Change

i hear something that changes another bit of my life.

Predictable Choice

so here i was talking about random things in life when i went into a soliloquoy. the subject of my angst this time dealt with directions we "choose" to take in our lives.

like take the example of the cohort that graduated in the summer of 2008 to which i belong. a 150 fresh  mbbs graduates came out into the real world. so it was yet another crossroads and time to make choices again. what gets me thinking is how many of us actually stop to think of what we are to do next. the obvious choice for many would be to move on to postgrad in a specialty and further training to be a specialist doctor. and there is nothing wrong with that. i would love to be one too. the problem arises with the way we think that we choose to do it. 

i have often observed that we dont have to do too much to live life well. life has a way of taking care of you. all you have to do at your end is perform life's current task well enough. thats all and everything else is taken care of. i finish mbbs and the obvious questions arise and life has an answer. do a pg. there is not so much thinking involved in the choice, ofcourse the details are different. 

when i say life, i mean what you have around you. you have a certain upbringing in a certain household with a certain way of life in a certain society with certain social, cultural and economic sensibilities. and if you choose to sit back and relax, then these have a way of being your cushion. they have conditioned your behaviour enough to make whatever is next obvious. just dont ask too many questions and everything will be laid out in front of you. 

your life is the environment around you. it is the nature around you not your nature. it is what nurtured you, not the ideas you nurture. every idea you have, every trait you claim has litttle to do with you. it is a response you have conditioned to an external stimulus. and the beauty of our societal environments is that there are inherent feedback mechanisms to keep track and if necessary weed out the unwanted. and may be even recondition a response into a more suitable one. thats the purpose of your society. the thinking has been done for you. you have a role to play. just do what you have to well enough and everything will show up in front of you. its almost like life is offering you a step at a time what you need . you could be blind to where these steps lead and still you wont be lost. and if you were to deviate and sidestep, there are inherent protector mechanisms in this society that will try and bring you back to the mainstream that life has charted for you. if you persist, then you are marginalized, obscured or even ostracized. every once in a while there are few who can reach the destination through their own charted paths and they stand out. society explains them to you as extraordinary or freaks. its almost like they are pushed into being the cases falling outside 2 standard deviations of your normal gaussian curve. even maths is taught to teach you the oddity.

now when you do dare to sidestep, you are making a choice. now what governs this choice. the reason you chose to sidestep is so that you can take the reins into your own hands and lead life the way you want it to go. but then if you were to chart the new directions based on previous conditioning of the very same society you come from then how far are you really stepping out. all you know is what you have learnt, that is responses to those stimuli your environment has given you. the eyes can see only what the mind knows holds true here. the limits of your thought are more or less defined by the boundaries of the stream you are hoping to leave. then what do you do. do you even have a true idea of your own that can help? is any response your own as all the stimuli coming are that from an environment you are trying to abort and therefore detrimental to the search of your new direction?

society teaches you to dream of a destination. the final outcome of your efforts. yet it very successfully limits them temporally. therefore any average joe being led down his path sees satisfaction in stepping onto the next step. but he fails to realise that the next step will always be there. there is no stopping. whatever your effort, action, there will always be an outcome and you will move on. such a joe will never realise that it is never going to end. walking through the mall he is inspired to dress like an icon and purchase a particular brand. then a car, a house, watches, holidays and the list is endless. he runs after another everytime. does he ever stop and think about what it is about the next thing he desires that will make it all come to an end? i dont know. will he ever realise that such a scramble is perpetual unless he stops it. i dont know that either.

some say it is not the destination but the journey that is important. but society teaches you the contrary. you belong to a certain social class and therefore there shall be certain endpoints that you shall aim to achieve. anything else is crushed. 

we all are eventually aiming for the same thing. yet how many of us realise that we are all conditioned beyond imagination such that we limit our own choices.   

choice is an illusion. they let you pick a flavour when all you know and see is chocolate.

Yes We Can

Nov 8th , 2008

Watching Obama say these words gave me goose bumps. For the first time after a long time I actually cared about America and its people.  I don’t know when I forgot them. Must have been sometime through those eight forgettable years that have just gone by.

The earliest memory of America, though I have never been there, was the fateful night when I sat huddled in front of a TV set with a bunch of other Indian kids while the grownups watched from over their couches and dinner plates. The Iraqis on the streets couldn’t do enough to deter a resilient Indian soiree. Bush Sr was talking about the goings-on in the middle-east, the invasion of Kuwait. I still remember his wrinkled, meditative words heavily pouring out. War it was.

I am a child of the Gulf War. Americans were our heroes.  Play and chatter was abundant with the imagery of good-evil transferred to the America-Iraq scenario. America was the good guy. That was 1990.

Operation Desert Storm. Bosnia. Somalia. Kosovo.  Operation Desert Fox.  The ten years that followed were a series of conflicts relayed in a carefully reconstructed manner always readily identifying the bad guy. Of course we knew who the good guys were. Didn’t we? Growing up to these events brought on some questions. Yet one never doubted the intention. America meant no harm. They fought for the people, their rights and their good. Well there were other ways of doing it but no other would step up to the task so readily. That was America doing what it did best, playing the good guy.

Then came the new millennium and with it brought controversy, doubt and eventually, decay. Controversy over the how the man got into the office, doubt over his capability and judgment, and finally the decay of the American spirit and also the good will that America had fostered in minds like mine. George Walker Bush had done everything humanly possible to open the wrong doors, rub people the wrong way, all the while carrying a straight face of a man driven by vision and purpose.

9/11 forever changed the world we lived in. But Afghanistan and later Iraq were hasty responses to a blow on the very face of the American spirit. The need of the hour was determination, resilience and thoughtful intervention. What has come to be does not even qualify debate. Could it have been different? May be. Should it have been so bad? Definitely not. Four years ago, for reasons unknown, at least to many outside America, Bush was re-elected to the highest office in the most powerful country in the world. The second term of W is something I can’t wait to forget, and I am not alone. Bad policy is very different from ignorance. Persistent and worsening ignorance can only be judged as idiocy. God bless America became God save America.

As with all things, the Bush years have come to pass. Every American who voted Obama on the ballot represented the hopes of the entire world. People from every corner who directly or indirectly were beneficiaries or victims, as times have it, of American policy of recent years held their breath as America went to the polls. The world was glued to its TVs, radios and computers awaiting the outcomes of their suffering, the fruit of the hopes they had invested in the common citizen of the USA. And they weren’t let down.

The words of change the new president of America had on the eve of his victory were not for his people alone but for people world over. The man on stage in front of America today was not just a leader America voted for, he was chosen by all of us around the world who wanted to see the guiding light in new hands. Watching intently, I couldn’t help but smile to myself when I saw him speak with conviction and promise of restoring America to its lost glory.

Obama is not just a man or a leader or a president. He is an idea. An image of the power and will of the people, invested in one man. America has once again beat the odds and managed to make that leap of faith. Less than 50 years after Martin Luther King, they have elected as president a young, black man who has the tenacity to challenge, the will to persevere and courage to transform. He represents an opportunity for America to try something new, to show the world a new direction and to make possible tolerant and peaceful coexistence. It is a chance to abandon a rampant ruthless barbarism, both fundamental and state-sponsored, that is scarring the lives of millions of people and bring back an era of dialogue and non-violence. A man who does not carry the weight of years of electoral politics, who is not hardened by the unforgiving corridors of Washington and entrenched in the interests of the high and the mighty brings with him a sense of honesty to the table. This alone will give Obama what few other presidents have enjoyed, the respect and adulation of the peoples of the world and above all a chance, to break ice and foster brotherhood.

Economy. Trade. Healthcare. Foreign Policy. World Peace. Obama’s mandate, rather the legacy he stands to inherit, is unenviable to say the least. Yet even the longest journeys start with a small step. And with Obama, America has taken a giant leap. Four years on, I look forward to remembering these times as a period of great change when I stood witness as history unfolded and a new paradigm shift came to be in the way the people of America, the people of the world lived.

Mr. Barrack Hussein Obama, Yes we can.

Her Quest to End

She walks on, buried

By her years, the cold bites her heart

Hunched against the howl, of fading

Winds, pain weakened, her wrinkles carry

The weight of frailty, her years have rolled

On like the seasons, as she prepares

To brave the cruelty of another final winter.

Some fly, yet some wither, the fruit

Like the leaves, and the turning heavens

Grey, she has with her memories

Of the lost, hers fallen and theirs taken

By the world, with its times, have come

Clinking needles, the lonely chatter

Her yarns share her destiny.

Blessed young angels run amuck

In the warm summer sun, the crisp

Laundry, pie on her window sill, and

Her womb, for it bears more fruit, than

One, kind to her finds her, joy, not knows

No sorrows. This is to her, womanhood

A worship, for the labors.

It is a lovely morning, spring

Has found its way to the skies, to her life.

A chuckle, a subtle touch, sends the hearts

Fluttering into the chirp, the laughter of the children

To be, of infinite hope and dream. It is

In the song and dance, in the clutter of chairs,

To the bustle of kin, she has come to be, one.

As the apples redden, the cherries

Ripe, she grows, a cherubic smile

Flowing locks, in the darkest night

Dreams of moments to be, her luscious

Senses, her graceful splendor nurture

Swaying fields, her maiden youth.

She skips, falls, scrapes her knee

A bold girl she, can’t stop the tears

As she runs to her mother, suppressing

That quaint wail that escapes her pain.

In those tender arms that raised her

She rests, salt drying on her upper lip.

From dust to womb, a soul

She journeys, to another body

Endlessly yearning, to dwell in a moment of

Salvation, for eternity.

Tearless Burden of Misery

i havent had the courage to cry
i put on a brave face and walk on
brush off every hurt, and march
ahead with a conviction, convinced
with my own lies. 

i awake every second with a fear of caving in
of falling prey to the frailty that i am 
live every minute concealing to myself the pits
the holes, my inadequacy.
i am incomplete, and that which makes me whole
scares me, for i fear the unknown

i am afraid to be free, happy
to not be bound is unimaginable
the world gives me none?
a curse of good fortune.
i need misery, even of my own making.

Disillusioned

its like crack. its what keeps me going when the going gets tough. my addiction to choice and my illusion of free will. i am bound by the illusion to choose. i know that irrespective of choices i make events that unfold will shape the outcome. more things out of my control will shape the future of my choice than i as the chooser. also the mere role of chooser is a farce as the choice has already been made. if you think you can freely choose whatever you want, think again. if you are in a shop and want to buy pants, most of the choosing has already been done in the form of the manufacturer who makes only certain designs and limited numbers of each and the designers who make the design for you, and the retail outlet where you reach for the price tag and decide your budget which is of a limited range courtesy your employer, your cultural affliction which rules what you wear. and despite all of these conditions which have already reduced your scope to null, you jumped around in the joy of having purchased the pants of your choice.

we celebrate the freedom of choice, when in reality the choices have been made. at every turn the illusion presents us with a diversion. its like multiple reflections of the same object. and that is enough to sustain our interest in this otherwise boring and morbid run of events. the choices create controversy and the choice an identity.

we are nothing but mere puppets. hapless ants that crawl on a master board with predefined route maps. whether we turn right, left or keep going straight has already been decided. yet we jump in joy at the illusion of a y road ahead which is not a y after all because somewhere ahead both arms meet. what are we but fools.

Happy Days?

first thing i am not stupid. i dont live in a fantasy and i am grounded in here and now. with that stated lets get on with it.

i just got back from a movie that i saw. it was happy days by shekhar kammula. a decent filmmaker, he always portrays very life like characters. none of the usual pomp and show of the bigger megastars of tollywood. and in course of the movie which revolves around the college life of a bunch of youngsters, there was something there that struck a chord within me.

funny thing is that i always knew college was not just about fun. but more importantly fun was a big part of it. yet it sometimes seems that tiny piece of wisdom was lost on me several crucial times.

i often feel that my mind was not made for my head. what? wll it is just that i feel that my mind grew faster than my head and bigger than it eventually. and that some portions were on steroids. in an age when most kids are lost making choices and finding ground on what is right or wrong, i was already well versed on such finer nuances and obssessed on making use of such a knowledge. in the process sometimes i stole from my life the very important property of chance, risk and mistake. the fewer i made the more i regretted not making them. and the ones i did make always seemed to loom larger than they actually were. left in doubt, i completely engaged in the quest of never having to make a wrong call. humility, cowardice, diplomacy and many such things saved moments where i would have caught myself on the wrong foot.

the very growth of mind and mental prowess started stifling the very essence of my being, creativity. critique became my hobby, and conformity an unconcious obsession.

what i say is different from what i do which is different from what i believe.

i want my innocence back. i dont want to know already what is right or wrong, the consequences of actions, risk of chance and the likes. questions such as these and thir answers have caged my being in an invisible bind. the very idea of reverting back to ignorance, carelessness and carefressness when i already am done debating all corners would again be a self-deafeating effort.

wisdom is the property of one who has earned it, a boon for one in search of it 
and a burden to one who does not realise it.

all i can do is pray that soon the burden of knowledge will become the boon of wisdom and free me from the clutches of my own prison.

i am a slave of my own thought, my ambivalence, my hypocrisy.

my mind is caged and i want to be free.

Questions

life is a funny game. i have made it all yet i suffer from it. there is nothing in this world which is not my own creation. the pleasure, the pain, the anger, the beauty, the illness, everything including the very perception of the things themselves are an elaborate creation of mine. i permeate everything. thus i suffer from the stimulus. for had it not been so, there would be no cause and effect. that cause and effect are inseparable is known. so every single day everything from the coffee mug to the lady next door are all a part of my intricate creation. creation i say because, since i permeate everything there ought not to be any differentiation of any object whatsoever. thus no attachment,  no loss, no pain, no profit, no happiness. yet i feel all of these. so what i have in effect learnt to do in this human life is create an intricate design for everything. so detailed that it becomes impossible for me the creator to identify the sameness. its only until i scratch this upper that i will see the constitutive similarity of all my existence and the search for an end ceases.

the illusion of this difference i create is so endearing that it is painful to consider otherwise. that senses, there stimuli and the responses are all the same. i often am engulfed and overwhelmed by my own creation. a great example of how my invention gets the better of me would be to examine pain. pain is something i felt is essentially what makes this illusion almost believable. it is because of this phenomenon that my determination to undermine the creation and question its origins arises. pain along with other negative emotions threatens the senses and their well being. pain destabilises the creation. yet it on its own is so overwhelming that the opportunity to see through the creation remains hidden. for example pain of loss takes away from me the pleasure associated with the company of  a 'loved' one, though this person may be a part of my very own being. now the person is my own creation and so is the attachment. the pain of separation or loss is my own too. and all this a part of my illusion. but this pain serves to strengthen the veracity of the sense of well being and stability provided by the illusion. so all energies are spent to revert back to the calm serene picture than towards understanding the illusory nature of this pain and the reinforcement effect it has on the need for the illusion.

now once the existence of this illusion has been acknowledged then arises a question.

what is the need for illusion?
why do i have to awaken, why do i have to eat, sleep or do any of the other things i do?
why do i have create a complete universe around me so intricate to engross me for a life time when all this is an illusion created by me?

it is often the most troublesome thing to do. to ask a question.

yet i should never cease to do so.