life, Literary experience, materialistic philosophy, philosophical me

Broken Resolve

You may have forgotten

All the words I have spoken

All the prayers that I once said

May have been destined to be waste.

I have protests to make

Tears to shed

Blood to bleed.

But I swallow my words

Dry my eyes and pause my heart…

All with a hope that you are free from all my grumbles and all my rumbles.

But some fine day,

A few forgotten emotions comes knocking at my doors

My resolve breaks and my walls crumble..

And I ask myself why do I wish to swim like a fish and fly like a bird

When all I can do it walk like a man and cry like a woman…

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materialistic philosophy

Emotionally unresearched and (il)logically argued

It was not so long ago I had a conversation in the canteen below my office which meandered from imperfections to human thinking to randomness of random number generators to evolution in the context of randomness. Somehow, today as I start writing another of my philosophical blogs, I take refuge in evolution to talk about some of the resent happenings of India. Based on human knowledge of evolution it seems human species is the pinnacle of the race of survival of the fittest. It is wounded in our DNA structure to protect ourselves or at least pretend to ourselves to protect ourselves. That is probably the reason why even a person who tries to commit suicide always welcomes help. It is probably a decision taken out of our illogical part of our mind. Why do I say this when I say that I write this blog as a response to recent happenings? This is because somehow my mind does not conform to both mainstream and extremist reactions to the recent grenade attacks in Kashmir.

Now that I have unveiled what made me write.It is perhaps time to mention why does some random comment of probably one of the few parts of India I have never visited bother me, a person born in Assam, lived in Assam, Delhi, Bengal, Andhra(/Telangana), Tamil Nadu (?). For the sake of self-satisfaction, I left the question inside the quote for it gives me immense pleasure to phrase the sentence “I chose to take liberty in my punctuation for my answer lies in the question.”

Assam is one of the states that still has the AFSPA enforced although arguably it is today one of the most peaceful states in India in terms of people killed in terrorist violence. As I grew up, my brain and living memory had been permanently scared by the memories of “Secret Killings”. The killings which were according to a judicial commission by Justice Saikia were perpetuated by ex C.M. Prafulla Kumar Mahanta.Whenever I think of AFSPA, I remember my solitary bicycle ride on the streets of Dibrugarh, after people protesting some recent deaths of two individuals one of them being my ex classmate at school. People say they saw who killed the protesters. But till today nothing has happened.

Funny, may be a very incongruous word, but death does alter the memories towards a person for whom you never had a very positive emotion. Dheeraj was never a great friend of mine at school, it would not be wrong to say we were acquaintance rather than friends but then hearing about his death when I was in class 9 was shocking. For a sheltered teenager, death only strikes old people. While I was in the same house another day altered my subconscious. These were the screams of my neighbor. Assam is very unlike rest of India and we follow a different version of Hinduism and Islam. We were Hindu and our neighbor was Muslim.This neighbor was also a distant relative. It was a love marriage between one of my hindu uncle and an aunt in this family. I would not say we were very distant but we were not very close either. One day, the small kids in the house were crying. Did I say crying? Maybe I am wrong,they were wailing, somehow some of those screams still ring in my ear. They say Army had picked up their father and their uncle. A few days later their mutilated corpse was found. They say they belonged to MULFA (a fundamentalist Muslim terrorist organization). Maybe, they were terrorist, but till date I can’t convince myself of that.

AFSPA and disturbed areas act have no place in a country where citizens are free. It seems more farcical today when terrorism can strike anywhere. Citizens living under the shadow of terrorism are anyways victimized why should be victimized more. Somehow, if a terrorist kills a person I love, I know I can fight back against the enemy by hopefully voting for a candidate who will go after them. If I have enough determination,may be I can join the system and fight the evil. But if some organ of government kills or does not do enough to remove false doubts, it is kind of helpless situation.

Now where do I tie all that I have written together. I will diverge from the common thread tying all my posts. I am not going to end with an open-ended question. I am going to just preach something that I can’t argue for logically: AFSPA is just the fertilizer terrorism needs to breed more terrorist. I shall give no research, no logical arguments just naked emotional memories.

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Hobbies, life, Literary experience, philosophical me

Verse, blank-verse and converse

Although there is no cookbook for wisdom and knowledge, the same cannot be said about the intangible adjective called literate.  For all I can do or wish to do it is now forever etched into my gray matter that the 3 Rs – reading, writing and arithmetic make up the seven course meal called literacy. It is another matter that the gray matter is not gray and arithmetic does not start with an ‘R’ yet this is the very sequence of words I shall tattoo into the minds of any impressionable target that comes across me. Like most middle-class parents of their generation, my parents too thought that I should master the three R’s. I was in school.

The thing about school and blog is that language classes are much more easier to ponder over and ruminate then the numerical theories which I now believe to be the only absolute truth. Scientific theories come and go, Religions are born and buried but if one bird on a tree is joined by another bird, we have only two birds on the tree.The thing about language lessons is that we learn “Twinkle Twinkle little star” and “A for Apple” from beyond the time hidden in my subconscious by the mist of time.  This was my initiation to the world of prose and poetry.

As the years went by, poems changed from small songs to sonnets to blank verse. My English papers periodically had exotic sounding words like “iambic pentameter“. But the thing with poems which I have referred to as verse and blank verse is that I was never really sure if I had diverged from what the writer actually wanted to say. Most of the times , the safe approach was the approach of your teacher.  Even the neurons of time have failed to remove the veil of ignorance that envelops my understanding of words that I had once read.

Even today,some questions remain unanswered. Even today , I can’t help wondering if there is more to the poems than that meets the eye. Even today , I want to wax lyrical but indulge in mundane and intrinsic science called prose writing.

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Hobbies, life, materialistic philosophy

When (a+b)^2 is not quite a^2+b^2+2ab

It has been sometime since the consistent underachiever Spain announced themselves as the true heir of the art called beautiful game. In the days gone by many updates have changed on Facebook, many tweets have been replicated , many tears shed and many decibel violated. In the midst of all these many millions have been made.

May be, we human beings are unlike any other animal or maybe in essence we are still beasts for we go to great lengths to be entertained . We pay magicians to belittle our intelligence, gladiators to kill, and Russell Peters to tell us that we are dick-heads. As times have changed, some forms of entertainment have been condemned to the dark alleys of secrecy under the garb of changing moral values while new forms have crept up to play with the same old neurons.What stays rooted in the midst of this tempest of change is our need to be entertained.

If our lifetimes is any yardstick, competitive sports as a form of entertainment is ancient so is the art form defined by people faking emotions and actions as envisioned by people we call writers. Another fact that binds these interracial twins is that the economics that sometimes shadows and beacons them have been great advances in media. I doubt if any person reading this post has not been to a movie or has not watched the live/deferred live telecast of ones favourite sport.

Having applied the base paint, it is now time for me to reflect on another of mans innovation. We like to classify things, rather we need to classify things. We like to create order in the midst of chaos. Perhaps this carnal need to classify things is what makes us classify movies into genres. We have action movies, romantic ones, fiction, horror and the likes and the unlikes.

This post of mine is largely inspired by the common thread that runs through all great sport movies. We love the underdogs to win against the odds Bhuvan, chak de, rocky or the mixed pro football team of the movie I consider the best sports picture “Remember the titans”. A further rumination on the matter leads me to realise that our fascination and adoration for the underdog violates the very foundation of the fourth wall. We rejoice when Bangladesh beat Australia, some unknown player wins the Wimbledon and what not. This is more true for sports where we are more than literally neutral.Usain Bolt stealing the thunder of Americans and making underdogs out of the Americans or a brawn GP winning F1 in its  first attempt do have its kicks.

Having meandered a lot in the course of this post,it is now time for me to economize on words . With the increase in eyeballs that follow soccer, it has become much more than a game for some poor goal keeper it can actually be a matter of life and death . I apologise to his departed soul for making him a common noun, and in keeping with  my vow to blog only from memory, I shall delve no deeper into the matter.  In this years finals Dutch were the obvious underdogs. Yet, somehow i would have hated if they had won for they did not play beautiful. In the finals, the conduct of the dutch can be best explained as a players who had an inception that football is nothing but playing kick boxing outside the ring. All over the world, the pundits and the laggards(me included) blasted the Dutch. But there lies the paradox that haunts me, it was probably the only shot at immortality the dutch guys had. They needed to do something to sweeten the sad memories of a nation twice rejected at the altar. They chose to embrace the wrath of zillions of people glued to their TV screens. They risked it all. They were playing a loose-loose game. If they won they would be vilified, if they lost, their defeat would be celebrated rather than consoled. At some points, I think they deserved to get the support any underdog gets and then I just fail to support them for any second, the only emotion I have for them is hatred.

It would be somewhat unjust for me to click on publish without a contradicting feeling I have been having. Maybe in some fictional finals of an awesome movie I would root for the same kind of football played by the dutch. Bringing in more money to the formula that binds all sports movies

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life, philosophical me, reflections of time

beauty and sexy

In the twilight of my teenage years, sexy had an devilish forbidden tinge to the emotions and reactions evoked. But beauty was always beautiful, always good, always heavenly, always worshiped.
That brings out the question before me today what is beautiful and who is sexy. Even this very question has in it a few threads of the fabric on which i shall attempt to answer this question to myself.Rather it is probably my flawed interpretations that results in the based use of the words who and what. This gangotric bias means i search for abstract beauty and material sexiness.
Thanks to the lots of page 3, we often come across rankings of the most beautiful and sexy personalities, actress, celebrities and even first ladies. now what is that makes Hema Malini or a Megan Fox beautiful in the eyes of the scribes.The truth is I don’t know.One documentary i saw in my kgp days tries to answer this question in terms of mathematical ratios, the host who is the new Q of james bond franchise compared the ratios of his own face and that of Liz hurley :D.
But I am still not convinced, I have five sense organs and a mind that dreams and dreams a lot. The only beacons I acknowledge as light is the statement by Keats “A thing of beauty is joy forever“. Joy that can enter your hearts through eyes,ears,touch,nose, tongue and even lazy ruminations of the days gone by.Since Keats had no words for sexy, I shall stick to the mathematical definition of sexy or as Sheldon told abt his sister in big bang theory “having the right amount in right places”. This may be sexist post, but it is intensely personal n hence contains a guys perspective.
This is more of a monologue to me counting the infinite number of reasons as to why i feel ******* is the most beautiful person I have ever met in my life. Since my liking for her is destined to go unrequited, I have made a zillion attempts to like someone else to declare some as more beautiful, but i guess I am the hitler of 1944 fighting on two doomed fronts. For those of who dont know who ******* is, it will stay that way but I guess a bulk of the people who read my blubber know who she is. Unfortunately she no longer reads my blog I guess. As regards to things photographs are probably the most beautiful things man can make and corals and Arunachal the second most beautiful things God can make.
Talking about sexy, it has a very mundane connotations, at least for me, I may find my worst enemy to be sexy but I don’t think they will ever be beautiful, a person for whom I will risk my life. I don’t think i am selfless enough to say I like someone more than me, but probably things and persons I consider beautiful would precede me on my only escape ladder. I guess the post has already turned out to be long enough, so I try to put topper of my sexy list.
********** (Don’t ask me why I don’t know )
Jessica Alba
Megan Fox
lamborgini
concorde
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