Sunday, February 3

The Imperfect Picture

Are human beings rational beings? If your answer is yes, how would one fit hope into rationality? Hope is an irrational emotion we have as a consequence of our dreams which themselves aren't rational either. Prayers aren't rational. Love isn't rational. Forgiveness isn't rational. All the emotions that drives on human beings are irrational. Then what is it that qualifies us as a rational being? We are just a species who is desperately addicted to the idea of existence of logic and reason that would explain it all and we try to put pieces together and be happy every time it looks like we are getting a little headway in solving the jigsaw. We dance around in joy every time it appears like we can actually solve the non existent puzzle to create a perfect picture. But we invariably fail to create the whole picture because there ain't a perfect complete picture. There is no right fit. The pieces that are less wrong by some reason made up by the mind happen to be put together. Some try changing themselves to fit into the picture. Some others people try changing the pieces to make them fit and then throw the piece away when tired and pick up another piece to try their luck. Somewhere down the line, irrationality helps some of us to forget about the perfect picture and the pieces we destroyed and threw away and hold on tightly to whatever we have put together till then, believing it to be the only combination possible. The unfortunate ones are forced to shamefully pick up the pieces they threw away once. And some of these pieces find themselves too disfigured to fit anywhere because the picture they tried to fit themselves into fell apart. May be some one will pick those pieces up.

Anyway what is the point...

Sunday, May 6

Yours, Not Mine

It’s yours, not mine. Break it, it’s fine.
You can play with it, make it dance;
Or throw it down and take a chance.
Forever, it will wait, broken, in the heap;
Hoping, again, you will make it leap.
Leave it, you may, in the dirt;
It’s yours, not mine, this heart.

Thursday, October 15

Memories of a Dream

Melvin gazed out of the window of his office as he sipped his coffee. Well, actually it was not his office. He had a desk and a chair like all the others working there. He went there six days a week, worked on his laptop ten hours a day with a coffee break every now and then. The view outside was of a concrete jungle with a few green spots left here and there like in an imperfect painting. The roads were busy and there was an urgency about everything even in the way people drank coffee.

"No, it need not be a palace. It even doesn't have to be big. A bedroom and a kitchen." said Tia.

"We would need a drawing room. And a dining room too because we can't ask guests to eat in the kitchen." Observed Melvin.

"We will have a table in the garden. We will eat there."

"Hmmm. Smaller the house, easier for you to keep it neat. What if we have a guest who wants to stay over for a day?"

"In that case, well, we will let him or her sleep in our bedroom and we will sleep outside. Switzerland is a very cold place. You will make a campfire near the stream to keep me warm."

"Hehehe. I don't need a campfire to keep you warm. We will open a bottle of whiskey and... Hey, that reminds me, we should have a bar..."

Having finished his coffee, Melvin turned back with a sigh and walked back to his table. One of his colleagues had pinged him in gtalk. The Boss wants a report on the progress of the project. Companies are looking for a reason to lay off people after the financial crisis. Melvin’s stint in the company hadn’t been extraordinary. So this project was important to him to stay employed. He checked the list of online friends in gtalk. Tia was online. After a little deliberation with himself, he typed 'hi. long time'. He waited for a minute before closing the chat window and continuing with his work

'honey, i'm really really sorry. pick up the fone plz.' typed Melvin on his mobile phone. A couple more calls and messages went unanswered before Tia's unhappy voice said "Hello" at the other end.

"Dear, I'm sorry" said Melvin. "We were having this badminton match and I forgot to keep track of the time. I'm so sorry."

"I waited for you more than an hour. It was you who asked me to be there at 5 pm. Am I not even as important as a stupid badminton match for you? I can't believe you stood me up."

Melvin's phone rang. It was his Project Manager. He wanted to see him. Now. Melvin got up and saw the Project manager looking at him through the glass door of his room. He reached to close his laptop but was stopped by the sound of a gtalk chat window opening.

'yeah :) wer r u now?' Tia had replied.

There was a flash storm of memories. Melvin didn't do anything for the next few seconds. Then he turned around and walked to his Project Managers room as fast as he could. Tia waited anxiously for a minute before logging out of gtalk.

Tuesday, September 8

After Tuborg

The beer was still cold, though not chill any more. We had drunk slowly, talking all the while. There was a song playing in the background to which none of us was paying much heed. The night was not colder than other nights. There was certainly more twilight, but not enough for the security to spot us sitting in front of the auditorium. He continued with his rounds tapping his stick and we decided to finish the contents of the bottles because the beer was beginning to get a bit sour.

"I had fun." Jerry said, half to himself.

"Tuborg is nice. It's smoother. It is a big lose that we never tried it before today." Observed Akhil.

"I've had more beer than this many times, but I've never had this feeling. I'm not high, I'm happy on beer."

"If you drink you must drink in good company. Light one more. Melvin, you have the match-box, right?" Jerry asked.

"This is the last one. Weren't you supposed to reach the server room an hour ago?" Akhil enquired as he lit the cigarette from the match stick I had struck.

As I watched the disks of smoke slowly rise above our head and the cigarettes getting shorter with every puff, I wondered if it wasn't analogous to the life becoming shorter with every cigarette you smoke. Might be the cigarette is silently cursing, "Innu njan nee karanam, naale nee njan karanam. (Today me because of you, tomorrow you because of me.)"

"Gotta go." Jerry threw away the cigarette butt as he got up. "I'll catch you guys later."

The path was too familiar, but it had been quiet some time since we last took it. The other path was a much more dustier one without any foliage to give cover from the scorching sun, but it was shorter and our lives are too busy. Arun hummed a song. 'Vennila chandana kinnam punnamada kaayalil veene....'

"Even though kaayal and sea means the same, kaayal makes me nostalgic, but sea doesn't."

"Kaayal and sea are not the same. Kaayal is lake. Sea is..."

"Whatever." I cut short Akhil. "What I intended to say is that I hold an emotional attachment with certain malayalam words like kaayal, but not with their English counterparts."

Akhil giggled.

"I wanted to be a writer. But there is no way I can express in English the feelings attached with some mallu things. You see, the perfectly happy life as far as I'm concerned is having a row boat..."


"Poda m****. A boat, strolling through the paddy fields, plucking mangoes from the neighbour's tree, playing kutteem kolum..." I was too nostalgic to finish the sentence.

"That's not true. You can write about them in English and the keralites who read it will understand."

"But not quiet with the same effect as reading malayalam. We have an attachment with certain things as well as with certain words. The idea can be more effectively expressed only if you use the right words. If I say mango tree, it is just a tree. But if I say maavu, there is a lot more to it. I realized that I cannot be a good writer because if I write about the things which excite me, in English, it won't have the same impact as writing about them in malayalam. After that I haven't written anything."

"Have you written nothing at all after that? I've read a few of your earlier posts."

"And yet you didn't care to make a comment on it. So I guess you didn't particularly like any of them. A few weeks back I wanted to write down a conversation we had. But then I forgot most of it."

"Which conversation?"

"I don't remember. You remember, one day we went to the pub, but we didn't have enough money to get drunk."

"Yeah. The day you forgot Abhi's cap in the pub and we had to walk back all the way to get it because we didn't have enough to pay for the autorikshaw. Why didn't you write?"

"I forgot. I kept thinking what should be your name in the post for one week. Before I could fix you a name I had forgotten most of that chit chat. What name would have you wanted?"

Akhil didn't reply.

"If you had to chose some other name, which name would you chose?"

"I don't know. I haven't thought about it earlier."

"Well, then think aloud. So that I don't get bored. And I'l get to know you options too."

"No. I don't want to say something and later feel sorry. It doesn't matter now, right? Or are you gonna right down today's conversation too?"

"I think I will. So tell me what name do you want. You don't want me to put your actual name, do you?"


"I want to give you some name that is in some way connected with you, so that the people who know us well enough will understand that it is you and me."

"What is going to be the title of the post?"

I had not thought about it. "Suggest one." I said.

"After Tuborg."

"Perfect." I said. "Oh! Crab! Stadium seems to be locked. Should we take the road around it? It's long."

"Of course no. We jump."


"Use the window. And be careful of the wires above you. Someone got electricuited only a few weeks ago."

"There is a video of someone getting electricuited on a train. I saw it in LAN."

"Low waist jeans were certainly not designed for things like this." Akhil was having trouble stretching his legs to reach the top of the wall. So he made a leap for it and we were on the other side after another ten seconds. He said, "By the way, someone killed a snake in here day before yesterday."

"Hmmm. I heard. Do you have a torch?"


We reached the middle of the ground. A cold breeze blew. I checked the time. Quarter to one.

"The goal post looks bigger without a keeper in front of it, doesn't it?"

"It does. May be it is because with a goal keeper standing there, you aim only at either the left post or the right post."

"May be."

We reached the hostel in another two-three minutes.

"Are you hungry?" I remembered that I had asked Chottu to get me a chicken fried rice.

"Not much. But I'll join for company's sake. I'll get a spoon."

I unlocked my door, entered the room and switched on my PC. I opened a notepad and sat looking at the ceiling for some time. Akhil had not yet come with the spoon. I sighed. Finally I had made my decision. Akhil, that is going to be his name. I started typing. "The beer was still cold, though not chill any more..."

Friday, December 12

The Good Samaritan

A few days ago, on Christmas, I went to church with my brother who was back for winter vacation. After the holy mass we went to the crib which had been decorated quiet beautifully. Mom had given us twenty bucks each as an offering to infant Jesus. I put my twenty rupees note in the offerings box, knelt down and prayed for my family. My brother mean while just stood there admiring the arrangement of the crib. When I was done with my prayers he turned back and led the way to the car.

He asked me about my studies as I got into the car. Seemed like he didn't want to talk about not making the offering at the church. So I stopped myself from asking him about it. But as I got out of the car to open the gates of our house, he told me not to mention about it to Mom.

Next day he invited me to accompany him for some shopping. On the way he asked, "According to Bible which is more important, loving God or loving each other?"

"Both are equally important." I remembered having learned in Catechism school that the two most important commandments are to love God with your whole heart and to love your neighbour as much s yourself.

"Isn't it said 'how can you love the God you can't see if you can't love the brother you can see?"

I was not sure I had read that. So I replied, "it makes sense".

"So you need to love your brother before you can claim to be loving God. God can look after himself. Your neighbour probably needs your help."

Before I could make a reply, my brother slowed down the car and came to a stop a few blocks from the junction.

"Wait here", he said before leaving the car. He went into a near by restaurant and a few minutes later came out with a parcel. Instead of walking towards the car, he crossed the street and walked up to a beggar sitting on the road side. His legs were disfigured, clothes very dirty and torn. My brother gave the parcel to him.

I felt proud of having him as my brother.

"That was very nice of you." I told him as he tightened his seat belt.

"He is still going to be hungry in the night."

"It reminded me of a story Jesus told."

He gave me a questioning glance.

"The story of the good Samaritan."

"Well Christianity is not about loving God." He was smiling. "It's about loving your fellow beings. I believe thats what every religion teaches."

"When you do the slightest help to one among you, remember that you are doing me a service" I quoted the Bible.


"But church do use the donations to help the poor. They help them build houses... run orphanages..."

"Not all the cash goes to helping the needy. A part of it is used for other purposes like renovating the church, building new parish hall etc. Why do we need a church to pray? God will listen to us even if we pray in an open ground."

"Are you an atheist?" I had this question in my mind for a long time.

"Well, I'm not sure of existence of God. But if He does exist, I'll say he is not fair. Some are born in palaces and a few others in dustbins. You know the story of three servants and talents given to them, right?"

"Two of them using the talents given to them in trading and the third burying his talent. What about it?"

"The first two were given 5 and 2 talents respectively. The third got only one. He probably didn't want to loose his only talent in business. The other two had the advantage of having plenty."

"Are you saying the third servant was not lazy?"

"No, the test was not fair."

What my brother was saying made sense somehow. You cannot compare two people unless they are given the same situation to react to. I may return the wallet I found lying on the ground to the owner, but a hungry person will probably use the cash to get some food. But I didn't want to think God is unfair. God probably has a reason for everything.

My cell phone kept on the dashboard started beeping. My girlfriend was calling. She is probably angry that the soft-toy I got her as a present is a little smaller than what she asked.

Saturday, November 29

I'm Rich. I'm Happy

I was at the pub today. After sometime a soft melody started playing in the background of all the noises and shouting. The table next to mine fell silent . Everyone was listening keenly. The poet was comparing his beloved to a peacock dancing in the rain. I couldn't help laughing out. The poet is gay. Only male peacocks dance. Pub is one place where you don't owe an explanation for things you say. That's why I go to pubs even though I don't drink. So many paranoids at one place. I enjoy being in a pub. And I always laugh out loud. Whether it be during some touching scene in a movie or when I'm in a mosque or be it at my neighbour's funeral. I get a lot of "You mad?" and "Shut the fuck up" stares. That's when I start laughing even more harder. I can't stand the effort people put in to look better before others. It's too hilarious. I'm no more invited for any serious occasion. And I'm the person happiest about it.

It's not possible to help wondering why people keep worrying about the meaningless things in life. Stuff like love are so worthless and trivial. You disagree? I don't care. I would spent my day alone at some % star hotel rather than in a "romantic" boat in a "beautiful" sea with some stupid female who is good for nothing other than her doggies. Blonds are abundant in this world and are just a phone call away. I'm not sorry that I'm not imaginative in a hypocritical way. Even you were born in a moment of lust. Parents are also selfish. They wanted someone to look after them in their old age. I did that duty till my parents passed away. They got a decent funeral because they were rich and also because I was not the only child. I feel funerals are a waste of time and cash.

I inherited a shopping mall from my parents. On the first of every month I collect the rents to pay my bills and credit card dues. I live in a lodge near the mall. I don't have anything to do. So I read the entire day. I don't love reading. Nothing makes you fall asleep faster than a book. I also observe people. The day my neighbour Mrs Elizabeth was attacked and robbed, I knew some thief was waiting for her in her apartment. They had turned off the bathroom light she leaves on every day. She was never of any assistance to me. And I got a better burglar alarm also. I didn't take the pain to call the cops. I say 'hi' to the people who say 'hi' to me and I glare back at those who glare at me. It doesn't make me either happy or sad. But ladies and food does make me happy.

I was not always like this. I used to have a warm heart that used to bleed very often for lots of stupid reasons. People who know me better address me as 'Dr. Melvin'. I got a PhD in human psychology. But my girlfriend chose to marry the guy with piercings all over his heads. I gradually learned to be impassive to everything. The lady is supposed to take the money and leave before I get up the next day. And its always preferable to have different meals everyday. I eat at a restaurant in my mall. Food they serve is delicious and free. I believe in happiness and goodwill, not in money. So I repay a favour. I don't take rent from them. Getting richer is not my intention. People say money spoiled me. I don't want my children to face the same complaint. Right now I don't have any children. Few months back a female I had slept with told me she was pregnant. She threatened to go to court. She wanted money. I invited her to share my miseries. I told her I was ready to marry her. She got freaked out and got an abortion.

I know every single trick somebody can have up their sleeves. Be it the political pimp who confuses with religion and politics or the spiritual leader who resorts to street magic to charm the devotees or the businessman who wishes to feast everyday on somebody else's fall. I know the answer to every problem. But I don't see a point in sharing it and arguing for it. I'm happy the way I'm. The way you feel is not going to give me any pain. I understand how silly it was of me to burn my head and come up with solutions to the issues of the mankind. It took time and experience to realize that I didn't have to bother at all. And that was the greatest of all knowledge. The world will be ideal with a lot of people like me who believe in giving and taking. Why should I take all the trouble to change the world? I'm not going to gain anything in return. My life can't be better. Petrol and coal will live longer than me. Polar ice won't melt anytime soon. And we also ... Screw it. You won't understand. Why should I make you realize it is not worth it to try and solve somebody else's trouble. That is your problem. Find a solution if you want. I'm rich. I can buy anything I want. I'm happy in my ignorance. God save the mankind.


Saturday, November 1

It ws really nice of u 2 hv commented

The world is a battlefield of hypocrites. Everyone is busy being someone else. Be it the friend who rambles on endlessly and unstoppably about his uncontrollable urge to talk less or the social reformer and religious torch bearer who will never share a dining table with his servant after a tiring day of preaching ethics. Never been stopped by a drunken traffic cop who pulled you over for riding in the wrong direction? There was this strict district judge who once screamed, "You sonofabitch, this is a court, not your home." Exaggeration is the way of life for both the geek and the sports lover. Would anyone pay cash for being allowed an hour of coding? And would you swim across the English channel rather than taking a boat because you love spots?

Now tell me this, 'how many of you would admit that we should have stuck to the trees and never got down from it'. Come on, accept it. Everyone's a hypocrite. The world is crazy with the lean man boasting about his athletic built and the fatso who describes his pot belly as a sign of prosperity. Nobody will accept a fart. Yeah, there are exceptions who say, 'that's me', and then proceeds to explain why it is nothing to be ashamed of. He will then continue on to the cause, symptoms and consequences until some weak hearted chap pukes into his plate of noodles.

No one is an omission to the rule. Mahathmaji? You must be still thinking it was truth and non-violence that got us our freedom. No, they cannot buy you even your daily bread. We got our independence by blackmailing and extortion. There is not even a count of the number of people killed in the freedom struggle. One more or one less wouldn't have made any difference to the British. As a child I had seen a snap of Gandhiji wearing a bullet proof vest, but last week they proved that the snap was spurious. So he was always an easy target. But the British knew hell would break lose if they touched Gandhi. They didn't want an over populated India running in agitatedly from every possible angle. You know, the automatics were not popular then. Thus terrorism won us our swaraj. Of course sathyagrahas were a means of moral terrorism. The British too were hypocritical and because they wanted to look good in the world's eyes they fled. (The counselors then couldn't come up with a good way to fight this new style of terrorism) But the same Gandhiji, when Bhagat Singh threw a grenade into the parliament house, said that he didn't use the right weapon. I honestly doubt if it really was 'ahimsa' that he meant because Bhagat Singh didn't hurt anyone except the British ego.

As long as there is somebody watching us, we will be busy stimulating virtues and some, the admirable vices. We keep the masks on. Some might be very sweet. Others strong, honest, confident etc. The moment it gets dark, the actual personality slips out like Mr.Hyde. Some Malayalam poet wrote a long ago, "Light is sorrow, my son. Darkness is bliss". Isn't the world a lie? White Old Repeating Lie, Duh. Living actually is about bitching about who ever is not listening and feeling good about oneself. That's what I was doing here. Whatever, don't arraign me of being a hypocrite. I'm the biggest. ;)