Monday, December 13, 2010

Adrift...

Farewells have always been difficult for me.
Unshed tears and unspoken words.
Words that always seem to fall short. Eyes that say it all. Embraces that you never want to end. Moments that keep running past the more you try and hold onto. Words that threaten to unleash the tears that you try lock away.

Farewells have always been difficult.

I thought it was difficult to be left behind but never did I realize how difficult it can be to actually move away, till I actually had to.

To move away from all that was known and certain. From all that was yours. From the anchors that held you in place to being adrift in a sea of change. To a place that feels alien. To people who seem distant. Trying to build a home so far away from home.

So much change and so much excitement that it actually leaves you yearning for some stability and some boredom !! Familiarity seems to give more comfort to the heart than the joy of new adventures. Such are the times as I look for an anchor to hold me in place in a world that seems to be moving too fast for me.

Fickle is the mind indeed as it craves for that which it does not have.


Gone with the wind...

In our lives, some times are more defining and more influential than the others. They change the course of our lives, the fabric of our being.
The last couple of months have been one such period for me.
They have just breezed past me and i was so busy that I could barely sit down and look at them. It felt like a giant roller-coster ride that has left me screaming my insides out due to fear, excitement, exhilaration and sadness.

They were filled with frantic activity that left behind frayed nerves. There was too much to be done and to be taken care of... so much so, that i didn't grant myself the time to just sit down and think, to assimilate, to register, to enjoy and to grieve. The days flew past in a haze and they left me wanting. Wanting for some quiet, some peace and some space.

I loved the rush and the excitement but I also missed the bigger picture. I missed being able to move one step at a time. To be able to grieve when the heart wanted to. To be able to rejoice when there was reason to. I missed not having opened my heart to have let those emotions out, simply because there was too much to do. I now wish to have been able to pause the roller coaster in motion just to get a snapshot in time for every moment in the past two months.

I've missed myself for so many days. The little girl in me who used to love staring at the stars had not gazed at the night sky for nearly two months because she was always too tired to keep her eyes open. The footloose nomad in me had not wandered off in a while because there were too many places to be at. The thinker in me had not thought for a while simply because there was too much to do.

The last few days have been filled with so many of these unfelt feelings, unshed tears, unspoken words and unspoken fears. The flurry of everyday activity had actually numbed my mind into unquestioning acceptance. And now when I sit down to think, the pain is too much to bear. The tears are too many to control and the words are too many to say.

The last few days have indeed gone with the wind as they brought me closer to Scarlett O Hara when she said - "Oh, I can't think about this now! I'll go crazy if I do! I'll think about it tomorrow."

But then now i also know that sometimes the pain doesn't diminish with time. All you manage to do is to push it under the rug till it resurfaces every now and then.

Some emotions are best dealt without procrastination.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Patterns in randomness...

In a life that is fast rushing past us, we are forever trying to make sense. Trying to understand all that happens and all that does not happen. We are looking for causes, explanations, reasons and justifications. We are frantically searching. Searching, for a pattern, a cause or an explanation. Something to comfort us, something to give us hope. Hope for the future. Solace for the past. We are dazed by the world and we try to understand it by finding patterns - repetitive events which might help us know the future.

Like the constellations scattered in the sky, we imagine patterns in our everyday life. We assume causality and order on more occasions than one as we try to explain the world. We forget that the constellations in the sky are only products of random chance and not really organized structures and patterns. We forget that we are bound to find some order or pattern even though the world is driven by randomness. Our mind tricks us by locating these patterns in pure chaos. We then hold on to that pattern and build our lives on it. We forget that the pattern was nothing but our imagination. Our error lies not in perceiving the pattern but in ascribing more meaning to it than should be.

Most people believe in a grander scheme of events to unfold, giving purpose to their life, as they seek order in disorder. Some realize the force of randomness in their lives but do nothing as they hope that their understanding is indeed accurate. Some realize the truth and strive to over come the tricks that the mind plays.

As for me, from a child who believed in destiny to a hopeful skeptic now, I've been through the phases. And as i move ahead, I strive harder and harder to accept the role of randomness in shaping our lives.

Friday, November 26, 2010

A time to pause..

I think the things I own and love
Acquire a sense of me,
That gives them value far above
The worth that others see.
My chattels are of me a part:
This chair on which I sit
Would break its overstuffed old heart
If I made junk of it.

To humble needs with which I live,
My books, my desk, my bed,
A personality I give
They'll lose when I am dead.
Sometimes on entering my room
They look at me with fear,
As if they had a sense of doom
Inevitably near.

Yet haply, since they do not die,
In them will linger on
Some of the spirit that was I,
When I am gone.
And maybe some sweet soul will sigh,
And stroke with tender touch
The things I loved, and even cry
A little,--not too much.

Robert Service

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Surprise...

It was a lazy morning,
that had me yawning...
I was on a bus ride from home,
that had me sitting like a lost gnome.

And then there was a harmless conversation,
that led to the inception of a plan beyond my wildest imagination.
It was a great conspiracy,
And so I found a partner to work with great secrecy.

The plan was made,
and the plot was laid...
Off we went on our tiny escapade,
from the everyday mundane, to form the surprise action brigade...

With a lot of excitement, and plans galore,
Off we went on the streets of Bangalore.
Armed with balloons and streamers,
we were two dreamers.
On the list, were also tiaras and wands,
To take two pretty angels to faraway fairy lands.
Next on the list was a chocolate cake,
which we couldn't wait to partake.

And then, at the appointed hour,
phone calls were made to the gang of four.
Lo and behold, there was a pop to surprise,
This was a party in disguise.

There was laughter and smiles with truck loads of fun...
All under the afternoon sun.
Candles were blown and cakes were cut,
It was a fabulous way to get out of the rut.

And then there followed a wild road chase
Through the city, we had a clock to race.
We landed in time, all jubilant and resplendent,
It was after all a dinner with a Rogue elephant...

It was night to remember,
with memories to cherish forever..
beautiful moments captured,
that left us all enraptured....

Oh what a day it was... :)



PS - It was a wonderful day. A day good enough to compel me into undergoing some public humiliation like this with such juvenile attempts at rhyming words... :-)

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

A memory trace and a bloodline...

She sat there in front of me, frail and tired after a day of ceaseless travel through a city that is bursting at its seams. She has traveled from the north to the south, and across, all over this city. She came back home, saw me and her face burst out into a gentle smile that did not disappear for a very long time.... A smile that came despite the weariness...

She was my surrogate grandmother.
I haven't seen my paternal grandmother since she died early - early enough, that she did get to see her eldest son (my dad) growing up from the young lad that he was then. This was my grandmother's sister. We've met them all through our travels in the summer vacations during school days... but these were all fleeting meetings which did not do much to leave a strong neural imprint in my mind.

But then this was a different meeting. I met them after sooo long and I felt their hand rise up to bless, and it was beautiful.... It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to have their hand on my head !! As she beamed on seeing me, I knew that some bonds just cannot be broken despite distances.

The ties of the bloodline are strong. They leave their seed and no matter how ill cared it may be, it grows into a tree. It has a resilience which is mind-numbing. There is a love which comes because of that knowledge of shared lineage.

It was a beautiful moment. A moment that made me want my grandparents to be there!
A moment that made all inconvenience disappear for me and for her.

She was hard on hearing as age was fast catching up with her, but her eyes were still burning bright. She still spoke nineteen to a dozen trying to convince me to not sleep on the floor and offering to sleep on the couch instead. She tried her best to convince me about getting married. She had ceaseless questions.

She was my surrogate grandmother.

She made me miss my grandmother. I missed having one to tell me stories, to narrate anecdotes, to play with me and to sleep on. To oil my hair and to cook all the wonderful things that grandmothers do...

I am not sure how it will be having a grandmother around full time (with the incessant marriage advice and the correcting) but i sure know that, for that one day, I wanted one too. She made me want to leave my head under her palm and to not let go. Frail, though she was, I felt protected by her. It was amazing and it is nothing but the wondrous ways of nature.

I sit her typing these words hours after they happened only to try and freeze the essence of that meeting into words, so that years from now, I can still pull on that same string and retrieve the same memory trace, not like a pensieve but hopefully not too far from it too.


Disconnect...

In a world that is fast shrinking, people are becoming farther and farther away. It is a conundrum that I fail to understand.

The World has become one in more ways than one. The diversity in culture, language, attires, festivals, food, music and literature is all coming to an end. We are building uniformity in every sense. Uniformity in abilities, in culture, in knowledge, in thought processes, in social structures, in amenities, in income groups and in living conditions. Happenings across the world are at our finger tips with the advent of technology. These are developments with their own brighter and darker sides... each one too complex to delineate from the others.

But despite so much connectivity and homogeneity, each man is an island today connected to the others through nothing but the World wide web. He is a rootless being as he is capable of going to any part of the world and feeling at home. Or perhaps, he never finds his true home! His life is nomadic, adrift with the tides of time and development.

He spends his days hooked onto the internet and his gadgetry updating his status and whereabouts ever so often... People like me end up writing about their thoughts and ideas on a public platform than just talking... :-)

This is something I fail to grasp. Despite the increasing connectivity on the internet, there is a sense of growing disconnect between people.

People are happy chatting over the internet and the phone than in person. It seems easy to laze around watching TV than to go for a social activity. Social gatherings have become a thing to endure than really a celebration that they once were. People are unable to sit with company without fidgeting with their PDA to update their status message or their blog. Be it a simple dinner, a pleasant sight or a wedding, we waste no time in sharing it with others. There is a need to connect with people but there is also a fear to really connect.

And what happens is that eventually, we end up connecting anonymously over the World Wide Web.

Why ?

Why are we letting this happen ? Why are our social structures disintegrating ? Is it the rapid pace of development which is pulling apart people and generations faster than they can come together. Why is there this constant need to stay in touch but still a little aloof, a little away ? Is our fear over powering our social nature ? What are we trying to achieve this way ?

Beats me...


Monday, November 8, 2010

The unshed tears...

A sorrow melts into a tear drop and flows out of the heart into the universe...
But what happens to those unsaid sorrows and the un-shed tears ?

Do they well up inside to finally flood through your defenses ?
Or Do they percolate through our being to soak up our joys too ?

Do they just disappear with out a trace like a dew drop in morning sun ? Or
Do they fester inside like the pus in a boil ?

Do they drown your joys like the little paper boat sailing in the first rains ? Or
Do they just keep your withered heart tender and moist against the sun burning down on it ?

Do they flood through your being and ravage it like a savage beast ? Or
Do they quietly and silently seep within you to never resurface again ?

Are they strong like the waves of the ocean to leave you adrift ?
Or are they like the ripples on the pond that gently sway your way ?

Are they like the waters of the pond that are rustled by the slightest winds ?
Or do they stay frozen in the core of your being untouched and unaffected by all ?

Do they sweep you off your feet like an angry tornado ? Or
Do they leave you stagnant like a muddly puddle ?

Do they flow in your system like the slow poison that kills you over the years ?
Or do they, burst forth and spew out like an angry volcano ?

What happens to those un-shed tears ?

Sunday, November 7, 2010

From the lasts to the firsts.....

It is a time for change and I see it knocking on my door.
As I pack one life into boxes to be stowed away, I pack another future into boxes to be carried with me.

Books, clothes, papers, cards, pictures.... each has a story associated with it.
A story that was a part of my life.
A story that led to another and finally brought me to where I am.
Stories of people, of ideas, of tales, of questions, of answers, of dreams and of conversations....
Stories of friends and strangers, of laughter and pain, of excitement and of despair, of the smiles and the tears... they all made me who i am.
They brought me to this day.

Stories... that I cherish but I am worried that I will forget, in the daily grind of the future. Stories that I want to hold onto for the rest of my life. People and memories, that I want to hold onto for the rest of my life.

As I pass through these days, I try and cram these moments of everyday mundane into my mind because i know not if and when things will be like this again....

I prepare for the future as I run through the days.
Everything feels like the last - the last meal with friends and family, the last Diwali, the last Puja, the last visit to the markets with a camera, the last home cooked meal, the last walk on campus... there is a sense of end associated with every good thing that even happy moments end with a tinge of sorrow... Every tick on the checklist only brings me closer to a future that takes me away from a past I cherish.

People say the future holds great promise and that I will meet more friends and that things will fall in place...

Maybe I will. But they don't realize that somethings cant be replaced. That somethings are an integral part of you and that when taken away, they leave you incomplete.

Maybe I will fill this emptiness eventually... maybe some parts will grow back...

But, one thing is for sure that the last five years of my life have redefined me and have helped me discover myself. And in these five years, I have become a part of somethings bigger than me and a lot of things have become a part of me...

And as I walk away from a past, I take these parts as the building blocks of a new future.

And very soon perhaps, the lasts will be replaced by the firsts... and perhaps, I will find my joys there too...

Thank you...

Some one once said that all great things come in small packages. I knew it was true but I truly understood the saying over the last week as I found these tiny bundles of happiness and thoughts, left at my doorstep by a friend...

Tiny notes, post-its, tiny but thoughtful gifts, messages... they brightened up my day no matter what had happened before... !!! They were notes which told me someone cared... and that someone knew me for what I am...

This is a feeble attempt to express gratitude to the friends who've made my world a better place... who've been with me through thick and thin and who've made me believe in myself... Who've taught me to see the brighter side of things even when there is hardly any and who've made things better by just being there... :-)

Thank you by Dido...


" My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why
I got out of bed at all
The morning rain clouds up my window
and I can't see at all
And even if I could it'd all be grey,
but your picture on my wall
It reminds me that it's not so bad,
it's not so bad

I drank too much last night, got bills to pay,
my head just feels in pain
I missed the bus and there'll be hell today,
I'm late for work again
And even if I'm there, they'll all imply
that I might not last the day
And then you call me and it's not so bad,
it's not so bad and

I want to thank you
for giving me the best day of my life
Oh just to be with you
is having the best day of my life

Push the door, I'm home at last
and I'm soaking through and through
Then you hand me a towel
and all I see is you
And even if my house falls down,
I wouldn't have a clue
Because you're near me and

I want to thank you
for giving me the best day of my life
Oh just to be with you
is having the best day of my life "

Expressions...

This is an era of expression. People are encouraged to express everything they feel no matter how transient or how permanent the thought or emotion maybe...

I however find myself a bit lost in this world simply because I am not a believer in words and words alone. To me actions always speak louder than words and so it is difficult to elicit words out of me... People keep telling me the value of expression ever so often. The constant refrain of friends is that I don't express myself enough... and that all the many things I think or feel are often lost in the unsaid.

I have come to accept the charge without protest simply because no matter how hard i try, I am not able to fit all my feelings and thoughts satisfactorily into words... actions always seem to do the job better. Some people learn to understand that actions speak louder than words and get used to the wordlessness from me, but some forever fail to grasp me or my mind...

People say, how hard can it be to say - "I care" or "I love you" or "I am sorry" and I feel like telling, that it is very hard... !!! It is easier to just implement what you feel... to do something for the special few, to let them peer into your mind and be privy to your thoughts and emotions, to let them see the real you with all your weaknesses and to be able to do anything for them, to listen to them because they are the most important people and to not hurt them.

How do words convey all this better ?

To a lot of people, words are just a means of communication. They are evanescent carriers of thought.

But, I am scared of the power of words. In relationships, our emotions are wrapped around our words and they have the power to mould our lives... Their power must be used with great care... and with this power comes great fear. Fear of being wrong, fear of saying too much, too soon or too little, too late... fear of not saying the right words or of saying the right words at the wrong time, fear of saying things which you do not mean... these fears thus paralyze me and I choose the easier, wordless way.

I'd much rather be around and DO the right things than just say the right things... but this is very difficult for most to accept.

And as I type these words, I understand the need for words... We all like to be told that we are liked, loved and cared for. Even though it is implicit in some actions, we'd much rather be told the obvious than be left with the fear that we are guessing wrong. Such wordless understanding only results from complete confidence in the relationship and a deep understanding, both of which do not come easy.

But today, as i write these words, I hope to say to the people that I care about, that I really do care for them. And also that my wordlessness is a part of me that I aspire for in every relationship. It suggests complete acceptance and implicit understanding. It places faith in relationships more than in words.

However, on this platform... I have taken my first baby steps at expression. I try to shed my fears and inhibitions to embrace words and I have made my first attempts at leaving my mind open to scrutiny. It still doesn't open my mind for the world to see, but, those who matter, manage to view the world inside through the tiny cracks that exist...

And as I choose my words here, I hope to make a beginning...

A beginning to be able to use words more often to say to the people I care about that "I really do care"....

And If I have stayed quiet and never said this before, its not because I don't care but simply because I find words insufficient at times.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Turbulence...

You and I are very different people. But we were still friends... bound by differences, we've known each other for a long time. We've shared jokes and laughs, comments and criticisms, questions and answers. All through this time, I did all I could do without compromising my principles or my beliefs. You came to me for words, opinions, questions, answers and time. I gave them all, in the best of my abilities, simply because I cared and I knew no other way.

Today, after all these years, when you tell me that I am not right in being myself... I know not, who to question. You ? For not exercising your choice and walking away for so many years or me, for having trusted you for so many years... ?

Why is there a dissonance instead of the resonance that any relationship should share ? Burdened by turbulence, things were never easy, but this friendship had withstood it all... How did it, if the emotions were not genuine ? And how have we grown so different if there was a genuine connection ? Why is it so difficult to comprehend each other now ? Why are things seemingly so complicated ? How can a bond of succor end up causing so much pain... ?

Why are you not able to understand me for all my attempts at keeping things together, for attempting to keep the bond alive ? There were plenty of times, when all I could want was to throw all things aside and to move away from the past... But then I chose to stand there and wait... and to let things come back to normal. And they did restoring my faith. There was a resilience in the relationship which survived all the turbulence...

But, today, you force me to question the resilience and nature of it ? Why did we fall into the same rhythm each time, over and over - Of you pointing the finger and me bearing the brunt of it. Why should I and why should you ?

But now, after the pain, it seems that the sea was always rough, not because of the winds but because of what it was.... !! I made the mistake of waiting for the seas to become placid which they never do.... a sea is never placid like a lake, it only gets rougher !!

PS - But I now like the quiet after the raging storm...
I know i have seen the worst and survived it... :)


Footloose... :-)

Traveling is something I have always fancied. It is a long standing dream of mine to travel the world. So when someone once asked my why I love traveling, the question sounded strange in a very big way. It was something I had so wanted for so long that I never questioned why I wanted it... ;)

Strange as it may sound, this question really made me ponder and every time i read a travelogue or wanted to visit a place, I tried questioning myself. At the end of nearly a month, I realized that every time I read about a place or a person, I wanted to see that place or person with my own eyes. I wanted to watch the world that groomed him and the world that he shaped. I was never happy with these second hand accounts of people and their places, of the food they had and of the experiences they had. The vignettes of the world only whetted my appetite for travel more than ever.

I never wanted to accept it when someone said that Venice is beautiful with its inland waterways that connect the city like the roads that do here. I wanted to experience the magic, the history and the romance of that city before I decide whether or not to like it.

I realized that i will never be happy with people and their experiences. I want to travel by the Gondolas, see the Venetians going about their business, traveling on boats. I want to experience the local history and the local cuisine. I want to live first hand everything that I have read and heard about this charming city.

I want to see and feel the pulse of the town which in someways is a depiction of man's victory over nature, of mankind's strength and intellect and perhaps mankind's eventual downfall (Venice is a rapidly sinking city and the recent green house effect is only hastening its demise).

Imagine a group of fleeing citizens deciding to build a new city on water to defend themselves and their property. Imagine them becoming a huge enterprising society of traders as they built a whole new city in the marshes by making wooden stilts all the way through. That is amazing ingenuity! Who at that time would have predicted that a group of people, escaping the raiders would end up becoming one of the richest states, supplying luxury goods to the whole of Europe and leaving their mark on world history for decades to come !! That is Venice, which is today called the romantic capital of the world. With its modest beginnings, Venice reached its peaks of glory and then succumbed to the vicissitudes of pleasure as it became the pleasure capital of the world and then disappeared of the world stage. Today it stands as a popular tourist destination due to its inland water ways... but people rarely find out about the beginnings of this city and its growth.

But this is the history that fascinates me.
The progress of a city from its birth on water through nothing but human skill and labor to its becoming the pleasure capital of the world and ultimately its slipping into oblivion (I mean Venice is not really a hot tourist destination... its popular but this popularity is nothing compared to its life in the last century!) .

I want to travel the world but not just to experience the Eiffel tower at night or the Swiss Alps in snow, but to live the world and to become one with the world. I want to travel through the streets of Morocco, through the ruins of Machu Pichchu and Mohenjodaro, through the wilderness of african grasslands to the present day bustling cities of New York and Manhattan. I want to see the world and the people that make it, in light of their past and their history.

I want to see the mountains and the hills, the seas and the oceans, the deserts and the oases, the grasslands and the forests... I want to make them all a part of me and I want to become a part of them.

Now, this question only left me wondering about how someone cannot want to see the world and know about all its peoples and cultures... But, i know people are different and this is just one of the many differences that can possibly be...

I guess, I am a traveler who revels in the learning and whose passion for photography only adds to the wanderlust. I guess, I am a little footloose in wanting to explore the world but it at least gives me a whole lot to look forward to. It gives me a dream and It makes the means worth the end... :-)


Monday, November 1, 2010

A light that guides...

In my search for the monologue of Roark (the main protagonist in the Fountainhead), I chanced upon this other conversation between Howard Roark (HR) and Gail Wynand (GW) .This is a glimpse of that conversation which these two very different men share on a yatch, under the blue skies, free from the presence of the rest of the world. A world which does not understand them and a world that does not accept them. They have both lived their lives their own ways... one indifferent to the world and one trying to fight the world by gaining more and more power. These two men share these very different approaches to world and the people in it and yet they have a common thread which binds them. Both share a complete disregard for the opinion of the masses and both have lived a life on their own terms. They share an understanding that is deep and all pervasive. There is a bond between the two men from when they meet for the first time. They share camaraderie and respect for each other that defines their friendship. The difference in their ideologies is very visible in the following conversation but there is also a great affection which binds them despite the differences.

Wynand is talking about Selflessness in the absolute sense as preached by Ellsworth Toohey. He is of the opinion that true selflessness does not exist and Roark contradicts him and the conversation that follows is a masterpiece in english writing.

HR: The thing that is destroying the world. The thing you were talking about. Actual selflessness.

GW: The ideal which they say does not exist?

HR: They are wrong. It does exist - though not in a way they imagine. Its what i couldn't understand about people for a long time. They have no self. They live within others. They live second-hand. Look at PK.

I've looked at PK - at what's left of him - and it's helped me to understand. He's paying the price and wondering for what sin and telling himself that he's been too selfish. In what act or thought of his has there ever been a self? What was his aim in life ? Greatness in other people's eyes. Fame, admiration, envy - all that which comes from others. Others dictated his convictions, which he did not hold, but he was satisfied that others believed he held them. Others were his motive power and his prime concern. He didn't want to be great, but to be thought great. He didn't want to build, but to be admired as a builder. He borrowed from others in order to make an impression on others. There's your actual selflessness. It's his ego that he has betrayed and given up. But everybody calls him selfish.

GW: That's pattern most people follow.

HR: Yes! And thats the root of every despicable action? Not selfishness but precisely the absence of a self. Look at them. The man who cheats and lies, but preserves a respectable front. He knows himself to be dishonest, but others think he is honest and he derives his self-respect from that, second-hand. The man who takes credit for the achievement which is not his own. He knows himself to be mediocre, but he's great in the eyes of others. The frustrated wretch who professes love for the inferior and clings to those less endowed, in order to establish his own superiority by comparison. The man whose sole aim to make money.Now, I don't see anything evil in the desire to make money. But money is only a means to some end. It man wants it for a personal purpose - to invest in an industry, to create, to study. to travel, to enjoy luxury, he's completely moral. But the men who place money first go much beyond that. Personal luxury is a limited endeavour. What they want is ostentation: to show, to stun, to entertain, to impress others.. They're second-handers. Look at our so called cultural endeavours. A lecturer who spouts some borrowed rehash of nothing at all that means nothing at all to him - and the people who listen and don' give a damn, but sit there in order to tell their friends that they have attended a lecture by a famous name. All second-handers.

GW: If I were Ellsworth Toohey, I'd say: aren't you making out a case against selfishness? Aren't they all acting on a selfish motive - to be notice, liked and admired.

HR: - by others. At the price of their own self respect. In the realm of greatest importance - the realm of values, of judgement, of spirit, of thought, they place others above self, in the exact manner which altruism demands. A truly selfish man cannot be affected by the approval of others. He doesn't need it.

I think Toohey understands that. That's what helps him spread his vicious nonsense. Just weakness and cowardice. It's so easy to run to others. It's so hard to stand on one's own accord. You can fake virtue for an audience. You can't fake it in your own eyes. Your ego is the strictest judge. They run from it. They spend their lives running. It's easier to donate a few thousands to charity and to think oneself noble than to base self-respect on personal standards of personal achievement. It's simple to seek substitutes for competence - such as easy substitutes: love, charm, kindness, charity. But there is no substitute for competence.

That, precisely, is the deadlines of second-handers. They have no concern for facts, ideas, work. They are concerned only with people. They dont ask: "Is this true?" They ask:"Is this what others think is true?".

Not to judge, but to repeat. Not to do, but to give the impression of doing. Not creation, but show. Not ability, but friendship. Not merit, but pull. What would happen to the world without those who do, think, work, produce? Those who are the egotists. You don't think through another's brain and you dont' work through another's brain. When you suspend your faculty of independent judgment, you suspend consciousness. To stop consciousness is to suspend life. Second-handers have no sense of reality. Their reality is not within them, but somewhere in that space which divides one human body from another. Not an entity but a relation - anchored to nothing. That's the emptiness i couldn't understand in people. That's what stopped me when i faced a committee. Men without an ego. Opinion without a rational process. Motion without brakes or motor. Power without responsibility. The second-hander acts but the source of his actions are scattered in every other living person. It's everywhere and nowhere and you cat reason with him. He is not open to reason. You cant speak to him - he can't hear. You're tried by an empty bench. A blind mass running amuck, to crush you without sense or purpose.

GW: I think your second-handers understand this, try as they might not to admit it to themselves. Notice how they'll accept anything except a man who stands alone. They recognize him at once. By instinct. There's a special insidious kind of hatred for him. They forgive criminals. They admire dictators. Crime and violence are a tie. They've got to force their miserable little personalities on every single person they meet. The independent man kills them - because they don't exist within him and that's the only form of existence they know. Notice the malignant kind of resentment against any idea that propounds independence. Notice the malice towards an independent man. Look back at your life Howard, and at the people you've met. They know. They are afraid. You're a reproach.

HR: That's because their sense of dignity always remains in them. They're still human beings. But they've been taught to seek themselves in others. Yet no man can achieve the kind of absolute humility that would need no self esteem in any form. He wouldn't survive. They're still human beings. But they've been taught to seek themselves in others. Yet no man can achieve the kind of absolute humility that would need no self esteem in any form. He wouldn't survive.

They're still human beings. But they've been taught to seek themselves in others. Yet no man can achieve the kind of absolute humility that would need no self esteem in any form. He wouldn't survive. So after centuries of being pounded with the doctrine that altruism is the ultimate ideal, men have accepted it in the only way it could be accepted. By seeking self-esteem through others. By living second-hand. And it has opened the way for every kind of horror. It has become the dreadful form of selfishness which a truly selfish man couldn’t have conceived. And now, to cure a world perishing from selflessness, we’re asked to destroy the self. Listen to what is being preached today. Look at everyone around us. You’ve wondered why they suffer, why they seek happiness and never find it. If any man stopped and asked himself whether he’s ever held a truly personal desire, he’d find the answer. He’d see that all his wishes, his efforts, his dreams, his ambitions are motivated by other men. He’s not really struggling even for material wealth, but for the second-hander’s delusion--prestige. A stamp of approval, not his own. He can find no joy in the struggle and no joy when he has succeeded. He can’t say about a single thing: ’This is what I wanted because I wanted it, not because it made my neighbors gape at me.’ Then he wonders why he’s unhappy. Every form of happiness is private. Our greatest moments are personal, self-motivated, not to be touched. The things which are sacred or precious to us are the things we withdraw from promiscuous sharing. But now we are taught to throw everything within us into public light and common pawing. To seek joy in meeting halls. We haven’t even got a word for the quality I mean--for the self-sufficiency of man’s spirit. It’s difficult to call it selfishness or egotism, the words have been perverted, they’ve come to mean Peter Keating. Gail, I think the only cardinal evil on earth is that of placing your prime concern within other men. I’ve always demanded a certain quality in the people I liked. I’ve always recognized it at once - and it’s the only quality I respect in men. I chose my friends by that. Now I know what it is. A self-sufficient ego. Nothing else matters."

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This is an ideal to aim for. This is a philosophy to live by but I am perhaps stuck somewhere in between. Stuck in transition. In between these two worlds, where I to care for the opinions of some people even as I try to build my life my way.

And then as Roark says, " I can die for my friends, but I can't live for them."



The true egotist...

The following is an excerpt from "Fountainhead" that I truly cherish. It is something that in essence has stayed with me since the day I read it the first time because I found perfect resonance in it. Some people and their ideas ever so often make me want to revisit the idea and every time I do that I have only found greater and greater acceptance for it. The book fountainhead came to me, out of the blue, through a friend who was reading it nearly 7 years ago. The opening page of the book gripped me to an extent that I just went and bought the book. This was quite special at that time because being a college student I wasn’t loaded with finances but the book's hold was such that the one page I read was enough to hook me on. Since then, it was only a matter of time that I read most of Ayn Rand's works and so far I have not found a more inspiring philosophy in all my readings.


Here is the excerpt which proceeds as a monologue by the main protagonist - Howard Roark, in the novel "Fountainhead" as he is defending himself in the court of law, indicted as he was for the charge of blowing up a major constructional project which was designed by him.

"Thousands of year ago, the first man discovered how to make fire. He was probably burned at the stake he had taught his brothers to light. He was considered an evil doer who had dealt with a demon mankind dreaded. But thereafter men had fire to keep them warm, to cook their food, to light their caves. He had left them a gist they had not conceived and he had lifted darkness off the earth. Centuries later, the first man invented the wheel. He was probably torn on the rack he had taught his brothers to build. He was considered a transgressor who ventured into forbidden territory. But thereafter, men could past an horizon. He had left them a gift they had not conceived and he had opened the roads of the world.


That man, the unsubmissive and the first, stands in the opening chapter of every legend mankind has recorded about its beginning. Prometheus was chained to a rock and torn by vultures - because he had stolen the fire of the gods. Adam was condemned to suffer - because he had eaten the fruit of the tree of knowledge. Whatever the legend, somewhere in the shadows of its memory mankind knew that its glory began with one, and that one paid for his courage.


Throughout the centuries there were man who took first steps down new roads armed with nothing but their own vision. Their goals differed, but they all had this in common: that the step was first, the road new, the vision unborrowed, and the response they received - hatred. The great creators, the thinkers, the artists, the scientists, the inventors - stood alone against the men of their time. Every great new thought was opposed. Every great new invention was denounced. The first motor was considered foolish. The aeroplane was considered impossible, The power loom was considered vicious. Anesthesia was considered sinful. But the men of unborrowed vision went ahead. They fought, they suffered and they paid. But they won.


No creator was prompted by a desire to serve his brothers, for his brothers rejected the gift he offered and that gift destroyed the soulful routine of their lives. His truth was his only motive. His own truth and his own work to achieve it in his own way. A symphony, a book, an engine, a philosophy, an aeroplane or a building - that was his goal and his life. Not those who heard, read, operated, believed, flew or inhabited the thing he had created. The creation, not its users. The creation, not the benefits other derived from it. The creation which gave form to his truth. He held his truth above all things and against all men.


His vision, his strength, his courage came from his own spirit. A man's spirit however is his self. That entity which is his consciousness. To think, to feel, to judge, to act are functions of the ego.


The creators were not selfless. It is the whole secret of their power -that it was self - sufficient, self-motivated, self-generated. A first cause, a fount of energy, a life force, a prime mover. The caretor served nothing and no one. He lived for himself.

And only by living for himself was he able to achieve the thing which are the glory of mankind, Such is the nature of achievement....


Man cannot survive except through his mind. He comes on earth unarmed. His brain is his only weapon. Animals obtain food by force. Man had no claws, no fangs, no horns, no great strength of muscle. He must plant his food or hunt it, To plant he needs a process of thought. To hunt, he needs weapons, and to make weapons - a process of thought. From this simplest necessity to the highest religious abstraction, from the wheel to the skyscraper, everything we are and everything we have comes from a single attribute of man - the function of the reasoning mind.


But the mind is an attribute of the individual. There is no such thing as a collective thought. An agreement reached by a group of men is the compromise or an average drawn upon many individual thoughts. It is a secondary consequence. The primary act - the process of reasoning must be performed by each man alone. We can provide a meal to each man but we cannot digest it in a collective stomach. No man can use his lungs to breathe for another man. No man can use his brain to think for another. All the functions of the body and spirit are private. They cannot be shared or transferred.


We inherit the products of the thoughts of other men. We inherit the wheel. We make a cart. The cart becomes an automobile. The automobile becomes an aeroplane. But all through the process, whatever we receive from the others is only the end product of their thinking.


The moving force is the creative faculty which takes this product as material, uses it and originates the next step. This creative faculty cannot be given or received, shared or borrowed. It belongs to single, individual men. That which it creates is the property of the creator. Men learn from one another. But all learning is only the exchange of material. No man can give another the capacity to think. Yet that capacity is our only means of survival.


Nothing is given to man on earth. Everything he needs has to be produced. And here man faces his basic alternative: he can survive in only one of the two ways - by the independent work of his own mind or as a parasite fed by the minds of others. The creator originates. The parasite borrows. The creator faces nature alone. The parasite faces nature through an intermediary.


The creator's concern is the conquest of nature. The parasite's concern is the conquest of men. The creator lives for his work. He needs no other men. His primary goal is within himself. The parasite liuves second-hand. He needs other. Others become his prime motive.


The basic need of the creator is independence. The reasoning mind cannot work under ant form of compulsion. It cannot be curbed, sacrificed or subordinated to any consideration whatsoever. It demands total independence in function and in motive. To a creator, all relations with men are secondary.


The basic need of a second-hander is to secure his ties with men in order to be fed. He places relations first. He declares that man exists in order to serve others. He preaches altruism.


Altruism is the doctrine which demands that man live for others and place others above self.


No man can live for another. He cannot share his spirit just as he cannot share his body. But the second hander has used altruism as a weapon of exploitation and reversed the base of mankind's moral principles. Men have been taught every percept that destroys the creator. Men have been taught dependence as a virtue.


[How and why that came about is something I fail to understand because our need to create is so strong, I find it strange as to how it gets masked. The reason probably lies in the fact that we lack the confidence that comes from a very strong ego and therefore want the approval of other people who are not simply related to us. This is a rational way of living because you want to be loved and accepted for what you are not who you are. This noble intention however becomes a beast in its own as the self is lost and the opinion of others becomes the most important aim in life - What begins then is a vicious cycle where one becomes a slave to the society and loses a sense of self and then begins a downward spiral leading one to a second-handers' life!!


The man who lives for others is a dependant. He is a parasite in motive and makes parasites of those he serves. The relationship produces nothing but mutual corruption. It is impossible in concept. The nearest approach to it in reality - the man who lives to others - is the slave. If physical slavery is repulsive, how much more repulsive is the concept of servility of the spirit? The conquered slave has a vestige of honor. He has the merit of having resisted and of considering his condition evil. But the man who enslaves himself voluntarily in the name of love is the basest of creatures. He degrades the dignity of man and the conception of love. But this is the essence of altruism.


Men have been taught that the highest virtue is not to achieve but to give. Yet one cannot give that which has not been created. Creation comes before distribution - or there will be nothing to distribute. The need of the creator comes before the need of any possible beneficiary. Yet we are taught to admire the second-hander who dispenses gifts he has not produced above the man who made the gifts possible. We praise an act of charity. We shrug at an act of achievement.


Men have been taught that their first concern is to relived the suffering of others. But suffering is a disease. Should one come upon it, one tries to give relief and assistance. To make that the highest virtue is to make suffering the most important part of life. The man must wish to see others suffer - in order that he may be virtuous. Such is the nature of altruism. The creator is not concerned with disease, but with life, Yet the work of the creator has eliminated one form of disease after another, in man's body and spirit, and brought more relief from suffering than any altruist could ever conceive.


Men have been taught that it is a virtue to agree with others. But the creator is the man who disagrees. Men have been taught that it is a virtue to swim with the current. But the creator is the man who goes against the current. Men have been taught that it is a virtue to stand together. But the creator is the man who stands alone.


Men have been taught that the ego is the synonym of evil, and selflessness is the ideal if virtue. But the creator is the egotist in the absolute sense, and the selfless man is one who does not think, feel, judge, or act. These are functions of the self.


Here the basic reversal is the most deadly. The issue has been perverted and man has been left no alternative - and no freedom. As poles of good and evil- he was offered two conceptions: egotism and altruism. Egotism was held to mean the sacrifices of others to self. Altruism - the sacrifice of self to others. This tied man irrevocably to other man and left him nothing but the choice of pain: his own pain borne for the sake of others or pain inflicted upon others for the sake of self. When it was added that man must find joy in self-immolation the trap was closed. Man was forced to accept masochism as his ideal - under the threat that sadism was his only alternative. This was the greatest fraud perpetrated on mankind.


This was the device by which dependence and suffering were perpetuated as fundamentals of life. The choice is not self sacrifice or domination. The choice is independence or dependence. The code of the creator or the code of the second-hander. This is the basic issue. It rests upon the alternative of life or death. The code of the creator is built on the needs of the reasoning mind which allows man to survive. The code of the second-hander is built on the needs of a mind incapable of survival. All that which proceeds from man's dependence upon man is evil.


The egotist in the absolute sense of the word is not the man who sacrifices others. He is the man who stands above the need of using others in any manner. He does not function through them. He is not concerned with them in any primary manner. Not in his aim, not in his motive, mot in his thinking, not in his desires, not in the source of his energy. He does not exist for any other man - and he asks no other man to exist for him. This is the only form of brotherhood and mutual respect possible between men.


Degrees of ability vary, but the basic principle remains the same: the degree of a man's independence, initiative, and persona love for his work determines his talent as a worker and his worth as a man. Independence is the only gauge of human virtue and value. What a man is and makes of himself; not what he has or hasn’t done for others. There is no substitute for personal dignity. There is no standard for personal dignity except independence.


In all proper relationships there is no sacrifice of anyone to anyone. An architect needs clients, but he does not subordinate his work to their wishes. They need him, but they do not order a house just to give him commission. Men exchange their work by free, mutual consent to mutual advantage when their personal interests agree and they both desire the exchange. If they do not desire it, they are not forced to deal with each other. They seek further. This is the only possible form of relationship between equals. Anything else is a relation of slave to master, or victim to executioner.


No work is ever done collectively, by a majority decision. Every creative job is achieved under the guidance of a single individual thought. An architect requires a great many men ti erect his building. But he does not ask them to vote on his design. They work together by free agreement and each is free in his proper function. An architect uses steel, glass, concrete, produced by others. But the materials remain just so much steel, glass and concrete until he touches them. What he does with them is his individual property and his individual product. This is the only pattern for proper cooperation among men.



The first right on earth is the right of the ego. Man's first duty is to himself. His moral law is never to place his prime goal within the persons of others. His moral obligation is to do what he wishes provided his wish does not depend primarily on other men. This includes the whole sphere of his creative faculty, his thinking, his work. But it does not include the sphere of the gangster, the altruist and the dictator.


A man thinks and works alone. A man cannot rob, exploit or rule - alone. Robbery, exploitation and ruling presuppose victims. They imply dependence. They are the province of the second-hander.


Rulers of men are not egotists. They create nothing. They exist entirely through the persons of others. Their goal is in their subjects in the activity of enslaving. They are as dependent as the beggar, the social worker and the bandit. The form of dependence does not matter.


But men were taught to regard second-handers - tyrants, emperors, dictators as exponents of egotism. By this fraud they were made to destroy the ego, themselves and others. The purpose of the fraud was to destroy the creators. Or to harness them, Which is a synonym.


From the beginning of history, the two antagonists have stood face to face: the creator and the second-hander. When the first creator invented the wheel, the first second-hander responded. He invented altruism.


The creator - denied, opposed, persecuted, exploited - went on, moved forward and carried all humanity along on his energy. The second-hander contributed nothing to the process except the impediments. Te contest has another name -the individual against the collective.


The 'common good' of a collective - a race, a class, a state - was the claim and justification of every tyranny every established over men. Every major horror of history was committed in the name of an altruistic motive. Has any act of selfishness ever equaled the carnage perpetrated by disciples of altruism? Does the fault lie in men's hypocrisy or in the nature of the principle?


The only good me can do to one another and the only statement of their proper relationship is - Hands off!"


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This is a philosophy that is different to understand and appreciate and even more difficult to follow.


But, as I see it, a true egoist is someone whose sense of self is so high that he doesn't care for what the world thinks. He works of his own merit and creates what he wants for the sheer joy of it, not with an eye on what rewards or what awards he will get because of them. Public appreciation does not matter because his sense of self is above that and independent of the world. He does not dwell in the words, minds and hearts of others. He is his own person. Radical, Yes! Difficult to understand, Yes! Difficult to comprehend, Yes ! But it sure will be amazing to be able to live like that...

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

And If I Did Not Make Mistakes

And if I did not make mistakes
And give too brief a thought to heavy questions
And too much time to little matter;
Or if I always knew which road to travel
Where every step would lead me into daylight
And if each face that turned to watch me pass
Was broken by a smile;
Or if whenever I should choose to lay my heart
Bare upon the sun-warmed grass,
It always was returned with tender touches
And carried by a song;
And if my heaviest burden were only to be
A breeze upon my back, and blossom in my hair,
And my brow was never crossed with lines of pain;
If all this endless summer were my lot
And winter's fury never beat me back,
Then I never would have seen the stormy nights
Through which I've struggled, fought and won;
I never would have known the joy of needed comfort given,
Or the essence of a friend.

--- By Katie Paton, a scottish poet


Monday, October 25, 2010

The road...

As life takes another unexpected turn around the bend, I decide to sit by the side and just watch.


Through my weary eyes, I see people. They come and they go. Rushing, meeting deadlines, setting goals and attaining them….


They are told that the end justifies the means and so they run frantically towards the end.


They trample and run over the road in their hurry to see the end. They use the road for all their needs oblivious of its presence. Sometimes they fall and they curse the road. They blame the road for every folly of theirs without ceasing to imagine what the world would be like without that very road....


Weighed down as I was by my burdens, I sat down by the edges and watched the road as it stoically braved every footstep that walked over it…


Unacknowledged, uncared for and yet un-protesting….

It is bruised and grazed as people walked over it in their mad rush for the end… The forces of nature weather the road even as it continues to lead the way. Through night and day, through summer or fall, the road stood there, ready to help and ready to guide. To strangers and to friends, to seekers and to the revelers. It doesn’t protest.


Why ?


How does it stand being used like that ?


Is it just putting up with it because it cannot fight ?

Is it helpless and therefore accommodating or is it just a greater being ?

Is it gracious and benevolent, spreading its largesse or is it just another victim ?

Is it clinging on to the hope that somewhere deep down inside people probably will realize the importance of the road that led them….?

Does it care for the fame it gets as people spread the word about it ?

Is the road only fulfilling its destiny ?

Does it 'understand', somewhere deep down, that the means matter more than the end ?


Or perhaps, the road is just another traveler like you and me seeking the unknown ?


Why can't I be like the road ?


Why do I care who finds their way through me ? Why do I feel "used" when people form

relationships driven by nothing but need and convenience ? Why am I not able to disconnect from all but my journey… ? Why am I not able to live the thought that the "means is all there is"… Maybe the road does not complain because it 'knows' that the road is all there is - the means and the end. Maybe that is what I need to learn.

Tiny quirks !!

I believe in love. It may be hormonal and chemical and all that.. but hey, what is not ? We are alive due to these very hormones and chemical reactions and our life is no less questionable than love is…


So, I believe in love … but what kind of love ? Love at first sight … ??? Definitely not … I have somehow never felt that I could fall in love with someone at first sight … That’s for the movies and kids … not for grown ups like me.. :)


I hope to find love in the midst of everyday life, love with acceptance and tolerance… Love for what you are and not for what you can or should be because that may never happen and then love will be disappointed forever… I wait for people who will know me for what I am and accept me with all my quirkiness.


People


Who will love me not because of the relationships that bind us without any choice...


Who will love me when I walk into a book store with no cash in hand and a resolve to not buy any more books but then compelled by the presence of books around me, I end up "investing" some more of my finances in books that I wonder when I will be able to read…


Who will love me as I make resolves to get down to exercising but all I manage to do is eat more chocolates… :)


Who will love me with that irritating argumentative tendency of mine to have an opinion on anything and everything and to say it honestly…


Who will love me when I talk to the stray dog which leaps at me everyday in hope of playing with me, but then I don’t play with it because the "obsessed with cleanliness person" in me does not want to get my hands dirty…


Who will love me when foolishly I try to lie and am caught time and again, cos I just cannot lie…


Who will love me despite the fact that I never really know what I want.. I can only start addressing the problem with what I don’t want in life… (Imagine going to the restaurant with someone who doesn’t know what she wants but will work at trying to rule out things she doesn’t want… what a sheer waste of time…but that’s what I do ;) !!!


Who will love me when I gaze at the moon and the stars for an eternity in a clear sky not wanting to get up and get back…


Who will love me despite my uncanny knack of sleeping early and not being able to stay up through a movie….


Who love me for my silences and my gregarious laughter


Who love me for my hypocrisy when I want to stay behind the camera but I want everyone else to stay In front if it…


Who will love my lack of diplomacy and social inadequacy because I just don’t like pretenses…


Who will notice how my eyes light up at the thought of a problem or an idea…and who will notice the lines on my forehead when I cringe due to the vanity on display…


Who will see the little child in me wanting to be comforted even as I look ready to take on the world…


Who will love me for my ability to cry unabashedly in every movie despite my claims of being strong and sensible…


Who will love my incessant chatter when I am In the mood for it and my plentiful silences when I am not…


Who will love me for my tendency to make life difficult for myself because it scares me that I am heading the wrong way when things come easy…


Who will love the fact that I still hope for fairy tale endings but I still prepare for the worst…


Who will love me for the fact that I make lists and forget them, spend without thinking twice but religiously tally my expenses…


Who will see all the quirkiness but who will also see the little girl who wants to do all she can for the people she loves…