2118 : What is death ?

In the last few years, a strange melancholy has set itself upon me...especially when it relates to the matter of life and of death.

Let's take a step back....

Did you know that as you read this sentence, your heart beat at least 4 times?
Or a billion neurons and synapses fired in a precise military sequence, for you to make sense of what you just read? Or that I typed this use a whole host of muscle memory? Or ....

Get the drift ?

Now the body and the brain, and the immortal atoms (which make up your body and are probably here since the Big Bang), and the lovely rings of Saturn....are all so impossiblŷ magical...it makes a bloody atheist like me make me want to believe in a God...and yet...


The magic of this universe is so phantom like....that I am humbled and awed by its signature.

If in all of this, you accept that your body is magical, do you? Let's assume you do. If you read modern neuroscience, you realise that free will and volition are such over-exaggerated myths... Your body knows exactly how to replace the skin you burnt yesterday while cooking the egg...it knows exactly how to throw out toxins in the form of urine...it knows how to rebuilt parts of your brain...

And then you combine these facts...and you realise that your body and the universe around you know what is best for you and the overall world...

And then you have lung cancer....and your body still tries to repair itself, but fails...and then it decides to end the game by giving up...one organ at a time....

It knows precisely when it wants to die...when it needs to die...when the last breath stops...and the lungs no longer bellow....

Now...why would you want to fight this natural process with medicines and the artificial props....

I sit and wonder...it's bothered me a lot in the last 15 years....I know the answer...and it's a violent one.

The atheist in me says a silent unanswered prayer.

Location:Raheja Vihar Circular Road,Mumbai,India

2117: Zabaan Jale Hain

Folks who know me well, know that I have a very unusual and eclectic taste in music. Like for example, I have always hated Sonu Nigam and KK, both because of their lustreless unreal smooth tasting voice.

By that same token, I have never been a fan of Rahat Fateh Ali Khan as well.

I do like some of his songs, quit a few, but I am not an unabashed fan - like I am that of Neeraj Sreedhar.

But....a big but(t) :-)

I have to say I am totally in love with Rahat's Zabaan Jale Hain from Dedh Ishqiya. Its Gulzar-Vishal at their poetic best. This is very similar to the Kaminey title track for me....just pure magic.

I love the opening lines

Na boloon main to kaleja phoonke

Jo Bol doon to zabaan jale hain

Sulag Na jaave agar sune wo

Jo baat meri zabaan tale hain

If I dont tell her whats in my heart, then (this thing inside) is charring my insides,

If I do tell her, then (this thing) is scathing my tongue....

I hope she does not flare up, when she listens to (what I have to say),

The words which are trapped and supressed under my tongue !!

2116 : The big slur

There is a part of me that believes that inherently Indians (and I dont mean to berate us desis but unfortunately I have to generalise a bit to get my point across) are inherently slurrish. While it is necessarily not in terms of race or language (both of which we are very accepting), I do feel we are terrible in terms of economic discrimination. This fantastically screwed up feature is hard wired into the most libertine amongst us, and that includes yours truly.

Picture this.

In my office, and I work for this big fat Jewish Bank, the true top of the pops in terms of culture and civility (and I mean that with absolutely no sarcasm at all, but instead in pride and respect). And yet...in this elite place, at the point of exit, the only people who are subject to pat-down searches are blue collared workers....the "janitor" class. While this might be a pragmatic reality, I dont know if its correct in the human spirit, in the spirit of equivalence.

Why do we believe that the blue collars will steal more from the floor, than the tie and suit folks like me. I carry a huge backpack, and safely truck away a laptop or an IP phone without a question...but Mr. Blue Collars shall be apprehended for carrying a pen outside the firm.

I think it reeks of differential level of trust, fundamentally varying only on economic parameters.

Picture another example.

A colleague of ours, who we dont know well - loses his wife, and we all jump in and reach out to him - telling him, "do reach out if we can help"...and I am sure in 9/10 cases we shall actually help if he did reach out for a favor.

Your own domestic maid who helps you scrub your house spanky clean every day, loses her dad, and all we do is chase her up saying "can you come back in a week please?", all the time we are grumbling, "these types are the one who are constantly lying"...."I dont know which dad of hers has died, this is the 6th time I am listening to the same excuse...all looks like a way for her to slack off and take a vacation".

Do we offer her help? Do we offer her money? Do we offer her emotional help?

I hope you get the drift, our trust is based on economic strata and not necessarily based on human goodness. While there is possibly tons of empirical evidence that does suggest blue collars do fib more - you do have to take a step back and wonder if their choices and options force them to take that route? What option does a maid who works 365 days a year have, especially one who has no PF, not health care, no child support and absolutely zero emotional connect with her employer.

I have made my point, and I dont judge others, I judge myself everyday....I know I am accumulating bad karma by the warehouse and it bothers me a lot.

2105 : My first post of 2014 is a decade short of a century( ahead of 2015)

This is my first post in many months. Coming back to this blog has been difficult. Not because I did not have enough to say, but more because there was always so much more to say. There was always the risk of what left unsaid, the canary who was confined to silence.

In 2014 I hope to write a little more (or maybe a little less), but I do hope to write. I do hope to at least have a voice.

Welcome 2014. Happy new banged up year.