Flux in the Language

Pronouns: First Person, Singular.
Tense: Preterite.

Is that how it ends? Watch this space.

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No Where To Go

“Deep beneath the cover of another perfect wonder where it’s so white as snow,
Privately divided by a world so undecided and there’s no where to go
In between the cover of another perfect wonder and it’s so white as snow
Running through the field where all my tracks will be concealed and there’s no where to go.”
-Snow (Hey Oh) by Red Hot Chili Peppers

The first time I actually have included the chorus of a song. Generally I just nick a line from the lyrics. There’s a reason however, for me changing my format. First would be that I need the entire chorus to convey what I’m thinking. Second would be that this is the first time I’ve seen RHCP make so much sense in their lyrics. The song rocks, completely.

Left Click here for the disclaimer regarding the use of lines from songs.
Your left not mine. (Sorry Illiad couldn’t resist)

I couldn’t stop listening to the song, nor I could stop wondering about the lyrics. It actually makes so much sense. Skeletons in the closet or delusions, wanting to believe in something or just plain lying to yourself. Take your pick. It’s all there. Unbelievable, there’s another quote coming up. I believe it was George Bernard Shaw who said something about the two tragedies in life. One is to lose your heart’s desire and the other is to gain it. True, you’d kill for what you want. At times only to realize that what you wanted was completely something else.

Incidentally if I quote someone again, please shoot me.

Moving on. Heart’s desire. You want something so badly that it hurts. The lack frustrates you to the point where you’re actually pulling your hair out. It can get so bad that you’re actually acting like a hopeless case junkie in rehab. You would go to any lengths to acquire it. Herein lies the wanting to believe and the lying to yourself. Blinded? Possibly. Logic seems to take the biggest hit. Even when you realize that you’re busting your ass trying to gain something that just goes further away the more you try you can’t stop. Why do we always chase something we cannot have? (Arggh! kill me now, that’s from Dangerous Liaisons) The answer’s immaturity by the way.

Now this post is getting hilarious. I don’t remember why I started writing this. I’m quoting other people and there’s hardly any originality left in this. Guess I can attribute it to my current frame of mind. Confused! My mind keeps fluctuating between emotions that are complete antitheses of each other. My take on reality at the moment is all convoluted. I think I need to write something once my mind clears up and I’m thinking straight again. Do I hear a resounding ‘HAH!’?

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If you wanna run cool...

If you wanna run cool...
Originally uploaded by Twisted Indifference.

You've got to run, on Heavy Heavy Fuel!!
Maybe I should consider adding bottles of beer here? Complete the setup. Obviously I would have to change the location, I don't think bringing beer to office would be appreciated.

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There's Love If You Want It

Hurts don't it? Two years of building your dream only to see it collapse into rubble. There's nothing you can do about it. Just watch it. Watch it fall apart, every brick a memory, a promise made. Your head spins at the speed at which reality dawns on you. An empty space where your castle in the sky once stood. A void in your heart where you cherished every moment. The moment's gone, the music's over, the bar's closed. Head home! Only you can't.

You don't want to. Or is just that you're too scared to step out? The pentagram's not going to protect you anymore. The sanctity's been breached. And again, YET freakin' again you didn't see it coming. The light at the end of the tunnel was the express train moron! It was not your delusion of salvation. Yea right! Love made your world go round? Brace yourself, this was just the beginning. You're not just alone, you're also on your knees. You've been brought there. You're caught in a sandstorm, every grain of sand, a dream that cannot be dreamt no more. Creating gashes in your skin, feeling it ripped apart and just begging for the pain to stop.

Spit the blood out, move it. You stop and look back, bad move. You know you can't let go. Can't let go of that hand which pulled you out of every damn crisis. Held you close every time the chips were down. Vanished any traces of previous scars. And it's this hand that put you here. Mistakes happen? I doubt it in this case. Why can't you just let go?

The tears subside, you have a little clarity. Survival instinct someone mentioned. You're making your way back home. The message you left was clear, yea there's love if you want it...

My Apologies Your Furriness!

You woke me up for that?
Originally uploaded by Twisted Indifference.

That's Edison, and I'm his human. Note that he's asleep on what used to be my bed and waking him up from his slumber is not well received.

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Child Labour and Diwali

Two of the many things I cannot stand. Here's the irony, I hate kids. I just cannot stand them. I refuse to entertain them no matter whose kid it is. So why am I against child labour? It just one main reason, it's disgusting. You want to exploit someone, do it to someone who's capable of understanding what you're doing. We have progressed from the age where a malnourished kid would stand for ages in coal mines with a lamp, straining his ears for the roar of an oncoming cart just so he could open the door and let it through.

Why the kid? Cheap labour? Someone who isn't smart enough to question you back as to what you're making them do? Exploitation is omnipresent. And not necessarily in what the world might view as a Third World Country. Leave the kids alone though. OK, the reference to Pink Floyd here is unintentional. My point is, as much as I cannot stand kids, its not like a run them over with my car whenever I see one. And that is not just 'cos I'd get arrested for it. However, my reason for hating kids isn't on discussion here. What I mean to say is that, no matter how big a nuisance they are, they don't deserve this. Everyone has their own nuisance traits.

Which brings me to the second topic in the title. Diwali. Festival of lights, spare me. If the firecrackers wreaking havoc on my ears and my dog's sanity aren't enough, guess which labour force makes these freakin' high decibel headaches? No bloody points for guessing the right answer. How many of you have been inside a factory producing firecrackers? You wouldn't want those work hazards on adults let alone kids. Your lungs, yours skin, your eyes, all go for a toss when you work there. Forget the employers, how could the parents do something like that? Your own bloody child!

All of you protesting with 'the circumstances force them to', 'Do you know that they're living way below the poverty (BPL) line?', 'They have no other option' and similar stuff please raise your hands. I know poverty in India is harsh. I would probably not know how harsh since I wasn't born BPL, but I am perceptive enough to know it's not going to improve if the kids are exploited.

My appeal? Do not under any circumstances buy any firecrackers this Diwali. Stop supporting child labour. It's not worth it. Not asking you to spare my ears or my dog's sanity. We can take care of each other. But before you buy that load of crackers and pyrotechnic amusements, please realize that a kid who should be in school and playing in the sunlight sat in a dingy dark room to make that. They don't deserve this and you can stop it.

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Withdrawal Symptoms

Thursday, 1600 hrs:

My leave just got sanctioned. I was euphoric. Saturday and Sunday were going to be off anyway and I got an off from Monday to Wednesday. A sexy 5 day mini vacation. I was ecstatic and for good reason. Tuesday, 17^th October as most of you idiots reading this know is my birthday. Two things I hate doing during my birthday are studying and working. Basically anything where someone else is dictating terms. In the first case didn’t have too much of a choice as term exams always used to fall on my birthday in school. It used to drive me crazy but as I said had no choice.

Work. Now here I managed to escape it by requesting a leave. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. The erratic hours notwithstanding. I have fun there. But yea, it was kind of starting to take a toll on my body and it wouldn’t have been long before my body revolted. So the leave is for the best. At least I thought it would be.

Friday, 2100 hrs:

Almost time to close shop and head home and start my mini vacation. I should be feeling giddy with anticipation, act like a kid before summer holidays and jump around with excitement. None of those childish stunts accompanied by chants of “I have 5 days off’ materialized. I was depressed. What am I going to do with five days off? True Tuesday’s my birthday, obviously not going to work then but then I just upped and left my team there. Those guys count on me (I think!) for a lot of things. The thing is, in my position as a project co-ordinator I kind of look after my team. And it might be my ego thinking this way but it does feel like I have left them undefended.

I was double checking and colour coding a lot of things at the last moment so that these guys don’t have any hassles while I’m not there. I was already facing withdrawal symptoms and I wasn’t even out of the office yet. I am so sure I’m going to end up in office on Monday. Nothing to do with a sense of duty or getting the job done. And definitely not conscience. I think I’m addicted to my office. I spend 12 hours down there and I think it has grown on me.

Saturday, 1000 hrs:

Here I am writing this piece, wishing I was in office. I think I should be careful what I wish for. More to come, watch this space!

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Dude! Where’s my sanity?

(In continuity from An Egotist’s…)

I was going to start this with a bunch of adjectives but then I decided against it. I have better plans for them. I have had it with morons who have made themselves too comfortable in their tiny little pathetic shells and refuse to accept a world beyond it. Whatever they already know is sacrosanct. If that is actually true, then yea I’m blasphemous! Wake up and smell the bloody progress.

It is not restricted to IT anymore. Whichever industry you work in you have to be on your toes. I hate to sound like a management workshop here but innovation is the key to a lot of things. I really don’t mean to stereotype, but some of you older guys out there please at least make an attempt to learn new stuff. And yea! No bigger crime than having a younger guy explaining something to you right? I’m not making a plea for ethics here, why would I ask for something I myself don’t have? But please spare me your inconsequential grappling with your insecurities.

I’m not saying I’m perfect. There always is someone wielding a bigger club. But at least I make an effort. At least I compete. A very old adage, shape up or ship out.

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An Egotist’s Myopia

How blind can a person with sight get? How can he actually not accept the facts even when they’re spoon fed to him? Is it a voluntary denial? Or is it a reflex action that has developed over years and years of voluntary denial? I do not intend to argue the whole ‘who’s to say what’s right and what’s wrong’ here. That will be one heck of a long blog. I might touch up on it later though. Nothing is more fun than playing around with Einstein’s Theory of Relativity and screw up some gullible idiot’s perception.

I have a bad habit of drifting. Which might be good to an extent since it will ensure that I have a lot of matter for the blogs. But I should make it a point not to stray too far. Which I’m still doing. So, back to the topic at hand. The egotist’s myopia. Get your protests out of your system here. ‘Everyone has an ego, some have large ones; the other’s hardly raising a peep.’ Ego assures dignity and self-respect. Now that that’s over with, my point is to be blinded by your ego to irrefutable facts you would have to be abysmally obtuse.

Bypass the clichés here. It takes a brave man to admit his mistakes and the rest. It has got nothing to do with anything here. It’s plain and simple logic. If a homicidal maniac is caught red handed and he still denies the crime, that can be attributed to the fact that he is well, a maniac. Someone who has no control over his thoughts or actions or anything else. So if you’re caught with your pants down and you vehemently deny that you’re not wearing pants, even after being shoved in front of a mirror, dude there’s something wrong with you.

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I Walk Alone

How do you miss it? What are you blinded by? Why did you never expect it? Why does it change? Erosion? The Grand Canyon is a result of it. Flowing water and wind can be very persuasive. What changes a person? What forces erode their thoughts? And then people wonder why trust is such a huge thing to ask for. It’s like an ice sculpture I guess. Flawless and exquisite but at the end of the day it’s a puddle of water. Your vision, your ideas all come crashing down around you because what you hoped it would lead to has just suddenly hit you smack dab in the face.

How many times are people going to recite the clichéd ‘Man is a social animal’ to me? I’m sick of hearing that. Dependability should be restricted to material aspects. No one to share my dreams, my vision, my thoughts, because every one has an agenda of their own. So way I see it, Fuck It! I’ll walk alone.

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Disclaimer

If you have noticed that some of the titles of my blogs are part of lyrics from certain songs, you’re not wrong. A lot of times other words inspire mine. People who are my fellow countrymen, i.e. Indian, might beg to differ on that considering that it’s the most clichéd line used by Bollywood filmmakers but then they’re allowed their opinion. I expect people who know me and more importantly understand my writing to look beyond that.

Incidentally, music gets my creative juices flowing more than anything else. I’m very sensitive to music and even the slightest of dynamics can define or alter the mood of the song for me. So if I use lyrics of songs or anything to do with music that would be the main reason behind it. My detractors are welcome to their derivations however.

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It Takes All Kinds…

(Contd. from ‘Transition…’)

So now I’m downstairs. I warm up. A stretch here a twist there. Boring stuff actually. Then go running. Once I come back, this is when the fun starts. Lady exiting the gate: Weighs roughly the same as a baby elephant with an ass which looks like it has a few slings supporting it. This is my question. WHY? Why does she have to wear clothes that tight? She definitely must be aware that she is an eye sore. She might be cracking a few mirrors every week. Do me a favour all you fat females out there, DO NOT wear spandex. Please spare my eyes from being FUBARed further.

Once I’m back from my run I’m generally using stuff around me for isometrics. In this brief span of time, I see that it indeed bloody takes all freakin’ kinds. First the fat women walking in the weirdest of clothes. At least I’m spared from further abuse to my eyes as not all of them wear spandex. It’s funny watching them. Full of grit and determination as they stride forward with smug looks at other people and me. Hah! I’m exercising. Soon I’m going to look like Elle McPherson. Excuse me? Do I make faces at you while I run? Or are you just trying to burn extra calories by scowling at me because you read somewhere that frowning utilizes more muscles?

Fat women, middle aged women trying to look cool and middle aged fat women who have accepted their fate and are now concentrating on annoying others. Where are the good-lookin’ and the hot women gone? I think I need to move. Actually if I wasn’t staying in this house alone and rent free I probably would have by now.

(Not exactly what I would call creative, but I like this feature. I might just make ‘It Takes All Kinds…’ a kind of irregular recurring feature. I have tons of people to complain about. I might just write on learning and women drivers next, along with the bane of human existence, women learners!)

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Transition from Nocturnal to a Morning Person

Four Months Ago:

Neo taking on dozens of Agent Smiths. The music grows louder. A hand moves silently groping through the darkness. Finds the cell phone which disturbed the slumber of the body that the hand belongs to. Burly Brawl at its loudest now. Eyes forced open. Squinting into the cell phone screen. 0600 hrs. Nah! Thought the head behind the eyes. I need more sleep. I must have been out of my mind thinking I could go running this early. I’m not a morning person. I’ll exercise tomorrow. I mean it’s… The thought never finishes. The body is back in suspended animation.

Two Months Ago:

Neo taking on dozens…Doesn’t finish. Alarm’s off; I’m up. It’s 0500 hrs. Stumble into the kitchen and start making tea. Waking up without complaining is one thing. Asking me not to have tea is something else. Have my tea and finish the morning chores. Slip into tracks, shoes and ankle weights and I’m downstairs. (To be contd.)

What I Really Am

Ever felt like you were fighting a losing battle? When you finally realized that you were fighting a losing battle did you wonder why? Why are you still fighting? How come you never saw it coming? You were blinded by what you thought was good strategy. All it was in fact, just the mounting casualties. And you know what the ironic part is? The person you’re fighting isn’t even your enemy. It’s not good vs. evil; it’s not right vs. wrong. But you are fighting anyway.

All your lines of defenses have been torn to shreds. Actually you were the idiot who left the gates open. But then again, you never did expect it, so how were you to see it coming? The first wave left you reeling. Your foundations took a jolt. By time you steadied yourself, you could sense the next wave building up. You realize it’s time for a different strategy. Contain the rage within. Suppress the counter attack. But that never works does it?

The floodgates blast open and ends up in a free for all. The rules of combat, buried with the rotting remains of the last battle. You keep pushing without realizing that you’re literally hitting a brick wall head on with every attempt. The frustration is driving you wild, you cannot think straight. Every bloody attempt of yours to bring the situation under control just makes it worse. It begins to get so bad, I mean so bad that you stop comprehending your emotions and have absolutely no control over your body.

You exist in a completely different plane of thought. Disbelief of what you’ve been reduced to. Alternating between disgust and rage at the betrayal and then when the body can’t take it anymore you’re reduced to a state of mind that can only be described as diminished.

And yet, the battle still rages on. There is time to regroup and adopt different strategies but you don’t have any energy reserves left. You march forth into the final battle slowly realizing that you might not come back. You give it your best shot as always, but the knowledge of the heavy, impending failure drains you quickly.

Ever felt like you’re falling into dark bottomless pit? You feel the air rushing around you. How long before the sense of falling diminishes? If that is going to be your perpetual motion you’re not going to be aware of it continuously. Somewhat like breathing. Not really aware of it much till there is no air. And that is exactly what happens when the pain around you gets so intense, your mind adapts to it. Your mind, body and soul keep taking hit after hit, blow after blow till you have no life left in you. The final moments, the crescendo of the bloody orchestra makes you feel like every single freakin’ particle of your body’s going to implode. You feel like you want to break down and you don’t’ even know which emotion to trust. The pressure has reached its max and the clock, like a movie bomb stops at 1.

You’re falling. You can feel the air rushing around you. But that’s all your sensory receptors feel. Or allow you to feel. It’s like a drug. And then life moves on. The last few strands of grief disconnect and you’re out there living life like you’ve had the part of your brain controlling your emotions shut down.

This is Indifference. This was my world. I broke free and I think it’s beckoning again…

Back to Indifference

I was a photographer. I could not draw and I wanted to show people what I saw. But even that had its limitations. I could not show them what I visualized; I could not make them understand my abstract. A picture might be worth the proverbial thousand words, but I plan to reduce the odds a little, make the picture at the most worth two hundred. I’m still a part of the media world. This is twisted indifference and words are my release. Welcome to my blog!