Always, without exception, it is so arranged. In no chess problem since the beginning of world has black ever won. Did it not symbolize the eternal unvarying triumph of good over evil? The huge face gazed back at him, full of calm power. White always mates.


Gone with the wind

Apologies once postponed, became harder and harder to make, and finally impossible.


Everybody knew how cold and heartless she was. Everybody was appalled at the seeming ease with which she had recovered from Bonnie’s death. Never realizing or caring to realize the effort that lay behind that seeming recovery.


War and Peace

Every one lives in his own way. You lived for yourself and say you nearly ruined your life and only found happiness when you began living for others. I experienced just the reverse. I lived for glory – and after all what is glory? Desire for others’ approval. So I lived for others and not almost, but quite, ruined my life. And I’ve become calmer since I began to live for myself.



Whenever I look at my watch and its hand point to ten, I hear the bells of neighbouring church; but I’ve no right to assume that because bell begin to ring when the hands of the watch reach ten, the movement of the bells is caused by the position of the hands on the watch.
Whenever I see the movement of the locomotive, I hear the whistle and see the valves opening and wheels turning; but I’ve no right to conclude that the whistling and turning of wheels are the cause of movements of engine.
The peasants say that a cold wind blows in late spring because the oaks are budding, and really every spring cold winds do blow when the oak is budding. But though I don’t know what causes the cold winds to blow when the oak-buds unfold, I cannot agree with the peasants that the unfolding of the oak buds is the cause of the cold wind, for the force of wind is beyond the influence of the buds.
I see only a coincidence of occurrence such as happens with all the phenomena of life and I see that however much and however carefully I observe the hands of the watch, and the valves and wheels of the engine, and the oak, I shall not discover the cause of the bells ringing, the engine moving, or of the winds of the spring. To do that I must entirely change my point of view and study the law of movement of the steam, of the bells and of the wind.



But what is war? What is needed for success in warfare? What are the habits of the military? The aim of war is murder; the methods of war are spying, treachery, and their encouragement, the ruin of a country's inhabitants, robbing them or stealing to provision the army, and fraud and falsehood termed military craft. The habits of the military class are the absence of freedom, that is, discipline, idleness, ignorance, cruelty, debauchery, and drunkenness. And in spite of all this it is the highest class, respected by everyone. All the kings, except the Chinese, wear military uniforms, and he who kills most people receives the highest rewards.
"They meet, as we shall meet tomorrow, to murder one another; they kill and maim tens of thousands, and then have thanksgiving services for having killed so many people (they even exaggerate the number), and they announce a victory, supposing that the more people they have killed the greater their achievement. How does God above look at them and hear them?