Hardly been able to keep my eyes open. So punching this blog out is proving to be a real ordeal. Anyway, had an ordinary day. Had screwed up a few of my exams. Got away in one. Awaiting result of the other. But got seriously fucked in the other. And of all things it is quant: stats to be precise. Making me look extremely stupid, and what’s worse: getting quite used to this. Should have been a lot more careful. Even the bunch of CA’s beat me. Bringing up the rear of the class at 10th from the bottom.
Others did well. Topper proved what a champ she is. Keeping pace with the CA’s in accounting, even bettering them. Maxing the quant paper. But funnily Topper goes to sleep by 12. Called her up regarding the Eco project a few minutes after twelve, and irritated her quite obviously. Is it the secret to her success? Early to bed and early to rise. Hmm… point is, have to sleep now. So that makes it 2 hours after her. Will jump with joy if my CGPA is similarly just 2 points less than her! Go topper! What are the options for me: horseback or piggyback? No! Pedestrians don't even get pigs it seems.
Can’t keep this crap going any longer. Goodbye and Goodnight.
PS: Doing this very mechanically. God knows why. Not feeling very up for it. Will have to get out of this.
PS2: A certain vowel seems to have gone on an unplanned trip with my ego. Must be the reason for my state.
Tuesday 19 August, 2008
Sunday 17 August, 2008
A Look Back
It’s been a week of blogging, my first week. Not a very successful week, I might say. I have largely come across as a wretched and bitter soul(less), who is trying too hard. Which is precisely what I am; but, I am not sure whether that’s necessarily the image I would want to portray. But I hope things will look up sometime sooner than later; I know it will.
I have too much to do now. But I don’t want to break this habit of posting. Even if I am not a good blogger, I atleast would want to be an enthusiastic one. So keeping in mind the new found time crunch along with the perennial shortage of ideas, I would rather check out a few comments.
Even here I am a bit short of material. The comments have not exactly poured in; trickle would be a better word. But I can’t help that. Actually keeping in mind that only a handful of people know that I am blogging, probably I can; but not presently. So let me keep it at that.
I got a couple of comments on my first ever post.
@Crystal: Yes! That is one of the occasions. But certainly not the only one! I think you stopped reading midway through the penultimate sentence. Chaibar calling?!
@ Anirban: Both for sure. Pucca! WWE, if not specifically The Undertaker. And the HIT scums for sure. But I would rather be talking of the cream, than the scum!
@ Crystal on “I, The Wise”: I am a serious person, and I fancy myself to be a literary person! So what else do you expect? And I know wise is not a bad word. She is not like you, always calling me names. :-P
And forgetting and forgiving are both out of the question. I was not offended. She hardly meant it so. At the most, it may have been a joke on her part. Anyway, it’s just that it made me think over a few things. So come to think of it, I am actually thankful!
I hate anon people. You should, you must have the balls to right some name (even then a certain degree of anonymity is provided, almost by default). You are wrong if you think you don’t have them. You must have tucked them in somewhere and forgotten about them. Find it and use it.
And anyway dear, shit does stink. Or can I have one more classification: aromatic shit!
Crystal again! Must be my first fan! Thanks a lot for being such a patient and sweet friend. Thanks for providing me with the only positive feedback, albeit with the slightest of references to my usual dark self (how can I help Crystal, try getting sunburnt in Cal for 22 years, you would know too!). And of course, thanks for agreeing. This is one of those things I seriously believe in.
@ r2k: :-) . God knows where you came from. Don’t think I know you.
For others: this is one crazy bastard. Keeps a blog, where he just roams around the net, looking for weirdo stuff. [http://r2000.blogspot.com/]
Anyway, that’s about it for today. An assignment to write and an exam to prepare for.
“Let it roll, all night long.”
PS: I refuse to respond to any verbal comments. Or any made over Gtalk or Orkut. That’s a rule for me.
I have too much to do now. But I don’t want to break this habit of posting. Even if I am not a good blogger, I atleast would want to be an enthusiastic one. So keeping in mind the new found time crunch along with the perennial shortage of ideas, I would rather check out a few comments.
Even here I am a bit short of material. The comments have not exactly poured in; trickle would be a better word. But I can’t help that. Actually keeping in mind that only a handful of people know that I am blogging, probably I can; but not presently. So let me keep it at that.
I got a couple of comments on my first ever post.
@Crystal: Yes! That is one of the occasions. But certainly not the only one! I think you stopped reading midway through the penultimate sentence. Chaibar calling?!
@ Anirban: Both for sure. Pucca! WWE, if not specifically The Undertaker. And the HIT scums for sure. But I would rather be talking of the cream, than the scum!
@ Crystal on “I, The Wise”: I am a serious person, and I fancy myself to be a literary person! So what else do you expect? And I know wise is not a bad word. She is not like you, always calling me names. :-P
And forgetting and forgiving are both out of the question. I was not offended. She hardly meant it so. At the most, it may have been a joke on her part. Anyway, it’s just that it made me think over a few things. So come to think of it, I am actually thankful!
I hate anon people. You should, you must have the balls to right some name (even then a certain degree of anonymity is provided, almost by default). You are wrong if you think you don’t have them. You must have tucked them in somewhere and forgotten about them. Find it and use it.
And anyway dear, shit does stink. Or can I have one more classification: aromatic shit!
Crystal again! Must be my first fan! Thanks a lot for being such a patient and sweet friend. Thanks for providing me with the only positive feedback, albeit with the slightest of references to my usual dark self (how can I help Crystal, try getting sunburnt in Cal for 22 years, you would know too!). And of course, thanks for agreeing. This is one of those things I seriously believe in.
@ r2k: :-) . God knows where you came from. Don’t think I know you.
For others: this is one crazy bastard. Keeps a blog, where he just roams around the net, looking for weirdo stuff. [http://r2000.blogspot.com/]
Anyway, that’s about it for today. An assignment to write and an exam to prepare for.
“Let it roll, all night long.”
PS: I refuse to respond to any verbal comments. Or any made over Gtalk or Orkut. That’s a rule for me.
Dorothy meets Dorian
Dorothy is a nice girl, a good girl, with an almost genteel, suburban feel to her. Most would say so and I would tend to agree. The cynics would say about the proverbial pinch of salt, but girls used to make me kinder and women weaker; emotions I have long since forgotten. I only know how to act them out now, and girls like her make me wish I didn’t have to.
She is not very gifted, she is mildly intelligent and she still has faith in her education. More importantly, she says a lot and she has a nice smile. A person who talks a lot is always easier to understand. They let you in through the doors of their mind; if you are curious enough and stay around for a while, you might as well land up in their sanctum sanctorum. I didn’t have to though.
And the smile, the right smile. Not one of those thousand-watt-bulb smiles which would light up a stadium and set a million hearts aflutter. Definitely not one of those smiles which flicker on like candles and make you feel sadder for the crooked lips, than the possessor. A bit like one of these modern CFLs: economic in terms of effort, yet efficient in terms of effect. How I wish I could have swayed and swooned.
But why is life such that something always jumps up and bites you, when you are hoping and expecting it won’t? It’s never easy to write about other people’s secrets. It’s even more difficult to write about than yours. Sufficient to say that I just stumbled upon a secret: not a huge secret. The huge secrets are generally too huge for me to miss for so long. Not insignificant either: like the flakes of dandruff you brush off your shoulders when you think no one’s watching. But just the right size: the dirty one’s all of you have, and hope, no one ever opens the closet.
So there she was, stripped to the soul in my mind. I had to do it; to help her to get into the new garb my mind had tailored for her, and as always, I experienced some perverse pleasure from it. And, goodness, this does fit her better than the earlier one. She doesn’t still fill it up, but I know she will, she will only grow.
But she can’t win now, not anymore. I know too much about her, about everybody, to lose. I am impenetrable; I am irresistible; only my soul fleets in and out through my guise. Victory bears no significance; vanquishment looks enticing. Permanence is purposeless, yet defeat is an option I cannot take. But I hope somebody wins. And puts me out of this miserable existence.
She is not very gifted, she is mildly intelligent and she still has faith in her education. More importantly, she says a lot and she has a nice smile. A person who talks a lot is always easier to understand. They let you in through the doors of their mind; if you are curious enough and stay around for a while, you might as well land up in their sanctum sanctorum. I didn’t have to though.
And the smile, the right smile. Not one of those thousand-watt-bulb smiles which would light up a stadium and set a million hearts aflutter. Definitely not one of those smiles which flicker on like candles and make you feel sadder for the crooked lips, than the possessor. A bit like one of these modern CFLs: economic in terms of effort, yet efficient in terms of effect. How I wish I could have swayed and swooned.
But why is life such that something always jumps up and bites you, when you are hoping and expecting it won’t? It’s never easy to write about other people’s secrets. It’s even more difficult to write about than yours. Sufficient to say that I just stumbled upon a secret: not a huge secret. The huge secrets are generally too huge for me to miss for so long. Not insignificant either: like the flakes of dandruff you brush off your shoulders when you think no one’s watching. But just the right size: the dirty one’s all of you have, and hope, no one ever opens the closet.
So there she was, stripped to the soul in my mind. I had to do it; to help her to get into the new garb my mind had tailored for her, and as always, I experienced some perverse pleasure from it. And, goodness, this does fit her better than the earlier one. She doesn’t still fill it up, but I know she will, she will only grow.
But she can’t win now, not anymore. I know too much about her, about everybody, to lose. I am impenetrable; I am irresistible; only my soul fleets in and out through my guise. Victory bears no significance; vanquishment looks enticing. Permanence is purposeless, yet defeat is an option I cannot take. But I hope somebody wins. And puts me out of this miserable existence.
Friday 15 August, 2008
Independence Day
Today's our 61st Independence Day.
I am almost habitually cynical. I find it easier to look at the flaws. Not that I don't appreciate the good, but my eye has a bias for the bad. So, it would be easier for me to say things like, how badly we have done as a nation over the last 60 years.
But, honestly, I don't think so. I think we have come a long way, and though we have miles to go, before we are anywhere nearly as developed as some of the prosperous nations, it would be doing a great disservice to ourselves, to say that we have not significantly progressed.
Comparing ourselves, in the first place, is not a very sensible thing to do. Why would you want to measure India against nations, who have had working democracies for the past few centuries, or didn’t have to face tyrannical foreign rule that sapped away all of their resources? It hardly makes any sense to compare with nations, who are patronised by other nations or countries with absolutist regimes. (Actually, I would have not existed had I, or rather my parents, been in such a country: I happen to be the second child). And its naïve to think everything is rosy there. It’s not. Whatever we have become today, is entirely because of ourselves, and largely inspite of, rather than because of foreign intervention. And we should learn to be proud of it; as a nation we are independent.
Inspite of the essentially feudal mindsets of most of our people, we still have a functioning democracy. We have largely managed to maintain our territorial integrity, inspite of meddlesome and hostile neighbours. We produce enough food for the country to survive on, and some more. Our literacy rates have grown 5 times from 1947. Our scientists, authors, painters, educationists, even movie-makers are held in high esteem by the rest of the world.
Make no mistake though. We are far from being a perfect nation; we are not even on our way towards perfection. We can be though if we, you, I and everybody else, become a bit more accountable: not to anybody else, but to our own self, our own conscience. If we all do our part of the job right, we will do even better. It’s not too much too ask for, I believe.
We still have a quarter of our nation living under the poverty line. And I believe things can be done to change that statistic. Its unbelievably stupid, to think that we can do nothing about it. Think hard enough and we will surely be able to come up with something. Not a plan to change the world, but something insignificantly small for all, yet not so insignificant for few, or even one. Its doable. Just do it!
Happy Independence Day!
I am almost habitually cynical. I find it easier to look at the flaws. Not that I don't appreciate the good, but my eye has a bias for the bad. So, it would be easier for me to say things like, how badly we have done as a nation over the last 60 years.
But, honestly, I don't think so. I think we have come a long way, and though we have miles to go, before we are anywhere nearly as developed as some of the prosperous nations, it would be doing a great disservice to ourselves, to say that we have not significantly progressed.
Comparing ourselves, in the first place, is not a very sensible thing to do. Why would you want to measure India against nations, who have had working democracies for the past few centuries, or didn’t have to face tyrannical foreign rule that sapped away all of their resources? It hardly makes any sense to compare with nations, who are patronised by other nations or countries with absolutist regimes. (Actually, I would have not existed had I, or rather my parents, been in such a country: I happen to be the second child). And its naïve to think everything is rosy there. It’s not. Whatever we have become today, is entirely because of ourselves, and largely inspite of, rather than because of foreign intervention. And we should learn to be proud of it; as a nation we are independent.
Inspite of the essentially feudal mindsets of most of our people, we still have a functioning democracy. We have largely managed to maintain our territorial integrity, inspite of meddlesome and hostile neighbours. We produce enough food for the country to survive on, and some more. Our literacy rates have grown 5 times from 1947. Our scientists, authors, painters, educationists, even movie-makers are held in high esteem by the rest of the world.
Make no mistake though. We are far from being a perfect nation; we are not even on our way towards perfection. We can be though if we, you, I and everybody else, become a bit more accountable: not to anybody else, but to our own self, our own conscience. If we all do our part of the job right, we will do even better. It’s not too much too ask for, I believe.
We still have a quarter of our nation living under the poverty line. And I believe things can be done to change that statistic. Its unbelievably stupid, to think that we can do nothing about it. Think hard enough and we will surely be able to come up with something. Not a plan to change the world, but something insignificantly small for all, yet not so insignificant for few, or even one. Its doable. Just do it!
Happy Independence Day!
Shit
In a place like this, what is generally said, are shitty things and what is generally done, are shitty things. So while on my shitpot the other day, I urgently felt the need to classify the shit that tends to fly around this place at all times (and occasionally hits the fan). Of course, you have a general shitty theory and everything shitty comes under it. But, in a place like this we are talking of specialised bastards, who know their minds: so even their shit has to be regarded separately and classified.
Now a small background into what started this off. AK24 is one of the meanest assholes I know, and therefore one of the better friends I have. The other day we were chatting, and as usual he had some real nasty things to say about people. In his usual manner, he was tearing these people apart, to my utter amusement. And while this was going on, he decided to tear in to Seagrams and his immaturity. (Running high on hormones isn’t a sign of maturity, possessing plenty of brains is the deciding factor in this case).
Supposedly this person had been bugging him a bit and coming up with crappy details about German World War warmachines. Now, you appreciate people having this unquenchable thirst for knowledge, but till the time they are not sapping out your own brain fluids. Seagrams had apparently started doing it to AK24, which obviously was getting to him. So he tells me something to the effect of, what the fuck makes him think that people would genuinely be interested in tiger tanks and panzers anymore, most people have got over such Nazi German shit by now. A fair point to make.
So that was the starting point: Nazi German Shit. So I started to classify the kinds of shit I know of (here and elsewhere). These are the results of my extensive and ongoing research.
Atlas Shit: You shit on people and expect people to bear with it, because you are doing so much. For whom is it?
Bull Shit: When you wake up on the right side of the bed and every shit of yours goes right.
Bear Shit: When you wake up on the right side of the bed, but every shit of yours goes wrong.
Brownian Shit: Random bullshit. Just look important, speak and be heard.
(Des)cartesian Shit: “I can think my bloody ass off. Can you?” I can’t. Do I die till I can?
Dogmatic Shit: When you read silly books and start believing the world’s flat.
Freudian Shit: Psycho-sexual Babel. People, while handing out such shit, tend to pretend they understand other people’s minds. It’s been 23 years and bloody hell, I don’t know my own mind!
Goebbels’ Shit: The world knows your IQ to be as good as Stephen Hawking’s.You know you’re no better than a monkey.
Machiavellian Shit: Beg, borrow, steal, lie, loot, kill, shoot, rape, murder, shit (in no particular order)and win .
Nostradamus Shit: “Dude, I have my whole life figured out. I do this and this and then this and then that and finally this.” You forgot to allot some time to die, dude!
Platonic Shit: Shit you give when you’re dumped. “We’re just good friends”.
Ptolemaic Shit: Shit you give when you are too full of yourself and think the universe is centred on you.
Reebok Shit: Your attitude stinks more than your shit.
Whorish Shit: Find your UShitP and then find a mart for yourself.
UFT shit: You try to combine all you know about everything under the sun, and over it and you make this huge massive turd which threatens to block out the sun itself.
Now a small background into what started this off. AK24 is one of the meanest assholes I know, and therefore one of the better friends I have. The other day we were chatting, and as usual he had some real nasty things to say about people. In his usual manner, he was tearing these people apart, to my utter amusement. And while this was going on, he decided to tear in to Seagrams and his immaturity. (Running high on hormones isn’t a sign of maturity, possessing plenty of brains is the deciding factor in this case).
Supposedly this person had been bugging him a bit and coming up with crappy details about German World War warmachines. Now, you appreciate people having this unquenchable thirst for knowledge, but till the time they are not sapping out your own brain fluids. Seagrams had apparently started doing it to AK24, which obviously was getting to him. So he tells me something to the effect of, what the fuck makes him think that people would genuinely be interested in tiger tanks and panzers anymore, most people have got over such Nazi German shit by now. A fair point to make.
So that was the starting point: Nazi German Shit. So I started to classify the kinds of shit I know of (here and elsewhere). These are the results of my extensive and ongoing research.
Atlas Shit: You shit on people and expect people to bear with it, because you are doing so much. For whom is it?
Bull Shit: When you wake up on the right side of the bed and every shit of yours goes right.
Bear Shit: When you wake up on the right side of the bed, but every shit of yours goes wrong.
Brownian Shit: Random bullshit. Just look important, speak and be heard.
(Des)cartesian Shit: “I can think my bloody ass off. Can you?” I can’t. Do I die till I can?
Dogmatic Shit: When you read silly books and start believing the world’s flat.
Freudian Shit: Psycho-sexual Babel. People, while handing out such shit, tend to pretend they understand other people’s minds. It’s been 23 years and bloody hell, I don’t know my own mind!
Goebbels’ Shit: The world knows your IQ to be as good as Stephen Hawking’s.You know you’re no better than a monkey.
Machiavellian Shit: Beg, borrow, steal, lie, loot, kill, shoot, rape, murder, shit (in no particular order)and win .
Nostradamus Shit: “Dude, I have my whole life figured out. I do this and this and then this and then that and finally this.” You forgot to allot some time to die, dude!
Platonic Shit: Shit you give when you’re dumped. “We’re just good friends”.
Ptolemaic Shit: Shit you give when you are too full of yourself and think the universe is centred on you.
Reebok Shit: Your attitude stinks more than your shit.
Whorish Shit: Find your UShitP and then find a mart for yourself.
UFT shit: You try to combine all you know about everything under the sun, and over it and you make this huge massive turd which threatens to block out the sun itself.
Wednesday 13 August, 2008
A GoldMine?
This is quite unbelievable! An Olympic Gold, two days back. Now, we have won another football tournament! And even this was no ordinary tournament: this was the AFC Challenger's Cup. This means that India qualify for the Asia Cup, 2011 in Doha.
It’s a bit of a shame that we as a country have to celebrate qualifying for the Asia Cup, inspire of having won two Asian Games gold medals. But, keeping in mind the dearth of recent successes, there is reason enough to celebrate. However, things seem to be looking up now. 2 international tournaments in 2 years give us enough reason to be hopeful.
We will never be the giants in Asian football, leave alone the world stage (for that matter, any sport which is played at the world stage). But we can atleast ensure that our sporting teams don’t become the national embarrassments they were becoming in the recent past.
Sport has a huge influence on a nation’s psyche and morale, therefore on a nation’s culture. Strong sporting nations generally tend to be very hopeful and upbeat. How much sense this makes on the part of the people I am not sure. But point is that you, or I, or even the poorest person you know, fail to recognise that it is very unlikely that, no achievement of our national team (or an individual) will actually do us any material good. It’s just about feeling good at that moment, which does get carried over. And like in most other case in life, the bitter aftertaste of a loss is greater and lasts longer than the sweet taste of success. Women, however, show exceptionally good sense in these matters. They generally couldn’t be less bothered.
Sport can also serve to be an instrument for sparring between nations. “War minus the shooting”, as George Orwell would say. The Soviet Bloc recognized this fact all too well. It’s another matter that the means employed by them were far form advisable; the infamous doping experiments were shameful violations of both sporting conduct and humanitarian spirit. Not that the US teams were saints themselves. But I have to resign to the fact that history is mostly written by the winners, and anything else becomes a part of the sub-altern variants to it.
Getting back to India: let’s just hope that we continue, or start, to do well in sports which are played at the global level. And hopefully, we’ll also start doing better in sports played by 10 nations (or is it 9 now?).
It’s a bit of a shame that we as a country have to celebrate qualifying for the Asia Cup, inspire of having won two Asian Games gold medals. But, keeping in mind the dearth of recent successes, there is reason enough to celebrate. However, things seem to be looking up now. 2 international tournaments in 2 years give us enough reason to be hopeful.
We will never be the giants in Asian football, leave alone the world stage (for that matter, any sport which is played at the world stage). But we can atleast ensure that our sporting teams don’t become the national embarrassments they were becoming in the recent past.
Sport has a huge influence on a nation’s psyche and morale, therefore on a nation’s culture. Strong sporting nations generally tend to be very hopeful and upbeat. How much sense this makes on the part of the people I am not sure. But point is that you, or I, or even the poorest person you know, fail to recognise that it is very unlikely that, no achievement of our national team (or an individual) will actually do us any material good. It’s just about feeling good at that moment, which does get carried over. And like in most other case in life, the bitter aftertaste of a loss is greater and lasts longer than the sweet taste of success. Women, however, show exceptionally good sense in these matters. They generally couldn’t be less bothered.
Sport can also serve to be an instrument for sparring between nations. “War minus the shooting”, as George Orwell would say. The Soviet Bloc recognized this fact all too well. It’s another matter that the means employed by them were far form advisable; the infamous doping experiments were shameful violations of both sporting conduct and humanitarian spirit. Not that the US teams were saints themselves. But I have to resign to the fact that history is mostly written by the winners, and anything else becomes a part of the sub-altern variants to it.
Getting back to India: let’s just hope that we continue, or start, to do well in sports which are played at the global level. And hopefully, we’ll also start doing better in sports played by 10 nations (or is it 9 now?).
Tuesday 12 August, 2008
I, The Wise
Somebody has just dropped a bombshell on me. Well...not exactly just. This happened a couple of days back, but Abhinav Bindra was too important to wait, at least in my opinion.
The point is, I have been called Wise!!! Or at least, that I look Wise. Now, I have been called a lot of things/names in life. My immensely creative family (esp. my sister) and friends have ensured that I have never been short of names. On top of that my actual, official name! It’s a mathematical improbability that somebody who is not a Bangali like me, (the race of all races, we always get everything right), will get both the spelling and the pronunciation of my name right: at least not the first time. So that serves to add a few names by default.
But coming back to the point: Wise? What on earth has the words wise and wisdom got to do with me? Or for that matter, with the way I look?
Now most would say that "Well, that hardly is the worst thing that you have ever been called or will be called” and I for once will not disagree with the statement. The point here is my comfort level. It’s a bit ridiculous, well not for people who know me, but I would rather be called those names, than being called wise. Firstly, I would be sure of how to react to these, cause I know whether they are compliments (well, they can be called complements too: 'harami' is a case in point, among friends it was more like 'clever you' than 'you bastard'; or maybe it was both, 'you clever bastard'!) or not. Secondly, these would either be coming from friends, so I am happy or I don't mind; or they are from people I am not fond of anyway, so I don't care.
But wise? It’s something I have not been called before, for sure. And neither have I been accused of looking wise either. For the majority of the population I look like some kid, slightly studious and largely lost in life, which makes one out of the two readings right. Was it a back-handed compliment? Unlikely. I back myself to see through those, at most times.
What is actually bothering me, are not the 'who?' and the 'how?' or even the 'was this person lying?' questions, but the 'what?' of whatever that was said. Fact is that I have been anything but wise in my life. I have had enough opportunities to learn from my mistakes, but I have generally shown a strong aversion towards learning from these past experiences (there was one thing this person surely got right, unintentionally it may be: "You look like a person with plenty of heavyweight experience"). And I do not see myself wisening up either. I don't know whether I would like to have it this way or not, but it’s the way it is presently and I don’t feel like helping myself out of it. I would love to remain like this, like Dorian Gray. Being haunted by my own self.
‘Wise’ will haunt me and taunt me for the days to come for sure. What would I give to be actually wise!
P.S.: Do not bother to ask the person’s identity. It is not very important for either of us. And yes, it was a female. Who else could come up with such gems?!
The point is, I have been called Wise!!! Or at least, that I look Wise. Now, I have been called a lot of things/names in life. My immensely creative family (esp. my sister) and friends have ensured that I have never been short of names. On top of that my actual, official name! It’s a mathematical improbability that somebody who is not a Bangali like me, (the race of all races, we always get everything right), will get both the spelling and the pronunciation of my name right: at least not the first time. So that serves to add a few names by default.
But coming back to the point: Wise? What on earth has the words wise and wisdom got to do with me? Or for that matter, with the way I look?
Now most would say that "Well, that hardly is the worst thing that you have ever been called or will be called” and I for once will not disagree with the statement. The point here is my comfort level. It’s a bit ridiculous, well not for people who know me, but I would rather be called those names, than being called wise. Firstly, I would be sure of how to react to these, cause I know whether they are compliments (well, they can be called complements too: 'harami' is a case in point, among friends it was more like 'clever you' than 'you bastard'; or maybe it was both, 'you clever bastard'!) or not. Secondly, these would either be coming from friends, so I am happy or I don't mind; or they are from people I am not fond of anyway, so I don't care.
But wise? It’s something I have not been called before, for sure. And neither have I been accused of looking wise either. For the majority of the population I look like some kid, slightly studious and largely lost in life, which makes one out of the two readings right. Was it a back-handed compliment? Unlikely. I back myself to see through those, at most times.
What is actually bothering me, are not the 'who?' and the 'how?' or even the 'was this person lying?' questions, but the 'what?' of whatever that was said. Fact is that I have been anything but wise in my life. I have had enough opportunities to learn from my mistakes, but I have generally shown a strong aversion towards learning from these past experiences (there was one thing this person surely got right, unintentionally it may be: "You look like a person with plenty of heavyweight experience"). And I do not see myself wisening up either. I don't know whether I would like to have it this way or not, but it’s the way it is presently and I don’t feel like helping myself out of it. I would love to remain like this, like Dorian Gray. Being haunted by my own self.
‘Wise’ will haunt me and taunt me for the days to come for sure. What would I give to be actually wise!
P.S.: Do not bother to ask the person’s identity. It is not very important for either of us. And yes, it was a female. Who else could come up with such gems?!
Bull's Eye!!!
ABHINAV BINDRA!
Finally! What can I say? A billion plus people. Over 100 years of competing in the Games. And finally, finally we have a gold medalist! Well we had quite a lot of them, in hockey. But that's a team sport, and it’s a separate tragedy. I won’t spoil a joyous occasion and a celebratory post.
But we have an Olympic Gold Medalist! It’s incredible that I am finding it so incredible! Thanks a lot Abhinav Bindra. You have made my day dude and of all other Indian sports lovers. I am dedicating you an entire post! Imagine! How happy I must be!!!
Irony lies in the fact that today, the glorified f*ck*rs in flannels screwed up again in Colombo. God knows which is more irritating: the fact that manage to lose to such teams or the fact the losers still laugh their way to the bank.
But that, again, is meant for other occasions. Today, it’s about Abhinav Bindra.
Okay, what all has he done today.
1st Indian to win an individual Olympic Gold.
1st Gold Medal for India since Moscow, 1980.
He now becomes both the current World Champion and the Olympic Champion.
He has also probably annoyed the Chinese a hell of a lot! They have won this event in the last two Games, and now they lose it in their own country. The poor Chink even started crying!!!
The guys got some serious nerve. To win an Olympic event, coming back from behind, to shoot Bull’s eye in the last shot! Unbelievably filmy stuff! He still should have at least 2 more Olympics in him. Hopefully that would mean 1 more gold medal!
Other Facts: (Hail Wiki!)
From Doon School.
Youngest Indian participant at Sydney, 2000.
Rajiv Gandhi Khel Ratna in 2001 (only 19 then).
MBA from University of Colorado.
CEO of Abhinav Futuristics, a PC game peripherals distributors. (http://www.abhinavfuturistics.com/, a very annoying soundtrack though.)
Well, we in this country don’t waste our time in creating stars and also in shooting them down. But hopefully this one will last for long.
Shine On You Shooting Diamond!
PS: Too bad he hasn’t updated his own blog!
http://abhinavbindra.blogspot.com
Finally! What can I say? A billion plus people. Over 100 years of competing in the Games. And finally, finally we have a gold medalist! Well we had quite a lot of them, in hockey. But that's a team sport, and it’s a separate tragedy. I won’t spoil a joyous occasion and a celebratory post.
But we have an Olympic Gold Medalist! It’s incredible that I am finding it so incredible! Thanks a lot Abhinav Bindra. You have made my day dude and of all other Indian sports lovers. I am dedicating you an entire post! Imagine! How happy I must be!!!
Irony lies in the fact that today, the glorified f*ck*rs in flannels screwed up again in Colombo. God knows which is more irritating: the fact that manage to lose to such teams or the fact the losers still laugh their way to the bank.
But that, again, is meant for other occasions. Today, it’s about Abhinav Bindra.
Okay, what all has he done today.
1st Indian to win an individual Olympic Gold.
1st Gold Medal for India since Moscow, 1980.
He now becomes both the current World Champion and the Olympic Champion.
He has also probably annoyed the Chinese a hell of a lot! They have won this event in the last two Games, and now they lose it in their own country. The poor Chink even started crying!!!
The guys got some serious nerve. To win an Olympic event, coming back from behind, to shoot Bull’s eye in the last shot! Unbelievably filmy stuff! He still should have at least 2 more Olympics in him. Hopefully that would mean 1 more gold medal!
Other Facts: (Hail Wiki!)
From Doon School.
Youngest Indian participant at Sydney, 2000.
Rajiv Gandhi Khel Ratna in 2001 (only 19 then).
MBA from University of Colorado.
CEO of Abhinav Futuristics, a PC game peripherals distributors. (http://www.abhinavfuturistics.com/, a very annoying soundtrack though.)
Well, we in this country don’t waste our time in creating stars and also in shooting them down. But hopefully this one will last for long.
Shine On You Shooting Diamond!
PS: Too bad he hasn’t updated his own blog!
http://abhinavbindra.blogspot.com
Monday 11 August, 2008
I.I.Me.
I...
Now I can write the rest of it... Long before today, when I am actually writing this blog, I had promised myself (not that they are two different beings, but that's the way the English language works I suppose) that 'I' would be the first word of any meaningful (?!) piece of prose (??!!) I write. Why I had made this particular promise I can't remember.
I am also not very sure about whether that this actually qualifies as something meaningful. Prose? Well, it’s not poetry for sure. And I was told in my corporate induction that everything grey is black. Though Grey finds this extremely offending and my Brown shoe polish (or is it Tan?) has gone into a sulk ever since it has come to Lucknow, I will venture and go ahead with this oversimplifying assumption: prose it is, prose it must be.
Those who know me well enough, which you should be if you have actually bothered to read this (not to mention the amount of time you have to waste), will not find anything surprising in either of the two. If you have lost your way already in my superbly crafted sentences and even better paragraph formations, let me help you get back on track: you shouldn't be surprised at the fact that I actually made such a promise to myself, nor the fact that I have forgotten why I made it.
However, in future I shall not be this patient, and show neither the time nor the inclination, to do all the backtracking for you. Imagine writing a book, and then coming up with a guide to it. What a killing to be made! Unfortunately, some of the cheapskate +2 engineering exam book writers have already hit upon this goldmine of an idea. So, it’s not something entirely original. But what else do you expect from somebody studying in a B-school?
Anyway this is all I feel like writing about presently. I hardly feel like going public with this. I think I would rather gift you all with this on the Independence Day- Rakhi weekend. I should have written a decent 5-6 post by then.
Now I can write the rest of it... Long before today, when I am actually writing this blog, I had promised myself (not that they are two different beings, but that's the way the English language works I suppose) that 'I' would be the first word of any meaningful (?!) piece of prose (??!!) I write. Why I had made this particular promise I can't remember.
I am also not very sure about whether that this actually qualifies as something meaningful. Prose? Well, it’s not poetry for sure. And I was told in my corporate induction that everything grey is black. Though Grey finds this extremely offending and my Brown shoe polish (or is it Tan?) has gone into a sulk ever since it has come to Lucknow, I will venture and go ahead with this oversimplifying assumption: prose it is, prose it must be.
Those who know me well enough, which you should be if you have actually bothered to read this (not to mention the amount of time you have to waste), will not find anything surprising in either of the two. If you have lost your way already in my superbly crafted sentences and even better paragraph formations, let me help you get back on track: you shouldn't be surprised at the fact that I actually made such a promise to myself, nor the fact that I have forgotten why I made it.
However, in future I shall not be this patient, and show neither the time nor the inclination, to do all the backtracking for you. Imagine writing a book, and then coming up with a guide to it. What a killing to be made! Unfortunately, some of the cheapskate +2 engineering exam book writers have already hit upon this goldmine of an idea. So, it’s not something entirely original. But what else do you expect from somebody studying in a B-school?
Anyway this is all I feel like writing about presently. I hardly feel like going public with this. I think I would rather gift you all with this on the Independence Day- Rakhi weekend. I should have written a decent 5-6 post by then.
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