Unforgiven - I

The light of the day, the dark of the night, even the somber radiance of twilight, mean nothing to me anymore. My life is enveloped by an impenetrable cloud that endears an unending gray all around me. Every fleeting moment was tantamount to the one before, brandished with guilt. But even amidst my immortal guilt, I think of her. I think of her every moment.

Many people had been knitted with her in her abridged yet consequential life. Even I had loved her beyond conception, but I had fathomed her real worth only in death. I was the one vested with the powers to salvage her, but I failed. My medical prowess, which I had always deemed as the ultimate ordnance to thwart the atrocities against humanity, has now turned into a dagger baptized in my own venomous guilt, stabbing through my heart.

As my second born, Isobel was never the subject of any special attention. Never as much even when she developed the initial signs of respiratory polio and I overlooked. And it wasn’t until one morning when I found her conked out in her bedroom that I realized what was on the verge of occurrence. But alas! It was too late.

Since that unfortunate event, I have been groveling in indignant guilt. Even so much that I have given up my practice and even to some extent leaving the house. My entire world has shrunk to a gray cloud enveloping me. I have rummaged within myself and in the world around me in the quest for redemption, for my failure as a father, failure as a doctor and moreover for my loss of faith in my profession. But my grievances shadowed me even there. Thus I sought solace in oblivion. I have decided to keep myself inebriated every moment of this condemned life. So what if it can’t keep the guilt away but it sure keeps the pain within limits. The incessant stabbing continues, but the alcohol numbs my senses.

In this maze of my indulgence, I have mislaid myself. And I know that I have wronged Laura, in depriving her of her father. She had done nothing to deserve a fate like this. But my remorse for loosing Isobel is predominant on my guilt over Laura. It is my redemption, to seek salvation in my guilt. Perhaps I shall remain unforgiven by both, my dead and living daughter, forever.
                                                                                                                        ~   Dr. Luis Castellano

CrossRoads

Say I am a fish. Alright.. that wouldn’t work for this story. So no, I am not a fish, rather say I am a mermaid. And I fell heads-over-heels in love with a man, a remarkable man indeed. However we both pertained to two completely divergent worlds. But for our surreptitious love to burgeon, we had to find a way to transcend nature’s boundary. Thus I prayed to God to lead me to a happily-ever-after. After praying for a long time, God rewarded my diligence and reverence by granting me only one wish. And this wish would lead me to my happily-ever-after. My predicament now is what would be the most idoneous wish to make. Should I ask to be transformed into a human so that I can spend my life with the love of my life? But then, am I ready to lose my existence for gaining love? Should I wish for him to renounce his own world and expect him to embrace mine as his own? Would that be too preposterous? Or should I wish for the extinction of this ethereal feeling of love from my notion and lead my life as it was? If I pick either of the options, then will I be able to live with the compunction of my choice? Suggestions?

Sun*Shine*: Aquarian With A Difference Day #11

I am an Aquarian. But I am not too credulous of signs. I envisage it as just another charade humans like to cling on to so that they have a scapegoat when confronted by difficult circumstances, inability to attain what they wish for or the dismal plight of a failed relationship. I posit fate and destiny do exist, but eventually our choices and discretion in life lead us to where we end up. Thousands of people are born every moment, not even a fraction of them share the same traits or (mis)fortune. As an apostle of rationale, I fail be convinced by something so vague. I agree it can’t be refuted either, especially since it has been established since centuries. (Everyone knows ‘the fate’ of the medieval aficionados of Science and Rationale.) To me.. its merely something that brings more evil than good. I do not defy it, but I do not countenance it either. And I am sure stars have much more to do rather than pawn our lives.  

Unbelieving & Cynical.. Ehh? Are those Aquarian attributes too? I have no clue.. Maybe U know better :)

Truly Musical - Day #10

My moods keep swinging all the time, sometimes they are extremes while at other times they are more in-betweens. And my music varies too, but generally it isn’t synchronous with my mood. My music, mellow or loud, is always happy. Music always makes me happy. And my music comprises of unlimited gigabytes, spanning all possible sorts of genre from Folklore to RnB. Although I do admit, I am not such a big fan of Metal. But I do at times vent my anger by listening to Headstrong or Cold As Stone (This is not until I am extremely pissed.. which is extremely rare in itself). I know.. its cheesy, but what is life without cheese :P So it’s hard for me to classify my music with my moods (which are too complex already).  Music also has it’s period with me. At any given moment in my life, I fall in love with songs and after a considerable amount of time, I fall out of love too.. :)

PS: I am currently heads over heels in love with ‘Just The Way You Are’ by Bruno Mars, ‘You Are The Only Exception’ by Paramore and ‘You Belong With Me’ by Taylor Swift.

The Modern Crusade

Note:- This post is a little behind in time as it was conceived sometime ago but my hectic schedule had prevented me from posting it earlier.  

All the recent hullabaloo about the Babri Masjid-Ram Janmabhoomi ordeal has sent my neurons firing. Time and again the issue had come up in dinner-table conversations, party debates, newspaper articles and so on. However, I had never been able to make up my mind and take a side. Until now I had believed that perhaps I was too young to understand the potential implications and consequences of this matter, after all it was a matter of great socio-religious as well as political significance. Today, 23 years after I first tread on this planet, when the final verdict is about to be passed, I told myself that its high time I take a side in this debate.

So I went on thinking, which side am I on.. A bunch of religious fanatics who claim their sole right over a piece of land based on an epic composed even before the advent of time. The piece of land is of such importance that they readily defy everything their religion has ever preached. Or another bunch of religious fanatics who believe that ever since an Emperor hoisted a monument in his name at a point 400 years ago, they have reserved the exclusive right to offer their prayers at that spot. Huff.. tough choice.

The only conclusion I could settle upon after thinking about all this was that the fact that this is even an issue is a gigantic evidence of the foolishness and ignorance of mankind since a zillion centuries. A peek back in time, brings us face to face with a very similar issue in the history of world, ‘The Issue of the Holy Land’, The Crusades..

‘The Crusades’ as described in history books, are religious wars between the Catholics and Muslims to resurrect their exclusive rights over the Holy land of Jerusalem. Extending over a period of 200 years, they are tales of horrendous war crimes and massive massacres worse than both the World Wars put together. The Christians consider Jerusalem ‘The City of God’, where the birth, death, resurrection and ascension of Christ took place according to Christian theology. It is an equally important pilgrimage place for the Muslim community as it is also believed to be the site of the ascension into heaven of The Prophet, much like the Ayodhya issue.

However a detailed insight into the historical accounts of renowned historians, makes it very obvious as to what the real incentives behind these military campaigns were, much like the controversial insights on which the Liberhan Commission shed light. Although the Christians had a strong hold over Jerusalem since the 4^th century, the Muslim conquest of Syria in the 7^th century marked their intrusion into the Holy Land. However the concept of the crusades had not materialized until the late 10^th century. I agree that there were numerous reasons which in some way or the other contributed to the flair. However the main reason was the threat the Christian Byzantine Empire felt from the ferocious and ambitious Turks. They hid their fear in the name of Christianity and appealed to the Pope to fight for religion. And the Roman Catholic Church, which was more than pleased at the prospect of bolstering the Papacy and gaining control over the East, did not refrain from breaking the moral code. Thus commenced the inception of centuries of conflict between two of the greatest religious and social communities. Perhaps, the seed of modern day terrorism was sown.

Although the Ayodhya issue was not conceived by the leaders, but few would disagree with me when I say that time and again political propagandas of various political parties have aired the flame scavenging the core of religious harmony and tolerance which still persists in some way at the site. Some examples of which are the Raam Chabutara and the fact that the mosque was called Masjid-i-Janmasthan for a long time.

My claims about the hidden agenda of the great religious wars are not without evidence. History is witness that the first thing the crusaders did after the siege of Jerusalem was creating the Crusader states: the Kingdom of Jerusalem, the County of Edessa, the Principality of Antioch and the County of Tripoli. If it was only about the control over the Holy Land then the wars should have ended right there. But it was a dark night, which never saw dawn. Eventually, when the Muslims recaptured Edessa in 1144, the Pope  called for a second Crusade. In addition, in the Kingdom of Jerusalem 120,000 French-speaking Western Christians ruled over 350,000 Muslims, Jews, and native Eastern Christians.

However it is pretty well known, that just like modern day political parties, the medieval Church was a power monger, which wanted to extend its control beyond its original domain. Very cleverly they used the bait of remission of sins. And blindfolded followers in the prospect of remitting their previous sins committed thousands more. I wonder if any of them earned a spot in Heaven.

The crusaders and Knights Templar were mere pawns at the hands of the leaders like the Byzantine emperor Alexios I, papal beaurocrats like Pope Urban II, Pope Gregory VIII etc., preachers, like Bernard of Clairvaux, European Kings like Louis VII, Conrad III, Philip II of France, Richard I of England (aka Richard the Lionheart), and Frederick I, The Holy Roman Emperor, much like the karsewaks being the pawns in this whole strive for Hindutva.

I always reckoned the purpose of history, other than tormenting kids in school, was to remind us of the past mistakes and indiscretions of mankind so that one can learn and elude from reiterating the same. Alas, even after 1000 years, it seems like we have indeed failed to do so.  People have criticized the Ayodhya issue extensively, pointed fingers and passed judgments, but few have sought for a harmonious and peaceful resolution. I wonder how people have chosen to turn blind to a fact even more obvious than the solar motions, the fact that no religious dispute in our country is fuelled by religious animosity. Indeed they are driven by political agendas and power lust.

I am not here to judge, so the verdict is of least significance to me. Although I fail to comment on its candor and decorum or whether or not its agreeable with my personal opinions, but all I can brag and swagger with immense joy and pride in the way the common people of my country have taken it in their stride. The concerned parties accepted the verdict with astonishing dignity. Despite the intimidating scare that verdict was going to tear the country apart, Ayodhya as well as the entire country maintained peace and order. This prodigious act of tolerance has renewed my credence in humanity as well as in the potential of my country. Perhaps this is just another side to the secular spirit of a country where Eid and Diwali are celebrated unanimously and in similar spirit. Or perhaps dawn is setting in on this dark night. This could be the beginning of the end.

~

Love Me Or Hate Me

He says he hates me.. but he also hates to see me dour and dreary. He can’t brook my watery eyes and vents in prodigal outrage. He vexes, flusters and hurts me so many times, yet he makes me ecstatic so many more times. He comprehends my mind even before it materializes on my face. He never thinks about how to make me happy, yet his little inconspicuous actions bring a smile on my face. He says he wants me to relinquish my prerogative in his life, yet he spends every infinitesimal and momentous moment with me. He says we can never be together, yet he envisages a future with me. He says he hates me, yet in his hate I discern a clandestine love.

Perhaps this love is a mere figment of my imagination. Perhaps professing hate is much simpler than professing love, for it doesn’t tag along the encumbrance of expectations. Or perhaps proclaiming hate is much more exciting and thespian than the honest expression of love.

They say love is a four-lettered illusion. But what is a stronger illusion than love? It is hate. It is a four-lettered weapon which has proved fatal time and again when abused by perfidious and mercenary our-kinds. For it is much easier to incite hate than to incite love and respect. And it is human nature to take the easier way out.

Love and hate are never independent of each other. There is hate, only where there is love. Subject who are beyond the realm of love, are also beyond hate. For subjects we know not of.. we harbor only indifference and apathy. Apathy is not synonymous with hate, it is pure oblivion. Love and hate are not black and white. They are overlapping sets of feelings and there is a whole spectrum in between.

Hate is born where love fails. Failure to bear the ponderous burden of expectations anchored to love, incites disappointment and anguish, which gives way to hate. Good examples are public figures. Their actions give rise to immense love, affection and reverence in the hearts of the masses but when the same masses are crestfallen, unfathomable hate and resent arises.           

They have asked, what is love? For me the vital question is what is hate indeed? Not because I am proficient in the ways of love. I am just as confounded and drift as anyone else. But I believe that love can find its way, while hate to me is like a missile gone astray, vulnerable and perilous.

Thus, hate in itself is a mere illusion which makes one believe that they indeed despise the subject, while it actually reflects their disappointment in their love for the subject. At other times, hate is merely a façade. A façade used by cowards to hide their vulnerability.. Cowards appalled by their own ability to love..  For some others, hate is a tool for spicing up their rather insipid and humdrum lives. Being spectator to the formidable farce of violence mustered by the deep-rooted hatred is the only form of entertainment remaining in their dreary lives. Nevertheless, the tic-tac-toe of love and hate is what is holding the universe in equilibrium.

Love me or hate me.. your records shall always remain spotless. Love me or hate me.. I behold the mystic love in your eyes.

Coby

I am Coby and I am in love with the forest. The dense verdant canopy which forms a sky underneath the sky, the splashing and cascading river with pellucid water which forms a life underneath life are so fascinating. The fragrance of the wild flowers, the droning of bumblebees and the twittering of birds, soar my spirits. I have not been in this world for too long, but since the time I could rise on my feet, I have been galloping around all over the forest with Lily, while Mother gathers food for us. I know every nook and corner of the forest like the back of my hand. Lily is younger and dreamy. Mother has apprised me every now and then to defend her from all the imperceptible threats that lay in our way. How I love the adventures in the forest. Every new day I learn something new, a new mystery unfolds before me.

But I am aware that I am born into difficult times, a time of crisis. The enemy are out there to get us, all of us. Mother has designated them with the epithet of ‘The Destroyers’. They have wrecked many forests and slain many of us. Every night before going to bed, Mother recites to us the tales of courage and valor of our forefathers. But both of us know that the best story was that of Father, of how his bravura succumbed to the prevarication of the cunning and formidable enemy. He had renounced his life to keep us secure. How I covet to step into Father’s shoes and take care of Lily and Mother. Everyday I scrutinized my reflection in the river, but I look nothing like Father. I still look like yesterday, short and callow.

One misty and gray afternoon, I was roused from my catnap by a boisterous bang somewhere close by. I heard queer voices but I had no idea what all this was about. Mother had cautioned me of such recondite circumstances. I looked to my side, Lily was still fast asleep. The clandestine clairvoyance in me took over. Carrying Lily gently, I moved to the arcane site by the prodigious ‘Peepal tree’ we had discovered few days ago. We sheltered there until evening, waiting for Mother to return. Dusk turned into night, but there was no sign of Mother. The enemy was everywhere. I had never seen them before. They appeared bizarre and eerie. My anxiety escalated and we were growing restless. I could not fathom what they may hanker from us. Why they were bent on obliterating each one of us.

As these thoughts fleeted across my mind, I caught a glimpse of Mother. Her majestic and beautiful embodiment, now lifeless, was being carried away by the biped and ‘more civilized’ enemy. The sun rays reflected from her golden pelage. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I had to be persistent and tenacious. I had to fend Lily. Lily let out a dismayed moan. The moan set the enemy on our trail. I knew the enemy was stronger, faster and smarter, so we had only one choice, the choice of ensconcing ourselves. Since then we have been migrating from one covert site to another, leading our nomadic lives in fear of the two-legged enemy. Sometimes we go for days without food and sometimes we spend chilly nights on callous rocks. Scared… Lost… Lonely… Is that the life for us? I hope I can fend Lily until she turns into a graceful and magnificent ‘tigress’, just like Mother. The impetus for such barbaric acts by our more civilized and ‘humane’ peers still evades me. But I survived, at least this time I did.

PS: Coby survived this time, may be not next time. There were so many others who didn’t survive. There are so many others who won’t survive. There are just 1411 left. It is time to take action and raise our voices for preserving our national animal.

Scared.. Lost.. Lonely.. It is not the life for our tigers. Learn more and join the roar here.

We were not blessed with higher functioning brains so that we can threaten the existence of every other thing created by God.  We were empowered with exceptional cognitive and intellectual skills to protect and preserve the flora and fauna complementing our existence. By our selfish and ignorant actions we are not just mutilating other living beings and our mother earth, but we have damned ourselves to the perils of nature. And there will come a day when mankind will cease to thwart nature’s wrath.

Image Courtesy: Deviant Art

18 Till I Die

With the culmination of another year in my life approaching, I have started ensuing prominent signs of ageing. The most obtrusive one being incessant rants and diatribes about the growing number of candles on my cake. Not literally though, as I don’t really have a cake or candles on it anymore. It’s just too frivolous. But if I did, the cake would certainly be way too teeming with candles.

But I am not down in dumps or sullen about it. At times I might be in a pensive mood, but the present transcends over the past. And the occasional rants are more an aftermath of the atrocities of the present rather than the state of my mind. After all, I am not that venerable or ancient yet. I am barely.. umm.. lets say ‘Twenty Something’.

Growing up is as natural as nature itself. Mellowing of flowers into fruits initiates life. As kids, we always hankered to grow up, to lead an independent life and make our own decisions. Adulthood seemed like a mark of liberty, liberation from parental administration. But then, we only discerned the privileges. The attached strings remain inconspicuous, until one day, when reality strikes. We realize that that there are greater laws to abide by. Growing up brings with it dreams to achieve, responsibilities to render and expectations to meet.

Looking back we reckon how effortless and conducive life had been as kids. Requisition or not, anything we sought, we could turn to our parents and adjure for it. Once across the bridge, we long to retrace our steps, to forsake our nerve-racking lives and revert to the genial wombs of our mothers. But again, the present transcends over the past.

So reeling back to the present, Time is mercurial and Life is capricious. But life should not be about rants and regrets. Life is a collage and it is up to us to fill it with vibrant colours or shades of gray. I choose the former. And the present is not that abominable either. There might be some deadlines to meet, bills to pay, dinners to cook and dishes to wash, but there are also the late night parties, ‘exotic’ beverages and everything forbidden. Above all is the euphoria and pride of self-satisfaction and achievement.

Numbers are insignificant to me. 25, 15, or 35, the zeal in life should always be conserved. Age is accounted not by the years lived, but by the milestones achieved. Once in a while, I pause and ponder if I missed out something. But it is never too late for anything new. The neurons in my brain might have formed a few more synapses, but the muscle cells in my heart pump just as loud as before. So I shall hereby refrain from counting my birthdays. Henceforth birthdays shall only be an alibis for celebrations and revelries for my growing wiser and happier. :D     

Life is bizarre. Life is terse. It will veer with time, for better or worse. I have turned around the time lever. I will be vernal and sparkling at heart forever. 
I will be 18 till I die.

“It sure feels good to be alive,

Someday I’ll be 18 goin’ on Fifty-five.

Till the angels come and ask me to fly,

I’m gonna be 18 till I die.”

                                                                                           ~Bryan Adams

Insatiable

Some things come to an end for new things to begin. A day, a week, a year, a millennium… everything comes to an end, to give way to a new one. Time, itself, is indefinite. It is us, mortals who have fettered time in the strings of days, months and years. It is well discerned that the universe is governed by the inevitable rule that anything that begins must come to an end, including human life. Yet we are invariably insatiable. We hanker for a long life. We are covetous. We wish to hold on to time. On several occasions, when a special moment fleets by, we avidly wish to cling on to it, to freeze time and live in that moment forever. But indeed ‘forever’ is illusory and nonexistent. There is another side to the coin, a different perspective. This moment elapses so that new and greater remarkable moments can become a part of the book of our life.

As the end of last year approached, I caught more than few glimpses of rants and sulks about how swiftly this year wrapped itself up and bid us adieu. I agree, more than often, time seems to pass by transcendentally swiftly. We are constantly laden with more things to do in a compendiary realm of time. Maybe that is the reason why time always seems bereft and meager. I do not allege that I am beyond all the ranting and sulking. Time and again, I, burdened and strained with work, have also been a victim to the dearth of time and covertly wished for longer days. But my intellect had always whipped me back to reality. Everyone around me has been going on and on about how briskly this year slipped away. While the truth, according to the laws of physics, is that every year passes at the exact same pace. I have had the same feeling on several occasions. But then the calendar was invented by humans, wasn’t it? So what is the big deal…

Now I don’t want to sound archaic and humdrum, but in fact, the days of a calendar  are almost insignificant and quite paltry to me. Of course work and other terrestrial conventional events are governed by the calendar. But my mind and soul aren’t. To me, every New Year  is just an excuse to make resolutions and have celebrations. An impetus to wish and hug my loved ones. A motivation to wrap up my loose strings. An incentive for a new beginning.  

But analyzing each day, I realize there is no idiosyncrasy, a brand new year or the old one. The temperament and vivacity with which we draw breath is vital. Each day in our lives is a feat in itself. Each day can be lived like it is the first day of a new year. Resolutions & Celebrations can be a part of any archetypal day. Every new dawn is a new beginning. I don’t need to wait until I can replace the calendar on the desk, for a new beginning.

‘Time’ can’t enslave my thoughts. They are ephemeral and emancipated like a butterfly.

“I am the master of my fate,
      I am the captain of my soul.”

                                                                        ~William Ernest Henley

A Battle Lost, is Another’s Victory

This was originally published at The Writer’s Lounge for

‘The Snow Filled Lounge  Contest’

It was that time of the year again, when the world was engrossed in festive and revelry. It was the time of the year he spurned. The world draped in silver and adorned with resplendent ornamentations sparkled. Despite the dreary gloom cast by the gray sky, the incandescent smiles on elated faces rekindled the milieu.

Throughout the year, his hands to mouth existence did not perturb him. It was this time of the year when his compunctions and frailties confronted him. Inspite of striving hard, he had failed to give his ‘Little Angel’ what she wished for. Every year she hoped for a Christmas with a garnished Christmas tree and presents in a sock, and was disheartened. Today, on Christmas-Eve, perched on a quarantined bench, he prayed .. for a way.. to bestow his ‘Little Angel’ with the joys she deserved and coveted.

A tall, young man in a beige suit strolled down the archaic and bygone path. Bemused and flustered, he sat on the other end of the bench. Despite the icy evening breeze, droplets of sweat trickled down his brow. Few minutes later, he walked away abruptly. On the bench lay a chestnut leather bag. The bag was rammed with wads of banknotes and a card, on which with golden letters was carved a name and address. 

The forthright and righteous him was compelled to deliver the bag where it belonged. But his paternal instincts were transcendent. The euphoric gleam in her shallow eyes would be priceless. His prayers had been answered, a path had unfolded, to tread or not was his choice. His heart delivered the verdict. Tonight, for once, his ‘Little Angel’ would have the Christmas she wished for. On this day of Christ, his inner demons had taken over him.

He was baffled. He had never traded his values for corporeal contrivances. Abdication could cost him his career, but ceding to their demands would mean forfeit of his morals. He accumulated the cash in a leather bag and set off. With a tormented and oblivious head on his shoulders, he meandered away. He was battling his inner demons. Lost in scuffle, he walked away from a bench, forgetting his bag. When realization struck, he smiled and reckoned, perhaps the choice was made for him. On this day of Christ, he had evaded his inner demons.

One man’s lost battle, is another man’s victory !

Word Count: 399

Genes, Credence & More

Words, no matter how sumptuous and fancy, sound so shallow when they lack a basic insight. With science being in the lime light lately, certain terms, otherwise confined to the scientific lexicon, have become an integral part of common discourse. Genes, DNA, Genetics, are some such examples. Masses pick up such words from the media but fail to comprehend the true meaning and apropos avail. As a contemporary and futuristic biologist, it annoys me. Not because every Jack around the corner should be conversant in elaborate biological terminology, but because the common man in my country derives all his wisdom and acumen from the deceiving and deceitful media. Of course there are exceptions, exceptions that reflect atleast figments of reality and veracity. But a vast majority of them has mastered the art of concoction and fabrication, the sole purpose being fiscal success and public esteem.

It annoys me to see that these ‘people’ have lost the urge to question, the incentive to the quest for truth. They might quote lines from movies about DNA tests being availed to identify an assassin or disclose the father of an illegitimate child. Or gossip about the genes and genetic composition of others. But as an answer to a ‘Why’ or ‘How’, the only answer one gets is an impassive and hollow gaze. Even worse, they lack the impetus and motivation to turn a few pages in a book or log onto Wikipedia to find out what ‘something’ is and how ‘something’ works. (I don’t buy the crap about India being a backward country and not having much access to the computers or the internet, when a majority of the urban youth spends majority of their lives on Facebook, Twitter or Orkut.) What exasperates and peeves me is that inspite of having all sorts of technology and resources at their disposal, these ‘people’ fail to take advantage. Why this ignorance? Why this servitude to curbed and limited information? Why do they have blinkers on their eyes and see what is shown, instead of seeking the truth?

However, reeling back to the point, the complexities and intricacies of life have hardly ever been put into the words of the common man. In simple & rustic words, Genetics and Fate are very alike. Indeed the genetic composition of a body is its biological fate. Every physical being has a discrete and exclusive set of genes. They might be similar or imbricate for individuals but never identical. DNA is the parchment which God chose to pen down the biological fate on, wrapped it up and tucked it into our cells. The axioms of Fate are also pertinent for Genetics. The genetic composition of a body not only encodes for blood relationships and predisposition to diseases, but every minute and trivial biological event is somewhat predetermined. And just as fate evolves by our ‘karma’, the genetic fate can also be modified by our ‘karma’ towards our body, what we do to keep it healthy (or rather unhealthy), what we devour, how often we loose our temper and how frequently we tread into the fresh air.

My words might sound notably incongruous and devout at this instant. Me, a patron and disciple of science, preaching about God and his divine powers, might stick out a bit. I am a Believer… A Thinker, yet a Believer. Through centuries science has been parted from religion. People of science have denounced religion. And the men of religion have shunned science and its apostles. To me rationality is an extrapolation of ideologies. Deeper I plunge into the abysmal ocean of Science, more tenacious, vehement and profound becomes my credence in God and his celestial powers. For something as intricate and abstruse as a living being, and a world adorned with a diverse assortment of such beings, all linked by an elaborate food chain can be contrived, spawned and fostered by only ‘someone’ with inmitable competence and dexterity. Life in itself is evidence of the existence of a higher power, The Almighty!

Once again Genetics, is the biological destiny of a body. It is in part inherited from both parents but is pooled and amalgamated in such a way that it is as exclusive and unique as one’s fate. It is predestined.. but its clandestine. No one can perceive what lies encrypted and concealed inside the cells. But the secret unfolds when the time comes. Is it not Him then who delineated and conceived all of this? One may ponder if God created the world then who created God? But is The Creator himself obliged to be amenable by sheer mortals like us. Religion might not make sense and appear delusive on several occasions but pristine faith and unconditional conviction are not bound by the realms of religion. I am a Believer.. I believe in God, in a higher celestial power but I am not restrained by any religion and rituals :D 

Deviating Perceptions

This is a new generation. A new one like so many others. But it is not perpetual. It’s a generation powered by Addiction, fuelled by Awareness, angered by Imperfections, and grieved by Failures. An epoch coveting a new world, a reformed world. A generation with a dream, a vision and a belief that not the path but the destination matters. A generation striving to turn their sand castles into concrete. We are a generation armed with exceptional Reasoning and Logical Skills.

We are… YES..  ADDICTION.. personified!! Addicted not to grim inclinations or fatal drugs but addicted to the work we do, addicted to the dreams we nurture, addicted to the things we want. We are addicted to the internet, to the cell phone and our iPODs. It’s a desire for success, for achievement and a quest for knowledge which drives this generation. An addiction to perfection and contempt for conciliation is what holds us united.

It’s a generation of reason. ‘Why’ and not ‘How’ is the word of choice. We catechize, ‘What’s the point?’ We seek Reason and Logic. We don’t evade hard work and travail but we loathe and shun futile toil.  We might appear imprudent and capricious but we harbour the potential to reshape the world. We may seem lackadaisical and oblivious but once we ferret out a path, we follow it with an ardent allegiance. We are expected to abide by the rules formulated by the veterans, but we prefer to make our own. We do not hesitate to assert ourselves or reveal our perceptions, but we are apprehensive that perhaps no one but us will discern them. We do not aim to change things, as most of them have been rendered permanent. We hold a vision to start afresh, to make things new, advanced and without a loophole. “Life isn’t perfect, come to terms with it.” was the maxim before. “If life isn’t perfect, we redefine perfection.” is the motto we believe in. The veteran generations were driven by fire in their bloods which clogged their brains. We carry a cool head on steady shoulders.  

It’s a generation which is respectful and reverent but denies to accept forced decisions, a generation meticulous and nimble but not timid or scared to take risks, religious but not superstitious. We heed and appreciate wisdom but we credence to nothing without reason. We may take your advice but we prefer to learn from our experiences, not your mistakes. We are keen to adopt and learn from your dexterity and knowledge but we refuse to be led. We choose to live our lives and pursue our fantasies on our own terms.   A generation which has technology at its disposal and the ability to harness nature. The masters of trouble shooting and improvisations. We are not scared to step out of the nest and flap our wings. If we fail to fly, the wind might carry us for a while.

We behold a magical world in our minds and aim to recreate the magic in this pragmatic world. A world where the word ‘impossible’ does not exist in the human jargon. A world where everything is just a click away, where nothing remains arcane and obscure. We are determined, headstrong and efficacious with thoughts that are radical and contemporary. Money, fame and flattery are insignificant, achievement and self satisfaction are imperative and substantial. This is s generation which believes in deeds, not virtues. We speak many tongues, have many faces, but it all converges to one dream, one vision.

PS: This was one of those posts for which I could not think of an appropriate title. I owe this apt and pertinent caption to my dearest friend ‘Sonu’ who has been the sole reinforcement during awful brain blocks.

The White Tiger

“ The creature that’s born only once in a generation in the jungle.”

“ Black stripes and sunlit white fur flashed through the slits in the dark bamboo. He was walking in the same line again and again, from one end of the bamboo bars to the other, then turning around and repeating it over, at exactly the same pace, like a thing under a spell.”

- Aravind Adiga

Anyone who has ever seen a white tiger in its cage, knows that it is hard to disrupt the gaze and walk away. The graceful curves and the perfectly cadenced & enchanting gait leave the spectator spellbound. The elegance and grandeur in the demeanor of this creature has rendered it a matchless uniqueness. It fosters great power and vigor complemented with infinite patience and judgment. He has the serenity to pace back and forth in his cage, in silence, glancing now and then at his awestruck spectators. He digresses himself by attempting to live a generic and modest life like all the other animals in confinement. But deep down he is certain that he is not a sheep in the herd. Time and again, he lets out a thundering roar which betrays the truth and asserts his edge over others. He is, indeed, irrespective of the globalization of the jungle, The King of the Jungle. He is The White Tiger.

Dreams, great and extraordinary ones, are seldom born, as seldom as the white tiger himself. They are in many aspects synonymous with the white tiger. Since their conception, they are confined to the back of our minds, swaying back and forth, lingering in silence until realization dawns. Dreams, abeyant and unrealized, in the coop of our minds share the agony of the debilitated white tiger. Bound by horizons of reality, norms of the society and the flaws of the human nature, our dreams share the plight of the powerful creature bound by the bamboo bars. They try to befit in the prosaic lives of the run-of-the-mill populace, but they founder. We become the tongue-tied spectators who stare with pitiful eyes and wonder what it would be like if the captives of our mind were set free. But most of us lack the mettle to let our dreams even let out the roar of pride. After an eternity of agonizing existence, they just perish in their turmoil with reality.

The White Tiger in the bamboo bars in different in only one way. Man, blessed with the sharpest weapon, its brain, has made good use of it and is therefore capable of restricting this creature in confinement. His judgment has conveyed him the fact that any attempts to break free from these confinements would lead to dire consequences. And since he is entrapped by forces way beyond his bounds, in reality he has no choice. However the greatest impediment the white tiger within us has to confront is us and our scare of failure. If only we could let go of this fright and make an honest endeavour, the white tiger cooped up in our mind can breathe in a free world and take the shape of reality. We would no longer be one of the rats in a swarm following the bagpiper. Thus the white tiger within us, indeed has a choice. Whether to make the choice or not is our call !

Men & Women

It is almost correctly said that Men are from Mars and Women from Venus. But the truth is that both were created on and for the Earth. They just need to learn to deal with it. With the evolution of nature, and the advent of civilization, they deviated from the ultimate purpose of complimenting each other. Instead they attempt to make a self sufficient ‘world of their own’. Had Adam and Eve refrained from taking a bite of the Forbidden Apple, it might still have been feasible. But under current circumstances, it seems pretty impossible for either covey to take the other down. There is just way too much fraternizing.

Since the beginning of time, the human society has been dominated by physical power, and therefore, been patriarchal. Women have been restricted to the house and used as ornamentation, be it in the Western Civilizations like The Romans and The Greeks or the ancient Indian Civilizations. “Woman was taken out of man; not out of his head to top him, nor out of his feet to be trampled underfoot, but out of his side to be equal to him, under his arm to be protected, and near his heart to be loved.”. This is one of the best things ever written. It may appear so, but neither the sister’s of Eve nor their descendants are weak. History provides evidence that whenever (although rarely) a woman has risen to power, she has made her opponent bite the dust.

As a representative of the female clan, I am somewhat reluctant to admit that on several occasions I am compelled to believe that perhaps the other sex is the better one. But it isn’t a child’s play to win ‘The Battle of the Sexes’.

As women, we have high expectations but low certitude, high perseverance but lower complacency. Women can be well described as a cheval glass, clear yet deceptive. Lucid and lustrous superficies encompass a core of compassion, affection and great endurance. We have the magic wand to add perk and hue to even the most indolent and livid things around. We are armed with our extraordinary instinct and skills of extrapolation. We can let out smoke even without a flare. Our eyes reflect our mind, but men lack the dexterity to comprehend it. We have a sharp foresight but such twisted thoughts that more than often its perplexing for even ourselves. ‘What A Woman Wants?’ is perhaps one of greatest inquest. Alas! The answer is still a mystery. We shun reason and logic. Window shopping, gossip and chocolates are to us as sports, computer games and beer are for men.

As men, they tend to be empirical yet impetuous, pragmatic yet idealistic. The corporeal power is well complimented by chivalrous fortitude, mighty rationale and incredible wit. Although men of this age are too preoccupied in fulfilling their worldly duties, the clandestine knightly mettle is still existent in their zeal. Men are both, Pride and Ego personified :P The right blend of all the traits makes a delectable and exquisite serving. They can be barbaric and pompous like Alexander. They can be serene and philanthropic like Buddha. They can be Gods, they can be Devils, they can be Lovers, they can be Friends. And above all they have a heart of gold. An aureate bosom shielded by a façade of sarcasm and humor. They might be wavering and errant, but they are equally passionate and allegiant once they ferret out their path.

Just like not all women are alike, neither are all men. According to the ‘Outgroup Homogeneity Bias’, individuals see members of their own group as being relatively more varied than members of other groups (adopted from a friend). This accounts for statements like ‘all men are the same’. However every person, man or woman, is as diverse from the entire populace as is each finger in our palm from the others. In the light of the modern times, men and women are like the two banks of a river which are parallel to each other, incomplete without each other but never merge with each other. They are as disparate as chalk and cheese but they go together like potato chips and cola.

In conclusion I agree with Santayana in saying ‘The woman's vision is deep reaching, the man's far reaching. With the man the world is his heart, with the woman the heart is her world’. It is unification and alliance of the two which has flourished the world the way it is. And perhaps it is the best :)

One, Two & Three

One was the luscious and delectable apple of everyone’s eye. Seemingly pompous with a snobbish tinge, but the imperious frontier encompassed an amiable and benevolent heart. A clandestine side to her temperament which was completely contradictory and well beyond the reach of the populace. The other one was a hoydenish romp that everyone dreaded. She was canny and capricious. Her fun-edged wit could slaughter anyone. And the third one was me :D.

We met when we were 9. It wasn’t the perfect convivial bonding at the first encounter, but it evolved over time to take a very awesome and exalted shape. Too many details are not retained as most of the memories from that time are quite foggy. In a year or so we were buddies and in a few more we were inseverable. We treaded together into the lanes of adolescence. So many fond memories adorn those times. The countless hours spent on phone even after spending the entire day together, the gossips and giggles, the risks to save each other’s ass, the hours of brainstorming in the pursuit to unravel the mysteries of life and so many such moments are priceless. This was the era before cell phones and texting, internet and chats were an essential part of every teenager’s daily life.

After those years of school our ways parted on several occasions, but we are still united. United in wax and wane, in joy and sorrow, in relief and pain, in victory and loss, in virtue and vice. We met less often but there were still moments of bliss that we spent in each other’s company. Bunking classes, movies and junk food united us :D. Although then placed in three different nooks of the city, we did not skip a single opportunity to fish out a meeting. The nice weather, a rainy day, release of a new movie or even the lamest thing on this planet like Valentine’s Day, everything around us seemed like an excuse to get together and celebrate. Then there was the advent of even worse times, we were spread across the country with me in a different continent altogether. Many things have changed but in so many years, many things are still the same. The city, the landscape and the people around us might have altered, the year and month on the calendar might have proliferated, the paths of our lives might have veered, but perpetual and incessant is what we have for each other.

With the course of time, the eye candy flourished into what can be best defined as, Attitude personalized. So intimidating yet so enigmatic, so dainty yet so headstrong, so prudent yet so whimsical. However she has not lost the hint of vanity. A character embellished with fine lineaments. The canny romp still haunts the world with her piquant and sharp wit. But she has mellowed into an ingenious and impulsive B-schooler. She blends so well into any milieu and has an aura which radiates natural charm, a charm that causes instant attraction. She is the brains behind most of our endeavours. She is the practical and sensible wing complimenting the starry eyed duo of this clique.

Through these years we have stood by each other through tough times, heartbreaks, times of crisis, delusions and blunders. We have been partners in crime, consorts in treason and allies in charity. With each step we are assured that if we screw-up and create a mess then there is someone abaft to scour and purge it all. These days we seldom talk and hardly get to see each other.. grown up business.. too preoccupied with managing our diligent and chaotic lives. Therefore there is not much time to rekindle the old friendship, but I know it requires none. We might be separated in time and space but we still connect at some abstract level.

So today, after so many glorious Friendship Days that we spent together, I chose this very day to ruminate. This reminiscence is an excuse to cherish the fond memories I share with my friends, to apologize if I have ever been the reason for their fury or chagrin, to warn them that I shall cling onto them no matter what and finally to thank my friends for being my friends :)