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  • Uneven

    May 10th, 2020

    Uneven are the emotions that I feel,
    Whether in my life or of those around me,
    There is a lot to be said about lonely apathy,
    Is that the only solution to preserve my sanity?

    Uneven is my mind and the decisions I take,
    Too many times I flip-flop and take a break.
    There is a lot to be said about stoic silence,
    Is that the only solution to save my vanity?

    Uneven is my heart and the people I love,
    Too often I lose my head and sometimes I don’t.
    There is a lot to be said about stifling passion,
    Is that the only solution, chastity?

    Uneven is the world and the people in it,
    Too often we have fights, we shout and disagree,
    There’s a lot to be said about passive individuality,
    Is that the only solution for humanity?

  • Hopes

    May 8th, 2020

    Blink, and you miss. Don’t, and you’ll still
    miss my willpower, it is that fickle.
    Every thought, plan, goal, and dream,
    Doomed to fail like the hammer and sickle.

    I marshal my thoughts. I plan my day.
    Do I bite off more than I can chew?
    I beseech myself to face my battles,
    pray that this isn’t another Waterloo.

    I actively look for every distraction,
    Only staying passive for the task at hand.
    I am impossible, incorrigible, a dog’s tail,
    I need only ask, and I give in to my demand.

    I do not expect too much from myself,
    only that I’ll be true to my word,
    My word gets cheaper with every promise,
    And soon my hopes will never be heard.

  • Fatal Mistakes: “I am supposed to be doing this.”

    May 5th, 2020

    Picture this. You wake up and have a burst of productivity. You decide “Today is the day I take charge of my life.” One impressively drawn schedule and to-do list later, you feel pretty good about yourself. However, once you start ticking off the items on the schedule, you no longer have the same passion you did in the morning, and gradually, the tasks on your schedule start tiring you down. You start compromising with the schedule, doing some and promising yourself that you will do the rest starting tomorrow. But that tomorrow never arrives, and you end up feeling very guilty and disheartened. The next schedule, you promise yourself that this will be successful, no hang-ups unlike last time. But sadly the same routine continues, until you develop a mortal dread towards self-improvement and committing to big steps to change your life. If I have described something that you have experienced, read on. Maybe there is something of value here for you.

    You are not alone. This is a phase that many of us go through in life, and it is not an unsolvable phase. In order to overcome this phase however, it is important to review what the process stands for, where the burst of productivity and motivation come from, why does it not stick throughout, and finally, what makes you feel like crap when you have gone and broken another resolution.

    People inherently want to get better. This is why people show off on social media, take serenity trips and strive to become better versions of themselves in any number of ways. Cooking, organizing, being productive, being recognized for their work, being better parents than their parents, going to the gym to hit the treadmill, increasing followers on social media, or any number of scenarios, as the case maybe. The driver behind the constant need to get better is this- Every person is a protagonist in their life. Think about it. Every person assesses the past, the present, and the possible future from their own lens for themselves. Every insecurity is a fear arising from the universe’s interaction with that person. Every achievement is a glorious high and every ticking off is a mortifying low, in their own individual life. Many milestones, which do not mean a thing on a larger scale, matter to the individual achieving them. This is simple. The person/protagonist living that life is the person best placed to understand the journey taken to reach each milestone, and many ordinary events in life have meaning because that person has the context for the meaning. When I started out gymming, I was struggling to lift 40kgs. When I hit 100kgs, I felt like the king of the world, because I alone knew the effort it took to get here.

    While it is understandable that every person is a protagonist in their own life, this comparison also sheds light into another issue. What does every typical protagonist have? A story-arc. A journey from point A to point B, with self-development, greater emotional fortitude, and willpower being additional gains from this journey. It is natural to think this way, and often people sub-consciously construct this story-arc depicting growth, betterment and becoming better at that thing for themselves.

    However, things sometimes do not go according to the plan. Sometimes, the premise of the story-arc you set out for yourself was not feasible, or ignored major behavior changes and structural issues that needed to be worked on first. Otherwise, you do not foresee that things will get difficult. Schedules become quicksand of commitments and promises that the more you make, the more you break. You encounter problems that every protagonist encounters- something or a series of things that threaten to derail your journey from point A to point B, condemning you to stay where you are. You tell yourself that ‘staying where you are’ is simply another way to say ‘failing to get better’. This is the point when you need to find that motivation to work past the problems comes in.

    You tell yourself, “I need to do XYZ, because I am supposed to do it, as per my story-arc.” And right here, you have consciously or sub-consciously categorized your self-development and betterment as a chore that you must do, because a previous version of you ordered you to. This paves the way to the next logical thought “God I wish I hadn’t made that promise”, which is a hop and step away from the final “After all, it was I who made that promise, maybe I can scrap this and come up with a more realistic schedule the next time.” In the pursuit of making an accommodating and realistic story-arc for you the protagonist, you end up setting the bar lower and lower, and end up with your future self (so full of possibilities) being a slave to the whims of your present self.

    Where did it go wrong? You said “I am supposed to do this or be that”. When sticking to the schedule became tough and the story-arc for you the protagonist became challenging, you simply blamed it on the schedule and the story-arc. That opened the gates for bargaining and comfort, with no good result from that road. Instead, when you hit that bump for the schedule or your amazing story-arc, take ten minutes. Hell, take five. Think about why the past version of you wrote that in the schedule, what was the thought behind imposing such a challenging quest for you to undertake? Do your future self a favor by identifying why your past self expected so much from your present self (if I can confuse you a little more). And above all, believe in yourself. Plans come undone, but there’s always a lesson to be learnt.

    How does one move past a productivity block? What do you guys think? I am looking forward to any thoughts or opinions on this, and would love to hear from you.

  • Central Vistas and Redevelopment

    April 23rd, 2020
    A visual of an ordinary moment of extraordinary happiness at Rajpath

    It is the year 1911. The British Indian government has just decided to shift the capital of their prized colony, India, from the inconveniently placed Calcutta to the far more accessible and significant seat of power- Delhi. Edwin Lutyens and Herbert Baker have been tasked with the significant duty of creating an all-encompassing seat of power. The power corridor in Delhi, also known as the Central Vista, is designed to be pleasing to the eye, the history of India, and to assimilate the various influences within this multicultural country. The Rajpath connects India Gate to the Rashtrapati Bhavan, a grand residence for the head of state in India, and is the ultimate power corridor in India. The Secretariat, the various Bhavans and Houses representing the federalist structure of India, and most importantly, the Parliament. The building of the Indian Parliament witnessed the birth of our country, with Jawaharlal Nehru giving his famous ‘tryst with destiny speech’ in this hallowed arena. The Parliament House has seen famous and infamous bills being passed, defections and bipartisanship across the parties and is irrevocably interwoven with the history of our people. This is only a fraction of the significance of the Central Vista, which this government wants to redevelop.

    There are plans to raze the Parliament and the Secretariat, and to deforest the green areas that are so pleasing to the eye around India Gate. The monument is dedicated to the bravery of Indian soldiers shown in World War II and the India Pakistan War of 1972. It was designed as a memorial for recognizing the sacrifice and the bravery of our countrymen by the King of the United Kingdom, and generations have been inspired by this symbol. It has also served as a spot for people to gather and protest against the excesses or the inadequacies of the government, which, when considering the bravery required to pick a cause and cause social change, is very fitting. Construction orders have been given for buildings in the area around India Gate. The government has passed orders that no building must be taller than the India Gate itself- what a comforting thought. I have had the privilege to salute the ‘Amar Jyothi‘ without wading through government parking lots and security posts. It saddens me that many other may not experience this moment of inspiration, respect, and recognition.

    Enough has been said on the immense waste of money and resources this redevelopment is, and the irreparable damage that it can cause. I am infinitely more concerned about the larger issue- that of a government that seems so keen to erase history and substitute it with their greying, concrete, soulless cronyism. Why does awarding contracts to some ‘close’ companies have to come at the cost of these once-perennial symbols of India? More importantly, what does it speak about us as a nation when there is no respect for permanence, for history, for a holistic depiction of our shared past and our common future?

  • My Coffee

    April 22nd, 2020

    My coffee’s not cold enough.
    Oh wait, it’s not hot enough.
    Woe is me! I am at the mercy of my coffee.
    My will this late is not quite tough.

    I am drunk being awake this long,
    Maddened to laughing at my state,
    I stand muttering in my sleep,
    Why am I even up this late?

    My senses are long shot,
    It’s starting to tell,
    May this coffee wake me up,
    get me through my voluminous hell.

  • Social Pandemic

    April 22nd, 2020

    A question I often ponder about,
    It has been bothering me today.
    Why some have solid earth beneath them,
    While many others fall, die with their homes faraway.

    This plague does not discriminate, I’m sure,
    But we exhibit differing symptoms in the nation.
    Some stay safely in their home, stocking up meat and rice.
    Outside shutters are down, people robbed of their vocation.

    This plague is a test on us all for sure,
    But the real enemy has always been out there,
    Visible among the people sitting at home,
    And those walking miles with feet and stomachs bare.

    After a hundred miles, someone collapsed from heat and hunger.
    The mafia called a doctor, asked what’s wrong with that cropper.
    The doctor looked the man, didn’t even reach for his pad,
    He had seen this many time before, “Oh that’s nothing, he’s a pauper.”

    Someday, I shall sit with the comfort of my shoes,
    surrounded by my peers, able to take part in some discourse,
    I rail against it in the papers, they keep walking on the tracks,
    Barefoot, hungry, objects, some don’t even cry themselves hoarse.

  • Why Rupert never bothered doing Yoga again

    March 26th, 2020

    Rupert woke up on a Saturday, after a hard night of partying, and swore. “Motherfucker”. “Never again.” I wouldn’t blame Rupert. He had a bitch of a hangover, his head throbbed with an unrelenting ferocity, and he had just had enough.
    “I’m thirty four. Why am I still having hangovers?” He did not intend for last night to get that rowdy. But I guess we all know, turning a drink and a dare gets progressively harder and harder as the night progresses when you start getting hammered.

    “I need to fix myself. I need me some yoga and some exercise. I need me some fitness.” Rupert was no stranger to these resolutions. However, today could be different. After he and Lisa parted ways, quoting Rupert on this, the house has been quite empty. Added to which his flatmate Samuel, that unquenchable guzzard, had left last night for a business trip that could take the entire week, and the room was suddenly empty for the first time in the past few months. This would be a golden opportunity to try a few new things. No Sam around to mock him or ask him to embrace his ‘dark side’. Good.

    “Let’s start with some light yoga, I can Youtube this.” Rupert scrolled through a bunch of videos and checked out various trainers through a series of criteria. The likes on the videos, the subscribers to each channel, whether the video was too long or too short, and of course, how hot the instructor was. Two hours, a meal, a nap and half a dozen distractions later, Rupert finally found the perfect video. Twenty minutes, and fit all his criteria. He resolved to wait till 5pm, after all, he had just eaten. At 7pm, he looked at the time and went- “Oh bother. I might as well do it tomorrow.”

    But somehow some shame crept in. He looked at himself in the mirror and cursed himself roundly for attempting to yet again sabotage his own well-intentioned plans. “Look at me. We are doing this. We can do this. Be better. Do you like looking at yourself? I don’t. Let’s get rolling.” And with his resolve strengthened, he decided to once again tackle the task at hand, marshaling all his willpower. He began the exercises and initially found it difficult to keep pace with his breaths. The instructor kept asking him to breath in and continued talking for eternity without ever asking him to breathe out. He breathed in the peace and let out his thoughts. He aligned himself with his inner flow and stretched. Stretched his mind and his mental boundaries. The yoga was a brutal report card on his abilities. Once a champion swimmer, he could now barely touch his own toes as his paunch belly came in his way. Beads of perspiration trickled down an already moist and hot face, as he struggled to keep up with the pace of the poses. “I will not give up. If it means that I try extra hard to touch my head to my feet, so be it. Anyway, I bet loads of beginners get stuck here and never repeat. Hah! I’ll definitely be able to do all this in five days.” With these words of encouragement, he rose like a cobra and stretched backwards for one last time, lifting his toes in a beautiful rendition of a ballerina who still had a long way to go.

    Rupert slept peacefully that night. He woke up the next day without any incident, but by noon, noticed a slight dull ache at the small of his back. “Huh, probably one of those cases that goes away with practice.” By the evening, it was a definite sore back, and he opted against continuing his resolve. “No need to break my back and forswear well-intended plans for the rest of my life. I can take a day’s rest and I’ll feel better tomorrow.” He lay back in bed, rolled over to his natural position on his stomach, and waited for sleep to hit him.

    Monday morning, Rupert’s life was on fire. He could not move. “Oh God, Oh God, Oh God” spluttered Rupert, the pain making him religious. Rupert tried to sit on his haunches, he couldn’t even get on his back. He scooted towards the edge of his bed, eased his legs off to the floor, and pushed against his hands to stand up. He couldn’t locate the pain, try as much as he did, pressing and prodding his back and buttocks. Nothing in particular seemed to hurt, but at the same time, everything was hurting with the pain of a million torn muscles crying. Now what? “Fuck, I can’t go to work today.” He looked for his laptop, which was on the bed. He leaned over to pick it up and the pain shot through his back and his legs, forcing him to arch his back up and take a step back. He resolved this seemingly insurmountable problem by climbing back into his bed with his knees, leaning on his side and pushing the laptop to the corner of the bed. He then rose again, and agonizingly squatted enough to palm his laptop and walk out to the living room. He quickly typed out a few words and claimed his day of rest.

    “What the hell! Where did this pain come from?” Rupert quickly reviewed his Sunday, which passed just like any other day. He woke up, had a big bowl of chocolate cereal, played video games on his phone slouched in his couch. He had then watched a movie while laying down, before falling asleep. He had taken a shower, dressed and hunkered down on his bed. Propping a pillow behind him, he had responded to emails, reviewed his work and then watched Youtube videos until he fell asleep. Nothing unusual. Nothing he hadn’t done for the past ten years. His mind went back to the yoga. “What else can it be? Yoga was the only new thing I did this weekend, and look what it got me. Fuck this.” When Samuel came back that Friday, Rupert went out drinking. And many more times after that. He never did yoga again. One attempt was enough for a justification.

  • Corona-tion and Thoughts

    March 22nd, 2020

    Back in December, we first started hearing whispers of a disease in China. A flu virus which had infected quite a few people. We had bigger fish to fry. Back in December, the disasterclass of the Assam National Register of Citizens had unfolded, with millions of Hindus having been declared as foreigners. Political commentators dubbed it as an own goal from the BJP, who were gleefully rubbing their hands at the prospect of Justice Gogoi harrying and hurrying the NRC coordinator to complete the list. As BJP backpedaled to ensure that their Hindu votes in Assam didn’t get thrown out and the popular sentiment didn’t question their motives, they introduced the wonderfully un-subtle Citizenship Amendment Bill. The CAB gave citizenship to all non-Muslim refugees who arrived in India before 2014. Protests broke out, cases were filed, the CAB rolled on and became the CAA (Citizenship Amendment Act, 2019). India was protesting in January, we started hearing murmurs of an infectious disease in January, Delhi was voting in February, Delhi was rioting in February, Liverpool lost their first league match in February, and people started stocking up on masks and sanitizers in February.

    Come the March, cometh some Italian tourists to visit our famous sex sculpture caves in Khajuraho. It is a tad unfair to target these individuals as the first carriers of the disease, as they are merely the first reported carriers. Who knows how many have been flying in and out of this country for the past three months? Anyway, they left, but left something to remember them by. It was official, Coronavirus, aka COVID-19, was here to stay.

    India was slow to wake up to the virus, but it soon swung into action. By mid-March, many states have announced social distancing and work from home policies, with some making this mandatory. A lot has been said about the testing, the efficacy and efficiency, the flaws in our healthcare system (which I had written about here). Lets not rehash the same. There should be, and hopefully will be, many studies conducted that analyze the lacunae in our medical responsiveness and healthcare system. I want to focus on another perspective, namely, the vulnerability of certain classes of society when society comes to a standstill.

    I went out for a quick grocery run last night, a day before the Prime Minister’s Janta Curfew was to take effect. I noted a state of panic in the streets, with people doing their best to buy and sell as much as possible. The people wanted to hoard as much as they could to the point they feel safe. The hawkers and shop-less vendors conducted as much trade as possible, to offset any possible losses today and for the next few days, weeks or even months. Maids refused to take off-days, since they needed the paycheck to feed their families. Families refusing to give maids a paid off-day, with winsome arguments like “Accha so will you wash the clothes, sweep the floors, cook and do the dishes?”, and the ironically egalitarian logic of “I may not get my bonus this year, and may even get a pay cut. I am still retaining her employment, its only fair to cut her pay na? Why should I fund this maid for free? Corona is a force majeure, and I am still doing the best I can.” Well, for one, if you do not recognize the difference between your Rs 10 lakh bonus or a slight pay cut in your Rs 3 lakh monthly earnings, and the Rs 60 that the maid earns for making your day possible, you are a majeure asshat. Some are innocuous, arguing that even if they stop asking the maid to come, others still will, so they might as well. Some are downright scummy employers, going out of their way to ensure people show up even if means their death.

    This virus must have given many people some idea on how poverty is cripplingly vulnerable. Not everyone has a job that can be done remotely. Not everyone has a job that can afford to, and is inclined to, pay them even if they don’t show up. Social inequality is the root to many many problems in the world today, and it is a cycle that has perpetuated itself over millions of years, with the well-offs at their peaks having stepped on the fingers and faces of others. Caste, class, sexism and patriarchy has propelled a select few to the upper echelons of society. In these troubled times, COVID lifts a mirror and shows us what we are as a society. It is up to us to learn a lesson and continue discussing this larger societal disease long after the shadow of this current disease moves on. Society moves on. I hope society doesn’t continue to mow on.

  • Vasant’s Oracle

    March 19th, 2020

    (Year- 2020. India didn’t have the revolution C.B. promised. Nationalism, tolerance, secularism became bitter words over which fights erupted on streets, campuses and homes. In search for a break from news, the internet and all things sensational, the narrator set out from the mainland Mumbai docks with a crew, winding up in Zoonzania, an island south of Lakshadweep. While his crew is welcomed by the animist tribespeople, the narrator is led to ‘Vasant’- their leader. The following conversation is one of many which the narrator had with the simple tribe. I was fortunate to meet the narrator on the New Year’s Eve of 2041, where he agreed to share his recollections.)

    Vasant– “In our village, we consult an Oracle when a child is born. The Oracle foresees our life, and answers only what we ask. The future cannot be changed, so if she foresees the child bringing great harm to the community, and the elders kill the child. You see, banishing him or changing him won’t work, because it’s in his future to endanger the village. Only killing him would save the community.”

    Narrator- “That’s horrific!” (after a pause) “If you don’t mind telling, what did the Oracle see in you?”

    Vasant- “That I’ll bring back the glory of our tribe. I shall be a wise man who shall one day rule the tribe and sustain it into the New Age. I’m glad that the Oracle saw the best in me.”

    Narrator- “So what if the Oracle saw the best in you?”

    Vasant- “I believe in life. I wake up every day to reach that goal, that point of fulfillment that my life is directed at. I can handle all setbacks in life, because I know that I still have a lot of life in me. I can run over quicksand, I can kill a tiger. My hope, nay, my knowledge in life eventually becoming better is driving me to see tomorrow and live today to the fullest. Then, when it’s time, I’ll have learnt and grasped enough to rule with wisdom and experience.”

    Narrator- “I believe that you will be a fantastic ruler. Listening to your words, and the indomitable ring of truth in it, I believe everyone should live their life that way, if at all subconsciously at least.”

    Vasant- “Thank you. You are too kind.”

    Narrator- “No no, you deserve it. Now tell me this, for this vexed me from the beginning- does the Oracle ever fail?”

    Vasant- (gazing over the horizon as the sun sets)“Sometimes. But for our village, the fear of leading a life without a purpose is far more calamitous than living on the terms of someone else whom we believe.”

  • Today

    March 1st, 2020

    When I was little, writing used to come a lot more naturally to me. I used to uncap my pen, and get to writing. Often, I only discovered what I was writing after I got a few sentences in, reaffirming my belief that an idle mind can wander a great deal on paper too.

    It’s growing up, I guess. One grows up and immerses himself in a series of habits and engagements, and slowly sheds time away from what was fun earlier. Over time, the pen was being uncapped a lot less frequently. Thoughts and ideas were shared by speech to friends and other people one wishes to impress, and that ended up being the short term way of expressing- expressing to impress. The pen grew rusty with time, and slowly, the words behind it started to fade away. A step towards being an able raconteur was a step away from being a better writer. This happened to an extent when one day, one just woke up and uncapped his pen, and there weren’t any words to write. Writing is a rigor and a discipline, and a way to express oneself for today and all the tomorrows that time’s unstoppable march holds. A great storyteller has many skills of his own, but needs the story to not be a snore. Being a disciple to discipline is not easy.

    Today, it is a challenge to get back in that carefree groove, a place where the pen is uncapped and the words flow effortlessly. Today, my hands tire when I scribble a page in freehand writing. Today, I wrote a page of scribbles and lauded myself for being one page better than yesterday- and for shaping another batch of ideas into an unforgettable and indelible form. Today, it is not important what I write, but that I write. Today, the pen is uncapped and the ink is being kind to me. Today, I write because that is all I care for. I care less for what I have done today, blessed though it be and all that I have become. Today, I write for the me who writes tomorrow. Today, I cap my pen with a page, so that tomorrow, I unsheathe it and lay waste to all the rust I have caught over the years. Today, I write for tomorrow.

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