The Cynic in Me?

Sometimes ignorance truly is bliss. Sometimes you really Really REALLY wish you didn't know any better.

So much of cynicism in the world already. That teeny-meeny capsule of hope, faith, kindness, and everything 'nice' (As Powerpuff Girls say it. Dont you just love the 90's? :)) just keeps on shrinking in your heart. Add to this, a daily dose of crass, grating reality which instills and reinstills the eternal maxim of survival-"Never take people at their face value. Ever."

Happy people, Sad lives, Sad stories, Sob stories, Story book romances, Hardly-So realities, mixed in a pot pourri of truths and half truths. A face you knew....a face you 'thought' you knew....and then face's' you wish you knew! The Manipulating and the Manipulated mixing as neatly as sugar in water and yet leaving that familiar bad after-taste. In this case, feeling like a royal fool.

" Oh! Come on he/she can't be that bad! Look rumours will always be there.....pinch of salt....but surely not in between friends? Wait...what?? No way! I refuse to believe...I...look I'm gonna give him/her the benefit of doubt here...." and Voila! ___________ :

Sometimes its best not knowing too many people too well....too much information....too much details. It clogs you mindspace and keeps you tense, suspicious and second-guessing perpetually. And what category of 'happy' does that slot you in??! (Presuming that is what everyone's gunning for after the customary money--mercedes-mansion chase)

Perhaps you were better of being in the dark about someone than reliving your bad judgement calls everytime that person passes you by in the hallway. Perhaps you were better off wholly unaware of reality than being continously haunted by your acts of misplaced faith each time that person's name pops up on Facebook/Orkut (Seriously?)/ Twitter (jobless, much?) ??

Perhaps all that you really want is to to return to what used-to-be. The old familiar cocoon, warm with memories of being able to share your innermost thoughts (the silliest, the creepiest) with someone without a second thought, to hold nothing back in distrust and self-preservation, to fall easily into the pattern of hushed confidences between classes and smothered laughter in the library.

Perhaps what you really wish is for a person to say what they mean and mean what they say.

And perhaps you are tired of being made a fool of. Each time. Every time....

Just Saying. (Part 1)

The Brits gave us the railways and the telegraphs, the English language and Christianity, the ......
Yes! they gave us the Jallianwala Bagh and Partition, the Gora Sahebs and the Memsahibs, the...
But most importantly they gave us _____(Hold your breath) ______ (You are not really holding your breath, are you? :D) _______AN INFERIORITY COMPLEX.
Yes! You read it right folks!

So much so that the English language has been imparted a divine status. Dare anyone pronounce 'sheep' as 'seep' 'yesterday' as 'yusturday'- WOAH!!! Grammatical errors - 'I goes' but she 'returned back' - HAAAW!!
I'm sure you must have noticed...its a common enough trend. For example : In class, the moment the teacher who has a 'funny' accent begins speaking, a wave of giggles passes through the class with a couple of kids mouthing the wrongly pronounced word.
OR If a student gets up in class to read and his accent is ___you guessed it - 'funny'(!), other kids will glance at each other or snicker softly.

Look, I'm not advocating wrong pronounciation, just saying that its interesting how people go ga-ga over Brit pronounication, American accent, Austraayelien twang but not us, never us! When it comes to a slip of the tongue by an Indian - Oh My God?!! Did you hear him speak?So desi!!!

After all, its a language. Its supposed to be twisted into, played around with or it will never evolve.
I mean if I look at any of the vernacular languages. For example : Sylheti Bengali widely differs from Bengali spoken in say...Kolkata. Or Telegu spoken in the Telengana area differs from Telegu spoken in many other parts of Andhra Pradesh.
But I doubt if that difference is treated with scorn or ridicule.
Wonder why we as people are so skeptical about anyone who doesnt conform with the rules in English? And who decides these rules anyway? Whats wrong with Indi English? Every other European country seems to have their own version.So why not us?

Underneath Your Skin

 Psst-I'm listening to Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd.Its been an age since i blogged,and it seems all new again. Blogging sorta,is like thinking out loud,so many times you end up with your foot in your mouth,or you offend someone who would probably wanna gut you alive!! But besides all the blonde moments it is awesome in so many ways!

Any how,this song here is called "Comfortably Numb". There are a million question we seek answers to,and most of them can never be answered. Its heavy stuff,overwhelming actually.

The song has dark undertones,a little pessimistic. Its like when you know how a neo-noirmovie ends,and you still see it,just for the fun of it. Its amazing how we do things just for kicks,get into things and hope to get out of them.You get those cliches everyday,and you use them abuse them,not even amazed a little by how true they are. We go the full circle.......sometimes getting lost midway ,cocky fools we are!:P

There is no pain you are receding
A distant ship, smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying.
When I was a child I had a fever
My hands felt just like two balloons.
Now I've got that feeling once again
I can't explain you would not understand
This is not how I am.
I have become comfortably numb.

SPIDER'S SILK (Part 2)

I served. He returned it with a perfect swing. All I could manage was a drop. He hit that one easily, hitting the shuttle-cock to land somewhere near the periphery of the court, right at the serve line. In reflex, I stretched myself to the fullest and hit it. But all I did was to touch it with rim of my racquet. the shuttle-cock went dangling through the air to land on the tip of the net. It sat there for a second, as if Fate was deciding whose court it should fall in, whom to favor, whose day to make. And then as if having made a firm decision, it fell in the other court, never faltering from its path, the work of gravity.
  A wave of immense pleasure washed through me. It filled me in and out with a sense of freedom, of independence. I felt light, as if a huge burden had been lifted off my shoulders. But it still was not enough to distract me from the task at hand, for without its completion this point wouldn't mean a thing.
  One more point. The shuttle-cock was in my hand. I turned my gaze to look at the trophy, where it sat beside the huge cheque from the Korean Government to be given to the winner. I looked at the crowd and in them where my coach and family sat. I looked at the court, the dust on it, which was more precious to me than gold. And I instantly knew what this last point would be for.
  I had always played to prove myself to others. This last point would be an attestation to me, to prove to myself that I had always been capable of walking the path that I had chosen....
I knew that my opponent would try every bit as hard as I would. And so all that mattered now was- Who was more desperate to win?
I served. He hit it perfectly. I returned with a very low smash, very hard to lift. But he managed to return. He fired a back-shot. I returned it hard too. And so it was decided that this game would be won not just by sinew alone, but tact. We both fought for many minutes. Exertion had us sweating and hyperventilating. But none of us faltered., none of us gave even one chance to the other.
It was becoming unbearable for me. I lost track of all my thought, letting desperation take care of them. That did it. I hit a smash shot so hard that he simply could not return it. The racquet fell from his hand.
I had one it. I had proved myself, made my promise to myself stand good. An immense feeling of joy swept through me-my heart-coursing through my veins-to the rest of my body. It felt so huge that it seemed as if it would explode through my heart and lungs, consuming all in its way.
I sank to the ground, unable to hold myself up anymore. The joy in my chest instantly became a searing pain, and I knew what it was. All my limbs started to throb and ache. It became unbearable. I fell on my stomach to the ground, my cheek against the rough court, the smell of dirt in my nostrils.
"Call an ambulance. He's having an asthma attack, " somebody shouted. But I was too absorbed in myself to notice who it was, for once, I was whole. I was content, complete. Not even the unnerving pain in my body could overshadow the colossal happiness that had deeply rooted itself in me in that one moment, when all I knew was that I had made my point; nothing else mattered now. And then I let darkness close on me forever.....

SPIDER'S SILK (Part 1)

It was almost over. All that i had worked for, given my life to.And I could think of nothing to stop the inevitable....
"11 to 14. Aasif to serve, "he announced again. I knew what the referee meant. I wasn't that numb after all. And that was why I understood that the boy in front of me was on the game point mark, while I still had to win 4 points to make my first final game and all of my decisions stand good. I looked at my opponent and a shiver ran down my spine. I instantly felt cold. It was as though he had been sent from God s the only chance for me to prove for once that I was correct. And the memories that had made it so washed over me in a moment...

My parents had talked to me. This was not the first time, and I had known what to expect-the same questions-"Does this stupid game matter to you more than us?". "Aren't you aware of anything that goes on in this house?We're poor. Very poor. And instead of helping us in running the house, you run off to play that stupid game! We made you. And now you have become shameless enough to not even try to fulfill our wishes, give anything back?" And I used to have no answer to that. How could I have told them that no, it was not the only thing that mattered to me, but still the only thing that had kept me going for so long...that the court in the academy was the one place where I was free...with nothing to worry about..that I loved the power that pulsed through me when i exerted myself to the fullest.... and yet I couldn't direct the same power to improve my family's condition.. that the dilemma I was in was killing me.. and I didn't know how to stop it...

And yet that day was different., for there sat a much unexpected audience to my regular-trial coach...

The referee was eying me incredulously,  obviously not understanding the flood of emotions that was washinng through my mind just then. To save him the embarrassment, I picked up the shuttle-cock. I knew I could not afford to lose even one point at this moment. It would sabotage everything, all the hopes that my coach, and even myself, had for me.

That day, he had handed me the form. I knew what it was, from the Indian Sports Association logo at the back. He had once asked me to play professional, but I could never dare to approach my parents with this. But he had. I knew it was my only chance to get away from it all, to give an answer to all the questions that my parents had fired at me.

I served. The opponent played it with a drop-shot. I pulled myself forward and stretched down to one knee, and played the drop with a box. That took him by surprise. He lost his center position in the court and went back to hit, but was not able to play it with anything better than a swing. And that was it. I hit the shuttle-cock with a smash that landed right at the serve line, and i got a point. But that didn't matter.. the joy of having proved myself to my coach overshadowed everything else...

I should take a puff from the inhaler, I thought. But it didn't seem like the referee would give me a break to ease some of the pain that I felt due to my major asthma without annoying himself too much. And so i continued to serve.
     I knew what to do. Just a smash-dodge and a drop shot. It was easy and so I got that one.
I still needed two more points, and yet I did not know how to do it. I constantly encouraged myself. Images flashed behind my eyelids. Every time I blinked, I thought of my new life. Once i won this game, I would never have to stand before my parents as a culprit again. I would be able togive them all the pleasures they were denied.  And that did it. It set me on fire. I had to do it. There were no two ways about it...

contd...