Category: LIFE

INSANITY

It is but yet another random point in Space- Time,

With no meaning in and of itself,

Yet I look upon it with all the reverence due to a magical portal

The moment signifies naught but yet another revolution of the Pale Blue Dot

Around an insignificant star at a forgotten edge of the cosmos

Yet I look upon this moment like it could herald revolutions

The heavens have gone on for eons and will continue for eons to come

Beautiful, cold and indifferent

Dancing their way through time – reckoning it on a scale that is beyond me

Yet I want to believe that this particular moment is as special to the cosmos as it is to me

I call it the Future , I think it is yet to happen and I look forward to it

The cold , distant stars laugh at me , “But it has already happened , we know , we have seen it”  , they say,  but wont tell me anything more

I look down, unable to bear the coldness of the Heavens

And I look back at what I call my Past

I survey the debris and the rubble from years Past

Promises – broken, unkept and unrealized

Ideas – half baked, half-forgotten and half realized

Unread pages, unwritten stories , unwanted troubles

Dark despair and unbearable stillness

I am going to carry all of this Debris to the so-called Future

Through a magical portal that is not magical

And expect this Debris to magically transform into architectural wonders

I expect revolutions where none are in the offing,

I expect the Cold Cosmos to share in my view of the Future

I am stung by The Indifference of the Heavens

I am depressed by The Debris of the Past

And I am afraid that the Future has already happened

Yet I find myself looking forward to another Year

Insanity? , perhaps , but it helps me survive.

IF ONLY

It would all have been easier, easier to bear, easier to live with 

I am tired, nay, I am weary , weary to my very marrow 

Weary of these Sisyphean ordeals 

Farcical déjà vu s , playing in loops , again and again and again 

With nary an alteration 

I am weary , I hurt , my shoulders sag and my insides burn 

It would all have been easier , easier to bear , easier to live with 

If only I was numb 

I would have expected the numbness to have settled in by now 

The weariness should have made me numb by now, numb and inert 

To the ordeals and to the pain 

But somehow I still feel the pain as keenly as I used to 

I still hope as fervently as I used to 

Scars from wounds long ago still throb and hurt 

As much as yesterday’s bruise 

Long buried memories of rainbows still intrude to make me smile 

As much as yesterday’s silver lining 

I still sob and wail as much as I used to 

And laugh and rejoice too 

I still feel too keenly and hope too fervently 

Despite the weariness and despite the hurt 

I know that that is all that there is 

Yet I still drink too deeply from Hope’s poisoned Chalice 

Prolonging Life and hastening Death 

It would all have been easier , easier to bear , easier to live with 

If only I was numb

SMOKING HOPE

I pack my pipe tight and light it up and watch meditatively as the smoke spirals upwards , 

Bone weary and brain dead , I ask myself a thousandth time , "Am I addicted to this stuff?" 

I know I am. I have been smoking too much Hope these days. 

“It is worse than Opium” , someone had told me. And they were right. 

My sea legs aching, I get up wearily and survey my surroundings , 

I have rowed for another year now. I look around , trying to get my bearings.

“The shore doesn’t seem very far away” , I think to myself , “or wait is that where I started from?”  , I can not tell anymore. 

I take another drag of my pipe. May be the compass will help

I take out my compass . It is broken . I shake it vigorously. Still broken. I guess it was always broken. I don’t remember anymore. 

I take another drag of my pipe. May be the Lighthouse? 

But wait , am I supposed to go toward it or away from it . I cant tell anymore. 

I take another deep drag in panic. Let me look for other boats , I tell myself. And I look around

Everything is obscured by mist and fog. When was the last time I actually saw another boat, I ask myself. I cant tell anymore. 

I am panicking now. Has it been a year now? I think it has been five? Or ten? I cant tell anymore. 

With shaking hands , I pack my pipe with more Hope. And take another drag. 

And then I see them – the sharks in the water. 

They have been with me for as long as I can remember – following me silently , just waiting for me to drop dead one day.  

They can smell fear and panic. And they are circling closer today. 

I sigh. I take up my oars again with my calloused hands. 

Wincing I start rowing again. 

Am I not bound for anywhere? Have I been just rowing to stay ahead of the sharks? I cant tell anymore. 

I take another drag of my pipe. 

Smoking Hope is what keeps me going. That’s the only thing I can tell.

ACTS OF REBELLION

In an uncaring Universe , Kindness is an act of rebellion -not of weakness

For if you are cold and unfeeling like everyone else , you are taking the easy way out

In a world swirling with hatred , Love is an act of rebellion -not of weakness

For if you join in the general hatred , you are taking the easy way out

In a world that takes itself too seriously , Laughter is an act of rebellion -not of weakness

For if you think no end of yourself like everyone else , you are taking the easy way out

In a world that worships strength over everything , Vulnerability is an act of rebellion-not of weakness

For if you don’t want to understand real strength , you are taking the easy way out

In a world that is so sure of itself , Doubting is an act of rebellion -not of weakness

For if you have chosen to forget how to question , you are taking the easy way out

In a world full of cynics , Hope is an act of rebellion -not of weakness

For if you chose to have nothing to look forward to , you are taking the easy way out

In a world full of hardened people , Compassion is an act of rebellion -not of weakness

For if you chose not to feel other’s pain , you are taking the easy way out

In a world peopled by narcissists , Empathy is an act of rebellion -not of weakness

For if you chose not to think beyond yourself , you are taking the easy way out

The world is unforgiving of rebels , the world is afraid of them

The world values sameness over everything

You can always chose to take the easy way out and be like everyone else

More often than not , if you rebel you are hurt

More often than not, if you rebel you lose

But you don’t always do things to win , you do them because you just have to

The world may not value rebels , but it is rebels that it needs the most ,now more than ever

Don’t take the easy way out.

Be a rebel.

THE CITY OF GOLD

Yonder, in the distance was the City of Gold , A city of riches and of Wonders, I was told

Only the best and the brightest lived there , and the citizens lived with nary a care

So I set out for this wonderland , for this city of riches, for this place of wonders

It was to be a long journey and an arduous one , and I had my heart set on the prize to be won

I passed through vast beautiful meadows ,where fairies danced and unicorns pranced

I passed through wondrous valleys ,whose beauty took my breath away

I wanted to tarry a little , I wanted to bask in this beauty

But I told myself , there is enough Beauty to be had in the City of Gold

So I took out my own two eyes and threw them away ,

And now that I was blind ,I wasn’t distracted by the beauty on the way

As I traveled along , I heard music , beautiful and soul stirring

It sounded like the Angels were playing the Harp , and the Muses were singing

I wanted to tarry a little , I wanted to listen to the Music

But I told myself , there is enough Music to be had in the City of Gold

So I cut off my own two ears and threw them away

And now that I was deaf , I wasn’t distracted by the music on the way

After a while , I had thoughts , some deep , some shallow

I had ideas , some coherent , most of them random

I wanted to tarry a little , I wanted to think about what I was doing

But I told myself , there is enough Purpose to be had in the City of Gold

So I took my own brain out and threw it away

And now that I was brainless , I wasn’t distracted by Ideas on the way

Then after a while , I started feeling bad, I missed my Home and my mother

I missed my friends , but most of all I missed my senses

I wanted to tarry a little , I wanted to bathe in my sadness

But I told myself , there is enough Happiness to be had in the City of Gold

So I cut my soul out and threw it away

And now that I was soulless , I never felt bad along the way

Thus I traveled long , Thus I traveled far , And thus I am still traveling

I am not sure how far away still the City of Gold is , I am not even sure where it is

I may be blind now , I may be deaf and I may be an unthinking , unfeeling zombie

But I still hope to find the City of Gold one day  

So I carry on traveling ,with nothing to distract me on the way

DEMONS

We live together , the creatures and I , we have always lived together

They are vile , these creatures , and hateful .They make for really bad company

I hate them and they hate me , but I doubt if they will ever leave

We now have a bond that is forged from hatred ,which sometimes is stronger than the bonds of love

Let me tell you about these creatures

First there is The Scaly One , he is the ugliest of them all and the sneakiest

Creeps upon me , when I am least expecting him ,when I am happy , when I am laughing

He throws a  hard punch and runs away

As I am reeling , my head spinning , I can still hear his maniacal laughter

I call this one Self Doubt

Then there are the Twins , they are dwarves really , they are small but they are heavy  

And they like to climb on my shoulders , one on each side

I can barely take a step forward ,

And the more they sit , the heavier they get and once they get on I just cant shake them off

I call them Guilt and Regret

Then there is the Magician , he transports me at will

To a cold place where it is always twilight

I have walked here for miles in all directions, but there is never a soul in sight ,

Just a vast misty landscape, that goes on forever and ever and ever

I call this one Loneliness

Also , there is the Hypnotist , he looks disgusting

His body covered in bright red sores , yellow fluid leaking from the pustules on his body

Bloodshot eyes and always shivering

He gives me his disease whenever I pass him by

My body burning , there are pustules on my body and my sores are festering , I am crying in pain and misery

I call this one Self Pity

And finally there is the Woman , the most beautiful I have ever seen ,

Long lustrous hair , and always dressed in green

Everything is brighter when she visits, Everything is lighter

And all the vile creatures run away skulking , looking for corners to hide in

But don’t be fooled , she is the worst Demon of them all

For she doesn’t stay very long , and when she leaves , the vile creatures come back

They are stronger , They are meaner , They are viler

I hate her the most , for she mocks me , by showing me what could be but what perhaps will never be

I call this one Hope.

WANTED : ‘WEAK’ LEADERS

I have written elsewhere about our obsession with ‘Strong’ leaders. As a people we seem to deliberately seek out certain qualities in our leaders. Perhaps it is an unconscious expression of the desire for a ‘parent figure’. And when we do find such a leader who conforms to our image of being ‘strong’ , our devotion to such a figure is almost religious and our adoration borders on the mystical. We seem to be in possession of a huge capacity to give up our own agency, in a sense, to follow said leader. We attribute superhuman qualities to the leader. He /she attains omnipotence in our collective psyche. In that respect, this reflects the worst aspects of religious experience because this seems to parallel how many of us look to God.

When everything is fine and things are going smooth, such an attitude towards leaders-while not ideal, may be doesn’t do much harm. The trouble begins when trouble begins (pun intended). Because even in a crisis, we find it difficult to criticize someone whom we had put on a pedestal and worshiped. We find it difficult to ask questions, because so far, we never asked questions. The entire basis for our adoration was the omnipotence of said leader. In the process of following the leader and raising him/her to superhuman status, we gave up our rationality and agency. This person was our panacea to everything and our final hope. This person was supposed to lead us into utopia and we had all packed our bags to follow him there to take up permanent residence. But when all this person does is lead us from crisis to crisis, what do we do? We cannot start questioning, because that muscle atrophied hopelessly a long time back. How do we criticize someone we had raised to the status of a ‘God’? I guess we cannot, short of admitting that we have been worshiping a false god till now. That our superhero turned out to have feet of clay. The trouble with such an admission – it is more an indictment of ourselves than it is of the leader. We are admitting to a horrible error in judgement, which a lot of us are loath to do.

The second problem to such an admission – a God/hero has to be replaced by another God/hero-surely humans can’t seat themselves on the vacated throne. So before admitting to have been worshiping a false God, we have to identify a new God to take that place. And gods of course are hard to find. It may have something to do with the fact that they don’t exist. So in the absence of a new hero/God we continue worshiping the old God. True, we are a bit cross with said God and not happy, but it is God after all and whatever God does, it is always for our good.

Perhaps such is the dilemma that many ‘Bhakts’ find themselves in. Despite finding ourselves in the midst of a horrible, avoidable human tragedy –may be that is why many supporters of the current ruling dispensation, find it difficult to criticize and withdraw their support. Now I am not talking about the people and institutions with a vested interest who support the administration for obvious, self-serving reasons. I am talking about ordinary supporters, as ordinary as you and me. We are afraid of losing hope and the vacuum that a vacated throne creates. And perhaps this is what is behind refrains like –“but what is the alternative” and “whatever is being done, must have been fully thought through”.

In a sense, the problem is not the leader per se, but us. And the qualities that we seek from leaders. And this desire for a strong leader and the willingness to give up our own agency is not limited to the political realm. I have seen it multiple times in the relatively boring environs of the corporate world also. We have very specific definitions for ‘Strength’ as well. We typically look for charisma, decisiveness and the ability to brook no dissent. In that sense we seem to revel in being steamrolled ourselves. We also end up making certain assumptions – that this person can solve all problems and as an extension solving for problems requires only a strong will. We typically tend to underestimate complexity of the problems being solved and conveniently ignore the fact that the problems facing us are far too complex and have far too many implications for one person with a strong will to satisfactorily solve for. The ancient shibboleth – Where there is a will –there is a way- needs revisiting. Having a will is a necessary condition but not always a sufficient one.

In our search for strength, we also unconsciously define a ‘negative’ list. We don’t say or admit to this openly or even consciously but it is tacit. We frown upon a consultative leader. We frown upon anyone who displays even an iota of self-doubt. We neither look for empathy nor set too much store by kindness. We elevate our search for strength to such heights that ‘Will’ replaces expertise. We perversely revel in ‘one person’ shows and do not give too much thought to what it does to the culture of the organization or society. We enjoy ‘displays of strength’ – the no brooking of any dissent and the active discouragement of ‘questioning’. Everything becomes ad- hominem. And when questioning dies- with it die scientific temper and rationality.

By defining leadership so narrowly and by elevating our leaders to such stratospheric heights, we do ourselves disservice. Despite being disappointed we keep setting store by this. In fact disappointments seem to strengthen this behavior further.

May be what we need today across the corporate and political realms are ‘weak’ leaders. Leaders who understand that the problems they are solving are far too complex for any one person to solve. Leaders who set store by expertise, who consult widely and who, once in a while, display self-doubt. Leaders who encourage questioning and see that as a sign of their strength. Leaders who are human.

We need such ‘weak’ leaders who can build strong institutions and processes. We hanker after ‘strong’ leaders and weak institutions.

To get there we need to give up seeking certain qualities in our leaders to the exclusion of everything else and take back the agency that we have so willingly given up.

 In a sense, it is like giving up religion. Difficult at first, but liberating once done.

SISYPHUS ,CLICHES AND LIFE

I wrote this piece a long time back -close to a decade ago–NOT A CHILD , NOT YET AN OLD MAN . I was going through my old posts and saw this. And it started a series of reflections. I was particularly struck by the hopeful tone of this post. It was so optimistic about the future . I thought it would be interesting to reflect on the last decade ,about my place in life and how do I feel now about the future.

As I reflect upon my life – one singular feeling stands out – that of disappointment. Disappointment in myself. I feel like I have singularly failed at many endeavors of my life. I have never lived up to the promises that I made to msyelf or to others -implicitly expected or explicitly made. I have always been an indifferent employee . I have been an uncaring friend. I am a bad husband and a rather mediocre son. True , I am materially comfortable and there are the visible trappings of success. I do count that among my blessings but somehow that doesnt console me because I am not living the way I want to or thought I would be.

Ironically ,at the same time I feel disappointed with the world ,the souls peopling it  and life in general. I wonder at it’s vagaries and cringe at it’s indifference. I have known pain and struggle and loss. I have known bitter disappointment and I have been a bitter disappointment to others. I have been depressed more than I care to admit. I have never been suicidal but I have wondered if there isnt a quick painless end. In short , in general life sucks and is sucked out of you -literally and metaphorically.

And as I wonder about all of this , I cant help thinking if there is a better attitude to life? I feel like I am stuck in the same place as I was a decade back. Searching , hoping  and getting disappointed. Have other people handled it better? Is there any one I can look up to for guidance? My thoughts turn to my mother. She got married when she was 18 ,small town , orthodox set up . She had me when she was 19. Her husband , my father deserted us when she was 23. So she had me , no job , no clue of her husband’s whereabouts and an education that was incomplete. Thankfully , my grandfather, her father , took us in. So she had shelter. So she lands a job , completes her education and raises me -all by herself and no she didnt remarry. I owe a lot to her.

Anyways , as I reflect upon this – I feel amazed. I see her strength and am awed. She faced the usual struggles of a single woman raising a kid by herself . I am her only offspring. My grandfather passed away more than two decades ago. I am what she got but apart from that she has no else to share her life with. She is lonely and severely weathered by life. I have disappointed her more than I would care to admit to myself . I have not been a great son.

And I see her attitude to life. There is no bitterness. No cynicism. The world has disappointed her but she hasnt turned away from it. She is strong yet retains vulnerability. She is realistic yet devoid of cyisicims. She is life weary yet hopeful. She had her disappointments ,yet not given to bitterness. She is devout. I would have turned away from God and religion in her place. I marvel at this attitude and I am thinking to msyelf that is the attitude I want.

I have always been struck by the Myth of Sisyphus. Rolling the boulder up the hill only to see it rolling down again ,KNOWING that it will roll down again. It is a deliberate choice. Life is like that I guess. It is a deliberate choice. A choice to live it or not. A choice to embrace it or not. And hope is important in this choice. And Will.

I suppose one continues get disappointed and one continues to disappoint. But cest la vie ,I guess. Its a deliberate choice one has to make – of going on living and embracing life. What drives this choice? Damned if I know . I guess it just is or isnt. Existentialists tell us its the will to life and that angst is a necessary accompaniment to life. I tend to agree with them.

Sometimes there is solace to be found in cliches. One cliche that comes to mind is from the Gita – Karmanye vadhikaraste.ma phaleshu kadachana. Do your thing and let the results be. Does it mean no expectations ? I am not so sure. Expecting and hoping are the key to the Will to live. I think its more an exhortation to continue living. It is a nice attitude. YOu are sure to be disappointed but you will continue to start rolling the boulder up the hill again.

Courage is important too I guess -to know what makes one happy and struggle for it. To know how to tell the difference between contentment and happiness . TO know the difference between serenity and true euphoria-for serenity and peace are like a stupor. To be willing to make choices- deliberate ones and to be willing to fight for those choices. They are burdens yes but I guess its the choice one makes.

So in that sense , I guess I would like to correct my attitude from before. One should always  be a child because what else but childish naivete can prompt someone to embrace life and one can never be an old man because it is always a choice to make – a deliberate choice to continue living and trying to find happiness – whatever that means for one.

IDENTITY AND LABELS

“So are you an atheist or not?” , some one asked. They sounded exasperated and troubled. As to what occasioned the question – my enthusiasm for the Diwali Pooja and the associated rituals. I have always held myself to be an atheist. I have been open about it –announcing it to friends and family. I love reading the works of the ‘four horsemen’ – Dawkins , Bennett , Harris and Hitchens. I have had vigorous debates on the existence of God with believers. So I guess I can understand why the juxtaposition of my enthusiasm for certain rituals and my avowed atheism can be puzzling and troubling- to the extent of allegations (valid ones) of hypocrisy and ‘drama’. “Were you lying then or are you lying now?”  That is a question that I guess I have to answer –to myself at least. And this started a series of reflections.

Specifically in regards for my enthusiasm for the Diwali rituals – I suppose there is a more mundane explanation. I missed my mother this Diwali. She wasn’t able to join us. I guess I was trying to recapture some of the essence of her presence last time. More importantly , these rituals remind me of my childhood and how Diwali was celebrated back home. When I was younger (than I am now) , I didn’t particularly care about these things. But now ,somehow I want to hold on to some memories and I suppose this is my way of recreating them.

But I think that still does not answer the larger questions- why would I not reject these rituals in light of my atheism? Is the above explanation enough? Am I an atheist then or just a convenient one? What is my stand on religion and God? What does this say about how I identify myself as?

I have always been obsessed with religion and God. I have been born into an orthodox ,religious family. I count temple priests among my ancestors. Religion has been and is a way of life for my family. In my childhood and teenage years I have always see sawed between being an atheist and being a believer. I think it was in my late teens that I finally settled on being an atheist. And I suppose I continue to be one. So what does that mean to me? It means I do not believe in the existence of an all powerful deity or deities. I do not believe that a being is watching over us. I do not believe we will be punished or rewarded for deeds bad or good – either here or in another imaginary world. I see many logical fallacies in the argument for God. My brand of atheism is not that of the disappointed child who blames an absent father – meaning I do not think that a God exists but is indifferent to us. My brand of atheism is not one of the ‘weaker’ versions. I do  not think ‘some power’ or ‘something’ exists. The universe is indifferent to our existence and there is nobody watching over us. I firmly am of the opinion that religion , in general has caused a lot of harm and religious zeal is amongst the worst impulses in the world.

Having said all of this , I also continue to be fascinated by religion- by religions of all kinds. Religion is a human creation and not a divine one. To marvel at it , is to marvel at human creativity. It is to marvel at what the human mind is capable of thinking up. True there is some really demented ,screwed up stuff but there is also lot that is beautiful ,touching and moving. Religious feeling and awe has been the inspiration for some of the greatest works of art, some of the most beautiful poetry and songs. Some of the most moving impulses have their roots in religious awe. To date , my most moving ,calming experience has been a call to prayer by a muezzin in a mosque in Istanbul. It was dusk. The sun was setting. The sky was a dark shade of orangish-red. May be it was the atmosphere. May be it was the place. But that call to prayer was one of the sweetest , most moving things I have ever heard. And I couldn’t help thinking to myself – even God would respond to that. Would one call it a religious experience? The earnestness in the voice , its sweetness were inspired by faith and by religious awe. I may have neither of these , but should that stop me from partaking in the beauty of this and appreciating the impulse that was it’s source? Similarly I appreciate certain rituals and traditions- for what they mean and what they meant to the people creating them. As long as I am mindful of the reasons why I am partaking in them , does that make me any less of an atheist? Some of the nicest people I know are religious I respect their faith ,while I do not share in it. My mother is religious and I don’t mind doing stuff for her , if that makes her happy , as long as she understand my position as well.

Religious awe can create both timeless beauty and mindless zeal. We need to be perhaps mindful that both of these have a human and not divine provenance. I like what some religious traditions have to say about the world , about how they see God . I would love to study them. I would like to know more. I don’t think that makes a person of faith.

I will continue to marvel at , be fascinated with and understand religion more. I will continue to partake in the beauty of the religious impulse . Ultimately , appreciating religion and its related impulses is appreciating humanity- for both the beauty it can create and the ugliness it can engender. And I will not bother about narrow labels.

 

I AM…

I am a pale shadow. I am a poor excuse. I am a bad joke.
I am what I am , what could have been and what perhaps could never be.
I am somone else’ idea. I am nobody’s creation.
I am the living ,waking , walking lie that I tell everybody. I am the eternal truth about existence.
I live everyday longing to die some day. I die everyday hoping to live one day.
I am childishly naïve. I am obtusely cynical.
I worship false Gods. I drink putrefaction for holy water without flinching.
I hearken to false Prophets and get coached in convenient values.
I scale false peaks and wonder why I feel emptiness and not exhilaration when I reach the top.
I am the abyss that could never be filled. I am the full cup that is afraid to empty itself.
I am the happiness that is not my own. I am the accomplishment that I do not care about.
I am a virus trying to infect the world. I am the safe haven in a zombie infested world.
I am a pitiful platitude. I am putrid pain.
I am the vulgar opulence of illusory success. I am the miserable poverty of shattered dreams.
I am Gollum’s obsession. I am Smeagol’s longing.
I am half forgotten dreams. I am half remembered lore. I am half whispered ideas.
I am foolish farsightedness. I am frustrating tunnel vision.
I am half blind , half dead and fully awake.
I am schizophernic and we attend my funeral everyday.