When you once were mine...

this post is a very different one than my others.. a whole different genre, if you will... :)

running... mild trepidation and ecstatic expectation jostling for my attention... oh my God! it's the first time i'll be seeing you in the longest time... you're early, i'm late... the train pulled in 10 minutes to soon.. you're waiting for me... the coffee shop, the auto stand... coffee shop? food... i haven't eaten dinner, but you said on the phone that you've had a bite... your voice on the phone! i drove like i was possessed, like i was crazed by my need to see you... i was only a few minutes from that voice then... only a few seconds now...

atm machine... do i cash out now? screw it, i wanna see you first... oh, how i have waited... i have to see you now!

there's the coffee shop! the run is slowing to a jog... what'll i say? what'll you say? i can't ease the tension with a joke.. especially not on whatever you might have done to your hair... i saw you last as a beautiful girl on a train.. i'll see you now as my beautiful girl on the train... the equation is different... will we see it right away?

i see you! i see you! i slow down further into a walk... your hair is different... you have that slightly hard look on your face, a natural hard set of the jaw... you're blankly looking at nothing... your i-pod in hand, bag slung on your back... waiting... i'm walking upto you, the distance is fading, the moment is coming...

i'm within 5 feet of you... you look up, you see me, you smile... it's a little forced... i was right.. it is weird for both of us... we both want to meet, to see each other, explore the mystery that we present to each other.. but the first look is always difficult... nervous half-hug... i'm talking, but what am i saying? i don't know, i think you don't either...

home...
a nice warm bath after the long train journey... you've changed into a t-short and shorts... i'm wondering if you were thinking about all the times i've said that i'll judge your legs... you have't disappointed!! and you're crazy to not like them... i do..


i anticipated the awkwardness.. i know you did too... a movie, a comedy.. that should lighten the mood... the movie is on, the light is on... we're on the bed, backs rested against the wall, while the laptop plays Tropic Thunder, amplified on the plugged-in stereo sound system... your hand, God, i want to hold your hand!! i can feel the tension... we both want something to happen, but how?

movie's over.. you're hungry.. glad i picked up that second chicken roll... you're eating it at the dining room table.. you look beautiful.. hehe, you look sweet, fumbling with that roll...

back on the bed, looking ahead... we're talking about something or the other.. you put your head on my shoulder... i put my arm around you... we embrace... it happens so naturally, so instinctively, so fluidly... your lips are so soft, so amenable, searching, feeling, playing, teasing... somehow the light is turned off, and in the darkness gently pierced by the dim illumination from lights outside, i begin to see you... as layer after layer of inhibition is peeled off with our clothing, we throw ourselves into the discovery of each other, dissolving into each other, creating a bond of feeling, emotionality, dependence, joy, hope, togetherness, belonging... the gasps with every fresh frontier reached, every boundary crossed... all else is irrelevant, any thoughts not conducive to our frenetic rapture seeming too distant to matter... our passion elevates us to a state of semi-consciousness... we find completion, finality, fulfillment, release, in each other... there is only you, nothing but you...

dawn breaks... daylight shines upon you, accentuating the colour of your flawless skin...
we find a perfect fit in each other's embrace, meaningful nothingness, opaque clarity, serrated spokes of auburn fire in your iris converging in your pupil
... i lose myself everytime i look into your eyes, those beautiful eyes... a dreamy sleep begins to descend upon us... as my eyes begin grow heavier, i look at you again, eyes shut, half-smiling, at peace, your hand still in mine... and then i realise...

You get me closer to God...

What if...?

What if you had a dream? A beautiful dream. One well worth waiting for, working towards. You knew right in the beginning, you’d have to earn the right to live the dream. You’d have to make something of yourself. You’d have to surpass expectations beyond anything even remotely ordinary. You’d have to shine so bright, that any detractors are blinded into submission, before the dream could be realised.

What if you realized, much later, that the dream may (will) never be realized? That the world will not let you have it, and it is not simply a question of a struggle with the world, but also with yourself. What if, despite every attempt at accepting what appears to be the inevitable, with every resolute promise of changing priorities, all you really seem to want, however foolishly, is that and only that dream. What if, despite the dream itself on so many occasions turning into a nightmare, convincing you that pursuance thereof can mean near inevitable ruin, you wanted nothing more than to be ruined?

What if you stoically stopped yourself from realizing at least a portion of that dream because you considered it somewhat premature and fleeting at that point, and then you later realised that that was probably the only bit of your foot that you might have gotten through the door? What if day after day you were tormented with the thought that every chance of achieving the dream was being wrenched away from you, and you fought with yourself reminding yourself that you knew this was inevitable? What if you are close to losing that fight for sanity, yet again?

What if one day it truly did become totally impossible to achieve the dream? Would you still do all you would need to to make yourself worthy of a dream you can never realize? Would you rise like a phoenix for no apparent purpose, a victor of a battle for a prize that is already lost?

I would. I will.

Knotty Boy

Tis a precarious time in which I find myself living. No, I’m not talking about terrorism, nor religious extremism, nor linguistic / cultural dogmatism, or anything like that. My problem (if indeed I could call it that) is a little more immediate. It is the phenomenon of many of my friends / acquaintances getting married, many more of them talking of getting married (which includes stories of ‘loser guys asking for blood types in the first meeting’, or ‘he was good looking, ya, but then he started talking!!!’ etc.), and of course, that stage in my life when I suddenly start attending weddings of people I actually know.

After the mind of every wedding planning parent / bride / groom / professional has been assailed by an unrelenting stream of wedding based films from Bollywood, and other Indian ‘woods’, there are some elements that are increasingly becoming common in most every wedding, or shall we say, pre-wedding. One such element is the concept of the ‘Sangeet’ programme before a wedding. My very limited attempts to understand the modalities of this programme revealed that it is traditionally something done by the bride’s side, but these days, I don’t think anybody really cares how it happens.

Being precariously close to an age (or maybe at an age) when the world seems only too happy and eager to tell you to get married [some like Bossina even gratuitously offering to speak to the parents of one girl I once had a crush on (hmmm… not a bad way to get some cred with chicks.. eheheheh)], I apprehend that I am only a few steps away from feeling like a donkey that people are trying to pin a tail to. But then, there are some positives to be thought about.

Seeing all the pre-marriage new-age twists to some enduring rituals or customary pratices, I think I want to have a wish-list for when the inevitable hammer falls on my bachelorhood, sealing its fate for good (or atleast till the time when I can afford alimony). So here goes:


BIKRAM’S WISH-LIST FOR WHEN HE FACES THE MUSIC

1. Bachelor Party – Yes, this concept has crept into yuppy India from the West. Such a party is not restricted to only bachelors, but married men can also attend (and feel sorry for themselves). I don’t need strippers, but there will be alcohol, the smokers can smoke, no drugs, but Babu must dance to ‘Das bahane karke le gaya dil’ (classic sight, I say!!). Women unrelated to the bride or the groom invited. Clothing optional for women, a must for men.

2. Sangeet – It’ll be my side doing it. And it will not be a bunch of dances, some old people singing bhajans / ghazals, and certainly not a bunch of fat aunty’s, one on a dholak / pakhwaj, singing a bunch of shaadi songs. Hell no!!! It will be the much awaited reunion concert of Ehsaas!! That’s right, the Sangeet programme for my marriage will be a friggin’ rock concert!!! And we will blow the crowd away!!!

3. Post-marriage pre-coital prank – I want the woman that I marry to know that essentially she will have tied the knot with a man who revels in craziness (of the fun / funny variety. PMS and similar hormonally induced strains of madness not included). The Mag 7 + 1 are an insane bunch, each with his own unique madness, and the combined effect of all us madcaps can be embarrassingly devastating. Seeing as playing a prank on the bride and groom on their first night as a married couple is also somewhat traditional, my inputs will of course be missing. The other 7 (i.e. Mag 7 – 1 + 1) will no doubt be able to think of something suitably (in)appropriate to do, so that the poor soul that ends up with me is well aware of the kind of people whom I shall hold dear to my life as long as life holds onto me (in addition to my family, out of whom my two elder brothers, seeing as I am aware of stories displaying their own considerable levels of madness, may participate in playing the prank on me along with the Mag 7 – 1 + 1).

I am not aware of any other pre-marriage rituals as of now. I welcome feedback as to other things that happen, so that I may make appropriate additions to my wish-list.

DISCLAIMER: The above is not, and shall not be construed in any respect whatsoever to be an indication of, averment to, or expression of, any desire, interest, inclination, submission, invitation, proposition, offer or solicitation on the part of the Author of the idea of getting married at anytime in the short-term (which expression, unless repugnant to the context, shall mean and include any period of time as may be decided upon at the sole discretion of the Author). The Author hereby disclaims all responsibility and liability for any acts or omissions on the part of any person(s) that may have been motivated from the text contained above, and which are not beneficial to the Author, and the right to determine whether or not such act or omission is beneficial to the Author shall rest solely with the Author.

Ladies and Gents (particularly the Ladies) Forgive me!! :)

over lunch today a few of my colleagues and i were lamenting on our various experiences with the maladorous olfactory essence of another colleague of ours who, fortunately, was not present at the time (by the way, that's just a complicated way of saying that that guy suffers from body odour, or actually, it's us who suffer). an idea struck me, and i made it into a lil parody of a very famous song, just the first part tho. maybe i should develop on it. i used to write lil parodies and trash songs not too long ago. it's just for fun, but the idea of what happens in the song scares me, and i sincerely hope it never happens to you (and me of course!!)...

[To be sung to the tune of 'Thriller' by the late great Michael Jackson (R.I.P.)]

it's close to midnight
your girl n you are walking to the park
under the moonlight
you hear a sound that almost stops your heart
you start to freeze
so hoping that it will just fly away
but there is no breeze
to clear the air and it's tearin you apart
it's your girl's FART!!!

and it's a STINKER!
a stinker tonight
and no one's gonna save you from the draught of your stinky plight
yes it's a stinker
(pee-yooo!!!)
a stinker tonight
you're fighting for your life
beside the Killer Stinker
tonight!!!!

[ha ha ha ha.. (cough).. (choke)... (gag)...]

The Life of Me # 1

so i get a phone call today:

girl: hey, you wanna meet up for lunch?
me: ok
girl: two 'o clock?
me: ok
me: (on second thought) actually, it'll be better if we can meet up in the evening.
girl: no, ya. in the evening i have gym. and then i have an exhibition(???)
me: (chuckle) that sounds rather provocative!
girl: huh?
me: that sounds provocative
girl: uhuh, and i've to get my stuff for that
me: (good God!) ok, lunch it is!

A Pill for all Seasons

i read an article today. well, 2 articles in one, kinda. both made me happy.

The first, because i sympathise, since in this particular case, i'll never be able to empathise.

The second, because i like my lean, boyish looks...

The link to the article is below:

http://www1.lite.epaper.timesofindia.com/mobile.aspx?article=yes&pageid=19&sectid=edid=&edlabel=TOIM&mydateHid=09-10-2009&pubname=Times+of+India+-+Mumbai&edname=&articleid=Ar01900&publabel=TOI&max=true

the future will come, though it might just take a while...

I really wonder what they mean sometimes...

i can't help but smile continually as i write this one. my life is a wonderous journey of irony, blending often into sublime and stark realisations. of course, my 'realisations' are subjective, they may not reflect the truth. then again, truth is a layered concept. there's my truth, there's your truth. i guess very often my realisations are simply what i, or a silly part of me, wishes to be true (even today, it seems!!).

years ago, a woman who i deeply loved then once asked me jokingly if i would give up being a non-vegetarian if she married me. the lovesick fool that i was, and so thoroughly jolted was i at the thought of such a dreamy outcome as of our 'shared future' (well, besides not eating meat, of course), i stupidly blurted out that i would gladly do so. the prospect of our impending marriage realistically faded away in the laughter of my peers at my awkward admission.

years later, yesterday in fact, a woman i deeply loved once, asked me if i'm ready to get married. it was not a proposition, (at least not exactly directly so ;) but a simple question. my answer was candid and honest (and a reflection of my self-confidence, or egotism, whichever way you wanna see it); i don't want to right now, but if i did, i'd make a damn great husband, and, when the time came, a damn good father as well. what should have struck me at the time was the suddenness of the question, which came without any preamble. it was out of the blue, although marriage is something this woman had frequently discussed with me earlier, without me being a factor therein. immediately after i answered, a friend asked that woman as to whether she wanted to get married. the woman replied emphatically that she was willing to tie the know that very instant.

the irony of the moment struck me immediately then, as it strikes me now, and the smile unrelentingly creeps onto my face when i think of it, as i will probably do at various points in the future. the fact remains that there were 4 of us, but she asked only me. she asked only me.

what can we ever make of the intentions and meaning of the words of the fair distaff, so often buried in such deep subterfuge? perhaps i should be grateful that the possibility of what could have been meant by her question (and her answer) does not sting as badly today as it once did. or does it?

you know why i hate women? cuz do what i will, and try as i do, i don't think i can ever really fully stop loving them.

सूअर-ly a good thought!!

i got a forwarded message yesterday on my cell phone... if you excuse the language, i found the message quite appealing. thought i'd share it. i've reproduced it as received:

"900 ppl gt Swine Flu & d whole World wants 2 wear Surgical Masks. 20 Million Ppl hav AIDS, But Bhenchod, nobody wants 2 wear Condoms!! Pas dis 2 all known Fuckers"

to each his own, right? :)

Another milestone in my path to Chauvinism

Take a look at the article in the link below.

http://in.news.yahoo.com/240/20090810/1301/twl-6751773.html

Now this is some seriously maddening stuff!! Go ahead and read the article above, and tell me if at some point you feel in your gut that something’s not quite right! I know I did. I felt at one level that even with the first example of the woman in her hotel room, there was something wrong. And no, please do not mistake this as merely a show of sympathy for the poor working woman! Hell no, how about a little show of faith in the drunk working man!!

It was an office party in the bar downstairs. A coworker with more ‘power’ than the woman called her and asked her to get outta bed and come enjoy the party. She felt threatened by it? Oh yeah, so the next time the guy in charge asks to you to come and chill with everybody else, that’s a threat? You know, I’m gonna look at this from a few angles. Say the guy was drunk and in the mood to fool around. So he called the woman and asked her to get down to the bar. She said she needed to sleep and hung up. Guy told himself, “Oh crap, guess I’ll look to the other chicks for a nightcap.” Or maybe something like, “That chick’s boring as hell! She oughtta let her hair down a lil’.” How about, “I think it makes sense if she came and mixed with everyone else. Good for the team.” Or, for the paranoid, “Goddamn that bitch!!! Here my thingy’s getting all steamed up, and she hangs up on me??? I’ll show her at work tomorrow!!!” Admittedly, there is a possibility that if that last option was a fact, AND it was followed up by some bullshit by the guy at work against the woman, then we’d have a problem. But basically, all that the woman really thought was that the guy was drunk, that he was someone with ‘definitely more power’ than her, and that he was calling her to the Bar at 2 a.m. to party with the rest. And she felt threatened by it.

Bloody hell, I’d be pissed off if some asshole called me at 2 a.m. and asked me to come party. That’s cuz I love my sleep. Now, I’m not a woman, so I don’t have to go through various indignities that they face as a consequence of their gender. Now I feel for them, I really do. Their lot has a tendency of being seriously crappy at times, too many times, really. But for God’s sake, do they have to be threatened by every drunk human with a penis?

It’s in the West, and it’s flowing into the East. No, no, sexual harassment very much exists here, and we don’t need the West to teach us that men here can be pigs too. But the idea of sexual harassment is evolving, and the stuff that’s accepted as unacceptable there is just automatically espoused here. Part of our modernization, perhaps? Just as we meekly accept Microsoft Word converting our ‘s’ to ‘z’ (yeah, I do it too), we’re beginning to accept concepts that might simply be considered a whole lot of bullshit when looked at objectively.

Look, ladies. The guys will think sexually of you whether you like it or not. And my God, that article practically says flirting is illegal!! What the hell is going on here?? We spend a pretty big part of our lives in the workplace, and we can’t even flirt?? If we do, people will start looking for a pattern? Sheesh, get a grip. Anybody got a problem with being made to feel pretty or attractive?? Stop a guy before he drools into your cleavage, sure, but if he thinks your haircut is looking great on you, and he seems to be checking you out, do you seriously have to be threatened by it?

I used to work in this activist place, once. We used to have these little office meetings to discuss issues. Once, the meeting was on sexual harassment at the workplace. We saw a video on the issue, and then began discussing the policy apparently existing in the office. There was no hard copy of the policy, and I don’t know what the fuck we were talking about. There was only one point that people (read: the women) wanted to be firm on; the fact that the policy existing in the office should protect women only. There was a (defunct) wing in that office which was to be working for the rights of the LGBT community. My ‘Boss’ jokingly said that we have LGBT people often working in the office, so what if a gay dude makes unwelcome advances on a male coworker? The women said that the male coworker wouldn’t be protected, which set me off, since I complained that harassment can certainly come from women as well. The entire group of females in the office started fighting with me, saying that women had faced decades of subjugation in society, so our office policy should protect only women, and why should we be any different? Because you’re trying to make a difference, you sloganeering hypocrites! One of the men in that group summed it up perfectly; he said that as long as there are more women than men in that office, the policy would never be gender neutral. I bloody laughed out loud!! Fucking activists!!! For over a week after that day, all the women looked at me like I’m Judas or something, and would whisper snide remarks behind my back. I felt harassed too for a while, but I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Sexual harassment is a real and terrible problem. But when labour lawyers start advising offices about non-fraternisation policies in the office, the need to lighten up a little seems to arise. Goddamn, in my current workplace, one of my earliest assignments was to edit a sexual harassment policy that some female had prepared before I joined. That crazy policy was so bad, that it banned any kind of physical contact between male and female colleagues in the office. If that shit were the norm, we wouldn’t even be able to shake hands!!! Luckily, my Boss trashed it and asked me to make a new policy from scratch.

That news article speaks of how the internet and new communication technologies have allowed for the smallest thing to be potentially ‘misconstrued’. That’s like a way of saying that if you’re a guy, and you have sent a winking emoticon, you’re potentially fucked (in the not happy way)!!! Really? Maybe we shouldn’t hyperanalyse every damn thing we receive as a message or email. Otherwise, what the hell am I supposed to believe when you consider the fact that my Boss’s WIFE sent me that link to that article with the message, “Bikram, for your information”???!!!!

Tell them that it's Human Nature

i received a forwarded email today. i don't know of it's authenticity. i don't particularly care. it touched a raw nerve. my response, as i mailed back, was far tamer in text than my temper would ordinarily allow. the email's s'posed to be the ranting of a US soldier in Iraq who's miffed at America's concern shown at Michael Jackson's death, and the lack of it when soldiers die. I'm putting up the forwarded mail, and my response, just for kicks...

THIS WAS WRITTEN BY A SOLDIER IN IRAQ.

Okay, I need to rant.

I was just watching the news, and I caught part of a report on Michael Jackson . As we all know, Jackson died the other day. He was an entertainer who performed for decades. He made millions, he spent millions, and he did a lot of things that make him a villian to many people. I understand that his death would affect a lot of people, and I respect those people who mourn his death, but that isn't the point of my rant.

Why is it that when ONE man dies, the whole of America loses their minds with grief. When a man dies whose only contribution to the country was to ENTERTAIN people, the Amercian people find the need to flock to a memorial in Hollywood , and even Congress sees the need to hold a "moment of silence" for his passing?

Am I missing something here? ONE man dies, and all of a sudden he's a freaking martyr because he entertained us for a few decades? What about all those SOLDIERS who have died to give us freedom? All those Soldiers who, knowing that they would be asked to fight in a war, still raised their hands and swore to defend the Constitution and the United States of America . Where is there moment of silence? Where are the people flocking to their graves or memorials and mourning over them because they made the ultimate sacrifice? Why is it when a Soldier dies, there are more people saying "good ridence," and "thank God for IEDs?" When did this country become so calloused to the sacrifice of GOOD MEN and WOMEN, that they can arbitrarily blow off
thier deaths, and instead, throw themselves into mourning for a "Pop Icon?"

I think that if they are going to hold a moment of silence IN CONGRESS for Michael Jackson, they need to hold a moment of silence for every service member killed in Iraq and Afghanistan . They need to PUBLICLY
recognize every life that has been lost so that the American people can live their callous little lives in the luxory and freedom that WE, those that are living and those that have gone on, have provided for them. But, wait, that would take too much time, because there have been so many willing to make that sacrifice. After all, we will never make millions of dollars. We will never star in movies, or write hit songs that the world will listen too. We only shed our blood, sweat and tears so that people can enjoy what they have.

Sorry if I have offended, but I needed to say it. Feel free to pass this along if you want.

Remember these five words the next time you think of someone who is serving in the military; "So that others may live..."

[My response]

To the brave soldier in Iraq, and all others that are interested,

From your phraseology, it is evident that you are American. Since you are in Iraq ostensibly to foster democracy, of which the Freedom of Speech and Expression forms an integral part, you will not begrudge me my little reply to your ranting.

At the outset, let me be very clear of one thing; you are a soldier. You fight for your country, you follow orders and you do the best you can (to give you the benefit of the doubt). Your actions and decisions on the field are dictated by your commanding officers and they in turn must seek their instructions from civilian bureaucrats and politicians. So even if you are fighting a senseless, dirty war leading to incalculable loss in terms of money, property and, above all, lives, you are only doing what you believe is your job for your country, which lends a certain degree of credibility to you personally. Thus, even though you do not fight for my country, I appreciate and laud the sacrifice that you make for your own country "so that others may live" (even though many others must die at the same time, but that's not the point of this email).

You have rightly pointed out some of the sacrifices you and others like you are required to make in service of your country. But I am surprised that you have overlooked one other thing that you must sacrifice in the line of duty- individual recognition. You righly feel that the sacrifice of every soldier in the battlefield should be realised and appreciated. Certainly the feeling of security among the citizens of your country is largely at the cost of the lives of many such as yourself. Evidently several war memorials, parades, massive graveyards and walls with names of martyred soldiers is not enough recognition for each of you, and you would like Congress to have moments of silence for the loss of each one of you. This might seem reasonable to you considering you risk your lives to do your jobs. It feels nice to be thought about individually. But in service of your country, you are told repeatedly to be ready to make the ultimate sacrifice. You may believe it's your physical life they're talking about, but what they also mean is that you have to accept your fate as being one who may be trampled and forgotten "so that others may live." I'm afraid you're going to have to be satisfied with a flag over your coffin, trumpets and gunfire at your funeral, and your name etched in a wall, should you die in the line of duty.

Now let's talk about Michael Jackson. You complained of the reaction of a nation to the death of "ONE man". I beg to differ. Michael Jackson wasn't (isn't) "ONE man". Michael Jackson is an idea, a phenomenon, a dream and a miracle. One that asked us to talk to the man in the mirror and ask him to change his ways. One that repeatedly reminded us that it doesn't matter if you're black or white. One that moved in a manner that dazzled generations of people of all races, in all parts of the world, and forced us to wonder how the human body is capable of such magic fluidity of motion. One whose voice touched the hearts of billions of people, including those who didn't even understand the meaning of the words that carried the voice. He opened a world of music, intrinsic and endemic to a historically downtrodden race of people, to the world, thereby also opening the gates for people of all races to celebrate their music in an industry earlier dominated by white skin. Despite terrible allegations, decidedly strange behaviour, and after being reduced to little more than a caricature during the final years of his lifetime in the popular music industry, he still managed to move the world by his death.

You are wrong, Sir, to consider Michael Jackson's influence to be limited to making just one nation grieve his loss. Millions (perhaps billions) of people in several countries of the world have had to accept the bitter fact of his demise. I know I am one of them. But, even you will acknowledge that, growing up, you watched Michael Jackson perform, you heard his songs, and maybe you even loved him for it.

Yes, Michael Jackson was an entertainer. But he didn't just sing songs, make music videos, and take a bow. Through his music he became one with the subjects of his songs, and when those subjects were the starving and downtrodden millions, he mocked the affluent world exclaiming that they don't really care about us. Yes, he was rich, but he stood with the poor and asked us all to heal the world.

For the sake of brevity, I will not extol his virtues any further.

I'm sorry many people don't appreciate the worth of a soldier. I am also sorry you don't appreciate the worth of Michael Jackson.

Sincerely,

Bikram Chaudhuri

An MJ fan

Freedom... At Last...

as i have grown older, there have been much that i have lost, about myself... innocence... a certain degree of righteousness... an abhorrence for smoking... to some extent compassion... and the ability to cry, when i probably should...

i cried today, just a few minutes ago actually... perhaps the reason for my crying will be scoffed at by some that might read this, if not all... it was more than a momentary pang of sorrow, or remorse for what is in the past... it lasted for probably near 5 minutes, and i did not struggle to control the sobs this time (though they were more or less muted)...

the last time i had cried like this, or actually a lil worse than this, was when i woke up in the middle of the night a few years ago, after having dreamt of shooting my brother through the throat with a 9 mm and watching him die, his eyes screaming hatred, vengeance and, above all, agonising pain... there was so much wrong with that picture... neither he nor i hate each other, we have no history even remotely suggesting the need for revenge, and i cannot even think of him in pain, physically or emotionally... i love the guy...

today a brother died, a husband, a father to an unborn child, a friend, a genius... i never knew him really, i knew him only to the extent that they let me... i watched him challenge impossible odds again and again and again... i discovered his immense propensity for loyalty, his utterly selfless desire for helping those in need, his total acceptance of self-sacrifice if it meant the safety and security of the ones he cared about... i also saw his fierce determination, his never-say-die attitude, his unnerving capacity of using all around him to the furtherance of his goal, which was never selfish, always aimed at the protection of others, always guided by his notion of what is right... i watched so many people being confounded by him, deceived, betrayed, all because they had an agenda, because they would mete out far worse to him and his loved ones... his genuis practically mocked the security of an entire nation... destroyed the aspirations of those that could think of none but themselves... and in the end, the villains were served justice, either by a jury or by a swift execution outside of the law, his loved ones survived to live the life of freedom they dreamed of, and he stood with a smile, moments before he made his final sacrifice...

my brother is married today, with a beautiful baby daughter... she's 2, and has only recently started school...

Michael Scofield lies dead and buried... there will never be another episode of Prison Break...

Cuz i say so... # 1

bottomline is, there's nothing that Rajni-can't...

i'm not sure i remember the last time i accessed someone's blog and read a post that is genuinely happy... you know, about life, their own specifically... i read the papers and usually it's about people getting killed, corruption, crazy dictators, sanctimonious demagogy, useless activism.. you get the picture... a lotta people just curse the media, say they hate the news and don't like reading it or watching it because it's all bad... but how many of us are genuinely happy about our lives... before 'mulling over...' starts telling me he loves his life, especially his 'nirlajjam sadasukhi' credo, even he might privately concede that he'd rather be telling his story in circumstances more favourable to him to be truly happy (sorry biks, you're one of the very few who reads this stuff and comments, so i thought i'd anticiapte your reaction first :) ...

we don't seem to be happy in general... maybe we are happy, in spurts... those moments might reflect in our actions and our thoughts.. for bloggers it would be natural to post those thoughts on their blogs... but how often does the genuinely and simply happy, joyful-in-the-moment, non-reflective / introspective post get obliterated by a deluge of sad ones? could someone maybe comment to this with something that's making them genuinely happy right now?

Semantically pedantic

i read an article yesterday in the Indian Express that pissed me off. well, not the idea in the article itself, just the use of a particular word. the article was a report on how safe sex and the spread of HIV/AIDS awareness is leading to lesser kids being available for adoption. now, i think this is excellent in many ways, two of which i wanna discuss.

first, i believe in pre-marital sex. i have come to believe, through enough literature and some minor empirical research, that a healthy sex-life is necessary for a healthy married life. sex, communication and compromise are hallmarks of a good marriage, though not necessarily in that order (i'm talking about the spouses between themselves only, leaving out the added need to be together for the kids and the like). and let's face it, we're born with the necessary mechanism to reproduce, and also with the propensity to enjoy it, but, for us, and chimpanzees, sex it not just about propagation. in fact, sex is hardly ever for propagation for the better part of our lives. i say that sex is primarily for recreation, for enjoyment. so, considering that the healthiness of the relationship to some extent depends on the sex, it follows that the sex must be good for it to continue to be desired by both parties in a relationship. for the guy, things are simple enough, for the gal, they're not. simply put, the guy's got his job cut out for him if he is to satiate the gal. that takes knowledge, patience, self-control, and above all, (in my opinion) practice. that's where pre-marital sex comes in. practiced partners know their way around better, or at least they should. at the very least, they are less inhibited, and are likely to be more proactive in thier sexual relations, getting the partner to do what they want, and giving what they can reasonably expect the partner to want. that'll take that much longer for virginal spouses to figure out, and if the initial encounters are disappointing, that could lead to the disastrous consequence of less future encounters, or fear of intimacy arising from self-doubt over performance. these are not the only arguments i have for pre-marital sex, but that's not the point of this post. anyhow, safe sex, effective use of contraception, diminished need of emergency contraception, but use of emergency contraception when necessary, and hopefully no need for abortions, these are considerations for those indulging in sexual relations outside (or inside) of marriage.

secondly, i think it's great that there are lesser kids available for adoption. that translates to lesser orphans, lesser kids being abandoned, most of them being born due to unsafe sexual practices anyway. i've never been to a childrens' home run by an adoption agency. i've seen a juvenile justice home ('rehab' home for minors convicted of crimes) and it's no picnic. in any case, i don't think it can be a lot of fun growing up as an abandoned child, your closest hope of leading somthing like a normal life depending on the chance of someone thinking you're cute enough to be adopted. or being chucked out of the children's home after you reach a certain age and then trying to scratch a living. heck, if infertile couples think adoption is their best hope, let them go in for IVF, surrogacy, sperm banks. no harm in reducing the number of orphans, is there?

but anyhow, i'm sorry it took this long, but i'll come now to the point of all this. the article had a sentence which reads as follows - "Most of them (adoption agencies) attribute it (lesser kids being available for adoption) to the HIV awareness campaigns advocating the use of condoms, besides availability of emergency contraceptive pills, preventing unwanted pregnancies and leading to fewer illegal births by unwed mothers." (Emphasis mine)

excuse me, "illegal births"? as in births not in accordance with the law? that's got some rather wide connotations, don't you think? the word "illegal" is being thrown around rather flippantly these days, kinda like the word "love". rape's illegal, human and narcotics trafficking is illegal, driving the wrong way down a one-way street is illegal. giving birth out of wedlock is illegal? hey, it's not like these kids have enough to deal with already. start calling their births "illegal" why don't you? i mean after all, they're bastards anyway, why not tell them that the societal fabric equates them to spitting on the street.

for the record, a child born out of wedlock is "illegitimate" for the purpose of family and succession laws. it means that their rights to parents' family property are either limited or non-existent depending on the context. but courts and legislatures the world over, including in India, have held that the illegitimate child is entitled to certain things from his bological parents, like maintenance. they weren't born out of choice, not their own anyway.

fine, i'm prepared to accept that the express news service didn't 'mean it that way'. but this is a premier newspaper we're talking about. how about a little bit of caution in what you write! even if very few people give a shit about those bastards in the first place, at least we're hypocritical enough to be pissed off at incorrect references to their existence. doesn't that count for something these days?

p.s. if u wanna read the article, it's on the front page of the pune newsline supplement to the indian express dated may 25, 2009, monday.

as fights go, last night's was a pretty bad one... having wrapped up a great and eventful weekend at silly-con valley (venture a guess at that one.. it's workable, and the autowallahs are out to con you), i landed back home at night, tired and sleepy. i spoke to her, and told her what i did after she left. she thought i'd blown her off to go visit another friend. i lied stupidly, and got caught. there was no need for it, i could've just said it straight, but i didn't. i fucked up. she gave me hell. i knew i was wrong, even if objectively the issue was small. trust is built gradually over time, like grains of sand rolled into a flawless pearl by the laps of so many waves. but it can erode so much faster by the smallest mistakes. last night was my turn to be a jerk. i aced it. i'm sorry.

This one's for the random posts

i started blogging by writing about random stuff. there was never really any aim, or any point to it. the irony of a blog is that often people post their most private thoughts on their blogs, pretty much for the world to see. i guess it's like the outside world is that stanger on the train, or the bus or whatever, the really great listener you don't really know, the one you pour your heart out to. a bartender would be another stereotype for that in some places.

but screw all that. ever since i started writing 'Freakishy Faithful' on my first blog http://daunplugged.blogspot.com , i've been averse to breaking the sequence of that series and writing about any thoughts that i may have had of late. that's begun to suck, so here's daspeak.. named in the manner of Tyler's (http://gabrielspeakz.blogspot.com) and Rono's (http://ronospeak.blogspot.com) blogs, mainly cuz it was easier to name it that way, and it was available.. so what the heck..

this will probably not be the last post here :)