-A window ajar is a prelude in building to the joy of being limitless! That uneasiness of being familiar somehow, sometime, somewhere.......

Friday, December 31, 2004

Notes on nicotine

~First string~ page 13
Outside it was drizzling; a sort of programmed rain as if some master benevolence was in control.
The drizzle was unexpected for this season, but it didn’t stop me from my usual evening stroll. As I stepped out I got a feel of dampness under the feet, the whispering wind chilled my marrow and I knew I was due, for my cigarettes.
Monsoon smoking is a privileged indulgence, you can say, a rare kind of bliss bestowed upon only a few. The shopkeeper was a pretty woman in her early thirties with a strange but fair attractive face, an intriguing pair of button eyes, an upturned nose and sensuous full lips.Can’t remember how long I gazed at that face. Sure must have been drowned in the devil of meticulity. As in any other such elevating moments that life offers us seldom, I was beside myself. Suddenly it felt quite awkward. Her eyes just told me that. Silently. Out of acknowledgement, she blushed crimson. I drew a pale blank. In the practice of life, things can get out of control just like that. Playing the old pretext of looking for something, I broke eye contact. Needless to say, It was hugely relieving.

I served under 'time' for some moments, then I asked her in my best of the charming ways for my particular brand of cigarettes. A sultry reply arrived in an apologetic tone for not having that particular brand followed by if the ‘double strike’ would do? She almost recommended it. Bright, beautiful sparkling set of teeth. And what a smile!! ? I would have jumped into a compliment any day, but today, I found myself holding back, stuck, and why? Was she so extraordinary? Was it the weather? I tried hard not to succumb to my own thoughts. I won! Now it would be easy.
With my seventh smile I asked for a pack of what she had suggested and as I collected the box from her hand, I felt the feminine gentleness of her fingers that you often read in the books. She reflexly withdrew and stood silently with a palpable approval within. Encouraged, I asked for the light in the most casual (Im not in this world) manner a.k.a. ‘Humphrey Bogart style’.
This took time or so it seemed.
But she dropped the lighter into my hand from not more than a few inches, which seemed to me, like light years. Her little caution had turned into my big void.
And I turned to go she called me with a melodic “excuse me” and placed some loose change right into my hand. I felt more than her hand and now the very familiar smile was picnicking in the corner of the frame. I slowly fell into the abyss of her eyes, half closed gazing vacantly towards the floor and the angles of the lips curved into a tentative semi-smile, that’s going to haunt your soul like a devil when you sit with a steaming cup of coffee on a rainy evening.

When I walked back home, I caught smoke from a distant chimney caressing the raindrops in the horizon. There was some life there, may be inanimate, but there......

~Sixth string~page 47

Past the whoosh of whirling spires parks smiles and courtesy nods with the calf crying tired by pumping blood against winter and gravity I stand before the library desk split within between catching air for my lungs and looking to add a memory for the blonde librarian before me whose early twenty image with that body language reminds me only of students working in supermarkets to colour the shades of their future; yes, of course this place is a less competitive supermarket with black shadows of wanton souls impressed on paper as word-epitaphs assembled by their deweys waiting to be sold, bought borrowed etcetera filling the whole room with a scent of bare buoys sleepwalking in the broad daylight. What was such a devil's delusion that the god was tempted I mutter to myself and then she calls my first name in a timbre that it can mean only one thing in the universe that my book request has arrived, conveyed in a safe box from far away and I acknowledge all that by smiling and scribbling a residue of what is supposed to be my name and a smell of dying carbon engulfs me as I open the box; ah now I remember wasn’t she the girl who wavered off my fines some weeks back and called me the nice chap who had participles with salads for breakfast whilst laughing a laugh that left you itchy, salty, and drowned yeah, that tsunami laugh. Returning the pen I noticed that she had long slender hands with fingers delicate and dangling that would have inspired an impressionist into a mad frenzy to paint them playing a piano, not poor me I ponder what neruda would have said of those hands if he ever shook it, would he have kissed it or would he have shared it with silence and wrote about it later ah what a cocktail of borderline and schizotypal onions with romanticism pickle, then I catch myself gazing at my own arthritis aspiring fingers that would have made even Tolstoy proud for carrying unabridged war and peace for a continuous month and then as she whispered a farewell into my ears I caught her fingers now laid bare over the white table clearly presenting at the distal end a faint dark stain of unmistakable nicotine a story of woe, silence and epiphany in the making, subfusc subfusc I meditate aloud......... only to be drowned by the rain outside.

Wednesday, December 29, 2004

empire 'zero' central

empire 'zero' central

d i S-----t u R b---e -D
- i -----st---- or-e t--d ,
d / i/ s / mem / / be // r / ed/ ,
(self- d i s.... p e ....n s.... e d, daaaaaaaaaazed)

floating through
hazed invisible
~ l~
~~ o~~
~~~~~ s,~~~~~
whispering naked((secrets))…........... you can’t find


time tears through
the innocent heart,
into the
sorrrry mind.

wedded to soaking red memories
all the
retinues of your oxygen(o2) ,
in fruitless enqu???iries,

(self- d i s.........p .....e.... n s e d, daaaaaaaaaazed)

d/ i/ s / me // mbe// r/ ed/ ,
d- i-- st---- or---et-- d ,
d i S--- t u R b------e--D.................

-- ( fall 2002/onboard cauvery express)

so long,

A reason to hate you....

When the weariness of the day pushes you into an almost sleep and suddenly you are jolted up to grab the pen and jot down whatever the pen wants to say.......

A reason to hate you....

You are mistaken.

I did not
hate you when
you seduced me that night
dropped me like a fulfilled dream.

I did not
hate you when
you pretended
to be busy
did not
return my calls

I hated you
you spilt wine on my new skirt
tried to wipe it off with your tie
Of all the things…….

so long,

Sunday, December 26, 2004

They gave us a white christmas , did'nt they??

White noise.

Meant dampened feathers, nothing more.
Forceless upon our backs there fall
Infrequent flakes hexagonal,
Devised in many a curious style
To charm our safety for a while,
Where close to earth like mice we go
Under the horizontal snow.

--Edna St. Vincent Millay
The Snow Storm

Frozen silence

Thursday, December 23, 2004

The story of The Choice.

This write-up is a byproduct of a discussion with a friend.Any credit, if at all worthy should be reserved for her for digging this from withinme.

Crescendo-The Birth of the Choice.

Choice. One word. Two different directions. Small challenge for conscience. Between pain and less pain. First you dismiss it as trivia. You presume you can work around it. There is no respite for such false conjectures. You think you can succeed in escaping into fiction.But it only takes time to separate fact from forged.The escape seems almost effortless, until it slowly dawns upon you. It did not chase you instead you have chased yourself into it. What seemed a beautiful reality has been ruthlessly shattered by an ugly unreal. You want to hold onto something, but there are no planks in the mind. A culprit has to be desperately assembled now, painted with excuses and draped by emotions. A neurotic search is on for what was always yours but you never owned; your mind.Since it is silent you assume everything is fine, but you do not know silence does speak.Pleading for forgiveness you hear a faint voice, you wish it was someone’s; sadly it is your own. The growing voice tells you that the world has betrayed the morality of truth and laughed at your misery. Amidst this terrible pain of chaos you start feeling it but you are not sure what within you feels it. The feeling unfolds from the void of within building slowly inch by inch into an unbearable force, an impulse, a choice.

Decrescendo-The Death of the Choice.

An overwhelming initiation takes over your entire being directing all conflicts into a state of logic which looks absurd then. Yet it makes complete sense because you badly wanted this and this can arise from absolute chaos not order. Now the ego can be trusted to build on this denomination and beat a slow retreat from self. Well secured you deduce that the universe is a silly joke that nobody wants to laugh at. There is no other truth higher than this you scream at the top of your lungs. Laughter abounds now, not at the universe but at you, you have become the joke. You search around to find a face that laughed but the universe is faceless. You recede to check your premises, but all appears quiet on your front. To catch a glimpse of any heaven you must kiss death first. Your weakened conscious is a danger to itself and to others. Your memory is dementing but your choice remembers the universe. Some of it remembers you, some of it doesn’t. Consequence is the final installment of that choice. You will die now with your choices. The choice did not fail you. It has fulfilled its purpose. You now comprehend it. Another simple game. New universe. Counterchoice. Choice.

If gone unnoticed, the first para comprises sentences carrying one extra word than the preceding ones while the second para is a tone down completing the harmony of the paradox.

Sunday, December 19, 2004


Gaurdian last month published the most beautiful words in english based on a British council survey.This is an attempted verse-project of some of my favourite words amongst them in regular use.

Her highness
A singular exception
of unconditional everything
in a very demanding creation.

A skipped beat
of a dying diabetic
poisoned with
the sucrose of love.

An invisible proof
from an opera
of burning helium
adding colourful emotions
to the vision.

A word astray
in the
Post modern seizure
Rolling on the floor
and laughing;
(Yeah good one dude!!)

Unprincipled venom
defining humanity
that can be draped by no vein
from unmanifest.

Power of laconic
smile that can amend
fortunes in a single breath.

An arcane window of
conscious hidden within
Silent invite to
woe and wonder akin.

Innocence lost,
Unfound.. ........

A sublime secret
shared amongst
a Miss, a Mrs.
a Mistress
with nature.

A dear negotiation
for a better breath
in optimistic free trade;
paid in small
over time.

An unexpected kiss;
My first
dot com.

An elusive mirage
Often chased
Forgotten when reached;
A lingering memory left behind.

Tuesday, December 14, 2004

Life and times of a Cynic.

Been busy of late, hence just fishing some random thoughts but not exactly in the cynical order.
So here we go,

O boy! Way back from the clinic
I bought a hat navy-blue
The hat that read a bold cynic
And then O boy! as I wore it anew
They called me "hey cynic, you"!
"Cynic who"`? I said, "O no boy! I’m just askew".

Much for the best seller halo that engulfs it and the repeated insistence of my friends finally finished Da Vinci code. I felt like a horse taken to the water and then all of a sudden the water evaporated before you. Earlier books used to manipulate you emotionally now they have even started meddling with the intellect. It’s going to be some time before I actually lay my hands on another fiction.

Nietzsche once said In your solitude if you have talent to think deeply about anything but not enough time to write a book about it then you will make good letter writer.
My corollary In your solitude if you have talent to think deeply about anything but not enough time to write a book about it and have a career then you will make good blogger.

And then yesterday I had it again, standing in the parking lot was just about to turn when the slow reprise of the almost forgotten gradually building into a silent climax came cutting across time space matter into a overwhelming memory of déjà vu .
I gazed at the cars, the tall buildings the trees and the whole premise looked so very familiar, I smiled and told myself Oh yes! I was here before.
Got two unexpected e-mails this week:
P sent me Freud on religious practices and A sent Rilke's Letters to an young poet.Though from very unlikely sources, it was absorbing reads.Got to blog about them sometime.Thank you and keep them coming folks.
Another one this week:
Me:u remember? I signed off 'borderline'?
Carl: Oh yes! U R very well adjusted.
Carl coming from you i m just taking it point blank.
This another James Joyce story for Jane Eyre fan who visits here;
Young Joyce on meeting WB yeats:
J:Im twenty, How old are you?
Y:Thirty six, well actually thirty seven.
J:I thought as much.I have met you too late.You are too old for me to help you.
Apparently an offended yeats told his friends later''such a colossal self-conceit with such a lilliputian literary genius I never saw combined in a single person''.
Well what can one say, JOYCE IS JOYCE.
Contemparary Politics:

A tale of two American heroes-Tom sawyer and Thomas jefferson!
Tom- Tom sawyer/ Thomas Jefferson.
Aunt: Statue of liberty.
Huckleberry finn: George W. Bush Junior.
Genre: Parody.

No answer.
No answer.
"What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You Tom!"
No answer.
The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked through them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not service -- she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, looking over a piece of paper.
“Y-o-u-u Tom! “What is this??
Tom came back “Yes auntie'', peering over a paper that carried his own handwriting he said with pride “That is the Declaration of independence of United States of America”.
''Oh! I know, And what is this''? She asked excitedly.
''That is Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of happiness''.

The aunt was astonished "What? Tom your are such a dunce! If you put a whole nation in *pursuit* of happiness didn’t it occur to you that the nation might not recognise happiness even if it bumps into happiness on a road?"

“Err” Tom looked sheepishly. Huckleberry was grinning widely from the corner of the room.

Sports-Indian cricket:
As predicted in the cricket-blog circles, sachin blasted a hapless Bangladesh attack into record books. Well even zaheer did! And now sachin and kumble will be sung to the tunes of great heroes. Kumble is the greatest vegetarian wicket taker, how does that sound for someone who can’t bowl without six men around the bat? And speaking of sachin, of late he has let too many undeserving rookies kiss his stumps. Sad though, it is a fact we all know and never want to acknowledge that he is just not the player he was! Where is that arrogant lil nudge to the third man?
Meanwhile Arsenal are riding their sine wave from the peak to back home.But it was absolutely great show guys.

With this big birthday coming up things are going to be hectic.
Jesus Christ! Got to go now….
Have fun time,
So long

Sunday, December 05, 2004

Elle and Lui

There she is. That pretty face. I still remember the first time I saw her. Those alluring eyes which gives out a light that makes you so naked. The eyes that could singe any man. You should see her laugh with those eyes, as if she owns everything that ever was and wants nothing from anyone. Sometimes I feel I should leave everything in the world and just sit before her, silently gazing into those deep hazels and I still would find everything I left in the world hidden there. She knows that.That's why, She always hooks my lips with a focus like she wants to burn it. Such a pity that she can’t see the beauty of her own eyes. And when I kiss her she selfishly shuts her eyes into magic. My love.

Who shone a pacific
in your eyes;
let it close
when I gently
wet your lips

There he is. That bold face. I still remember the first time I saw him. Those sumptuous lips which gives out a melody that makes you so wanted.The lips that could dissolve any woman. You should see him stare with those lips, as if he owns everything that ever was and wants nothing from anyone. Sometimes I feel I should leave everything in the world and just sit before him silently gazing into those pouts and I still would find everything I left in the world hidden there. He knows that. That's why, he savours my eyes with an appetite like he wants to gobble it. Such a pity that he can’t taste the splendour of his own lips. And when I see him he selfishly curves his lips into magic. My love.

Who smiled a music
With your lips;
let it die
When I fondly
watch your lips

Saturday, December 04, 2004

A memory of mixed doubles!

Call me fundamental and biased but my interest is human consciousness. I wish to focus this post on two very extraordinary lives. Both, unlikely, unrelated, uncharacteristic yet are the very same, deep inside. Chances are you may know either one of them but not both.
I dare not call them heroes, but yes, they definitely are the masters who show us the value of life and more importantly the human spirit.

First is an Indian, who woke up one night, 20 years ago, to see her entire city devastate before her and a generation mutilated. She had hell for a gift and poison for food. Fate brutally navigated her life into a lament. Destiny deceived her of justice.But she continues to live against a world that failed her. No, she doesn’t know anything about google and She doesn’t care who won the election, but she is no lesser than any so called modern woman. She works six days a week and feeds her ailing husband. A woman of substance.She doesn’t need to watch A Shawshank redemption to be educated about hope because she is Raisa Bi.The woman. And there are many of them.

Raisa bi

Next is an American, twenty four and dead.Long distance runner. He puts into shame every victory built on deliberation.He is remembered, not because he ran but because he ran for a promise he kept to himself-To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift. In both life and death, he never broke that promise. Never did he settle for the second best because he is StevePrefontaine.
I was lucky to be introduced to him very early through the movie Without limits.You may have only heard of the expression guts and glory, he simply lived it. The man.


so long,

Sunday, November 28, 2004

Repertoire de vivre

Waiting for my regular chips and cheese burgers, I am writing this on a paper napkin in an outdoor café. Strange, it’s less hectic this evening.
A dull autumn sky slowly pulling a veil of darkness over herself; a silent farewell to light and colour. Scent of dead autumn leaves in the air.
I wet my lips with a sip of steaming coffee. A memory. Of a lingering taste.
As I bring down the cup, I catch a typical coffee cup circle on the tablecloth. Well, almost a circle. It should be termed something, they are so well-known now.
A middle aged English lady in the opposite table. Too much make-up but natural auburn hair. She smiles at me. I return the smile, more earnest than usual. I like auburn.

Salt and vinegar? Familiar voice.
Yes please.

I see the chips before me. Scent of heat, potato and oil. A causeless revolution. Then, the tongue takes over, politely sucking the purpose out of them. Cut.Grind.Chew.Savour.Masticate.Wetted and pushed through by more coffee, waiting to be burnt by acids of the belly. All in silence.

I gaze at the road beside. A silent aging testimonial. Grows steeper and hides into a mystery of a leftish curve.
Two males, well clothed for the impending subzero weather, walking on the pavement.
Something grasps my interest. Something else.
Two figures in front of them.Walking towards the cafe. A small girl, somewhere between six and eight; auburn tresses dangling out of a mauve scarf. Small tiny steps. A divine poetry in motion. A heavy-built man, middle aged. Saying something to her, perhaps a story? Warm tone, heavy accent. Can’t quite make out the words. No reason not to believe they are a daughter and a father. Yes! He is telling a story.
Both look ahead and never at each other. They walk.Telling and told.
Then suddenly, Duuud, she slips and falls, on her belly.
Oblivious, the father strides with his story. A moment is seized into vacancy. An uneducated freeze. The noise of the void in my awed mind.
Life otherwise is the same. The air. The sky. The road. Cars. People. Then the Dad realises her absence just turns back looking for her; she slowly gets up and joins him and he restarts the narration. Nothing. No expedite. No exasperation. No celebration. Not even regret.

Life, naked and virgin.

The mind is grappled in a struggle seeking meaning of the event. Heaven and Hell within the head. An answer no question? Only echoes of nothingness. Embarrassed, the mind turns to the heart for an answer. Heart curves the lips into a smile and conjures an image, a vindication, of the great wave of the ocean, the wave trying to define the accent of the ocean, the wave answering a moon’s prayer. A rise, A subsist and A graceful death. The passionate, sultry, an all knowing laugh of the ocean. A wave that knows the mind of the life.

Lost and found, I smile again, at the lady opposite and take another sip of the coffee, more educated!!
Heart, always is more intelligent than the mind.

Wednesday, November 24, 2004

Zen and the art of Dishwashing!!

We, the people of our abode, have long back signed a referendum accepting democracy in the kitchen (just in the kitchen). This means, we have a rotation scheme based on our work schedules to fairly share the honours of kitchen-chores; cooking and dishwashing. Cooking an institution by itself is definitely beyond the scope of a blog. Well, dishwashing, being unsung is worth an attempt. Now, as a regular dishwasher, I can say with reasonable conviction that I have, not only mastered the art of dishwashing but also grasped the meaning it has to offer and beyond…….

Yes, dishwashing definitely is an art. It may come in quite handy if you happen to invite some induhviduals(Dilbert term) for a party. Here are few tips from an accomplished dishwasher-

  • Always remember, preparation is the key. Never ever think of dishwashing without a kitchen-apron and a pair of polythene gloves. You never know which dunce may choose to save a portion of red wine and you do not want to explain the stain on your favourite T-shirt to all the inquisitive souls.
  • A Decent scrub and a strong liquid detergent is a must. If not for the sparkle at least to hear the squeak.
  • Never miss an opportunity to dishwash in parts-for as long as human consciousness is concerned, the sum is always greater than the parts.
  • Never dishwash in front of others-for A. It is un-british! B If the, observer is astutely virtuous; it exposes your character ruthlessly. Correction .The core of the character.
  • Always play soothing background music-preferably instrumental or classical, Radio is too much of a distract, though classic fm is an exception. I am quite used to instrumental movie soundtracks. And strictly no metal.
  • Start with the hard ones, strictly by Newton’s Second law…the momentum is bound to wear out; the old greasy cooking dishes first and always in hot water.
  • Chinaware, plates, knives, spoons, forks last. In cold water and in that order. Smooth and easy, adds less frustration into your already rosy life.
  • Watch out while on the exquisite wine glasses, especially if you have a single set –surely you will be surprised to learn about their price and you have to replace the whole set!
  • Remember the golden rule-The plates from peripheries and dishes from the heart.
  • While about it, never think. Anything.You will certainly run short of expletives and to no end. Instead think poetry, like this haiku (pardoning one unintended rhyme) I came up on my last session.

Ah! What a limitless fun!
To wet a china, one by one,
The bliss of perfect homerun.

Now to complete the title, the Zen part of it. Nothing profounder than a shallow Zen story.
So, this great king went to the enlightened Zen monk and asked ‘I have everything in my life yet I feel so incomplete’. An all knowing Zen smile lurked on the monk’s face and came the Zen counter question ‘Tell me, have you ever dishwashed?’. ‘Err, no’…and thus the great king realised his folly and attained great salvation after dishwashing the rest of his life.

Now that definitely, is a Dishwashing story but it will never let you go uneducated.
When you dishwash, you wash your precious sins and that of the people you hate, people whom you minutes before, while dining, referred to as tiresome old fools in the sanctity of your mind with a smile on your face. Doesn’t that kill your ego? What better path to salvation, than dishwashing?

Meow , meow …..Ah don’t bother; those are the cats are in my little bag. In these times,you can never be sure - which business might turn into a money spinning entrepreneurship. Can you? So I am just a lil hesitant to let all the cats out of the bag. That should be enough,got to go dishwash now!
From now on folks, never tell nobody taught you dishwashing….go dishwash like your mommas should be proud!

Dishwashingly yours

Tuesday, November 23, 2004

Moral Absolutes?- Just a version!

Dear L,
As I had promised, I am blogging my perspective in answer to your question on moral absolutes.
The answer is yes and no.
First,If we regard ethics as a concept, an idea, then absolute morality can quite exist. But that would be limited to just an ideal –independent of humanity.Remember your blog of utopian constructs? So ‘murder’ and many more of its colleagues qualify as worthy entities to be discussed the rights and wrongs of them? Which is why, we have Aquinas saying to use ‘just the equal force’ and bible saying to ‘treat thy neighbour as thyself’. Most of such ideals can only be an image, but indispensable one , if you quite, bother to ponder;
Life, sadly in practice, is a value system.
So, if one is committed to moral as a value, then we directly acknowledge that it can be a source of conflict, both in personal and interpersonal interest,which in other words means morals in application are victims of dynamic élan vitale?
But who, then, is the judge of the faithfulness of the morals and its departure from being absolute? – Now, to reflect on that, I would have to borrow heavily from Hegelian dialectics-in one word, Volksgeist.(the spirit of the times).
Morality both, of personal conscience and that of social system is judged by the spirit of the times.-So we have , at times, the system committing value-errors (kindly note the usage, not mistakes.)E.g. Nazism and at times, on an individual level, people swimming against the stream.
Now the value of both such efforts is proved only as the resultant consequence of the acts, so act is a thesis, the counteract the anti-thesis and the consequence the synthesis.(that is so Hegel).So, we had Nixon shown the door, while being the president of USA and Tolstoy let to die in a railway platform.(which the system corrected by paying him added fame).

An easy way to eloborate is to base an example of contemporary political world built on a moral system(value)-
I believe the world is still getting re-organised and coming to terms with the end of the cold war and its overspill. The cold war did end in an abrupt, unexpected anticlimax and it definitely put many people out of their jobs, in different parts of the world. Other spins are just a sop to the stupid Cerberus.
1. (Thesis).- USA, being the greatest power (purely in terms of uranium) was/is just not prepared to handle that status yet, the status to be accountable to the whole world –so it is prone to errors-- as we have just noticed ( both inside and outside)- in all fairness that’s acceptable. To blame someone, just not prepared for your expectation, is foolishness.
2.(Antithesis) At the other end we have the rise of great economies, China especially, and the wise French, making the-la perfecte moves (I can only attribute it to the wine!!).The new world , all hue and cry inclusive from all quarters would be 3.A Synthesis. (June has a futurology version of it!!)
So do we end up in another great war or in a multi-polar world is to be seen……based on emerging morals. .....

That is whole lot of menu, now the supper….. Is there such a thing as a moral absolute? Is there any act that is always wrong no matter what the circumstances?
My take, On an abstract level, yes , lying to oneself , to ignore one's own nature...- glad that it never goes unpunished !!

Well, kindly note, these are just impartial observations- I have used most names here to cite an instance, neither I vouch for any political ideology nor am I a Hegelian!

So long,

Monday, November 08, 2004

How does it feel to be a great genius, Sir?

After all the customary chasing, finally laid my hands on this interesting article in a journal regarding psychopathology in world famous men. The study investigated 291 famous men in the fields of art, science, philosophy, literature, politics and music- based on their biographies-looking into family background, physical health, personality, psycho-sexuality, addictions and mental health. Given the nature of the venture the discrepancies are predictable. But what was surprising was that it concluded heavily against the creative individuals-painters, musicians and especially the writers.Subjects were classified into groups of No/Mild/Marked/Severe psychopathology. The women were not included-(probably strictly by the dictum that no one can figure out the women folks!!).
As Im not very acquainted with the personal lives of some musicians and scientists, I cannot comment much on them and moreover it feels stupid to type 291 proper nouns, however famous they are!

So, some reflects and ricochets,

  • Most of the scientists were given a clean chit while Boltzmann Bohr, Mendel Metchnikoff, Galton to quote a few were classified as severe. Surprisingly Schrödinger escaped into the marked group along with Darwin and guess who Pasteur. Osler, Maxwell were amongst those deemed healthy.
  • The Musicians I know were placed almost appropriately Tchaikovsky, Wagner, Schumann, Elgar (all severe), Stravinsky, Rossini, Chopin etal (marked) Gershwin, Bizet etc (mild).
  • As regarding thinkers- well, expectedly most of the thinkers thought themselves into severe madness. E.g. Comte, Nietzsche, Kierkegaard, Ruskin James, Russell, Toynbee. If James is suspected as severe then Wittgenstein, Jung, (of all), Whitehead, Schopenhauer (all in marked) should also share the honours with him. Seems the benevolence of Schweitzer makes him sane.
  • Artists not surprisingly were titrated against their creative potentials. Cezanne, Rivera, Kokoschka, Van Gogh (Psychiatry has exploited this chap!) are branded severely ill while Derain, Sargent, Pissarro Corot are amongst the other end of spectrum.·
  • Coming to the politicians, well, probably the most decent classification barring one very big paradox, Gandhi is sane while Nehru is regarded as markedly eccentric.Thats ridiculous(read hilarious) considering, Gandhi publicly threatened to self harm himself on numerous occasions!!!!
  • Now the writers-Faulkner,Conrad,Kipling, Gide, Proust,Fitzgerald, Lawrence,Wells, Googol, Waugh, Hesse, Joyce( my all time fav), Kafka, Hemingway, Wilde, Tolstoy-that’s most of my beloved writers and many years of my life. All of them labelled as loonies of extreme degree. Was not unexpected but felt sad somehow. Most of us owe a lot to these guys who have helped us to understand the world we live in better. Evidently not without a price!!

Having said that, I must add that psychiatry has to deal not with equations, codes or diagnoses but with life which by definition is a bias. So……….

While about here, I am reminded of this story about James Joyce and F. Scott Fitzgerald-it seems Fitzgerald worshipped Joyce to an extent that he was reluctant to approach him; On being introduced to Joyce by Sylvia bleach in a party, it seems Fitzgerald knelt down on one knee before Joyce and asked "How does it feel to be a great genius, Sir? I am so excited at seeing you, Sir that I could weep...

Probably the most appropriate reply would be…. ‘Quite crazy son, quite crazy....’’

No surprise both of them went to the severely ill box, Ah! Life is never fair on passion….

So long…

James Joyce

PS: Personal reflect/ Conflict of interest -none declared!!!

Sunday, October 31, 2004

Mobile- moi bile?

As if the internet dint suffice the spin doctors have now taken into the mobile communication to campaign their products- last week I had three texts and a call which in all professional euphemism talked about 'certain-options' available.

Well, to confess , I am not in love with my mobile, any mobile for that matter. To me,the only purpose of mobiles is to avoid robinson crusoe situations. Oh , if you are wondering, thats not impossible as well - listen to this- the signal connectivity at my home is pathetic.im stranded in my own place. Its horrible to have a phone with unpredictable connectivity. I end up missing all important calls and have to be stuck at the door between the kitchen and the dining room to maintain a conversation without sayin err waaat ? waaaaaaaaaat? I think we r breaking.......
hmmm, well its not that bad always, it really cums in handy when I want to cut an unwanted conversation , I just say waat waat ? waaaaaat ? n get away with that....


Another interesting incident of mobile conversations
I was driving with my supervisor and I got this call.. a lovely female voice

may i know who's this?
is that ubermensch?
Speakin,.. pardon me dunno who's this?
well u know me..ah, can u guess ?
Had my supervisor not been there, I would have said something like oh yeah TRINITY? or something like that.Moreover I had a this vague feeling that my supervisor could make out the conversation effortlessly.
so ,
well im sorry , im not good at guessing, tell me ?
Ah not so soon dear, clue 1..u know me.

I quizzed, well anyone who knew me would be aware I would be on work at that time and moreover they wudnt exactly like being object of my affection the next time we meet. So gotta be sumone else , well the ex-es ? hmmm again slim chance, they wudnt be my ex-es if they loved me so much to play 20 questions over phone!
I thought it was time to cut it and do it without blood.

Im sorry I think there must be some misunderstanding..?
NO, don u remember me... second clue then....

who wud be so juvenile ? I had enuff.

Im sorry ill have to go now please call me later.

I put the thing in its place and focussed staring at the road ahead.

An old friend i said, Perhaps to account myself.

My supervisor replied ' seems u ve got sum admirers' without taking her eyes away from the road .

Kodak moment.!! i was like a breathing beetroot.

Speaking of mobile-conversations, this one I had yesterday should take the cake,
Voice:hello ?
Me: hello ?
Voice:This is XXXX from BMW leeds, im afraid sir, the silver colour is delayed.
Me: er waat?
Voice: Im sorry sir , I know this is frustrating, but please bear with us, ull be driving the car by next week.
Me: er rr... okay .
I must admit that for a moment I pictured myself in the silver BMW (yeah i-pod included) cruising on M6 .
Voice: sir?
Me: I think uve got the wrong number...
Voice:isnt this.....XXXXX?
Me:im afraid its YYYY?
For a brief moment one of those silences often referred as pregnant ensued , with both parties feeling guilty for concieving it. What followed was profuse bleeding of english apologies.

so long,

Friday, October 22, 2004

The glorious mysore palace Posted by Hello

golden howdah Posted by Hello

Mysore is not just a city, it is a state of mind; it is said that mysore can consume all the coffee in the world, all mysoreans are complusive coffee drinkers.Mysore is a retro version of bangalore- laid back, dreamy, ruthlessly conservative - open for ideas but values are non negotiable,very few cities in the world have as rich a cultural heritage as mysore.
I rememeber all this because today is Dasara- the state festival of mysore. It symobilses the the victory of the good over the evil, the right against the wrong.The celebrations last for 9 nights culminating in the ayudha pooja - the worship of weapons- when all the tools, instruments, are cleaned and worshipped - the last day is the royal dasara procession where the goddess chamundi is carried in a 750 kgs golden howdah from the royal palace around the main streets of the city.
One example where a profound tradition speaks for itself without having the need to raise a hue n cry in front of the Macdonalds

Thursday, October 21, 2004

free style

hmmm, fishing out some random thoughts
ego, sex, blog, mind, god, love, no, hell, yes, why? why do all important things are so small.?
Why do I fall in love with strange voices, gwen stefani and mary dolores? Hard to get audio , seldom played on radio
How many times doesn’t that happen, you have it right in front of you and you cant see it or don’t see it…and when you find out where it was all the time …even a curse sounds a shame. comb, spectackles, keychains are fine but what if it's life..... what if u have your life in front of u and u don see it.....??? There has to be an explanation for such happenings?
Rick-shaw. bogartish applecart.light of dawn.8:29am.sloth .ummmmm hmmmmmmm. Open lids, 8:51,rush hurry.brush 20 seconds, shower gruuuuuuuushhhhhh 39 seconds, dress up , where's my matching tie? Shit. Wuff huff , die or lie.wuff huff, skip sandwich. muffin cream on first break okay? Wuff huff run run run, swipe card, yes….made it 8:57 6 minutes new record … hehe congrats, old record kitna? 8 minutes. Next goal: aim for 4 minutes.
Hi….. there…. how u doin?
Why is this always levelled against disciplines that have greater responsibilities to explain the uncertainties? I am sick and tired of people bashing Sigmund Freud and analysis. His was probably one of the imaginative answers supported with decent proof, and If your whole generation develops a defence mechanism for a graded stimulus over aperiod of time and space, what can he do? And why is that analysis is just not forgiven like an old software say windows 97? Is it because it involves your mom? If it’s a yes, you are lying to yourself and your mom.
S P O N T A N E O U S... just the word is so sexy
How would you describe that? That slow rendition of stillness, where patterns fold back onto themselves to produce a fleeting moment of completeness, leaving no doors ajar for doubt.I’ve tried to put my best will to pause, regard and feel the intensity of such moments, but every time, I give up, not with a sense of defeat but with an air of accomplishment. It reminds me of being human, and it happens in such variety.Regard this moment, for instance…. …, when u feel love, when you hear her breathing in your face, see her lips waiting for yours and suddenly it’s all vivid, all those asking, searching, reading, thinking… all your life has come to this … all thoughts fall dead and there’s only one impulse, one choice…...have you ever tried to hold back and ask yourself anything? May be you haven’t .May be you know its futile. May be deep down you know are yourself and you don’t have to ask yourself… anything. Incredible.........
Even the sun in this part of the world, comes to work early and goes back late, so its bright even most part of the night, from 4 am to 10 pm. Now, that’s a real prick for maniacs like me who grow with darkness. Once I came back dead tired from the work and hit the sack and when I happen to wake up, it was 9’o clock and I didn’t know if it was day or night, damn! if it was day I hadda be in my wards fortunately it was still night.
hit this site on idiot, absolute delight....very original , zero adverts...

  • idiot
  • definitely a must-read for all fundamental idiot fans!
    havin this aweful flu for the last two days; in my delirium, tried sleep deprivation with food deprivation for the first time together, 12 hrs was expected, after 20 hrs started hallucinating...guess what???? 100 cigarettes hanging by the air and two hands walking randomly , music in the background...philadelphia title song..... that was lovely, awesome.... must try again but very demanding... research area........
    use recycled oxygen....so long,

    Monday, October 18, 2004

    orkut-an experimental matrix.....?

    To borrow Andy and Larry Wachowski's words.....Every mammal on this planet instinctively develops a natural equilibrium with the surrounding environment. But you humans do not. You move to an area and you multiply and multiply until every natural resource is consumed and the only way you can survive is to spread to another area.....................

    One text book example of this is the orkut; like all other marvelllous concepts which are too good to be belived, we predictably shall secure our beliefs rather than the truth. So let's explode our contacts and join all the communities and be happy at our own stupidities.....This again reaffirms my beliefs in the hierarchy http://13th-deja-vu.blogspot.com/2004/08/false-positives-but-needed.html#comments; only the people who can be responsible must be given the power of choice, because with great powers comes great responsibilities......(any spiderman's dad can tell u that).... and if u flip through the pages of history, humans are never very prudent with choice and power......
    decline and falll..... we are almost there aldous

    Wednesday, October 13, 2004

    Paradoxes and cocktails

    Okie, to be honest, I never enjoyed the cocktail conversations.. yup unless its something very shallow as hegel's cultural overbearings or the wisdom of french in the contemorary war; Ive never got my head around very profound issues like, bollywood or beckham's performance , which in effect means social suicide in 21st century routine.
    You can dress in an orange sweater and purple tie with a smiling face of orungutan on it but you cant afford to give out an inch of your ignorance regarding matters of serious social concerns. So most of the times ill just nod and smile, yeah both should go together. Dont fret its not that bad;You woudnt mind it so much if are drunk, in fact many a times youll enjoy it!

    So when you get a gal who is bit more informed about trivial issues in every sense of word, the conversations feel a lot better to be heard especially if you are in it... I dont know why it always reminds me off the college hostel terrace where some retarded friends used to discuss the nature of universe with all conviction in their beliefs both in concurrence and differences.
    So this conversation was giving me pangs of nostalgia and we drifted happily into evolution of music and everything was steered well until we reached the winter of 20th century when we climaxed into one particular band with ill defined genre as they encompass and expand into several genres.... it made us both happy that we shared an ocean of reverence for this particular band.
    The question inevitably drifted into their best song, she said 'man who sold the world'....and i said come as you are'.... and booom ..........world fell apart... we ended up giving a big list why our songs were better for the rest of night.....ofcourse even our consensus for the second best song as 'scentless apprentice' didnt satiate our appetites for the perfect match.

    Who said the life is not a paradox??
    never mind anyway.......:-

    Tuesday, October 12, 2004

    unwanted song of the brave

    unwanted song of the brave...........

    last of the unsung
    who never tried to be heroes,
    breathed amongst us
    tiny little
    the lesser
    took over
    in celebration!

    Friday, October 08, 2004

    mind ur language

    u ask me? whats all these amusing wordplay goin to get u at? ya all these templates of blogs n stuff n all that u know...language eh? wasnt she a whore of the mind all the time....? when has she been faithful? wud u dare to advance any theory to counter that? eh....word appears inadequate across all universes to the task of conveying thought, then we all sit here and glorify all the bards? to what end? go on , tell me .... did we need a wittegenstein to arrest such a thought?......we are alone and exclusive and though momentary we shall be surpassing that, all revolutions fade like a ice cream on a beach......awaiting the herald of yet another revolt, in the meantime we shall delude our premises in values, cause we are flawed and we are human and we shall not get outside it, for it lay in our language and language seemed to repeat it to us inexorably........... alrightie then , blog on.... but check ur premises....
    ps: like their kindred these above words are awaitin erosion.... ah.

    Monday, October 04, 2004

    pastelwork of an invisible painter....

    these are the dying moments of the day, the language calls it evening.ive chosen a bench on this small hillock of this countryside to drown my weariness.

    i squirm in my seat to bend and get a look at where i am, the view from here is awesome... i wish i was a painter for a few hours....., i catch myself in a waning smile.. tentative, nothing more amusing than talking within oneself.......thats how we build ...lost and found within oneself.
    i let me eyes wander down and the entire length of the slope is taken by lush green grass.. oblivious of attention of little butterflies.surprisingly i find no rocks.it reminds me of preschool children scribbling with crayons to come out with green and yellow ...... another dying smile..
    i gaze further down beyond the feet of the hillock, there to my extreme left is an intersect of multilaned motorways...cutting themselves majestically .....would love to see them empty....no oblige today, they stand mute witnesses to cars flowing....the cars suddenly respond to the signals ..pause , slow down queuing up one behind another and then they start again lazily creeping and then they pick up.....i play with their colors trying to amuse myself by predicting the next color . it gets monotonous.... symmetry is beyond man....?hmmm, no stupid..if it was what about love.....??
    i give up.
    pull my point of focus more away , theres a tail of big fly-over..u can hardly make anything there , but you can hear it whistle... in a roar.. zoom .. zoooooom ...... zoooooooooom , everytime a load truck cuts across it leaves a roar of gasp...... i try to listen more intent, but somethings scares me there.. may be its the speed or the sound...i cant make up.....

    i escape to my right...

    there u see ... old victorian houses in dozens , many of them like match boxes in shades of brown...like soldiers in a combat uniform ready for the march...i catch two with long chimneys.. one's smoking....and the houses next to him are losing their charm ... by passive smoking.
    i pull myself down over the inviting grass and look upwards....there is an air of invisible curtains coming down.i find the dying sun in the west..he seems busy as if in a parting smooch to his beloved mistress sky and shes responding by blushing in a rainbow of reds..bright, blood crimson , scarlet, why even orange n purple.....they call this refraction.!!i close my eyes...i want to be lost..... i know i cant take more.

    Friday, October 01, 2004

    on terrorism

    ive been trying to put my mind on paper regarding terrorism , but lil time.so i finally thought if i left space...\illl defintely make time to write abt it....coz its worth writing about...... so
    watch this space......

    Thursday, September 30, 2004

    Wednesday, September 29, 2004

    favorite movie scenes

    Ars gratia arts – arts for arts sake , so runs the caption of the MGM , the colossal movie giant. But art being a channel of creative expression has the powerful ability to seep deep into the lives and dissolve with the souls to unleash stronger emotions. Especially with the movies, the boundary between the reenactment and reality seem to blur into a slice of life itself.. Here are some of my favorite movie scenes of all times, don’t try to look for order, its random and chaotic...and since im doing it parallel with a dozen other tasks im afraid that i may have missed some of the fav ones..... but for now..
    CASINO: opening sequence, fav of all time...just sheer genius of scorsese
    SCHINDLERS LIST : the gal in the red frock, kinda conveys the essnce of the movie, subtle but strong.
    FORREST GUMP: when forrest learns he is a father n when he tells jenny that she was with him always....
    BEAUTIFUL MIND: the cafe pens sequence ...the tormented days
    GODFATHER too many,:horse scene, baptism scene, n when michael says, "today i settled some old family business,moe green is dead , so is schatzi, tattaglia.........."just the intensity in his eyes...no wonder they said... u went in to watch brando n came out talking pacino
    BEN HUR: chariot scene for unbelivable conception
    AMERICAN BEAUTY: the dining room scene , n my fav the polythene bag sequence....
    T2: the chase
    WHEN HARRY MET SALLY: the fake orgasm scene "when u want to spend the rest of ur life with someone u want that to start rest of ur life asap" what else?
    SILENCE OF THE LAMBS:"I happened officer clarice u cannot reduce me to a set of influences."... antony hopkins as lecter is chilling in any frame
    TAXI DRIVER: "are u talking to me"? absolute Brilliance
    HEAT: the restaurant scene...just to catch the masters in the same frame
    SCENT OF THE WOMAN: the climax , pacino defines acting
    AS GOOOD AS IT GETS: the compliment scene, jack nicholson with cuba gooding jr
    FALLEN: climax is divine....
    ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOOS NEST: many the silent sober gestures and ofcourse jack nicholson
    GONE WITH THE WIND: last scene... haunting indeed
    CASABLANCA: last scene very lyrical
    APOCALYPSE NOW: climax...n everything everyframe its a classics reference
    CLEAR N PRESENT DANGER: the terrorist attack sequence
    MEMENTO: the first 20mins is a marvel
    MATRIX: the architect scene, meeting the oracle n busting the matrix... spoon boy scene..many more
    RAGING BULLl: all the boxing sequences....amazing..
    SEX LIES N VIDEOTAPE: the conversations... poetic soderberg at his best
    RAINMAKER: climax ....sense of unfulfillment haunting
    GOODWILL HUNTING: climax... the break up of the complex scene
    TRAFFIC: benicio del tero ....
    GATTACA: when ethan hawke says to his brother that he never worried abt swimming back...
    REALITY BITES ethan hawke nobody can eat 50 eggs... yess.
    LOVE STORY: very obvious the climax....
    FRENCH LIETUANANT’S WOMAN: the wood scenes
    INDECENT PROPOSAL:" even a brick wants to be something"
    JERRY MCGUIRE: last 2 – 3 reels
    GANDHI: many, the train travel sequence, courtroom scenes
    LAWRENCE OF ARABIA: every frame
    GOOD BAD UGLY: bathtub one
    PULP FICTION: opening scene, jacksons bible recital , the tomato joke... keitel's trouble shooting
    12 MONKEYS: bradd pitt
    FIGHT CLUB: first n last 10 mins
    BUTCH CASSIDY…..: hotel scene
    GIRL INTERRUPTED: the song outside the ward door
    SAVING PVT RYAN: "lets get something out of this mess"
    CIDER HOUSE RULES: "I look at u and it hurts"…. Tobey the unlikely hero
    BEACH : moonlit beach scene
    Im pretty sure that ive missed some really good ones.......just cant excavate them right now...


    hmmm,back after a loong time! the last 48 hrs have been absolutely awesome,just navigating london aimlessly through undergound tubes, escalators and buses to an extent that i was seeing the escalators, zillion strange faces watching intently inside the train and why even a tube map while fast asleeep.
    i asked myself one question....so was it overwhelming? , i must say no, just exciting,this time as i knew london more than last time i knew what to avoid and where to spend more time, the regular attractions obviously disappointed;the things i would carry home were
    visiting the lords stadium-the lush green outfield,the legendary pitch and the popular media box , absolutely numbiiiinnnng!
    221b baker street, second time but as ahuge sherlock holmes fan i don mind

  • sleeping in the hyde park....reminded me of college days.
  • the greenwich- where the world belives time started
  • the canary wharf- i know its no manhattan but nobody can deny canary wharf the charm.
  • the tubes are absolutely delight to indulge....
  • london, definitely is lovely and amazing but not worth settling down..........

    londonish Posted by Hello

    Friday, September 24, 2004

    on rails

    hmmm...back after a deliberate sabbatical, just woke up after a long london night out; lets go back to uor favorite pastime.. trying to understand the nature of universe......(with full awareness of the futility of such an excursion)!!

    Friday, August 13, 2004

    life's favorite metasnaps...

    What are my favorite moments? The moments which i cherish with a waning smile and wish to relive for anything in the world. Been wondering about this for sometime now and finally came up with this list...
    when u see a stranger smile, when u just sit there trying to figure out what the hell is going on, when u know ur boss is nowhere near being right and u say i agree(with a smile ofcourse), when u sit there and think about all the possible pasts and probable futures, when u look at those squiggly spell check lineson the monitor with delight, when u feel the air ten minutes before it rains, when u just empty an almost overflowing bladder, when u exactly grasp what the writer intended to say in one go, when u close ur eyes while tongue deep in a kiss,when u uncap that pen late in the night to jot down something terribly trivial,when u wake up in the morning and realise that ur still alive............

    definitely shall be updated

    another one of those supposed poems

    Deconstructing life....

    like a
    wound within
    a single horizon
    of unconscious pill
    i take
    another breath,

    Thursday, August 12, 2004

    nietzsche's rorschach test

    picture this,
    a conversation between Frederich Nietzsche and Hermann Rorschach....(oh yes!!)
    R: so im going to show you some diagrams and you need to tell me the first thing that comes to your mind.
    R shows plate 1
    N:'' ''
    R: prompts, 'yessssss.....'
    N:nothing came to my mind...
    R shows plate 2
    N:'' ''

    This continues all the way upto plate 10...

    finally Nietzsche says ' grow up'
    Rorschach says..' have you'?
    Their eyes meet...in that moment probably they knew what made them different from each other, in one word...society.

    Wednesday, August 11, 2004


    What would you call that feeling which seizes u instanty the moment you bump into an ex and that sudden momentary deep look into his/ her eyes and you feel a turmoil build within as if the world's vaulting into a miniscule meta picture in an illogical rehearsal of an unwanted tragedy!
    Whats more painful, is the substance of such a moment is left more for the memory to be haunted than to be enjoyed even by the most pathological sadists who ever breathed oxygen of this planet and all these wordplay fails to put across that squirming feeling with an eternal paradox of seeking for repetition and erosion at the same time.Such a real shame for language.
    Its not fondness or envy... its beyond that , for those keen and willing to discover i must say , it is ''hmmmmmmmm........''..... its beyond the clutches of reason or emotion, beyond pain and pleasure....u just tend to say...''hmmmmmmmm........'' the rest is plastered by the mouldings made by your ego in time ,space and matter.....resulting in many people giving a thought about it later on, in grand futility of course !!!
    What gives me a tingle is that i havent had that feeling for sometime...!!!

    Tuesday, August 10, 2004

    The stream that flows

    the stream that flows.......
    Wrapt little secrets of hearts undiscovered,
    Vanish …..eroded by times delicate poison unending
    Once in while, a profound silence is recovered,
    A divine force …, beyond and beneath growing,

    All the contours in times laughter are swallowed
    Into an ineffable void within…
    Nothing subsists, until all rains are washed into oceans
    All is forgiven and forgotten
    Only the stream still remembers …
    The persistence of disintegration of time
    The stream that flows only bends,
    Neither turns nor returns.....

    wrote when young , for some vague reason felt like posting it ...

    Thursday, August 05, 2004

    false positives, but needed

    Deliberation is a sign of a building disaster, speak of regulation in enchantment and it appears as democracy is the sole right of humanity, which in all humility i disagree with; it is definitely not necessarily a disapproval , but a respectful honest difference in the point of view( let all the politeness be blessed for the masses).
    The ultimate of truths is that we are all unique and beyond comparison, so any tool of measure,for instance like life herself, is not beyond bias, So there has to be rulers and there has to be the ruled and most importantly there has to be an hierarchy.
    Democracy in real principle is a lie agreed upon.

    Tuesday, August 03, 2004

    yet another excursion

    she:hmmm no.
    he:eh what?
    she:no i cant have sex with you.
    he:y not??
    she:u r a f-u-n-d-a-m-e-n-t-a-l-i-s-t!!
    he:well thank you whats a fundamentalist?
    she: u die for your beliefs and ignore outer reality and i cant stand that.
    he:hmm, i totally agree with you but pray can i ask you a personal question?
    she:eh go on.....
    he:are you a fundamentalist??
    she:no !! never!! i take life more superficially, lifes not worth a paracetamol.
    he:thanks for demonstrating your inclination for shallowness but isnt such a belief a classic instance of fundamentalism or whatever you fancy??
    she: errr.....alright

    post sex

    she:now tell me are you a fundamentalist??
    he:how did you guess that?]
    she: i got lucky.
    he:i don blame you.
    so long....

    Thursday, July 29, 2004

    one minute theology

    If you believe in god then it becomes one of those endless metaphysical debates(starting from the chicken egg analogy), because to acknowledge the existence of god is to deny the presence of evil which seems quite out of sort with practical life.
    two ways out,
    1.Minimise the powers of god, so god is no longer omnipotent/omnipresent hence an independent entity from evil.... which throws most religions into the bin.....
    2.Become an atheist, which for me is quite funny because, how can u disbelieve something as abstract as that of a concept.its something like i dont believe in 2£@%&^%*...(say its a concept)...so we are entangled in choice either way....
    The problem arises because science with its strengths and limitations(one of the most important of them being language) cannot disprove the presence of god.Mind you im not saying  about not proving the absence of god.Most instincts of the masses prefer taking the middleground instead.'both evil and good are needed for life like day and night'
    Escape hatch? godel's theorem??? But again the fundamental question remains what makes anyone believe?

    Wednesday, July 28, 2004

    the last word....

    with the father brando kicking the bucket , im convinced that jack nicholson is the greatest actor alive.just watch 'one flew over the cuckoo's nest', 'the shining' and 'as good as it gets' one after another and anyone would agree that he doesnt hafta act anymore.
    nicholson is the word for now.
    so long.....

    Monday, July 26, 2004


    this moment is an admixture of freud, nietzsche and endorphins...the weariness of the drowning day.... let me get more caffiene.
    so long

    Sunday, July 25, 2004

    nevertheless- the unlikely prelogue !!

    Ofcourse, as most of you have figured out by now, nobody can promise the absolute fact for any interpretation, but what i can is a honest interpretation of a fact. Those words are unique as within  them lie the arcane fundamentals of mother life herself.

    first ....is, then 'it' is,  then 'there' is......, life conjures from space, time and matter through a flux of  events , moments, experiences, memories, values, morals and finally to a premise which has a vague sense of familiarity-Déjà vu........i cant delude myself  of being mortal,there is a choice from there on begins another choice.

    To borrow kerouac's words,"What's your road, man? -holyboy road, madman road, rainbow road, guppy road, any road. It's an anywhere road for anybody anyhow" ,  I would be dishonest if i say i know where i am going , but i can say what is my going ...and this blog is the trail of my road
    ah! i almost forgot, welcome.

    Search Blog


    Been Here Befores