Encounters of the Human Side...!

“Becoming conscious is of course a sacrilege against nature; it is as though you had robbed the unconscious of something.” – Carl G. Jung

I have been away from myself for quite a while and it seems I couldn’t finally hold my fingers on reflecting the same when it happens. So after being as self connected and regular as a Halley ’s Comet, I’m back to what I do most naturally-          - penning down my thoughts. 

Yesterday I lived an illusion. Shut out from the rest of the world, barred amongst nature, I decided to ignore life ... and existence. It was not a self-conceited move. For I had lost track of time, space or reason. I let my conscious self drift away, and merge into the surroundings. I was not a matured man, sitting in the room. I was, but a non-entity, a nobody, nothingness. Time having lost its meaning, my mind was a vagabond. The body absorbed in the woods, the mountain!

There are moments when you are a plethora of perceptions. A time when fear mingles with hopes, memories rise and fade. A sense of helplessness battles against conviction. A tranquil peace so surreal that it drugs your senses. Yet something was amiss....

I sighed. Neither was it a sigh of relief . . . nor fatigue. The mind was numb. Vague thoughts glided in and out of the mind. Like blobs of oil that float on stagnant water. Like shadows that creep beyond the light. Like the tinkling sound of the bells that gets carried over the glade.

I opened my mind and looked from the edge. The perspective looked beautiful, from the peak. One by one the ground dimmed as time approached the hour of dawn. The lights were numerous. They were like milestones achieved, after much struggle and strife. For, the darkness that followed was soothing. And yet, here I was, very much grounded, just another pawn in this symbolic game called life.

It struck me like a blow. An incongruous realization,yet,as deafening as the rumble of thunder that vibrates the ear drum; as illuminating as the unforgiving streaks of lightening that form an intricate tapestry in the dark sky.

My eyes saw toil, honesty, dedication, and most importantly, an ungirded passion, that formed the core of existence. I have learnt something important which I preach, that it is okay to be disappointed in life, but it isn’t okay to be discouraged with life. Things will fall in place as per their most intricate design, ambitions will be met in a manner that will mark the person defined, ecstasy will be restored.

An illusion shattered, I realized that I was free. Born again! Free to soar in the dark skies and be the first one to touch the golden rays of the nascent sun. And then something whispered in my ears as I readied myself to trek my way down the hill, "In the depths of darkness I finally realized, that there was in me an invincible lightness!”

I have risen above the Ground...To the Peaks! To Normalcy...To Mortality...The Cycle of Life...I am humming that song which comes naturally to me! The 'human side' is back. I am Restored. I am Life!

-V!K$

The Walking Stick!

There lies a different imagination.

Not the usual kind you see.

In the woods and mountains,

of joy and glee.

The first foot of commitment

the breath of fulfillment,

Ignoring the tasks that life enforces,

of mundane courses.

Why do you walk, people ask?

I reply, why do you tread? 

In hope of a better life? 

Or just to earn your bread?

Man is not gifted with wings to fly, I ponder

for the sky is not where we are

I am a land soldier,

who knows no reason to wander.

I carry my walking stick, for I'll need it when i am old.

For the balance, the do's and don't,

The chromatic life it holds.

Onto this life's vacillating roads,

walk with whatever little you can hold.

as never again will you find everlasting bliss,

look back, and say did i miss?

Ah but Man, it's not for you to feel,

what is imaginary and what is real.

for you need to belong to that fraternity,

where few last for moments and many for eternity.

And when you wonder where I am gone,

That's when it dawns on you, Man is never alone.

For I walk, till the roads surrender.

Fender bender. I render.

One step at a time, repeat over and over, 

For I just lose myself in the wild to discover!

-V!K$

To Be Continued...

I wonder. What it may be

A realism or my fantasy.

I think. With some hiccups

I write. With a short sigh.

Time. It is passing by

Space, seems little for hopes to die.

I try to make words rhyme

In form of voices, in form of mime.

Reality, is a package

Wrapped in ribbons of randomness.

To think is an act of instinct

To write, you must profess.

The lines may not click, I know

But they always look better when I show.

So is it another poem, one asks?

May be.

For my thoughts wander and may not last.

For I make another try

To make a composed sense of it.

To make words rhyme with life

To reveal what is odd and what is fit.

Familiarity may not be awarded

The scape will keep me misguided.

These thoughts ridicule me, alas.

Snatched and penned down at last.

The words, they will come again.

Through guided explanations

or a random chain.

Those with a heart will make their way through,

left will be the scribbling, more to brew.

The Poet is live. The lines still true.

This poem is born, to continue and continue...

-V!K$

The Tattered Toothbrush!

So what's so indispensable, a daily phenomenon, hard and almost a compelling need every morning?

And before your thoughts run amok in the obvious directions, let's take a 'tooth' back. I am ruminating about the brush aka 'the toothbrush' aka 'your first kiss of the morning'. Well, almost!

So this morning happened. Like every other morning. 

I coyly looked at my first important companion, the cell phone. And no this blog is not about it. Not yet. 

It looked back at me with blinking eyes as if whispering,"Buddy, I am starving. Will you feed me some charge?". So I plug it in and voila! It suddenly seems to be so happy to be out of its death bed.

Checking for my 'Good Morning' messages, I could find none. So apparently for this day too, it was all unto me to make it, well, a good morning!

Now it was time for my second best companion, and yes this post is all about it, my toothbrush. I reached out for the holder, only to find something amiss. 

The toothbrush, my second best companion, the tattered statue of liberty, my leaning tower of pisa, my first kiss of every morning - was nowhere to be found! And it dawned on me, that perhaps the inevitable has happened. 

Perhaps, in the hustle bustle of life, a companion has been lost! Perhaps.

But wait, hold on for a minute while I pull you out from this story telling. 

And before you start judging this post by the very 'object' that it wishes to detail, let me try and get your interest back. (Well I know a title with 'The Debonair Dildo' would fetch me more readership, but let's save that for another day for now).

So where were we? Ah, the forgotten tale of the toothbrush! 

So once the realization sets in, I could only fathom the mystery of the disappearing act, the never-said-goodbye, the memory of the soft bristles and a slim hold. They all came back to me and I headed straight for a replacement. I was angered, as for a guy who was just dumped by his beloved! 

Now as someone who minds my own business, I’m used to making difficult decisions. Seriously, I am. However, today I found myself facing one of the most challenging decisions I’ve made in a while. That’s right – to buy a new toothbrush!

Before you laugh again on the dexterity and the compounded mental load this brings about, just consider what a complicated decision it has become to choose a new toothbrush. I spent several minutes pondering, bemused, in the mini supermarket aisle because I couldn’t decide between automatic, semi automatic and manual; white, green and blue, soft and firm; springy head or non-springy head; tongue cleaning or non-tongue cleaning...

What I found particularly funny, other than imagining the sight of me scratching my head infront of the toothbrushes, was some of the marketing on the toothbrush boxes themselves. For example, the toothbrush that I ended up buying (because it was on special offer) was labelled as ‘professional’. Now, what exactly does that mean – can I call myself a professional tooth brusher? 

And if I could, where could I possibly flaunt this newly acquired degree. An asylum?

There seems little justification for being awarded this title. Surely I should have attended a training course, passed an exam and been presented with a certificate before achieving such an important honour?

Having graciously accepted this title (by agreeing to pay Rs 75), I wonder whether it’s time for me to update my CV to include “professional tooth brusher?” Perhaps I could also include the fact that I do a ‘professional’ job of wiping my own backside too? (though I do say so myself!)

But I truly believe the toothbrushes are, as a matter of fact, very important piece of your life. Consider the following arguments in favor:

• It can make your life miserable. Don't believe me? Try giving it a miss one day and kiss your girlfriend. I bet you two bottles of listerine that you will come back to read this post seriously!

• A toothbrush can identify the mysterious people in your household. Simple math, if the no. of folks in the house is less than the no. of toothbrushes that you have...time to dial 911/100 depending on where you live.

• For all the ladies out there; and this one is so true and tested, you ought to swear by this - If a guy is willing to leave his toothbrush at your place, you damn well marry that bloke.

• It is always better to keep an eye on the future. As you grow old, you won't brush your teeth, you'll rather count them. So why not pay some attention to the little friend now, eh?

All said and done, I found my new companion, a shiny new toothbrush, with an advanced feature set to take the relationship to a new level. And I just walked out of the store, only to feel wonderful that as long as it can help me stay truthful to my teeth, they won't be false to me.

And the music played in the background. 

"Brush it top, brush it down, brush your teeth all around. 

 Somethings lost and somethings found.

 Pretty little joy we expound."

Wait, where the heck is my toothpaste now? The music stops and the feeling starts all over again!

 - V!K$

The Trapeze Artist!

"As I dangled, inverted in mind and body, swaying on the wooden bar, my world upside down, the background whizzing past my eyes like a myriad of blurred moments, it's then everything became unclouded and clarion. I could look at my possibilities and I was ready to take my chances!"

Possibilities are too many. Possibilities are rare. They needn't exact to the chances you get in your indigenous life which is at most times celebrated out of proportion. They needn't stem from your core beliefs. They need to be devised. They need to be identified from the camouflage of so called 'chances'.

Not because they aren't borne by destiny. Not even by the irrepressible chances that generate in bound every moment and then.

They are possibilities, sheer possibilities and nothing more than the face value. Life, as we know it, originates and dictates from the factual descriptions of what we know and non-factual instances of what we want to.

An expectation to live upto or possibilities to live into, is perhaps the modular decision a life being has to take.

Chances on the other hand are sublime definitive instances. Layered and presented in a moment, dissolved in another. We cannot create chances. Possibilities, yes.

Regardless of the notions and differences, dependencies are aplenty.  Build on your possibilities or you wear down. Make the most of your chances or you perish.

Life, a trapeze, between chances and possibilities held together swinging around on the ropes of reality and beliefs. You land on one for a moment and off to the other in another, round for round.

The universe applauds. Every attempt. Every miss. The penultimate question still remains: When it's your last swing, will you land on possibilities or would you take your chances?

- V!K$

O'dear Rapist!

Will you listen to me?
O'dear Rapist.
Would you now care to answer my questions,
For I am lost in this mist? 

Cold and staunch,
The wind cuts me into half.
Of what is left. The Silence.

The crowd has no face. The God never had one.
Who will show to the world, of what you've done.

Make me a mask, I want to be pretentious.
I want to show you care for me. To show you feel.
I had to relent, and you had to steal?

The smile on my nude face, the mask now I wear.
You see the brave face on outside, my inside breeds only fear.
To veil the shame you need to have.
I need to show you how humans behave.

Will you listen to me?b
O'dear Rapist.
There is something else to ask,
In my small infinite list.

Make me a mask, for I was not raped by a man.
It's not any individual, for society alone can.
I want to fit in, the mask you wear.
I was a lost property, raped by your society.

Will you listen to me?
O'dear Rapist.

Will you show me the way to die,
to get away from the shambles of lie?

You say I will be safe, you say I will be free.
I shall jump off this bridge, only if you can count to 
one
two and
.............

-V!K$

The Half-Baked Patriot (51%)

“Hey you! Out there in the cold 

getting desperate, getting bold,

Taking tricolor out of the fold, can you teach me?
Hey you! Standing in the aisles 

Posting pictures and those image files

Can you teach me?”

These are not exactly the Pink Floyd lines I wanted to hum along as I walked across the street, but something, or rather someone caught my attention. And my humming automatically changed to a robotic tone as I threw my voice hard enough to reach him.

Hey you! Yes you, right there. The one posting your tricolor loaded images all over the space. Pardon my ignorance but would you care to educate this ignorant soul on your identity and explain this phenomenon that you are contributing to?

The enthusiast looked up (Yes, that's what I named him till he disclosed his kind) and murmured in utter disbelief," Did you just ask me that for real?"

“Yes, I did.” I replied. For I was still waiting like an innocent child who has just asked his mother about a colorful balloon and waiting for the secret to reveal.

He paused, scorned at me, and then replied," Brother. You're an Indian? You should know that what you are calling a tricolor is our national flag, and what I am doing now is what a patriotic Indian would do."

A Patriotic Indian? That sounded new to me. Now I was more intrigued, more drawn and more tied to the phenomenon. I too wanted to belong to the clan, to the cohort, to the 21st century trend.

What is that I asked, this p-a-t-r-i-o-t-i-c Indian. "You are so naive", he replied. Are you an NRI who just lost your way to the country, a mentally retarded soul or someone too ignorant to notice the larger signs of life?, he kept on shooting the questions.

I felt like a soldier who fired a blank shot in air only to receive a barrage of cannon shots in reply. And probably for a zillionth time in my life, I felt naive again.

Naïve because I always thought a Patriot is someone who can holler the loudest without knowing what he is hollering about. But this one was different. Calm and composed with his electronic gadgets silently making ‘patriotic’ sign gestures (Well I always thought that was the sign of satan), this Patriot, who so wanted to be named but won’t be started with his ‘rapid crash course in patriotism for me’.

“Now listen to me bro! And listen rather well.” he said. For this is very important that you follow these steps to turn yourself from an ‘ignorant earthling’ to a ‘patriotic individual’.

1. Start with small but elemental step: change your profile pic on Facebook, Twitter,

Whatsapp and other social media, to the Indian national flag and their spinoffs alongside

changing your status to “proud to be an Indian” or “Saare jahaan se acchha” etc. etc. But

don’t overdo it and make sure you restore back your stud profile picture and the ‘cheeky’

status at sharp 12:00 am on 27th Jan.

2. Post patriotic status messages on twitter, create fake pages on facebook etc. Best start

    an intellectual discussion around what has changed over the years and how the current

    Govt. is incompetent (it’s another matter that you don’t even know which Govt. is

    actually in power?)

3. Attend a social flag hoisting event in your neighborhood for just that long so you can take

    pictures with unsuspecting children holding the two rupee flags and post them on your fb

    timeline or twitter.

4. Watch Arnab Goswami’s debate re-runs. After all having watched him, you have watched

    What the ‘Nation’ had to say. What’s more patriotic than hearing your own opinion on

    grave matters from someone else’s mouth?

5. Try to also post pictures of your previous/current foreign country tours while lamenting

    on the status at the same time that nothing is better than your own country (And try to

    do that with your foreign country manufactured Phone or laptop on sites Not owned by

    your own country)

6. An alternative to above, be patriotic enough to not go to a foreign destination and opt for

    Goa instead (where you can be as patriotic as you want by ogling at...well...the

    foreigners)

7. Watch an India-Pakistan re-run while munching on a patriotic pack of Lays and Popcorn.

    Though, once in a while you are allowed to indulge in a 'dual citizenship' patriotic

    behavior with countries like Brazil, England, Germany etc. etc. (Yes, I am referring to the

    World Cup Football Indian fad)

8. Forward random patriotic messages and mails to people you seldom know with all the

    more patriotic instructions such as “Forward if you’re an Indian”, “Proud to be an Indian”.

9. Lament on every possible failure of Govt. like petrol prices, The K issue, too many dry

days and Global Warming......while watching a Salman Khan movie or Comedy Nights

with Kapil!

10. And last and the least, nothing beats watching Gadar or Lagaan while you are onto it!

Thus the list came to an end and I thanked the Patriot to move on with the new Patriotic Nirvana I had just attained, now humming the national anthem “Baby Doll main Sone di....”. Wait, or was it an Arijit Singh song. I am still a half-baked patriot!

And then it occurred. A stolen thought from G B Shaw who once exclaimed, "Patriotism is your conviction that this country is superior to all others because you were born in it." Hell yeah!!!

P.S: Before your WiFi connectivity gets lost and you suddenly lose your chance of being Indian, do read the blog and hit like while the net is on!

~Yours truly,

The Confused Patriot!

*Image courtesy: www.stuffosaurus.com