He was a quiet man

ForeThought: Clinical depression is a wide-spread psychiatric disorder, put in simple words- is the diminished ability to experience happiness and extreme self loath. About 20% of Indians in the age group 20-40 suffer from this, 85% of these demonstrate strong suicidal tendencies. There is a wide debate in the research community about the exact cause of clinical depression. But all psychiatrists do agree on one thing- its all in the mind. The exaggerated, unwarranted feeling of helpless anger kills more people than AIDS.

Stood there, He, at the gates of destiny

arms folded, head held high, and a smile rising

for he felt joyous than ever before.

“Beware, young fella’, this is the beginning of your fall” the Pessimist sniggered

“too many have come in with a rising smile…

too few have left with it still there.” the snigger grew louder.

” Aah. stop pestering him, you slimy prick” the optimist said leaping in.

“The world is your oyster,

and I am always your uninvited pearl, my friend.”

He moved into the portals of the unknown, shrugging off

the arguments rattling out in his head.

He was always a quiet man.

Words juggled only in his head

mouth left perennially dry.

There were always thoughts to speak, opinions to pass, and mistakes to point

but, thought He, it would be wise to have them unsaid.

Never, he realized, silence is a vice afflicting the ones who are too afraid to sin.

Clock hands ticked away in relentless monotony- tick-tock :tick-tock

first seconds, then minutes, then hours passed, days, months, and years.

Trees changed color just like people around

from flush green to dull yellow to wicked red.

He saw it all, never to judge,

for, he was a quiet man.

He usually walked alone, eyes transfixed to the ground….

for, he couldn’t take those ugly looks,

those jabs at his character,

those jibes behind his back.

He could take it no longer,

the nightmares in the dark grew into monsters in the light.

His ears bled from the demonic laughter all around.

How could they be so happy, in burning his ego alive.

“Where’s my oyster, where’s my pearl.” he shouted in despair.

“Oh! don’t you know, the last train to happiness just left,

and, Optimist- poor old chap, he couldn’t make it.

I took good care of him, hope you don’t mind” Pessimist crackled,

the sarcasm was palpable, he knew the day has come.

Ran, He to the end of the world,

swallowing drops of hope, until there were nothing left.

He stood there, savoring for the one last time,

the sunrise at its magnanimous grandeur.

Alas, it was too late.

The same sun which made the clouds, was lost

in their dark might.

“Now, for the fall.” the Pessimist whispered, he was now the Satan himself.

“Yes, go ahead. No time for fear.

Hesitant is one who comes between a hag and a hypocrite. Are you one?”

He smiled, it was a rhetorical question. I may be quiet, but never a hypocrite.

On the clap of thunder, He fell into the abyss.

First stop was excruciating pain,

next was heaven.

Imagine the smell of jasmine and a pretty face…..

I loved those glasses. “They make you look like a cop!”, my friend had remarked. As I entered, the Chennai Central broadcasted a typical sense of rush. I could hear the porters shouting  asking for way , the constant chatter of waiting passengers in the lobby and  the infrequent loud bursts  of noise  clearly indicating  the arrival of yet another local train.  I walked straight towards the 3rd platform without an iota of hesitation. I had been there numerous times, what was there to worry about? As I started my walk, started to hate the nonchalant attitude of the people, they just cannot give way to a person walking across. After many a shoulder dashes and profuse apologies, I reached my compartment.

Seat # 25 awaited my arrival. As I was making myself comfortable, caught that jasmine smell. It was not just jasmine, of course I prided myself to be sort of expert in the ‘art of smell’. I could clearly sense a touch of sandalwood with jasmine. It was as if the person had crushed the jasmine flowers in a paste of sandalwood and applied to the forehead. Quite remarkable, I thought. And it did smell good.

“Oh! Amma, I forgot the Iliad again. Please make sure that you send by the evening mail, ok?.” She seemed concerned with a pinch of hatred towards something. ” Ok kutti, dont worry about it, I will make sure it reaches you soon. You take care, and eat your dinner, dont spoil your health.” Her amma seemed like a quintessential tamil iyengar housewife, whose only three concerns in life were her husband, daughter and ofcourse her rasam. After a bountiful exchange of goodbyes, the train left on its way.

“Just out of curiosity, that perfume of yours, is it homemade?”  ” Oh!” she chuckled, I liked her chuckle, it sounded sexy. ” yes, I am the guinea pig for all my mom’s experiments.” she declared with a loud laugh. I joined her in that. She was funny. ” So let me guess, you are in your 2nd year at St. Stephens doing MA in english literature, going back to college after the christmas break?” I enquired. ” Oh! my god. how do you know all that about me?” she sounded surprised, inquisitive yet strangely aroused. I shrugged “Well, you dont need a rocket scientist to deduce that. I couldnt help over hearing your mention of the Iliad. Ofcourse it is indeed a miracle that I remember the Iliad after 10 years since my MA.”  “Hmmm. well it surely not sounded like rocket science afterall.” she replied with a taunt. Whoa!! I thought, what was that. A direct call to keep distance. That truckload of sarcasm just seemed to drench me in definitive confusion.

The silence was palpable. Every fan in the compartment was shouting ‘Awkward! Awkward!.’ I couldnt resist another jab at the conversation. ” You know, at St. Stephens, I was called the walking dictionary. I was the undisputed ‘wordConstruct’ champion. I guess shakespeare would have admired my vocabulary.” I started out with a swell of pomp. “Oh! really, how impressive.” again that sarcasm, I hated it. Now those transvestites, they were patting on my shoulder, announcing their arrival in that disgusting tone. Immediately I pulled out a note, lest those despicable characters not leave us alone.

“So wordConstruct champion eh. quite admirable. how about a game with this town educated girl?” that was a challenge I couldnt accept without losing my shame. “Well I am pretty good at it, but it doesnt mean I deny amateurs to challenge me.” I replied rubbing my hands and a wide smile on my face. She started ” all words should start and end with e. I start with elucidate.” “Eliminate” I replied in a jiffy. ” Ha!Ha! I bet you will, now me exonerate.” It went on and on. Initially I was a touch surprised, then admired her vocabulary, later started to loathe and finally got shit scared. Good lord of irony , I am about to lose to a girl. “What’s the matter, it seems our champion seems to be at a loss of words” I could make out that sense of jubilation, again I hated it. ” C’mon, give this old man some time. Its been long since I played this you know.” “Exculpate” I shouted back. “Aaah! sorry that’s used up.” “eradicate.” ” Ya right. I would leave such a hackneyed word just hang in there till so late in the game, so that you would just pluck it and rant it out. Dumbo, its used long back.” Her voice was like a nitrous exhaust spitting fire.

“Hmmm, my memory seems to fail me today.” I tried to hide in my excuses. Another five minutes passed, nothing. My mind felt like a brand new house just plastered white, blank white everywhere.”Can I come out with a word? Sadly that would mean our champion just lost to this puny girl.” she giggled. I was confused to hate it or like it. “Aah whatever. I accept, I lose.” There was this tiny window of silence. I ofcourse looked angry and restless. She paused and seemed to gather herself to ask me something.

“Its not a big deal. 10 years down the line, I guess I wouldnt be able to spell emanicipate” she was trying to throw some humor in the air and failed miserably. “I dont know how to ask this. Like can we go out  sometime, you know you seem like a nice guy to hang out with.” That was what I heard. First I rubbed my ears. I made sure I hadnt gone deaf and imagining things. I never expected that. This girl was asking me out. Poor girl, did she know? she would be shocked to death.

” what’s your name? mine is Michael.” I inquired in a sudden burst. “I am shwetha” she replied. She really had started to like me. ” You know Shwetha, you are a smart girl. I have never seen anyone with such a command over english. I always thought I was a bad actor. Maybe today, I was good, I seemed to have outsmarted you. Its an achievement really.” my tone was ironical, but amusing to myself. ” Pardon me, I am not getting what you are saying. What do you mean, you outsmarted me?” she retorted.

I opened my POLICE glasses, and said in a solemn voice” Sweetheart, I am blind from birth.” I heard a shriek, she gasped for air, then I heard footsteps running away as fast as they could. I imagined her pretty face getting eaten by incomprehension. I couldnt help it. “I am sorry, I should have informed at the beginning.” I finished with a disappointed smile, put my glasses back.

I never heard a word from her again. All I had was the smell of jasmine, and imagining a pretty girl asking a blind man out for a date.

Romance….. with a pinch of salt.

The wedding was grand, it seemed like the most happening place in the city. The women in their exquisite silk sarees, adorned in their prized jewelery walked around with a spring of arrogance in their steps, some indulging in hearing and spreading the latest in family gossip. The men as always dressed in dhotis or kurtas or strictly formal attire, in sharp contrast to their wives, were having heated debates on politics and the Indian economy. Once in a while they were giving those angry glances at the grandiloquence of the whole setting. The children were the happiest creatures in there, lost in their innocence,immune to the pride and prejudice of the older generations. They were having a lot of fun, playing hide n seek.

I was sitting there in a corner, feeling quite lonely unable to indulge myself in any gossip nor finding any interest in discussing politics with the men. I was looking around, desperate to find a familiar face with whom I could strike an interesting conversation. It was then I saw her smile, give a fleeting glimpse which made my head go blank ,my lips dried, heart fluttered in joy, expressions failed to appear on my face, eyes transfixed at her, unable to look beyond, probably not wanting to look anywhere else. For a shy introvert, who- given a choice would always look down rather than the girl in front , I was acting totally different. Infatuations they say happen in a second, it was so true. She was not just beautiful, but ethereal.

I liked the way she gave a glance,her smile, her walk, the tiny black mole on her cheek, that was so cute. Oh! the poet in me seemed to burst out of seam , I could go on forever.

Now I had a Mt.Everest to climb. How would I ever go there and say Hi. That two letter word was imprisoned in my mouth, hanging there in suspended animation. Just then I met her brother, It was a fortunate co-incidence. The next one hour I spent chatting with him, mind wandering always to the latest infatuation. He was a nice, funny guy who kept on coming up with one story after another. All of a sudden, as if lord Krishna himself had answered the prayers from deep inside my heart, she appeared. Her brother introduced her to me – ” Hey sis, meet my friend here.” I looked up and said with a funny smile “Hi.” Life seemed to stand still, it seemed like utopia, that perfect feeling you yearned all your life for. And then her brother gave the final twist ” Hey man, you sure should come to her wedding, its 3 months from now.” With a face turned blue in shock I mumbled ” Sure, why not.”

Like they said Infatuations happen in a second, but nobody warned they come crashing down in a second too.

The Death of Innocence

The twinkle in the night sky,

the tweeting music from tree branches

the bouncing stone on the lake surface

the clattering noise of hailstones on rooftop

Catching those butterflies in the neighbourhood park

playing with mud just after first monsoon showers

savoring those 5-paise lemon candies grandpa used to buy

flying those big lovely kites in the high winds of January evenings

swimming in the sweetest waters of tunga with all cousins

stealing green mangoes from the grove, when watchman was in deep afternoon siesta

getting bitten by mosquitoes in the dense beetelnut plantations…………………………….

many and many more, the memories never end but always last

those were the days when life was that of a honey bee

—-exciting, care-free and always into the unknown

The death of innocence was all but complete, when

books invaded my life

growing fatter by the year

making me morose by the second…

those were the days i always cherish

but can never relive

Heart is the Teacher

Who would not love Al Pacino as Tony Montana in “Scarface”.He was indeed acting personified, the definition of expression.But this isnt about pacino, neither hollywood, its about Tony montana, the man who followed his dreams. Like he said in that cuban accent ““I’m Tony Montana! You fuck wit me, you fuckin’ wit da best!”,this guy had an important lesson for the world to learn.

 

How can i forget this.”In this country, you gotta make the money first. Then when you get the money, you get the power. Then when you get the power, then you get the woman.”

 

Ofcourse i am not saying lets all emulate Tony montana, let us peddle some cocaine, make  quick cash, start looking out for pretty women . No, that’s not the point. What we got to learn from Tony, is to stand up and think for ourselves. Are we as good as ants, just follow the pheromone trail, dont loiter around, just do as u r “programmed” to do.

 

So many of my friends are engineers, infact i can count with my 10 few fingers all the friends i got who arent engineers!!! Here is a typical “Non-IT” graduate story from a typical Bangalore Engineering college.

 

Our protagonist is a happy go-lucky chap, endowed with adequate IQ to pass all exams, without worrying too much. He has a decent sense of humor, which does help when it comes to flirting with the ” hot n exclusive” girls in the college. He started off cycling to college, quickly realised that’s so uncool. So squeezed some savings from his dad to get a bike, and is quite contented with it. Hey,wait a minute. This is getting so moribund.So where does the real action in the story begin???

 

At the end of his 3rd year, he starts hearing some strange new words dominating the conversation at the canteen and else where. ” Placements” , ” Higher studies ” ???

 

Now our hero has two choices in hand now.  One ofcourse is to do what your friends are doing. One friend can be wrong, two yeah well maybe wrong, but all of them, noway. Following the crowd is the easiest and most obvious thing to do. Its infinitely sensible and much easier than the other choice he has.

 

Choice number two: Think for yourself, do some soul-searching, devote some time to know what you are good at, what you are interested in, what you would enjoy pursuing as a career…  Holy mother of god!!!where do I get all these ” philosophical” questions from

 

Our hero only wears “Che Guevara” T-shirts. Neither does he know who the hell he was, neither does he know what that whole “Che” attitude stands for. (Che Guevara was a revolutionary Cuban leader who wanted to achieve his dream of freedom in Cuba at any cost.) Anyway so he follows the usual path, sit for placements, get a nice paying IT job, who cares if he knows more about stress distribution on a computer keyboard than what comes up on the monitor. So his parents are on cloud nine, they go around in great pride. Of course why wont any dad be not happy about his son getting paid 10 times his own salary!!! His friends are happy for him, his juniors look up to him as a model senior and his girl-friend adores him even more.

 

Wow our hero is having a whale of a time. So he graduates in great happiness and reports to work eagerly. A month passes by, slowly he is getting bored of finding those ever evading bugs in the code, its not even fun like squashing a mosquito Every passing day seems like eternity. Imagine put in a metal cage with only an abacus as “source of entertainment”. Well that paints an exaggerated picture of how bored our hero is.

 

The second choice dawns upon him now.Maybe I should have listened to my heart once in a while, maybe its good to do what you are interested in. Its not just good , its the logical way out. Now he starts the process of soul-searching, he could have started in college itself. But as a quote goes ” Its perfectly normal for a 22 year old to be confused about just everything”. So it isnt late to start now for him.

 

Three years have passed since our hero was a utterly confused 22 year old catching bugs on a computer. Now he works as a design specialist in a small mechanical company which does customised car exterior designs and fittings. He is as happy as he was in college, before all that confusion began. His dream is to own the company he works in. Well with the passion and interest he has for his job, that doesnt seem far.

 

He says with a smile ” First, when i told my parents, this is what i want to do, they were shocked and appalled. My decision doesnt follow common sense. But this is my life. It isnt common in any way”

Five reasons why blogging sucks!!!!!!

 Just the pessimist in me coming out like a volcano

1. 99 out of 100 people have such terrible writing skills that u just cant read more than one line of what they have written.

2. Nobody cares a damn of ur blog, unless it got some really cool n funny videos or some jazzy pics.

3. The basic reason why people blog is they ve got nothing interesting to do, so how can u expect blogs they write to be interesting???

4. Most people blog because the guy next is doing it n acting as if its the coolest thing to do…so if u r a blogger, u r just following the crowd.

5. I am totally jealous of all those bloggers turned into celebrities. They got such a huge fan following n i dont even get a comment