Random thought #343 :)

Just realised that the 2nd of October is a few weeks from now. Wondering whether we still hang on to any of that pride that made the little man from Gujarat the father of an entire nation. I wonder if we have lost that grit and utterly enduring belief in our principles that made us an independent nation 64 years ago. Yes, I think we are a proud people. Pride is good to have. Maybe not so much so that we paint a picture of perfection not even we can live up to. 

Masks we wear

I am prompted by nothing in particular to write this journal entry. Truth be told, I am not the most deliberate individual, and writing journals is, unfortunately, not a habit of mine. It is not pessimistic to reflect that there’s a time in every individual’s existence when he seeks the pleasure of his own company- where family and friends remain but a distraction, albeit a healthy one, one could reflect in hindsight- but I remain sheltered and nourished by the depths of my own conscience.  It does not bode me well to hurt others by the solitude I seek, for that is not my intention. But, as does often occur in the pursuit of isolation, the ones around you are affected, invariably.  Questions about my destiny remain now nothing but wild musings with no answers, casual social debates with no resolution. My soul remains troubled with uncertainties, uncertainties that have nothing to do with the outside world –am I a puppet that exists to entertain the world around me, or do I truly have any dreams of my own? I do not know. I may never know. But, in my own world, the outside is filled with apparent warmth and love. I, like every other person on this planet, have a job, a family and good friends. But I understand not the guises that people wear, the veil of lies and deceit behind which they hide. I do not know if the smile across the room comes from the lips, or from the eyes. But I hope I make them smile from their hearts. I hope the disguises I wear disarm theirs. I reflect mirthlessly on the irony of my profession. For alas, one must understand, must one not, the art of subtle deception, before one hides behind a mask?

Masks we wear

I am prompted by nothing in particular to write this journal entry. Truth be told, I am not the most deliberate individual, and writing journals is, unfortunately, not a habit of mine. It is not pessimistic to reflect that there’s a time in every individual’s existence when he seeks the pleasure of his own company- where family and friends remain but a distraction, albeit a healthy one, one could reflect in hindsight- but I remain sheltered and nourished by the depths of my own conscience.  It does not bode me well to hurt others by the solitude I seek, for that is not my intention. But, as it often occurs in the pursuit of isolation, the ones around me are affected, invariably.  Questions about my destiny remain now nothing but wild musings with no answers, casual social debates with no resolution. My soul remains troubled with uncertainties, uncertainties that have nothing to do with the outside world –am I a puppet that exists to entertain the world around me, or do I truly have any dreams of my own? I do not know. I may never know.

                But, in my own world, the outside is filled with apparent warmth and love. I, like every other person on this planet, have a job, a family and good friends. But I understand not the guises that people wear, the veil of lies and deceit behind which they hide. I do not know if the smile across the room comes from the lips, or from the eyes. But I hope I make them smile from their hearts. I hope the disguises I wear disarm theirs.

I reflect mirthlessly on the irony of my profession. For alas, one must understand, must one not, the art of subtle deception, before one hides behind a mask?

-A. Clown

In the fall of 2006, I was what you'd call the typical Indian teenager. Pimply faced, slightly overweight and generally distracted in life. My first year of college was a blast - I had great friends, I was studying in a great school, and best of all, it was in Goa - India's own Vegas, you could say. The lifestyle on campus could be described simply by one word : unleashed. All of us, having prepared for some form of crazy entrance examination, were finally settled in to start enjoying life for four full years.

*For those unaware, the Indian schooling system will take full credit for manufacturing millions of students that for the most part only take up two streams of study - Science (read Engineering, not Research) or Commerce (read Chartered Accountancy) : to set their lives up for two of the most paying and broadly divided job sectors in the country. This involves spending the majority of high school with your nose buried in books, and your bottom on a chair. While this maybe a good strategy for a top notch GPA, the collateral is quite simple and obvious : we tend to churn out really smart, but physically unfit college students (I'm speaking of the majority here, and I'm sure you wouldn't disagree).

I'm trying here to comprehend the difference in lifestyles between our 

Change

What comes to mind when we encounter the word Change? Every word, no matter how seemingly insignificant, has a place in our mind - and it associates itself with a certain emotion, a certain memory, a certain reaction. In that sense, for the most part, what does the word Change trigger in the majority of us - Excitement? Apprehension? Fear? Dread?  

Why, as a society, have we become so content in our little cocoons of comfort? When did we lose the ability to break out of the ordinary and try some extraordinary for a change? Why is it that the more we grow, the more we rapidly lose touch with that childlike wonder and energy that drives us to keep our mind more open to change? Why is it that the more we grow as individuals, the narrower our focus becomes? Shouldn't our experience in fact widen our gaze, make us receptive to more and more, rather than slowly killing each field of possibility from that seemingly infinite sea of possibilities we had as innocents? Were the words grow up meant as wisdom one needed to be grateful for, or were they meant as sharp reminders to keep our dreams in check? What is our comfort zone but the constant chiseling that we take from society as we grow? Do we take this as the artistic and deliberate chiseling of the sculptor in the road to achieving some meaningful end, or as the ruthless erosion of the river bank at the mercy of raging eddies? 

Or is it ourselves that need to pick up the chisel and define what this marble with limitless potential is to become? Does this mean remapping our minds and meandering away from every crippling thought and instinct we have come to possess? Could it truly mean that all those years of conformity were just wasted, and that our destinies can be altered instantaneously by a single thought? 

Why then, is Change so hard?

The Sai Babas of the World

The recent passing of the Hindu guru Sathya Sai Baba brought up an interesting discussion recently, and I want to share my views here. For those unfamiliar with the name, this man was considered by many to be an ascetic with healing powers - some even go to the extent of calling him a reincarnation of god.
On the one hand, if you were to presume that the quality of a man's life is judged by the tears shed when he is gone, then one can only conclude, by the thousands that wept at the Sai Baba's funeral, that he was a leader and shepherd of men. Superficially, this seems like a reasonable conclusion to draw from a reasonable presumption.

But, all this is just that - on the surface. There is this basic human need for fulfillment and belonging that is met somewhere in the process, but we are prepared to endure so much pain, just for those few moments of happiness. Why else would people lead their entire lives believing in "gods" and ideas that have no basis in reality and fact? When viewed objectively, these are just blatant lies, aren't they? They are a jigsaw of all the little pieces of fiction created along the way to make our lies seem like a intangible truths backed by the conviction of faith. Take the time to think about this.

When someone says, "I don't know that God exists, but I believe", it is tantamount to an admission of pure ignorance. Ignorance isn't bliss. Ignorance is painful. The reason our lives are filled with so much pain and internal turmoil is simply because we refuse to acknowledge the fact that most of the groundwork we lay for our lives is not based on anything real! Things that go wrong because of our lapse in judgement or action become "the mysterious ways in which the lord works". Think about how easy it is to pass the buck to this fantastic character : God - your perfect personal life insurance policy! All the important aspects of our lives are in our control, but just in case, just in case we screw up, we need coverage from the divine insurance policy. And in case we don't, what do we do? Why, we do what any rightly indignant customer would do - complain.

There is a distinctly satiating clarity that comes from accepting the Unknown as what it simply is - unknown. A clarity that we will never achieve by being shepherded by anyone other than yourself. Simply doing this gives us something we unconsciously spend our whole lives searching for - a sense of purpose. It is this sense of purpose that will pave the path to true knowledge of ourselves and of the universe, of which each of our lives is a microcosm.

Special Thanks...

If I could afford a therapist, I'm guessing she would probably ask me to delve into some self-reflecting exercise, like make a 10 point list of things I am thankful for, for starters. Just off the top of my head, here goes:

1. To the executive armchair: For extensive and unwavering lumbar support in times of a nerd infested WAN party of fps/strategy/rpg and the occasional sitcom marathon (note to self: also thank the 500ml diet coke for doubling up as my urinal).
2. To the physiotherapist: fixing my carpal tunnel caused by activities stemming from endless boredom.
3. To Charlie Sheen: for showing us that there are things worse than, say, crystal meth. The phrase "tiger blood" comes to mind.
4. To Charlie Sheen: for showing us that our miserable 9-5 lives are little slices of paradise when viewed in perspective.
5. To facebook: for turning me into a stubby spud with a 4 year old profile picture and zero social life.
6. To BP: From the bottom of the ocean, for the 206 million gallons of sludge. Good news is that BP stock is soaring, which is more than I can say for the oily avians it left behind.
7. To William and Kate: I really don't know who these people are, but apparently their 50 million dollar wedding is all the rage. So thank you both, for giving the media something factual to report on for a change.
8. To Glenn Beck: For 5 years of great television. Without you, we would not know that America is under an impending alien-nazi-communist-socialist-jewish lobbyist-marxist-monkey-hemorrhoid invasion.
9. To Jackass 3D: For showing us what flying feces looks like in 3D. Also for showing us that crack babies abandoned by their parents can someday have a future starring in movies that show feces flying in 3D.
10. To the Federal Aviation Administration : For feeling us up in public. Do 1000 reward Air Miles get me a free lapdance?

You know what, therapeutically, this really helped.

Until next time,

yours truly.