Sunday, June 5, 2016
Don't you just hate tags?
i am supposedly a vegan. Yep that's supposedly what i am due to my diet. i am no vegan. i stopped eating meat because i didn't want to participate in taking life to feed myself. i was eating meat all my life until 2 years back , so calling it an ethical choice would be hypocritical. Right now i don't like to eat meat. That's basically it. i also feel that milk of an animal is meant for its young. If nature intended me to be drink cows milk, i would have been born a calf. Though i bullshit most of the time, i am certainly not a bovine. My balls are too small.
And lactose makes me fart.
So, vegan, i am not.
Recently someone said i am a feminist. Hell no!
i just don't like unfairness. And if you are a woman and get on the bad side of me by being a mean , unfair , rude , opinionated bore, i would kick your arse, even if you have boobs. i am pretty unbiased in my dislike for people.
Nope, i avoid people as much as possible because others are my hell. Crowd energy hits from all sides. It tires me out. i get drained. So i avoid. Nothing against people, the problem is not them, its me. i try and occupy a small space in the society as inconspicuous as possible . Until and unless trouble finds me, i try and stay out of it. i like people from far.
Actually 20 years back it was called Psychotic maniac depression. i liked that better. It sounded like a condition. Bipolar sounds like a polar bear that swings both ways. i feel i am just moody. i have my highs and lows just like everyone. Its not a big deal.
Wife thinks i am delusional. i feel i am a dreamer.
My mother thinks i am impractical. i call it risk taking.
Actually i have no idea what i am . Like all, i am perceived. Perceived by other , perceived by myself. Funny thing is if i come across me i may not recognize myself. i dont seem to look at the whole me . i only look at parts. When i brush i look at my mouth. My relationship with mirror is very fragmentary. i guess that's probably why my selfies looks so fascinating to me. i am nothing like how i picture myself to be. i am way good looking in my head. Out there i look like a hairy scrotum.
i feel i have no real personality. i become the books i read, the movies i see, the music i hear, the people i meet. This is perhaps why i avoid interactions, as i can easily tune into the other and become a reflection. i become whatever the other wants me to be. Off late, i stopped that. i just didnt see the need. Now i am that guy in the balcony. I am that guy on the coach fixated on that painting on the wall. Until someone engages me, i am on standby mode. Nothing.
i am grateful to those who remained. i know that i am incapable of investing into a relation...everyone i know has come ... some stayed...some moved on....
Sometimes i feel it is fear that puts myself in my own shell. Fear of being vulnerable. Fear of being hurt. Probably. I would be a great nut case study for a jobless shrink.
The last one i had was in Nimhans, who kept asking me questions. i recall only couple of questions he had asked. Most of the time, all i recall is this close up of his mouth , surrounded by thick pubic hair like beard, moving. i recall being fascinated. Couldnt take my eyes off. It was like watching a talking vagina.
i have come to a conclusion that any expression is a validation of the mind. Even these words are just that. i guess in some ways, since i have no one to actually talk to , i have no venue for bouncing ideas except with myself. Perhaps that could explain why my mind got fragmented some years back. Moreover, the quest i seem to be on is more internal than external hence, it is not easy to find a like minded person.
We will wade into more light hearted banter next time. Forgive me my indulgence which to most may seem narcissistic . Another tag .
In life i have noticed, we are often guilty of the traits that we despise in another. The emotions that we feel, especially the so called negative kind, is rather a useful indication where you mind is identifying with something that it does not want to acknowledge. Funny , no?
Truth is we are more connected than we are different. i know when i write this, i am writing it for some one of you.
Sunday, May 29, 2016
Wife turned 42 today.
She seems ok with it. But you should have seen her when she was hitting 40!
She made the day look as if they had declared Trump as the American President.
At that time, I was making all the right noises and pouring forth all the required affirmation, but in my head I was wondering - what's wrong with this chick?'
I was 45 then, 5 years shy of 50. I didn't feel shit. In fact I felt great. Except when some girls called me uncle. I never understood the fuss. Age is just a number.
But today I get it.
I was sitting with my nephews friends and we had this conversation and it hit me like a ton of brick.
Okie it didnt hit me like that, it was more like a realization. Like the lifting off of a veil.
Of course age is an important factor for a woman.
Being born a woman means that you have fixed phases in life that will completely change everything about you. Age affects a woman.
First you have puberty, where you are introduced to your first period , which now defines 4 days of your life every fucking month. That must suck.
I once , rather foolishly, claimed that if you know that you are going to bleed for 4 days every month , then you will just learn to deal with it.
I said that.
My experience with a bleeding of any kind was hemorrhoids upon which my wonderful theory was based. It mattered not that it was a completely different exit path.
I slept on the couch for a whole month and my computer was taken away from me by my wife.
Then comes pregnancy.
Notice how I don't consider marriage as a defining phase in a woman's life.
That's because it isn't.
Pregnancy is. Childbirth is. Motherhood is.
It defines her life. It changes her life.
Then comes menopause.
So, you bet age is a fucking big thing for a woman.
For us? Until we keel over with the after effect of a bad life style, the maximum excitement is when we find a stray gray pubic hair.
Macha! I got white hair down there, da.
Fucker, you are getting old man
Fuck, I need a drink yaar.
Fuck man, I haven't made my million yet.
What million da? I havent got a tattoo yet.
Lets get a tattoo.
Yeah macha, age is just a number da.
That's being men. We have no phases. Its great being men. That's why we have gays. Some of us just love ourselves a little more.
Getting hair on your penis is not a phase.
It doesn't change your life.
Nope. Shaving cannot be considered a life changing event.
I am sorry.
Fatherhood is an option if the woman lets you stay around. Trust me, we are on shaky grounds there.
The day they learn to change the tyre and get rid of the spider from the tub, we are going to be rather expendable.
So, like I was saying... age is not a number for a woman.
In between all those phases, they have to find their bearing in a man's world.
Every single minute of her life is defined by her gender or rather our versions of what a gender should be like.
Her dress , her work, her thoughts, her expressions, her priorities, her dreams, her ambitions everything is tainted first with her gender.
Its kind of stupid . No one should have to live like that.
My mother once said while I restrained my daughter from doing something. She said, ' Let her do what she wants now. As , a woman's freedom is inversely proportional to her age. '
You bet age is of concern to a woman.
So, happy birthday , my dearest friend. May you always have the freedom to be what and do what you desire.
May you never be limited, defined or put on a pedestal. May you be allowed to thrive on equal footing.
Keep shining as always.
You are loved. The lack of ties and expectations are the only proofs I can give.
Sunday, February 28, 2016
Being stupid has its merits.
Knowing that you are stupid and yet doing what you do fully realizing its consequences is the epitome of stupidity. I stand completely guilty of it.
In my defense, I can only state that the choices I have had did not make it easy. It meant to chose me over others. The choice hence was in some ways, I guess, pretty predictable. It helps that my nature prevents me from dwelling on things or worry about consequences. Whatever time throws at us, we tend to have to deal with it. Not in a fatalistic , depressing kind of way, though that too is ok I guess, if that works for you.
It doesnt work for me.
You see, I have given a lot of attention to this nature of mine. I am beginning to realize that its a result, not something inherent. The distance that I carry is perhaps due to my vulnerability. Perhaps that is why I don't get too close. I allow space. For me, having no expectation from people I care about is the best I can do for them. But I must affect, nevertheless, despite my best intention.
Such is life. A intricate complex connections each affecting the other and setting off a chain of reactions, causes and such. Everything is connected. Like the matrix.
Was talking to wife yesterday. She is doer unlike me who is all fart and no shit.
She is an active catalyst for movements that has seen the initiative of random required acts of compassion for those in need. It is something she feels strongly about and actively immerses herself into. What can I say? She's pretty fantastic.
Of course there are days, I can almost strangle her but I do have to admit that shes pretty neat.
Currently I am in the dog house, since I am in exile in the Sand City while shes stuck with the brats in India. She feels I did this on purpose, leaving her alone to fend for herself. I guess more than anything, she feels the helplessness, since this is not what she signed up for. In the midst of looking after the kids, taking them, even during her weekends, for the various classes like gymnastic, drama , dance etc , she has no one to look after her. That was my job. She, I know, is not happy.
And, there is nothing I can do about it.
Maybe there is . But that is a choice I cannot make. So I guess she is right. I didn't choose her. I chose what I felt was the right thing to do. I chose me.
So I am kinda fucked.
When all this is over and I go home, I hope I have a home left.
Life is funny in the way that everything gets repeated. I too, like my parents, will miss my children's child hood. I will probably win the battle but lose the war.
Back to our conversation. She mentioned that she had met with this guy who is running a clothing store, hiring and rehabilitating abused women. She was speaking to me about the objectification of women that is the root of all the violence, abuses, molestation, segregation, exploitation of women.
She is kinda right.
The objectification of women. Seeing a woman as as sum of her body parts. This tendency, this conditioned response, fertilized and given acceptance through media, songs, movies, books , in fact every visible expression, reduces a gender to an object. The solution is to be able to see a woman as she really is. A person beyond the roles that is assigned or nature has bestowed upon her.
Question is how do you do that?
Empathy is a misunderstood word. You cannot truly empathize with anyone. You just cannot get into the shoe of another. You can , based on your own experience, imagine the other's condition but it still will not evoke the profoundness of another's experiences as your own. You can imagine it but you will never know it. We are built that way.
Even when we say that her touch is soft , the touch you felt as hers is the response of your skin to nerves to brain stimuli. It is still you interpreting pressure. Every perception is internal. In reality we do not even know what a rose actually looks like, since if we could see it without the limitation of the spectrum of visible light we can see, I wonder what the rose would look like. Even the psychedelic aura like spectrum that we see as ultraviolet rays or spectrum beyond our visibility are again just interpretation of it to our visible spectrum. We really cant see it.
Hearing, Taste, Smell every senses that assists in experiencing and perceiving the world around us, is limited to a fixed position. We function within that limitation. Considering that genetically our DNA is the same with all living beings on this planet, only sequentially different, the potential or the possibilities are probably within us.
Where am I going with this?
You see, objectification is a human interpretation.It started with language.If you look out of the window, you will probably see the sky, the trees, the birds, the buildings , the people etc. All those are words, sounds, to identify something, so that it can be communicated. It has a purpose but the word does not define the object. The word in fact by defining it also limits it.
For example, the word infinity defines something our perception cannot comprehend. By naming it, we believe we understand it. Conceptually we do, but perceptionally ? Zilch. Nada.
If we could actually 'see' a tree. Really see it . Without conditioning or defining or the limitation of our spectrum of visibility or anything...
In order to see, we become it.
Not in some spiritual , psychobabble way, but that is logically the only way you can see anything.
Back to objectification of women.
It will continue. Reality is that, we are guilty of objectifying both the genders. It is not in the mindset this problem arose, but in the social order of things we created. We assigned roles. We pegged people. We subjugated,exploited, twisted truths to justify our ends. We made something as natural as birth into a privilege or a curse based on its gender, due to the society its going to be born into.
The solution is to even the odds.
Technology has ensured that today, man and woman can play equal roles in the society. No longer is strength a deal breaker. No longer is women confined to the role of a wife and a mother. You take away technology and the so called progressive mindset that we think we have will drop. The natural way of being is functional. Its purpose was survival and procreation.
Everything that we demand now is new ground.
Sexuality is part of our being. We are programmed to be attracted to each other. Denying that will only lead to another form of repression. Censuring, oppressing, banning , acceptance of only politically correct opinions...all will just drive it under but never address the issue. Let objectification remain or not remain . It was never the problem.
The society that prevented equality for all beings that represented it is the problem.
Equal rights. Equal status. Equal representation.
None above, none below.
Saturday, February 20, 2016
A famous man once said that Thoughts makes a man.
I know it sounds great but he apparently had no idea what he was talking about. Its so amazing what sounds so right can be so wrong.
Thoughts do not make a man more than ripples on the water is the water or the stone that got thrown in. Thoughts does not require your participation. It just keep on generating , processing everything that we experience like a mad man murmuring to himself. If you can observe something, then it cant be you, can it? I guess even the term 'my thought' , 'my mind' and 'my body' should have given the clue. Who is this elusive 'my'? If it is a possession, then that cant be you, can it?
My bike will always remain separate from me. No matter how much I identify with it, it will always remain separate from me. Thoughts therefore cannot be you. Body cannot be you. Mind cannot be you.
But your action is you.
So, why on earth am i giving you this gyan? Well I thought about thought. Try that. It is like reflecting a mirror with another mirror. Suddenly you cant get the analogy of the mirror out of your head and thought will go chasing after that like a dog after the stick you threw. The moment you become aware of that nature of thought, thought stands still , or at least becomes like an observed child in a play ground who knows that she is being watched.
Its amazing how much time i have in my hand.
Yesterday I was thinking how it must seem to be in my head. I sometimes feel, these posts are more now to myself. Like some sort of organizing . Like laying things out with no real attachment or fixation on it. I have realized earlier own that fixed opinions are just being stubborn. Perception changes depending on the angle. In the midst of that truth, a silent observance is all that can be really done. Everything else is just fleeting and transient.
But you know i am wrong..
Thoughts with intention is creative. I guess thats what is called a will.
Directed thoughts. That is almost like an action. It has the power to be turned or discarded as an action.
Sort of like words.
Thinking something and saying it out loud has got different repercussions.
A thought that is cultivated, fed, believed in...has a power to manifest.
We know this
In which case a person is what it thinks
Because it can define her/him.
Seeing thoughts for what it is without identifying in it or investing in it, is what is considered as detachment. It is not that you don't care. It is because you seek its cause. You care enough to end it. For which you are willing to go to the source. The distancing is not running away. It is to find a final solution. In doing so, you are willing to give yourself away... all that you know...all that is comfortable...all that defines you.... because once you see yourself as separate from your mind and your body, you are on a shaky ground.
you are no longer you.
awareness is your only rope.
everything..every action..every intention...every word that is uttered... because you know its significance on an other... you see it with clarity..sort of like seeing its past, present and future at the same instant.
and most of the time, silence is the best resort...inaction becomes the best action.
because you care.
because its all pretty perfect.
Fuck it. This is bound to be misread. Perhaps. But it had to be written.
Did I tell you that it also exposes you completely? That every justification, every defense you had built, every repressed memory starts glaring back with total clarity. You see. There is no hiding anymore.
And you become the lowest of the lowest. You are humbled. Stripped and kicked out. Everything will shed. You see your total insignificance. In a strange way you also see a beauty in that state. You are nothing.
The nothing pulsating with possibilities.
But even in that awareness , you realize, that you are still there. That you are still limited and its that limitation that gives you that perception.
Then everything comes rushing back.
You realize that there is only one way out.
There you have a thought that was followed to a conclusion.
Sound track for this one :)
Tuesday, February 9, 2016
I recall long ago spending a vacation in my boarding school. My brother and I had the whole school to ourselves. The normally strict priests who ran the schools became very attentive. There were other boys too. Not too many. Maybe about six. I am not sure. Maybe I imagined them. I don't know.
This was the time when the Grammy awards hit India for the first time. Madonna, Micheal Jackson, David Bowie, Lionel Richie , Wham and a few others became household names to many of us. We had a walk man and the Grammy tape. My younger brother and I used to sit on the slope of the eucalyptus forest and listen to music sharing the headphones.
Not sure why I remembered that.
Looking back, it may appear to many that we lead some sort of empty lonely existence. But in my head , I recall that my childhood was filled with cousins , laughter , books and games. Almost all vacations were spend at some relatives house. We were taken in and treated with perhaps more affection than was given to their own children. It was a great childhood.
It also makes you an expert in fitting in. Makes you occupy a very small place , have very few demands.
You become good at goodbyes. You do not take anything for granted. You learn to deal with things. You learn how it is to miss someone so much that, back in the school, you bury your head into the pillow and cry silently. You learn to let go. You learn to move on. You learn very early that you are always alone. Even when others have the best intentions , you are somehow never capable of becoming emotionally close to another.
Perhaps it must be the vulnerability. I have pondered over that. Why I have the emotional IQ of a snail.
I feel I have a great emotional IQ . Whatever that means. Its just that I feel emotions are an indulgence. It has no permanence. Like clouds in the sky. It can be swept away by the wind or evaporated by the suns heat. Emotions when observed, ceases to have its pull. It loses its intensity. You cannot observe anger and be angry.
I guess there is also a trait which makes me very transient. I find myself comfortable in my solitude. Even in a group I seek to be alone. Not in a lonely way. I find myself very fortunate and grateful to be loved. I sometimes feel as if I do not really deserve it. I hardly invest myself into any relationship. Not due to some emotional deficiency . I have been accused of that. But its not that I do not care or I do not love. It is not coming from a selfish place. I know this. I am fortunate that I am surrounded by people who have chose to be with me. For them I have only me to offer.
I care. I really care.
There was a time when I was scared for myself. I felt that if I didnt anchor myself. Tether myself to someone, I will float away. I did what I could to tie myself down. Looking back , it seems so manipulative. My motives negated the other. Thankfully it fell apart on its own. I had lost interest in my fear.
Its strange that when I look back, how if it was not for the other's efforts, I would have just been. Like some flotsam, I appear to have just been. I must be really dull. But I am sure it was not so. I did stand up. I did shine. I did love. I lived.
Not that it matters.
Maybe all this is just reassurance to myself. Maybe , as always, I am becoming the bullshit that I am weaving. Maybe , like some suggests, I could be wired differently, which is a polite way of saying that I could be mad.
i just want to keep it real this time.
I am very grateful. Its been a great life. Thank you.
I am going to have a sound track for my postings ; what can i say? I love drama..
I have no idea what is going on around the world.
I hardly watch news. I once came across one Indian channel which proclaims itself as a news channel and all I heard was people screaming at each other. The news anchor was the loudest of them all.
I hate loud sounds.
Hate it when people screams. Hate it when people shouts. It totally disturbs my whole being. Its like throwing a huge rock into the water. It just takes a lot of time for the ripples to settle.
Heard that India is intolerant.
This is kind of news to me. Must be a new thing. Normal people in India gives two fucks what religion anyone belongs to. India will probably become intolerant because all it takes is enough of people to feed into that myth and lo! behold, we become that. That is the beauty of an idea.
Take a bow , God.
I feel the biggest worry that India should be concerned about is giving up , willingly , your rights. And for heaven sake, stop calling your government, the rulers!!!
When the fuck are you going to get over your subjective thought process. You are not ruled. You are governed. There is a fucking huge difference.
What worries me is when the government starts to take on the role of a mother. When they tell you what you have to do and cant do. That's when it gets worrying. Heard that we are now telling people what they can eat and what they cant. Who they can fuck and who they cant.
You see the pattern?
I am not a moralistic person. Never was. I have absolutely no morals. For that matter, I don't care what other people's morals are either. As long as your deeds are not stepping on another's right to exist in their own expression, then see if I give a damn, if you are a beef eating, heavy smoking, middle aged lesbian who wants to worship at Sabrimala.
Personally I don't care. What does bother me is when you say that the beef eating lesbian lady cannot have that view.
I feel we have forgotten the art of debate.
It is through debate that Shankaracharya rejuvenated the temple culture from the widely popular Buddhism. It was through talking , hearing , understanding.
Having an opinion and insisting that that opinion is the only right opinion and to give it authenticity or some sort of validity, dragging in dead people's wisdom which forgets that every thought , every words, every action has a relevance only at a particular time, is akin to verbal terrorism.
I find Ayyappan cool.
He can only have been conceived by a mallu mind.
He is conceived by the union of Shiva and Vishnu ( are the anti gay Hindu community listening?) . thereby bringing together the Vishnavites and Shivates. To take it one step higher, traditionally you were required to first pay your respect at a mosque before you walk towards the Sanidhanam. There is a ritualistic tantric reason why menstruating women were not allowed into a temple .There are temples where a menstruating woman can go to worship. There are also temples where men cannot enter. It was never about exclusion. The ancient way of life, or what I would rather term as a sanskriti , which is now tagged as Hinduism, was never about exclusion. It was always about inclusion. It incorporates everything , everyone, every idea, every concepts. If you can think it, we can find a way of fitting it in.
'How can you say that?'
To me there is nothing more stupid than that question but it still deserves an answer.
I was questioned sometime back on my view on Hitler. Truth is , I have no view on him. But a question was asked about this admiration about him in my part of land, which I had to admit , is there. I have my theories about it. Suddenly the whole conversation went south. It was amusing but at the same time, a bit painful. You see, I was not allowed to admire any qualities of his. How is a man to be judged by time? It is an interesting thought. Ponder over it. What you see will at first scare you, but then you will experience a liberation from fixed perceptions.
Question for the day.
The Nirbhaya Rapists. Is it the act that you condone or is it the person who did the act? I agree that you cannot separate the person from the act , so for a criminal act, logically, the person who committed the act is to be held responsible. My question is this: Can you see them as someone's son, capable of love or loved by someone? Were they kind to someone?
You see where I am going with this?
Are they just rapists?
Judge the deed, not the doer.
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
So, I am on the Vamamarga path.
That's my new thing.
Those not in the know, google it.
No . Wait.
I will explain. It is the Aghora path, which basically along with a few other things also expects the practitioner to be celibate.
Considering that my wife is not living with me and that I am too ugly to have a girlfriend and too poor to afford to buys sex, this seemed to be a logical step to live my pathetic life with some dignity. At least here I can claim that my non existent sex life is a choice.
So now I spend a better part of morning, doing all sort of bandhas which forces the retained sexual energy from my mooladhara to my crown chakra. This would also perhaps mean that I can probably get someone pregnant by kissing her.
Another year has gone by. For the new year, I had gone to Goa with wife and kids.
Actually we drove from Bangalore to Goa and back
Did I ever mention how much I love the road?
I love driving. I love being on the road. I care little for the destination. But the journey.... man, that's the best thing about any journey.
One day, I will take off and just keep going .
So I was in Bangalore. Its a great place. I love it.
Have you taken a look at yourself as seen through a security camera? Every one looks like a criminal. We are all grainy ,weirdly shaped and we move suspiciously.
It doesn't help that with all the terrorists planting bombs around the town, the Bangalore town has been a wee bit paranoid.
(Totally off the mark, why do they say 'plant a bomb'? What grows from that seed? Does planting bombs, make these bastards agriculturists? Anyhow, back to my spiel.)
I walk around with a knapsack. In it you will find my purse, my phone , my Swiss army knife, a duct tape, a garbage bag, a compass, lighter and a book. Its my Bug Out Bag. I never leave home without it. It also makes me look very suspicious.
Did I tell you that I wear black all the time? That doesn't help.
Each time I go to a mall here, after the customary walking through those portals which looks like a door frame someone has forgotten to build a house around, I get to have my bags checked. I just stand back and watch the security rummage through it. I would love to ask him what is it that they are looking for? But I am too scared that they will book me under TADA which will mean TATA for me.
What I find remarkable is how seemingly terrorist free my Sand City looks. I mean it. Its like the whole world is burning around them and you would expect to see at least some sort of security there. But no, you actually don't see them.
But they are there.
Apparently the Sand City has a huge number of undercover cops. It must be easy for them because they all wear the same clothes there. Like how the guy who threw a petrol bomb onto the humongous Christmas tree in a mall found out. He didn't make three paces before he was tackled down, slapped , handcuffed and whisked away by about ten locals who seems to have appeared out of thin air.
I know this, because a friend of mine actually saw it. These guys are there. You just don't see them.
India cannot do that. Sometimes I feel its enemies are within itself. Like a house divided within due to ignorance, intolerance,suspicions and of course its self centered politicians who seems to use instability as a weapon to assure his/her stay in power. India does not have the liberty of being a country with a transient population of migrants who will obey the laws or else pays the consequences. We are too ancient and too varied for such simple methods. Our ways and nature seems to be too deeply ingrained within us that even 2 generations away from their homeland cannot wash it away. We retain our Indianess.
It still puzzles me when I see the diversity around me. I do not know if anyone really comprehends the uniqueness of a culture that has managed over 60 years of solidarity among st such diverseness in clothing, to religions, to food, to language , to climate , to lifestyles, to laws , to likes and dislikes. Its nothing short of an inexplicable mystery.
I have my own theory.
I think its due to our inherent nature of selfcenteredness. As long as we are not individually effected , we don't really care. The nationalistic pride of each state is probably the reason why 29 states and 7 union territories can co exist together as one. Its the clearly marked division that creates the illusion of unity.
I actually like it this way. No where else can it be said with all due honesty that variety is the spice of life.
Even if you have ulcer.