1511 : Ipoo’ed

"Life" as I have known and understood so far is nothing but the undiluted and blatant desire to live, be alive and perpetuate life.
Life will do anything to fight decay, death and statis.
If you find that definition - either far too obvious or exaggeratedly shocking -  I would say look no further - study a stray dog or an amoeba (under the microscope)…. It will be a good reminder to all of us about the fundamental "purpose" of living.  We humans seem to be a slightly distracted lot in that department :-) Its also fashionable to say “I give up” in the face of every small impediment.  If someone drooped and told me “I give up”,  I would say “f you”, life does not allow you to "give up",  its hardwired not to, what you do need to give up is your steady decline into suicide.

1510 : All writers must die, and are whores !!

Am repeating this from my own post 149.

I find this passage very compelling, a very state of our mind today, and I relate to its sentiment completelty. A mirror to our modern world

Baal said, "I've finished. Do what you want."
So he was sentenced to be beheaded, within the hour, and as soldiers manhandled him out of the tent towards the killing ground, he shouted over his shoulder: "Whores and writers, Mahound. We are the people you can't forgive."
Mahound replied, "Writers and whores. I see no difference here."

- SV, SR, Pg. 392

1509 : Driving the wrong car(t)

I have been stuck with a p&s (point and shoot) camera for the past 2 weeks. A Sony W250 – which in itself is not a run of the mill p&s.

And yet…my fingers are itching for a propah camera. (For folks who missed it – I have been on D90 for about an year, and before that with a prosumer Canon SX1IS (the best in that series!!still retails around 450) for about 2 years).

As I have lived through the past 2 weeks, there have been at least 10 times when I have asked this question – whyTF would someone put up with a p&s….

Size – does it matter? Very frankly, I would rather miss the shot and memory and shoot a crappy overexposed, ill metered frame which most p&s offer anyways.

Give me the beast anytime, for any occasion. A photograph is but a memory (I think Paul Simon said that!!) – I suggest we respect that thought….and to capture a memory use some sensible tool – unless of course you cannot afford it or something like this – but in that case – I suggest you dont capture the snap in the first place.

Am still wondering WHY – meanwhile looking forward to laying my hands on a new shiny mean giant soon.

So looking forward to it Life does offer some mercies.

(Similar question  - why would you drive the Verna when you can afford and drive the 5 series…unless you are one of those who make a virtue of minimalism – which is such a completely f***ed up state of existing).

1508 : Anger

Read this multiple times in books and (heard it in) sermons….Anger is a manifestation of weakness.

Having lived life enough- now I know – anger is weakness wanting to mask itself, is a view point which does not want to be challenged, is a hollow argument that wants to stay alive by virtue of being the loudest.

Anger is dumb and insensitive – its fury running amok.
Bloody hell – how do I know all of this – bloody hell – I think I have a classified anger problem

1507 : Two for the road (both by Bob Dylan)

I don’t know what they are doing with their lives, but me, I’m still on the road. 
– Tangled Up in Blue

It ain’t no use in turning on your light, babe, I’m on the dark side of the road.
– Don’t Think Twice, Its All Right

1506 : The blood that moves the body

Photography, sculpture, poetry (and hence the written word), music (and hence the spoken word) – all seem to move me….so much so that I find myself revisiting my favorite poems, photographs and music again and again and again.

(On a side note, never quite enjoyed movies that much…especially the current streak of them. Its over a year since I saw any movie at all )

To me all of them are nothing but the innate desire of every human being to capture time – as in to stop the arrow of time and in essence crystallize it for forever, trap the moment in a body.

What's magical about these experiences (at least to me) – is the fact that the original creator wrote these poems or clicked the photo with some interpretation in mind – and with a clean idea to capture a slice of the current life as it stands ; when someone else like you and me read it – we essentially are trying to live the same trapped moment through the poet’s eyes – and most times a large set of the audience almost gets its right….or at least real close.

Isn’t that weird – two strangers managing to share a thought, capture life through a shared photo, a shared poem….and both vicariously living through it.

These are the moments I sit and marvel at the beauty of uncle universe….it seems built for allowing connections – for unusual synapses.

Books choose their authors; the act of creation is not entirely a rational and conscious one. – Salman Rushdie (you can replace books by photos, poems and whatever else)

1505 : Mustafa Kahin Gehe- nasha

Its a bright new day, a good time to remind yourself of one of the great truths of our times. Bingo, if you dont know what that means, read here….

This simple principle should be the guiding star to our lives

1504 : Ugly bastards :-)

Some of the clothes folks wear to the gym are so awef-inspiring….(I said “awef” and not awe!!). Picture this, a greasy middle aged fat porky chap – with fat thick flappy arms (believe me…I have no problems with him so far….its what follows – his clothes that bug me!!) wearing a sleeveless vest exposing his thick luscious underarm hair….yoohooo

Or this lady who is really heavy and proportioned (I omitted the “well” bit!!), she wears clothes at least 3 sizes small – and everytime she is around – everyone is distracted –not because of the glass figure (I omitted the “hour” bit !!) – but because everyone is seriously worried – will the clothes shred themselves and fire at unwitting fellow gymmers – a la carpet bomb…..

Get the drift?

Well, if you think I am being nasty….I am. Look being built like Danny Devito myself – balding, short and portly , I dont have problems with the guy’s flab or with the lady romancing amazon – what seriously gets my goat is the choice of attire.

And these folks who seem to have wealth and means – what they seem to lack is wisdom….and of course a full length mirror Either of those would do the trick

1503 : My Chance Will Come by Kanimozhi Karunanidhi

This poem was published in Open Magazine, and I just fell in love with it. Does reveal a very sensitive soul behind the (now) entrapped and infamous personality.

Listened to my father,
I went to school,
combed my hair,
avoided a few friends,
wore a shirt,
brushed my teeth,
obeyed,
got married.
Now I am waiting.
My chance will come.

(translated by Karuvarai Vasanai)

1502 : Paradise from “Country without a postoffice” by Agha Shahid Ali (from Shalimar the Clown by Salman Rushdie)

If you ever hear (not read) Shalimar the clown by Salman Rushdie, you shall be stuck by the fantastic recital of “Paradise” – a poem by Agha Shahid Ali from his collection – A country without a postoffice.

This poem is read by the narrator Aasif Mandvi and appears as part of the author’s prologue.

Hearing this poem, makes you believe that to write well is to weave magic, to read what is written well – is indeed Paradise

Have reproduced the text of the prologue below. Goes straight into the list of my top 10 fav poems.

I am being rowed through paradise on a river of hell:
Exquisite ghost, it is night.

The paddle is a heart; it breaks the porcelain waves…..
I’m everything you lost. You won’t forgive me.
My memory keeps getting in the way of your history.
There is nothing to forgive. You won’t forgive me.
I hid my pain even from myself; I revealed my pain
only to myself.

There is everything to forgive. You can’t forgive me.
If only somehow you could have been mine,
What would not have been possible in the world?

1501 : Lazy Sunday morning

On my 2nd cup of poison, and listening to Rajan Sajan Mishra waft their royal rendition of Kanada. If this is how life will always be…..if I could stretch this moment to infinity….then I don’t want ever to die.

1500 : Mango smoothie–where is the Mango?

Picture this.

I am at Barista with a colleague of mine – waiting for a cup of coffee. A sophisticated looking girl (maybe early 20s) ambles in – she is slightly on the plump side – she stares down the menu for at least 5 mins – before she begins the conversation.

Plumpy : Whats in the mango cooler? (in an NRI confused ABCD accent)
Helper : Maam, that is a mango smoothie. (seeing her deer-in-a-headlight expression continues). That is essentially mango pulp + ice + yoghurt.
Plumpy : (Does not indicate that she has heard, but we know she has, because her gaze falls back from the helper’s face to the menu again!!). Hmmmm…..(mumbles some disappointment)
Plumpy : (politely in her ABCD accent) Can I have it without yoghurt?
Helper : Let me check. (Walks back to the folks who are actually servicing the orders. They all mumble something in Kannada. Returns the counter) Yes Maam.
(As plumpy is getting her card ready to pay, the helper remembers something, walks back to the service folks again, mumbles something and comes back)
Helper  : But it will have mango, is that fine Maam?

No….hell no…..I am not exaggerating this conversation at all. My colleague and I were almost in splits. We muttered “both of them are definite hires for the wormhole. They might even make it to the top ranks one day…such is the way of life.”

1499 : The irregular novel syndrome

Like I said before, this year is going to be tough. I am happy that half of it seems to be out of the way. Jan 2012 would be a welcome fast forward

I continue to be irregular with my words and turds. Ha Ha Hee Haw