WHEN NOT DEFINED

The following is a poem one of my friends wrote. Title was 'When not defined.....'

When I see the truth I say what I feel,
but I found that to others I couldn't appeal.
I tried to tell them, but words couldnt explain
what I felt inside, be it love or joy or pain.

The more I tried to make myself clear,
I found that the truth had become dirtier.
The truth of the heart is corrupted by the mind;
Some things are clearer when not defined......

My reply is what you see below!

Nice! I remember we discussing something on these lines, back in 2006.

Now....

I have bigger worries.
Bigger or different, or whatever. Oh!


What is this life, full of care; No time to stand and stare;
stare, at the truth; and indulge in it.
Dirty it with words;
reclaim its purity with silence
filled with more words, just expressed in limit.

Stare! To stare at the truth and indulge in it!
I might soon become incapable of seeing anything;
Running, running along with closed eyes.
With pain and joy limited to the physical realm.
When it is anything other than physical,
it is something I would otherwise have laughed at. Trivial.
And the other thing... love.
Is there a smiley that is self-geering, Hello hello Tahoma!?
Aureliano! Are you me!?
Thank goodness, there are some kids around.
Spreading some cheer and dreams.
And, more thanks to goodness,
I dont have to take these kids to my home.

My home, where I can,
sit aone and stare at the truth;
indulge in its dirtiness;
silently swear, jibe at its pretentious clarity.

A PROUD FREEMAN

When one of my colleagues was appreciating my reading habit, I replied 'It is not such a good thing as you say. All that reading does to me is to make me be available for more pains. It just makes me so sensitive and aware for everything that can cause pain'. I was trying to tell that one doesnt have to regret not having the habit of reading. Even as I was saying the abovementioned, I realized how true what I was saying was.

When I read my last post two days after writing it, I wondered why it should be so negative. Was it really negative? Why I sound a bad egotist to myself, when no one around me would want to believe it? I wondered why I make things difficult for myself?

Few more days later, I was reading Utilitarianism by John Stuart Mill. Below text reminded me of my previous post. I wasn't sure how well related these are. Let's see.

Next to selfishness, the principal cause which makes life unsatisfactory, is want of mental cultivation. A cultivated mind-I do not mean that of a philosopher, but any mind to which the fountains of knowledge have been opened, and which has been taught, in any tolerable degree, to exercise its faculties-finds sources of inexhaustible interest in all that surrounds it; in the objects of nature, the achievements of art, the imaginations of poetry, the incidenets of history, the ways of mankind past and present, and their prospects in the future.

I felt like someone approving of my varied, at times contradictory, interests. By no means, I want to proclaim that I am that so called 'cultivated mind'. At least, it is something I want to be, it looks like. To hold back on most of those interests, just to be able to pass the remaining days in peace (!?) is just unthinkable.

I am reminded of Darwin's words 'My God, it is intolerable to think of spending ones whole life, like a neuter bee, working, working, & nothing after all.' This he wrote, when he was pondering on the question, To marry or Not!?

Now, it is probably not (just) a so-called normal(!) life that can sway me away from being a real cultivated mind. There are thousand other things. Or, probably nine hunderd and ninety nine.

John Stuart Mill says

'Many who begin with youthful enthusiasm for everything noble, as they advance in years sink into indolence and selfishness. But I do not believe that those who undergo this very common change, voluntarily choose the lower description of pleasures in preference to the higher. I believe that before they devote themselves exclusively to the one, they have already become incapable of the other.'

So, I wonder which point I am at, in this common change. I am almost certain I am in it. I wake up late every morning, I don't exercise regularly, I don't read regularly, most of the times I read, it is all junk. Am I becoming incapable of the enthusiasm for everything noble?

As I always say, it's probably this realization, this alone, that can help me recover. Every night, when I retire to bed, I chide myself for having wasted so much of time. Hope there is a turnaround, soon!

Utilitarianism says elsewhere

'Genuine private affections, and a sincere interest in the public good, are possible, though in unequal degrees, to every rightly brought-up human being. In a world in which there is so much to interest, so much to enjoy, and so much also to correct and improve, everyone who has this moderate amount of moral and intellectual requisites is capable of an existence which may be called enviable; and unless such a person, through bad laws, or subjection to the will of others, is denied the liberty to use the sources of happiness within his reach, he will not fail to find thi enviable existence'.

This enviable existence sounds almost like a compromise to my ears. And, I have to hope for it. The reality is, I am not going anywhere. Start was good, I guess. The past few months have been a regresing time period. Lot of work at office, and the standard of my other activities have gone down steadily. I need to pull up my socks before I lose the self respect. Come on, I can! I am, after all, a proud freeman!

Last Laugh

Last laughs
are always from my weaknesses.
Even at the hours of realization.
My conscience
is tied to bitter smiles.

A SPECTATOR'S GRIEF

That co-passenger of mine called himself a spectator.
He had an answer that was simple and predictable, for my question, "So, you intend to be a spectator till the very end?'.

Let's see.

What are you seeing now?

Hmmm... I wonder if I am actually searching for something when I pretend to be seeing. And, just seeing, when I pretend to be searching.

So?

That's what I'm seeing now.

Isn't it boring?

Tiring too.

Have you ever felt 'Happiness'?

Oh yes, till I see that.

Sadness? I doubt.

Huum... You don't know, A spectator's grief. Horrible, Huge, Long ...

Ha! To everyone, one's own grief...

Stop with that smile, you'll remain blessed.

I stared at him.
It would have been dramatic, had he vanished into thin air. He didn't. At least, he could have shown some emotions.

He was sitting there, just returning my stare.

Order and Disorder

When I called home last weekend, my mom greeted for my birthday, which was to come in three days. I told her that I would call her on my birthday. She said “That’s ok, just in case we couldn’t talk on that day!” Then, my birthday came and I tried calling home but only to find nobody there. I called my brother and he told that one of my Dad’s cousins in Coimbatore had a heart attack and passed away the previous night.

He was just forty, his wife 32. Three kids of age 9, 7 and 5. There are no words to express this. I can’t even think of the plpight of those kids. I want to meet them when I go there and to see if I can do something for them. What can be done? It’s a loss of life. Why should this happen?

Few months back, I was reading a blog "My mazed interior" where the blogger had written about a book she had read. The book said, “There's no chaos in the world, only order. There are no coincidences - ever. Our lives aren’t run by good or bad luck, but by an intelligent process designed to help us evolve into our best selves”. And, she wrote, “I was so struck by this thought because it looks like it is the most sensible way of accepting all that happens around us each day. Of course, this doesn’t clear the dilemma about whether God exists or not. I would however prefer to believe that there is a bigger power above (I am not sure if this is a person or thing) that governs all of life and that it arranges all that happens, to be the way it is. Whether this a good or bad power is still debatable I guess”.

My first thought after reading it was, “wow! How true!” Next moment, I realized that it is easy for me to say. How about telling this intelligent design theory to someone who is in pain, to someone who is enslaved for generations? We need this theory to ‘accept’ what happens! To act? Should we throw this theory away?

Few days later, I was talking to my roommate when he told the following, not in exact words. “Every single person in this whole world has unique finger prints, isn’t it beautiful? I feel it takes an omniscient power to do this.” I replied, “I take this ink bottle, and drop it from 4 feet above the ground. I do it everyday. Do you think it will ever repeat a pattern on the floor?” It doesn’t take a super power. There is no need for a super power. Yes, it is beautiful, but there is no order. It’s just disorder, which is beautiful at times, or most of the times.

This week, another friend of mine was talking about God.

God knows that the Satan would push Adam and Eve into sin; everything
happened/happens the way God wanted; man’s journey is to become pure so that God will accept him.

Oh my! In the matters of faith, I don’t argue much. More so, because he was so honest and serious about this. I just told him that I don’t feel the way he does.

This reminded me of something I wrote in Tamil few months ago.
“onRaiyonRu uNdu vaazhum uyir padaithu, kaNdu kaLitthirukkum karuNaithaan ennae?”
To translate, "How kind He is, to create lives that feed on other lives, and to admire that!"

Life is short!

Suddenly there are many reasons to believe that life is too short. First one seems to be my heart, which is doing some customary self checks now. Second one is my hand, which is going through a painful problem, RSI. Third is my home, where, hopes of my independence is increasing.

What these three seem to have done together is, to question the obvious, to cast a shadow of doubt over my so-far-safe choices, to open me to the multitude of choices by firmly closing down one or two, to give me a fresh air.

It feels like being born again. I don't know how long this feeling will last. I might end up sticking to the seemingly safe path again. But, it is relieving, to say the least, that I am not blind to the options now. If only I can follow my heart, journey is going to be exciting.

One thing I keep reminding myself of is that whatever I do, it's going to be with a body and mind abused for over 25 years. The effect can't be undone in a day or two, with most of it permanent. At the same time, the experience I've had is a wealth too. I have seen some good changes happening in me, over all these years, though I suspect if they are shallow and if I shall remain the same, underneath it all.

By the way, I read Harry Potter and thoroughly enjoyed it. I wanted to write more about it, but let me save it for later. Now reading 'One hundred years of solitude'.

Sticking to my old habits will help me, by intoxicating me and making me rush across the doors of change, I think.

Bloody, whatever I write, it doesn't touch what my heart is going through. What's the point, then? Why is it so? My usual secretive self? May be. Ego? Of course, a possibility.

Forget it; I'm getting used to it. Whatever one does, it seems to be only a substitute of something one couldn't do. Ha haa! Curse the moment I started thinking; probably I didn't get a biscuit then.

Life is beautiful

Few minutes back, I wrote a mail to one of my friends.
It had these few lines...

Life is beautiful, don't you agree?
Will I say this again, even after seeing Somalia, Lebanon, Hiroshima, Gujarat and Bombay? Or after seeing poverty, exploitation, failures, frustrations, bitter relationships and needless hatred?
I think, there is no other choice. I will say it again.
Life is beautiful, don't you agree?

Even as I clicked 'Send' button, I remembered my previous post in this blog, cribbing about life. Which one of these is true? To be frank, I was honest, in both the occasions. Isn't this beautiful? that one can be honest and come up with two opposite ideas about one thing?

Ok! I agree, this is too much. When I wrote that mail, I thought that this pain, struggle itself is beautiful. That's a state of mind, probably.

Still I stand by it?

Will I say 'Life is beautiful', standing in that small village 'Thiruvarangam' (not Sreerangam, this is different), near that old Perumal temple, on the banks of the river that has no water now, looking at the vast area of dry sand, that spreads across and tells you how big the river had been, once upon a time?

Come on, be frank. You are traveling in a train. Just one moment. Your co-passengers have fallen dead or are dying, you see blood and burnt flesh everywhere. Will you say 'Life is beautiful'?

Why? you are going home from office at 7 PM and are caught in a nasty traffic jam and a severe head-ache. Will you dare say 'Life is beautiful'?

No, I don't think I will.

But, give me one moment to reflect upon. Give me some time. I might say 'Life is beautiful'. Probably, this is what makes it beautiful.

Title?

And, whose life is this I am living?

I dissolve in words that lie in mind and evaporate into words that clog my heart and suffocate my lungs.
I exaggerate, I know.
I know I am underestimating and any amount of exaggeration won't be sufficient.
There are things to replace these words...
Music?
Dance?
Any damn entertainment?
Physical exercise?
Meditation?

How about life?
Mine.
And, where is it?

Convicted Escapist

Earlier this year, a haircut I had and a shave I chose not to have left me with hair of 5mm length all over my head and face. (Well, except the considerable area on my head which had forgotten the art of hair growing!) One of my friends, on seeing this, commented that I looked like an 'escaped convict'. I replied him, "I may look so, but actually I am a 'convicted escapist'!".

Childhood dreams and desires, adolescent dreams, desires and ambitions give way to a nothingness, due to failures or awareness or laziness or all of these. One grows into an individual, truly alone. Everyone, including one's parents, siblings and friends, is other people. (One remembers Sartre's remark: 'Hell is other people') One carries no responsibility, except the ones that are strictly his alone.

We, four friends, were traveling in Tuticorin Express, from Nellai to Bangalore, when one of them expressed his concern about the image of India that would be formed in a foreigner's mind when he sees all the ugliness that prevails and atrocities that happen here. I replied, "Well, I don't identify myself with my state or country or language or anything. So, tell me if I'm doing anything wrong. I am not concerned about anything that others do"

One sees around all the good people doing the bad things, thinking what they think good is THE good! Whole media is heated up in discussion about a national issue. There are people for and against a certain thing. One finds the truth in both. Don't ask, why can't one find out the best solution! One might come up with a best solution, but why should it be considered the best by the rest? One recognizes and respects the right of others to differ from him. And, nothingness prevails.

During one lunch discussion, a friend says that we have to choose between the devil and the deep sea. Yes, we were discussing about Tamil Nadu politics. I reveal my decision of never voting again. He asks, "But in democracy, do we have a better option?" My answer is, "Democracy? That wasn't MY choice". "I don't need anyone to represent me in assembly or parliament or temple. I am not going to mistake other individual's ambitions to be in my interest. I don't need it"

One calls it 'individualism' at times, 'wisdom' some times. There are more: ignorance, foolishness, arrogance. And, one day, one starts suspecting that it is escaping from one's responsibilities, even after being aware. One starts accusing oneself of being an escapist. But this doesn't stay forever. One is thrown between the extremes, hit hard in each point that lie between! Some call this is masochism (not in a sexual context, of course)! How about machoism?

Forget the isms!
One is convicted by oneself for being aware of being an escapist (or whatever).

BEST FROM THE WORST

As I mentioned in my previous post...
Here are the best ones I liked from me, during the past few months period!
I feel, it's these strong emotions (up or low, right or left) that bring out the best. But these are only the second best, first one being the peace and calmness and creation therefrom.

ok! Here I go!

Let me start with one of the drawings!



And more...
*When I touch Love, that's where I should stop a post titled 'Gone with the wind'

*I thought I was bored. Guess I wasn't.

*What were her pebbles? Is it those date fruits or me?

*Worst of all is, I cannot decide to be innocent. There is no looking back, is there?

*So, I was going to tell and I felt ridiculous.
I was telling and I felt ridiculous.
I told and heard 'Ridiculous!'.

*towards a new future
as old as his past.

*This is the best! March 21st. A sacrificial lamb lead the priest to the altar. Got killed and rested convinced. Felt ridiculous all through the process!

*the person, who asked me to keep in touch, but wished just the opposite.

*I choose to just go over all my options again and again, and then to play a game of Hearts! It's easy when played on a laptop.

*I became blind to all the other possibilities and by then the question had vanished unable to survive my constant stare at it. Questions don't get answer; They disappear. And, you are left with the answer you would have liked, anyway

*I saw a corpse there, starting to disintegrate right in front of the eyes of its creator

* A friend: Hope you are sporting your green shirt always :) (clue: Green on Valentine's day means the wearer is waiting)
Me: My green shirt? I left it in Bangalore. I haven't brought anything green, except for Medimix soap. Even that I am not using nowadays. :-) I have green-gram powder instead, oh another green! But when you beat it, break it and grind it, it's not green anymore. It becomes as pale as dead. (Wow! I like this. I got it perfect, didn't I?)

*A friend: Good luck on that. You wil find answers to a lot of life's dilemmas after that
Me: Hmmmm... I don't see anything happening in the near future. I'm not wearing green anyway.
If anything happens, I don't think I will find answers to the dilemmas. I will just have to ignore few of them, because I would have chosen a different path. Only way for these dilemmas to go seems to be the pressing necessity of choosing a path where you wouldn't have time/energy/heart for those questions again. Will I do it!!? Don't know.

I'M HAPPY TODAY

I was walking, alone, in the midst of unknown flowers that spread the fragrance in the air and happiness in the minds. I wondered that it has taken more than a month for me to walk here and to know the existence of these flowers in the neighborhood.

So, what happened today that made me do this?
It's not something that happened today. Probably everything that has been happening for the past few days have helped me to regain what I had lost.

This morning, I unsubscribed from the groups that call themselves 'pessimists', 'terminally single' etc. Just a few days back I thought I have been a pessimist from birth. How did I forget the rainy evenings that I walked in Koramangala streets, gently touching the road side tree leaves making them shower their blessings on me? How did I forget the heavy rains that washed all my thoughts down, while I was lying on the BTM house terrace, with just a towel around my waist? How did I forget the kids that smile at me? How did I forget the moments that filled me with ecstacy, wherever I was in, temple, travel, in front of a TV or a book, or alone!

Thanks to,
* this space, which allowed me to pour down all I had in my mind.
* the Sunday evening, which led me to this, probably
* the movie 'Pleasantville'!
* Time, which heals the worst of one's wounds.
* hearts which I feel I'm close to.
* one who made all this possible!

My next post is going to be my best! (no blind optimism, this)

SMILE IN PLEASANTVILLE-2

This Sunday evening, I was sitting on a bench, reading a book. Shouldn't it be the other way? Reading a book, sitting on a bench? No. In my case, primarily I was sitting on the bench. While I was reading, there was another thread of thought running, which could relate and converse with the book. The chapter was about boredom and the thought was about my interests. And, I thought I had some clear understanding of both at the end of it. But now I don't remember what exactly it is!

Earlier in the afternoon, I watched the movie 'Pleasantville' . I liked the movie very much.

Here is the story of the movie.
David and Jennifer somehow go back in time, into the town Pleasantville of a 1950's TV serial called Pleasantville. While they need to wait to come back to present, their presence changes the town and the lives. There are people accepting the new, there are people who hate the new things in their town. How the whole town comes to Life, is the rest of the movie.

Comedy?
Yes, it's a comedy. But a lot more. The serial was telecast in Black and White era. So, Pleasantville has no colours. But, people who feel the life in them start appearing in colours. This outrages the old-timers and the town committee passes orders against the 'coloured' people. A husband is spellbound and horrified when his wife answers his question 'what were you doing' with a simple 'thinking'.

More?
As it happens with any revolution, here this change is made visible and partly possible through arts and literature. Town committee orders the closure of the library. 'Public' burn the books and destroy the building that has the paintings.

Watching this movie, I realised how we get used to things and how we long to maintain the status quo. We like change, but not too much of it! But when you see the real life inside, you live in the present not worrying about the next moment.

This movie can give insights in indivual, spiritul, political or social planes.
There can be hundreds of better movies out there. But the impact this movie had on me was just immense.

This movie had a girl, whose smile was wonderful. It had the innocence, wonder, love and ... and... Life. I was smiling with her all the way. How beautiful, a smile is! When she cried, I did it too. How beautiful, a smile is! As I became aware of the happiness that this smile created in me, I was also reminded of my hatred and jealousy. I have been trying to get rid of these, but success is only superficial. Suddenly, this smile showed me a way out of these. At least I thought so.

I am not going to tell everything I thought. Words kill the feeling. When I put down them here in words, I feel guilty of killing something. (as I wrote in "One more in my mortuary")

The book I read and the movie I watched made me write a mail, working in the order mentioned above, though their chronological order was the opposite.

I wrote a few paragraphs, explaining what it is for, what I want, in response to my urge to replace some untold pain with a smile. And I saw a corpse there, starting to disintegrate right in front of the eyes of its creator. I deleted them and replaced with 'I deleted a few paragraphs, which were present in the place of this single line'.

Just before clicking on 'send', I buried that line too. Now, the mail looked much better. I am trying hard to smile!

P.S: I posted this yesterday. Today I enhanced it and suffixed the title with '-2'! Also, I undid one compromise I had done earlier. :-)

Few Twenty Firsts

Today, May 21st.

I remember 1991's May 21, I was in Thalayolaparambu, Kerala to spend my summer vacation. Rajiv Gandhi was assassinated and a man who came to my uncle's shop accused us all Tamils for that.

There was 2005, Dec 21, which saw me wandering along the streets, talking to myself over an important thing. I was trying to decide. Should I, shouldn't I? I decided in the affirmative but it was only three months later, only after I became blind to all the other possibilities and by then the question had vanished unable to survive my constant stare at it. Questions don't get answer; They disappear. And, you are left with the answer you would have liked, anyway.

Then came 2006, Jan 21, a Saturday. I was at home, alone, trying to draw a particular drawing, which I was trying for quite some time then. And on that day, I was successful. I have taken it with me, but haven't taken out yet. Let me see how long I can resist!

Feb 21, 2006. Nothing much to say. I was battling myself again.

This is the best! March 21st. A sacrificial lamb lead the priest to the altar. Got killed and rested convinced. Felt ridiculous all through the process!

On April 21st, I started my flight to U.S. And, I wrote the following.

Bangalore Airport. 9:35PM, 21st Apr 2006.

I have a choice, now.
A choice that gives me freedom to choose one from so many options.
I can continue reading 'Midnight's children', from where I left a week ago.
I can take out AK Ramanujan's poems, close eyes, open any page of the book and read.
I can watch TV, though it's some stupid program running.
Or, listen to one of the hundreds of songs I have in my laptop.
Or, just keep looking around.
Or, eat something from the coffee day outlet here.

But, I don't know what to do.
There is another luring option; I can just sit there and start thinking.
About what?
About my parents, who had come to send me off...
My project and the hard work and a harder manager that await me in the USA...
Or, about a call that I wanted to make before leaving, but didn't.
About the person, whom I wanted to talk to, but didn't.
About the person, who asked me to keep in touch, but wished just the opposite.

But I choose to just go over all my options again and again, and then to play a game of Hearts! It's easy when played on a laptop.

JORNEY JUST STARTED

When I was browsing a web site searching for an apartment to rent or a roommate to share it with, I found a fortune forecast for me. It read 'you will inherit a big amount today'. Good one for a classifieds page, isn't it? But, I realized suddenly that it was true. Just a few hours back, I had gone to a Bank of America branch here to close my old account and open a new account. To my surprise, she told that I had more than 1100$ in my old accounts. I didn't expect anything over a 500 dollars, frankly. So, isn't that an inheritance (though not a big amount)? From whom? From Vidyasakaran of 2003, who had come to Texas, USA.

That's how his financial planning was. He never knew how much money, in US Dollars, he had here. Never cared to check that. Was prepared to hear the news that his bank account was closed due to inactivity.

And, as on today, I am no better in financial planning. I remain the same in that aspect. I don't regret my carelessness.

Leave financial planning out, I have changed, I think, and how!

In 2003 August, I landed here as an ardent devotee, believer. Now, I don't worship, I don't pray. Though I have taken the painting of Lord Shiva (which I had brought and worhipped last time) with me now, (just in case...) it is still inside my suitcase, uncovered.

In 2003, I went to office everyday with sacred ash prominently smeared on my forehead, more prominently because of my complexion. Now, it is more than a year since I stopped wearing ash, since I dropped it when I realized that it had become just a habit.

Three years back when I came, I had a few senior colleagues whom I was depending, for everything. And, I was quite happy about that. They did everything for me. I just continued my home life, which I was missing from the time I left for my college in 1996. I didn't drive, I didn't plan trips, I didn't activate my ATM card, didn't take a credit card, didn't buy a phone card. I enjoyed my surrender to them. I had even compared that with Vaishnavism's total surrender, in my thoughts, then. I was taken care of, thoroughly.

Now, I still live with the help from guys here and that is intolerable. I would like to break myself free and go out and live all alone, whatever that might take. It can be probably because I am one of the senior guys here. Or because, I don't know these people before. But, I don't think I will ever be able to as carefree as I was.

Last time, I was overwhelmed looking at this country, at least for the first few days. Now, it's not there. OK, it had disappeared within the first few days of my last trip, but it came back strongly, when I saw Mumbai, Bangalore Airports and Bangalore roads on my way back. Now, it seems to be a usual place, some times. At other times, I long to be in the midst of pollution and commotion of Bangalore.

Last time, I landed with my suitcase containing Bhagavad Gita (which I read every morning for well over 2.5 yrs) and War and Peace (Leo Tolstoy). When I went back, I had Atlas Shrugged, I had just started reading then.
Now, I didn't take Gita. I have brought Midnight's Children, JK's Commentary on Living and Amartya Sen's Argumentative Indian.

Three years back, I came here with a mind that was in peace, that had faith, that was clear. Happy? I said peace, what more one wants? I never had to stop and wonder if I was happy. A real evidence to say that I was happy, right?

Now, I can't say I'm very happy. Just out of a, should I write this, failed dream, though it still lingers and tortures now and then. Add to that all these... New into a project which has been going on for long time. No idea about my place in the team. Little idea about the work I'm going to do. Above all these, confusion over future, present and the past. No idea what I want to do in life. No, I'm not going to add more.

So, that's how it is right now...
I have to get my driver's license, get a good place to stay and probably a car, credit card. Oh... I just hate all the work I have to do for these things. But, I am not going to let anyone else do these for me.

Bye for now.

IS THERE A WAY OUT?

I had gone to one of my relatives' house on Saturday. After lunch, I was alone watching TV. K.Vishwanath's 'Sippikkul muthu' was being telecast in RAJ TV. I could watch only half of the movie as I had to leave from there.

Watching the movie made me cry. It's not just 'tears-in-my-eyes' stuff; I was literally crying. It was not for Kamal's character in the movie or the hardships faced by Radhika as young widow. Being selfish as I am, I can only cry for myself. I cried for my lost innocence. I cried, detesting all the knowledge i have gained; all the calculations my mind can do in a second; all the books I have read; all the things that this world has taught me; all the things that I have willingly learnt.

Worst of all is, I cannot decide to be innocent. There is no looking back, is there?

Humanness and the Self

There was a review for 'The Prophet' (Kahlil Gibran) in Metro Plus, a few days back. I don't remember who had reviewed though. The reviewer had mentioned about two more writers in the review. Below are the excerpts from the review.
"Gibran, Rumi and Rilke make a little bridge outwards from the cocoon of self-reliance and self-help that we seem doomed to weave around ourselves".
"Reading them, you can feel how the pain of suffering your humanness is the mystical journey most near you, the most accessible".

This interests me, as I wonder if I am in a self made cocoon. At the same time, I wonder if I have already crossed those bridges only to reach this cocoon. I have read 'The Prophet' and I liked it very much then. Probably I have to re-read it and try to get Rumi and Rilke too.

AFTERTHOUGHT

My previous post...
I realize it is not that easy to say 'Good Bye!'.

As I do all these, I see that there is something inside me that looks at and smiles at me. It is that 'something' that keeps me awake and alive and safe from going insane. But, how different that 'thing' can be from me? It's me, again, isn't it? I am just a collection of these various 'things'. So, drama goes on. But deep inside, I feel, it's really difficult to say 'Good bye'. If one expects me to say that it is impossible, I'm sorry. If one says that one can't say 'Goodbye' if his love is true, then I doubt if I will ever live to see that 'true' love in me. If I am going to cause more pain than anything else to that person, if that person shows clearly that she is not at all interested in me, what else is the way?

My habit of questioning and analysing everything, including my emotions, might well be an obstacle to someone to come closer to me. And, this is what has made me keep a distance from everyone and everything. A happy-go-lucky, little emotional and a little sensible person may be a lot more fun to be with, I agree. I am not at all fun. I live with questions.

I am not at all worried if someone who knows me reads this and enquires me about all this. I am really surprised at me for this! I can face the whole world and tell 'yes!', even if 'good bye' is all what I'm going to hear/say at the end of all this.

It feels like I am in control with my life. I want to be accountable for everything I do. Am I trying to prove that I am not worried about my well-wishers' opinions? Probably yes. Again, that 'thing' in me starts laughing at me now. I can't be angry to him. He might have a point.

Gone with the Wind

In today's 'The Hindu', there was a news item, which said that the tests for Avian Flu have shown positive results in Gujarat. Just below that, a photograph showed people from some Poultry Welfare Association eating chicken and egg in a public place to (dis)prove a point.

Yesterday, I completed reading 'Gone With the Wind' by Margaret Mitchell, which I was reading for the past few weeks. A moving experience. When I read the Avian Flu news today, I was reminded of Ashley in Gone With the Wind, who loses his old world that he belonged to, at the break out of the civil war. He is shown as a loser who was not able to adapt to the changed times, though he was very much aware of it, even before it changed. But, Rhett Butler, who makes most of the changed situation, aka fall of a civilization, longs to go back to his old days, at the end of the novel. Even before that, he starts making amendments for everything he did before.

That set me thinking about me, as it happens invariably every time. Will I be able to survive if the times change now? If the industry I work for breaks down? If the country that I live in goes for war? If the world that I live in is to face new dangers? Though at first it looks like I will struggle more than Ashley, I feel, I will be able to make it. Reason is, I don't feel I belong to the present times in the first place. Not with the present times, not with the place I live in, not with the country I am born in, not with the job I am doing, not with the group I live with. No. I don't have a feeling of belongingness. If the present is denied, probably I will get to know if I really belonged to something. What will that do to me? Will it break me down? I don't think so. I think, becoming aware of what I belonged to, I might pursue life with a better interest. (So, am I looking for a disaster, just to keep me high? Horrifying!) Or probably, I might continue to do anything just to be alive on that day, with no belonging feeling again.

Oh! I just realize that my previous sentence probably explains what Scarlett did in that novel. But, at the climax, she does realize that she loves Rhett. (If one doesn't realize love, how can one say it was there? It's like this. They say that a cow knows only two colors black and white. We know a few more. But there might be a lot which we can't recognize. So they don't exist to us, do they? mmmm... probably it's not like this) OK. When I touch Love, that's where I should stop a post titled 'Gone with the wind'.

WHY HERE?

Why do I write here? Is it because I haven't got one to listen to all these things? Probably. I know, it can be quite boring for someone to listen to all the blabbering that I do. And, when I get someone who is willing to listen, probably I won't write here. But, there will always be something that you have, with no takers.

How about sharing thoughts with other people? I'm interested. But I won't consider blog as the medium for that. Now, it's just dumping the thoughts. You go through a few of posts in several blogs and you get hooked to someone's way of thinking. And, then comes sharing of thoughts. But, it will never be equal to having someone near you to share your thoughts.

So, basically, what I think I'm doing here is talking to myself. And, talking to nobody, when there is nobody listening, and I wish there is someone.

Let me sign off, before I get into my usual wandering...

WAS I WRONG?

I got new spectacles. Power? athigamillai gentleman, 0.5 Right and 0.25 Left. After wearing this, ground under my feet seems to have gone a bit farther from me. I mean, I feel a little taller than what I thought I was. Not just me, everyone and everything looks a bit taller than what I perceived them to be earlier. Now, Is it just the effect of these new lenses? Or, was I wrong all these days? I will never know, I think.