The River Flows

(These are musings from my room, while I sat at my desk and looked through the balcony towards the Ganga, its waters expanding everyday, and the felt its breeze refresh me from time to time.)

Days pass, the winds blow. Sometimes strong sometimes not. 

With the rains, the river swells, and the smell of moisture pervades the air, the moisture of the sacred river.

The thought itself makes you fresh, and helps you imagine the sweetness in the air you breathe in. 

Other times, the river dries up, and the waste collects on the banks. 

The winds then bring in a different smell, something not as pleasant and something that does not need much imagination. 

The water continues to flow like time, without bother, or any discrimination.

Resurrection with Socrates

It has been more than 10 years since I last posted anything here. In fact I didn't think I would come back and post anything again at all. But life doesnt always go the way we intend it to, and here I am. I have been advised by a good friend to just post things - my writings, musings, etc. - here whether anyone reads them or not. Not someone used to listening to good advice, I decided to put my beliefs aside and for once listen to my well-wisher.

The following are a set of quotes attibuted to the Greek philosopher Socrates. I have given my own interpretations of each of his phrases of wisdom. Hope all you non existent readers enjoy it as much as I did.

Socrates’ Pearls of Wisdom for the layman

“The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing.

― You know nothing. Sooner you realise that the better.

“The unexamined life is not worth living.”

― If you stop using your brain, you become like a donkey.

“I cannot teach anybody anything. I can only make them think”

― I am totally useless, but I can make people think otherwise.

“There is only one good, knowledge, and one evil, ignorance.”

― Either you know or you don’t know. There is no middle path.

“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”

― You are not the only one in deep shit.

“Wonder is the beginning of wisdom.”

― Curiosity doesn’t always kill the cat.

“Strong minds discuss ideas, average minds discuss events, weak minds discuss people.”

― Caste system can be developed out of thin air, even by classifying what you think and talk about.

“To find yourself, think for yourself.”

― Never listen to anyone. No one knows anything for sure.

“Education is the kindling of a flame, not the filling of a vessel.”

― I told you, I can seem more than I am.

“By all means marry; if you get a good wife, you’ll become happy; if you get a bad one, you’ll become a philosopher.”

― A wife will always give you something, but I’m not sure about the husband.

“He who is not contented with what he has, would not be contented with what he would like to have.”

― Happy people don’t need more.

“Be slow to fall into friendship, but when you are in, continue firm and constant.”

― Be careful. Friends can be a pain in the neck.

“If you don't get what you want, you suffer; if you get what you don't want, you suffer; even when you get exactly what you want, you still suffer because you can't hold on to it forever. Your mind is your predicament. It wants to be free of change. Free of pain, free of the obligations of life and death. But change is law and no amount of pretending will alter that reality.”

― You are screwed for as long as you are alive. Just accept it and carry on with your life.

“The children now love luxury; they have bad manners, contempt for authority; they show disrespect for elders and love chatter in place of exercise. Children are now tyrants, not the servants of their households. They no longer rise when elders enter the room. They contradict their parents, chatter before company, gobble up dainties at the table, cross their legs, and tyrannize their teachers.”

― Youngsters are always rude and don’t follow orders.

“Sometimes you put walls up not to keep people out, but to see who cares enough to break them down.”

― Sometimes everyone craves for special attention – silent treatment is the best way to convey that.

“No man has the right to be an amateur in the matter of physical training. It is a shame for a man to grow old without seeing the beauty and strength of which his body is capable.”

― Laziness makes you as good as a cripple.

“When the debate is lost, slander becomes the tool of the loser.”

― If you dont have good arguments, just make baseless accusations and call names.

“Know thyself.”

― Mind your own business.

“The secret of happiness, you see, is not found in seeking more, but in developing the capacity to enjoy less.”

― Secret of happiness is being comfortable in poverty.

“Let him who would move the world first move himself.”

― To teach dancing, one needs to have the right moves.

“Death may be the greatest of all human blessings.”

― Life is a pain in the ass.

“Contentment is natural wealth, luxury is artificial poverty.”

― Rich people have robbed us all, and we have no choice but to come to terms with it.

“Employ your time in improving yourself by other men's writings so that you shall come easily by what others have labored hard for.”

― If you spend more time reading, you have less time to make real mistakes in life.

“The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our separate ways, I to die, and you to live. Which of these two is better only God knows.”

― Does suffering really end with death, or does it only get worse?

“Do not do to others what angers you if done to you by others.”

― Don’t harm others, they will take revenge.

“I examined the poets, and I look on them as people whose talent overawes both themselves and others, people who present themselves as wise men and are taken as such, when they are nothing of the sort.”

― If I could understand poetry, poets would not seem so awesome.

“I am not an Athenian or a Greek, but a citizen of the world."

― Life is screwed no matter where you live.

“Every action has its pleasures and its price.”

― Think before you ink, look before you leap.

“Prefer knowledge to wealth, for the one is transitory, the other perpetual.”

― At least the rich and corrupt can’t steal your knowledge from you.

-----------------

(enough for today)

Satisfaction

It's been quite a while since my last post. In between, I lost all desire and motivation to post anything. Maybe it was a blogger's block, if it can be termed so. Our autumn break of about half a month just got over. Damn, back to classes again from tomorrow! I visited Jammu, Vaisno devi, Amritsar, Wagah Border and Himachal during most part of the holidays. Anyway, that is not what i want to share with you. After i returned to Delhi, out of the blue, we (i.e. me and three other friends) all decided to visit Dehradun. While we were on our way there by train, I witnessed the sunset which was so beautiful that I couldn't take my eyes off it until I could see it no more. All of a sudden I was filled with an intense urge to write. Writing on a fast moving train is no easy task, but I thought that I would choke if I did not do so. Luckily, I found a pen and a torn sheet of paper in my bag and began to write, oblivious to the rest of the world (except during the times my friends interrupted, to fool around a little). The twilight outside gave me perfect setting to compose my new piece of work. When I finished, I realized that it was my only work with which I was satisfied, after completion, in countless months. It is this work of mine that I want to share with you all here. I must warn you that my friends (who are my loyal readers) have confessed that it is my only work that they have failed to understand in anyway. So if any of you all do think that you have understood anything, then please let me know. Background over. Move on to the main text now....

THE MESSIAH'S TRAIN

I heard that he was on his death-bed. In our town, we never give a person his due until he is taking his final few breaths. The entire world that I inhabit, acknowledged that he was a messiah, a prophet. Some even were audacious enough to proclaim him to be God. We were still alive in this treacherous world because of him. Yet no one gave him any importance or showed him any respect. He had many years to live, they used to say. And I am too much of a traditional youth to think of doing otherwise.
I was one of the few who came to know that he was approaching his end - the end of the journey, as the man himself used to say. I knew that it was time to pay his due and rushed with excitement to his house. His room as usual was without a roof. Strangely enough, rain drops never fell inside. This established him in our eyes as the Messiah, the Lord of the Skies. He was standing in the center of the room, and ten or twelve people surrounded him from all sides. He still had the halo of light around his head. However, it was not the dazzling white light that we knew of. It was orange in colour. He no longer seemed powerful and strong. I was reminded of the glory of the setting sun. He seemed even more holy - divine, in this condition.
It was at this moment that he gave his final sermon - the only one that anyone listened to seriously. For the first time i stood there till the end. Others were clapping in appreciation. But I was too dumb to understand, or so I thought. He was explaining the art of ruling the skies. Otherwise, there was pin-drop silence. I just stood staring at the halo which kept getting dimmer. It had now become more red than orange. How amazing can it be to imprison the Sun and see it wither away.
The speech ended and the halo disappeared along with the man whom it protected. I was one of those privileged ones to be present there. Everyone was clapping and cheering. Even my sense of awe couldn't stop me from joining in. He had even taken his clothes along with him, poor man. Everyone began looking at their watches, trying to calculate how long it would be before the great one was reborn amongst them once more. We are sure we will recognize him once he returns, from his clothes.

THE END

The Back-bencher Supremacy

Finally I had some entertainment in class today. A great teacher who is known as a master soliloquist amongst us, the Last Bench Union, brought a guest lecturer to our college to give us a talk on Latin American writing. No prize for guessing that I do not remember her name. I had gone out to get some fresh air and returned just in time, before the lecture began. My usual seat in the last bench was taken. But the entire last bench on the other row was totally empty. I started to smack my lips at the prospect of being able to lie down on my back and catch up on my sleep.

Before I did that, I wanted to hear a few lines from our guest to know if she was interesting to listen to. She began with a lot of energy and enthusiasm (which did remain till the end), but the speed at which she spoke made me feel like I was listening to a train pass by. Her words shot into my right ear and fired out from my left, at such tremendous speed that I was left mystified as to what they meant. Nevertheless, the people around me seemed to be enjoying the talk, which is surely a good thing. Then I noticed (as I always do from such an advantageous position) a teacher who has drunken, half closed eyes. What caught my attention is that he had roving eyes too. His eyes were all over the place in the classroom while it seemed that he was paying rapt attention to the speaker. Still waters definitely do run deep… very deep!

It is interesting to observe what teachers can be up to when they are sitting on the benches with us and attending a lecture. I lost no time in searching for the man some of us refer to as “The Boss.” He was sitting in the corner-most seat on the front bench. Boss was looking at the speaker in a very disinterested fashion (perhaps he was feeling a little alienated). Then right under her nose, he gave out a large yawn, put his head on the desk and went to sleep (or so it appeared). I was amused. Had he been a student, he would have been one of our close friends for sure. After some time, he got up and began to stare out of the window (just as I do from time to time). I was enjoying a quiet laugh by myself, when The Boss stood up and walked out of the class! Someone whispered that he didn’t have manners. Boss surely is qualified enough to be a part of our intimate circle of friends, never mind the generation gap….

I noticed a few more things, but they are a bit too trivial to mention. Sooner or later (I don’t know which one is applicable in this case), the lecture got over and people began to ask their questions, which she was only too glad to answer. The defining moment came when The Soliloquist fired one query at her, to which she responded with added vivacity. What she spoke was geek to me (as always), but her body language and energy caught my attention. Her forceful eyes betrayed her permanent smile as she sat at the edge of her seat, explaining I know not what! I thought that at any moment she might pounce on poor Soliloquist and tear him to pieces. The Soliloquist seemed to sense it too and looked intimidated (at least that’s what it seemed from the view of him I was getting from the last bench). I was relieved when the event got over and the poor man left the class in perfect health.

This had been one of the best lectures I had attended so far this year, I reflected. I wish we can have this guest lecturer give us a talk every now and then. I am more convinced than ever that the back bench is the most superior position to be in, in any classroom. The data I collected today is invaluable and has increased my knowledge of our English Department manifold. Today, I solemnly swear to remain a backbencher for as long as I am a student.
Long live Last benchers’ Union!!!

The Wonder Drug

What is it with sleep that makes us relish it so much? This is one question I pondered ever while I watched my friend, Pushkar carry on his exploits in his dreamland, as he prolonged his sleep into the late hours of the morning. If only he had narrated all his adventures in his dreams to me, I might have written a book titled, “Pushkar’s Adventures in Dreamland” by now.
Sleep, I reflected, is a wonder drug without any serious consequences on your health. Something if you’re blessed with it can ease you off all your sorrows and miseries for a few hours everyday. Some may call it escapism, but to a person like me who knows the joys of sleeping, it is one of nature’s greatest gifts bestowed on us, a medicine that can heal the scars of the body and the mind, and help to rejuvenate the spirit without consuming any spirit! Best of all, it comes without any charge to most people.
As I watched this fortunate pal nodding his head and smiling while he enjoyed the greatest luxury of the poor man, I recollected my former days when I too could afford to waste my days in the sinful pleasure of slothfulness. It is a sin for which I would not mind going to hell time and time again.

City Life

I wonder from where people developed this love for shopping. This evening I went to Kamala Nagar with the intention of buying a few items of clothing. The shops are crowded like a fish market in Kolkata. There is hardly any space to breathe, let alone look for what you want. Is it the “population explosion” or is the trend these days? Most of the t shirts on the shelves were of a design I wouldn’t dare to wear for the fear of being hounded by dogs on the streets.
Then I was at a shop to buy a pair of slippers. I stood at the counter waiting my turn to pay the bill. The guy at the counter asked the lady in front of me, “Kya aap ke paas change nahi hain?” The “polished” lady answered in the negative, in a language that I think was English, but the accent was really indistinguishable. Where did she acquire such an accent from, Timbuktu? The poor chap at the desk was perplexed and clearly at his wits end. However, he chanced to see her shaking her head and realised what she had wanted to say.
Is this the “hip and happening” city life that people are crazy about? Your house seems to be the only place where you seem to have enough place to stretch your arms wide without the fear of striking down the person next to you. Living in free air is now a distant dream in this much celebrated city.
THREE CHEERS TO CITY LIFE!!!

And the twilight fades into the night…

As twilight faded away, rains graced the earths surface with as much dignity it could carry after being absent for so long and prolonging the miseries of creatures from all walks of life. It was as if... as if it was a gift from the deity, Indra on the auspicious occasion of Janmashtami. You may make me out to be a deeply religious man, but I wanted to escape the hustle-bustle which is music to the ears of city dwellers, and the noise and lights of the temples and the streets. I wanted solace - few moments which I could own, moments that would perhaps be lost with the waves in mind forever. Welcoming the rains, I walked into a park where I could feel nature at its best in the colony where I live. No lights, little sound. Just drops of water soothing the wounds in the body…and even mind and perhaps the soul.
The silhouette of the trees against the backdrop of a sky covered with clouds which reflected the moon’s beautiful “Happydent” smile. The artist in me awoke and I saw things in new light. Within moments the same nature which was no better than the most tormenting hell was transformed into a relative paradise – something I never felt in Delhi. How a little extremity can push us to the hilt! Once more I wished that I had been a painter instead of a poet (if you permit me to call myself one).
I began to search for the Divine in those surroundings. If He does exist (and I’m sure he does), he had to be there somewhere in the magic created by the cool breeze that came just in time for the party of Nature going on…. Nothing mattered. Joys, sorrows, pleasures, grieves – all seemed to have taken leave of me. They too must have been admiring the loveliness that was possible only because of the scorching heat that preceded the rains.

Now, dear folks, do I get a little philosophical? Some people make it seem that being philosophical is a crime of an abominable nature. To them, I say that if you prove it to be so, then God perhaps has committed a fault caught by great people like your holiness. If looking at the truth of existence from different angles and observing them in the various colours that they exist in, is a crime then hang me. I would rather enjoy the beauty of all colours – they intensity of darkness, the joy of light, the gloom of grey… rather than stand under the street lights even during the day.

Achievements of a Backbencher (a.k.a. The Backbencher Identitiy)

The stories of various ‘events’ occurring in the backbenches of schools and colleges are prevalent everywhere. Sometimes, when people sit down to gossip or recall their days students, many folks, irrespective of their experience in the backbenches (if any) claim to have been eternal backbenchers with a devil-may-care attitude and renowned naughtiness.
Now by my final year in college, that too as a die hard backbencher, I have discovered the joys and secrets that continue to make this revered bench so fascinating. Majoring in English, I have been able to learn quite a few noteworthy things that frontbenchers can only aspire to in their dreams. Before I boast of the achievements of the LBU (Last Benchers’ Union), of which I am a decorated member, let me clarify a few things. Backbenchers are not dumb. We are just a few enlightened beings who have realised the real value of life and competition. It is because of our efforts at the back that the seemingly intelligent ones at the front can run away with the cake, and we are content to have it that way. Selflessness is the basic characteristic of a backbencher. People at the back are wonderful human beings with an amazing sense of humour and a zest for life. There is rarely a truly dull moment among the LBU members. While classes take their due course, we, the pioneers and philosophers of tomorrow train hard to attain an excellence of temperament, a vividness of imagination, and a refinement of thought by our own unique methods. New discoveries are made by those who dare to move off the beaten track.
Now, as for my personal achievements, I have been able to distinguish between a soliloquy and a dramatic monologue, just by observing our teachers and students in class, inconspicuously from the last bench. I have learnt about the desperate measures the critics can resort to, to have their “observations” accepted among a literary circle of toadies. Thanks to this precious bench, I have been able to catch up on my sleep every morning and therefore remain in sound health. I also have been able to look within and carry on with this wonderful thing called self discovery.
The last bench has plenty to offer to those who look forward to having something unique in their lives. It is a place for future artists, inventors and discoverers. I am quite certain that Einstein and Newton too must have been backbenchers. Too bad, our very own Rabindranath Tagore never went to school. We could have boasted of another “celebrity.”

NOTE
1. Newton had all the time in the world to sit/sleep (probably, he was bunking work) under the apple tree ‘waiting for the apple to fall’- this guy had to be a backbencher.
2. Einstein could never understand Mathematics in school – hallmark of a backbencher. So he invented his own maths and relativity.
(This was written while Dr. Saint was busy doing what only he is capable of, inside the classroom.)

Delhi as a prospect for the future

Just a couple of days back, Delhi received a hell lot of rainfall. I'm sure most of u know all about it. It was there for all to see. Even the news channels increased their ratings because of it. During those hours of epic rainfall, I was on my way back to my room in vijaynagar from Nehru Place. Needless to say, there was a huge traffic jam and the roads were flooded. In fact i was wondering if the Yamuna shifted its course and encroached upon then Ring Road. Well, no mater what the govt. says, we as indians know that self help is the best help. I have an idea. We should carry a boat...no a raft - you know the ones that can be inflated and deflated at will, with us whenever heavy rains are predicted. At this rate delhi, kolkata and mumbai will be no different from Venice in the coming years. It might even help to promote tourism. We can have Gondolas for those who are romantically and artistically inclined and rafting and kayaking for the sporty ones.
So, dear MCD stop making false promises about improving drainage and all that nonsense. Do something about water transport. There is a lot more moolah in here!

Classes: the greatest source of creativity

It was the last period going on in college today. Our beloved teacher, Mr Manish Sharma was going hammer and tongs on the subject of conscious and subconscious. Just then, my mind crossed the barriers of consciousness and reached the realm of subconsciousness and the result is down for you all to read. May be it can be read as a dramatic monologue too...i remember him talking about it too in class today.

Demons in the Sun
Now my dear unwanted friend,
Have you followed me here, so far?
I thought I had chased you
Far behind those huge castles
Whose gates I knew you couldn’t cross.
Now once more you creep up from the shadows,
Whispering into my mind from the dark side of light.
Why have you chosen this useless wretched creature?
What am I to service you with?
For you are not one that can be thrown into oblivion.
Come here my ghostly friend,
Face me just once before I request you to be a ghost to me.

The Discovery in English Hons.

The content of this piece reflects the findings and opinions of me alone (and may be a friend or two). Therefore I need to mention that those who do not share my opinion need not be offended. I have all the respect your views deserve.
I have come to the conclusion that the only way to read a literary text is through discrimination (it is believed to be present in all forms in all texts). The primary task is to identify the form of discrimination present in each text. Once this is accomplished, you will need to realise that there are four “discriminatory ways” of reading texts. They are:
1. Marxist Reading
2. Feminist Reading
3. Colonial/Post colonial Reading, and
4. Psychoanalytical Reading
Marxist reading deals with the discrimination between classes. Feminist reading deals with the discrimination between genders. Colonial/Post-colonial reading deals with the discrimination between the rulers and the ruled. Psychoanalytical reading involves discrimination over the author. It deals not with what is apparently conveyed by the author, but with what some self righteous analysts think what (s)he was “actually” trying to say.
Therefore for one to be a literary scholar, one must be thoroughly acquainted with these forms of discriminatory readings and must be prepared to go to all lengths to enforce them in all texts that (s)he comes across. Otherwise, in all probability, literary criticism will continue to be a distant dream and nothing more.
However, as with all cases and theories, there are and will be a few (remember only a few) works which may continue to elude the hands of such “discriminators.” I am now beginning a search for some books. The real purpose of me writing this is to request you to give me the names of such books if you do come across any of them. I am eagerly looking forward to your cooperation in this endeavour of mine.