Thinking aloud

Congratulations to Egypt and her people. To stand up without ammunitions, with only peace, hope and belief as their weapons, they have achieved something which many of us had written off as impossible.

Like rest of the world, I am just another sympathizer. Fair enough, because it did not happen close to my home or in my country. But when people tweet and retweet, when they post updates on facebook and write about in their blogs, I wonder, why don’t we have the guts to stand up.

Each and every day, I come across stories of horror fueled by corruption and spread by a supposed invincibility. We all know. Most of us dismiss as ‘normal’ and conclude ‘what can I do’. But when people can say things on twitter, when many Indians can waste time on facebook liking pages about TV shows and trying to become tycoons and millionaire farmers, why can’t we stand up? Why can’t we make the buffoons realize that we will not tolerate it.

I am not talking about the poor. I am not talking about those people, who we think do not exist. I am talking about you and me, who are ready enough to bribe a police man when caught, who are ready enough to curse the same police man and at the same time sympathize with him. I am talking about us hypocrites.

We live in a pseudo-democracy. We are in times when newspapers are willing to accept money for publishing articles, when news channels no more report but propagate, when you no more know what is reality.

All of us,know about a particular man who was behind the whole Commonwealth games and what he did. We tweeted, we created facebook pages, but why weren’t we able to do anything about it? Because we accepted it as right. Right of that class of this country to steal and do whatever they want. We are sadly, happy enough to sit in our A/C rooms and cabins and let things pass. We are couch/recliner rebels. We dare not do anything about it- for our rights begin and end with being able to talk about something.

We are expected to believe that one man can steal unbelievable amounts of money. We are willing to let ourselves be divided in every way possible, without doing anything about it. We are willing to accept that it is alright for traffic to be blocked for hours for one person to go.

A certain Sen, can be put behind bars, without 99% of the country having heard about the case. And the media shall show you an actor’s wedding even when there are floods or droughts in another part of the country.

We are in a free country. But every choice has a cost- the cost of choosing to stand up for our rights is increasing even as we brush aside everything as ‘normal’ and go on with it. We cannot support our neighbours when they are pressured by certain people, we cannot fight for those people whose lands are stolen, we cannot even be without paying for a college seat.

It is depressing to think about these things. The choices we have are- a) take the ‘wheel of the bus , b) get out of the bus , c) show support to someone who is willing to take the ‘wheel. Most of us can’t drive a two-wheeler properly, so let alone a bus. We cannot get out of the bus, simply because we are in the middle of a jungle and do not know where to go. But if someone is willing to take the ‘wheel, why don’t you show support?

We do need someone to take the ‘wheel. Unfortunately, to appeal to the masses, to garner support from the educated Indians who work in big offices, you need a lot more than them merely having faced the blunt of the various negative forces. They are like fishes, who refuse to believe that a bigger pond is just a jump away today. Tomorrow our pond is going to become so small, that we are going to die here.

To the usual readers of this blog, these things I say are nothing new. I ask myself what have I done? Nothing. I am just another 19-year-old who refuses to grow up – I still believe in those good things which people said when I was a kid. I wish I can do something. But I have come to realize that that something should be big enough to not fall. It will be hard work, to build this force, brick by brick, but I am willing to do it. What is in my head, stays in my head, till then.

The above might be just to convince myself that I am not turning a blind eye to the things that bother me, but I am hoping that isn’t the case. Youth Unite was an experience. I saw how people react when posed with even a simple thing like writing about what they think on various issues. I will continue to have hope and believe in what I believe.

End of rant. Thank you for reading.

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The Artist

She sat on a wooden stool next to a stub. Her hand moved over the cavernous canvas, freely sketching a parapraxical tree.

A thick, short trunk which called upon an infinite foliage. The olive melt into the bright green- an iridescent plaque of herself to be hung on a sour cream wall of a monstrous mansion. Her passions tempered into a 30 inch hypotenuse, the diagonal to the quenching quadrilateral.

Behind her a seemingly infinite jungle made of imported trees, with eyes prying and mice hiding from venomous snake in rat holes – a montage to the erogeneity of the city. In front of her a perfect boulevard, leading to a monumental arch, commemorating the thesauri of a linguist state.

Yet, neither the painted jungle nor the built arches inspired her. The tree which once belonged there and had cast its shadow to the dusty traveller and the hopeless migrant, was now a marginal stub- cut and left to grow mushrooms, moved her enough to empathies and create.

She sat there, dreamily, unaware of the snide sarees and disgruntled dothis- the gossip mongers and jinn eyed obnoxious self-professed moralists, who knew none better than to judge. Her world moved faster than the time it took the sweat to trickle down from her forehead to her brows. She was in a canopy of dreams and azure blues, beyond the jaded varnish of a painted plants and polythene leaves.

On the stub, stood her paints, strew around and left a mark or two of colours on the once magnificent Banyan. The clock milled along second by second, exasperated, waiting for the artist to reach the poignant final stroke, so that it could stop itself and look at the world for a moment. The Janusian winds urged the dead leaves to rustle a bit more on the cobbled paths and moved the fountains to spray drops on to her enchanting face.

Her hands moved faster than the dissonant traffic, that screamed away past the red lights into junctions of copping helmets. Her face gleamed brighter than the setting sun, the awakening neon lights and the impending moonlight. As the day set into the inevitable night, a sudden chill thrust itself on the painted tree and the paint flowed no more.

In desperation, he searched for her and her work, but none was around. Neither a stub, nor a stool. All that remained were bright lights of the newly laid pathway and flowers with name boards. The trees swayed silently, absorbing the din, the jinn and malign.

As he came to his senses, he realized that it was a dream. A young girl with her mother walked by- there was a book in her hand whose cover he recognized.

Sometimes all it takes is a leap to create faith

He stood at the balcony- he was a score stories high.

He watched as the evening sun dealt its oblique rays on to the transgressed shore. The waves crashed in hope to win back the mile they had lost to the thick boulders of the city. Under the heavy cloud of the city’s spirit and pollution, the panorama was breath taking, literally.

He was long used to the choke and wicked whispers of this city built by Britannia and concrete. The bridges that seemed to connect, also cut through the arteries and brought to an end the tracks left by the last generation. Anachronistic cenotaphs to iconoclasts and sensationalists, served to remind anyone who would look- the origins of the parimutuel progress of the city’s neighbourhoods.

Today, he stood on the balcony with a railing painted black and potted plants hanging in proportional chains looking at the sunset, waiting for the right moment, to do what he wanted to do.

The sparrows, parrots and crows, flew in tight groups keeping shape, towards their distant homes, cemented into the souls of every growing area. The decadent heart, was slowly being to be troubled by the clandestine wheels, which clogged the cycles and caused the tired black cells to curse and honk their way to a place of hopeful quite and peace.

The city with its sundering cacophony was a furlong away from where he was- caught in the mesmerising magic of the sunset. The ravenous sun, which scorched hard on works and toils, was now bidding its adieu for a few hours. It first dipped behind the miranda glasses of an assurance company- he moved a couple steps and could see it again. It then hid behind the veils of a corporate- he again moved.

The sun now hung, on a few yards of open horizon, between the corporate and a newspaper company. It pressed on now, a few yards from the translucent waters of the sea. By now he was at the end of the balcony. To get a better view he climbed over the spiky railing and stood confident on the edge.

A crowd gathered below- reporters hoped to scavenge a scandal,  police to ponder a rescue and others out of abject curiosity. He saw the finally minuscule crimson dive- he jumped.

As the crowd rushed fast towards him, he heard them scream and could feel the din. He was a star- he was a son of the sun. When they noticed who he was, the crowd was stupefied and a wail hung over.

The implications- the heir to the horizon of bridges had leapt over a rail! The parks laden with waste newspapers, airport with incomplete hangers! The shock. Who would bear the riots and rage of the malevolent men?

But their worst fears failed to come alive. He hung on from a shock cord. The sun after all never dies- it sets, only to returns to arise and awake.

The crowd noticed he wasn’t who they supposed. Neither was he a bud with two leaves – he was a someone, who they never knew was there.

Sometimes all it takes is a leap to create faith.

ABOUT.ME

What do business people do apart from business? They exchange visiting cards. Now that we are all moving towards a paperless, virtual society, isn’t time we had a virtual visiting card as well?

And isn’t it annoying that you have to give people your various ids one by one, patiently? Well, how about a place where they can add/follow all of your accounts from one place?

From Downloads

Well, not to worry, there is  about.me ! The really awesome site which acts like your online visiting card! You can add your own background and choose the services you want to be shown in the card/page.  What is more, it has STATS! You know how many people have seen your page and what they have clicked! So what are you waiting for? get yourself an about.me!

From Downloads

P.S:- My about.me. Please leave your card below, I shall look at it and nod my head. 😀

Back to wordpress.com

I have moved back to wordpress.com and surrendered my hosting account. It was fun trying out hosting and yes not to forget really really really coooooollll. But it is pretty expensive too, so here I’m back to good old wordpress.com.

A few things have changed, but it looks the same to me anyway. It still does not support JavaScript, which sucks. A few new themes but I have chosen a very simple one.

Anyway, now that I did hosting, you can ask me if you need help in setting up a hosting account(#justsaying).

Well here is hoping that I continue to write this blog.

See you around.

Miio – first impression

Heard of Miio? No? Well it is a new social networking site. Yes, there are dime a dozen sites now and we are spoilt for choice- with FB and Twitter being the compulsory ones, but this stands out.

CLICK HERE TO CONTINUE READING

Our education system

It is really tough to turn a blind eye to anything- after all NEWS follows us like a curse. Unfortunately, we are forced to believe and deal with things-whether they are real or not. Though I know not many are going to read this post, I still intend to write this-I need to appease my twitching self.

CLICK HERE TO CONTINUE READING

THE LIAR by STEPHEN FRY(book review)

image from here.

Filthy, funny and unpredictable.

The book is about ‘ The Liar’ and his compulsive obsession to lie. It does take you a while to understand the book- at times it seems disjoint and unrelated, but as you grow into it, a ragged sense appears.

Click here to continue reading.

My birthday wishlist

I know you all love me(well you better love me!), so I will save you all the trouble of thinking about what you need give me for my birthday.

Now, don’t mistake me for being materialist person. I don not mind it, if you aren’t giving me anything, but then isn’t it better when you give me something? Doesn’t save you the time of coming up with good stuff about me?

CLICK HERE TO CONTINUE READING.

A new beginning

And this transition, metamorphose  is not self-made. There are many to whom I am thankful to- My parents, grand parents, my sister, friends(especially those who are patient enough to listen to me and point out things) and blogging friends. There are some people who are more than a friend.

And when I think back, a few people who are here(in the blogging world), who have inspired me and helped me  are Nita, Keshi, Paul,  Sakhi, Reema, Aarti, Mahak, Shakti, GB, Indyeah, Shiva, DIand  Priya,  among others. I want to thank you all. I learnt things through your blogs and the conversations we have had.

TO READ THE FULL POST, CLICK HERE.