A Bend in the Lane

I have a leaking ship to captain right now. It needs all my atttention. Can I like bore you with my thoughts, say after March 8th? I suppose, you shall all be able to survive the deprevation just fine, as my two cents worth are not really worth two cents. Anyhoos, let's not say Good Bye, but rather Till We Meet Again on March 8.

Sometimes, you come across a few lines which sum up exactly what you think or thought up of except that somebody else had already thought it up 50 years before you did and hatefully, had written it down so much better than you could ever hope to. Sometimes you hate that somebody for that. But most times you feel a certain kinship with that somebody. Well, there were so many many many instances of the later kind while I was reading Catcher In the Rye. Take this excerpt - "And yet I still act sometimes like I was only about twelve. Everybody says that, especially my father. It's partly true, too, but it isn't all true. People always think that something's all true. I don't give a damn, except that I get bored sometimes when people tell me to act my age. Sometimes I act a lot older than I am -I really do- but people never notice it." Holden Caulfield's complaint is mine! It is so true. Take how I behave around my folks - childish , pouty, throwing mock tant...

I was struggling to describe how I felt really old in my bones while I was sitting on a bench in the field behind my office just yesterday. But I needn't have tried. Tolkein said it all, much more hauntingly, much more beautifully- I sit beside the fire and think of all that I have seen, of meadow-flowers and butterflies In summers that have been; Of yellow leaves and gossamer in autumns that there were, with morning mist and silver sun and wind upon my hair. I sit beside the fire and think of how the world will be when winter comes without a spring that I shall ever see. For still there are so many things that I have never seen: in every wood in every spring there is a different green. I sit beside the fire and think of people long ago, and people who will see a world that I shall never know. But all the while I sit and think of times there were before, I listen for returning feet and voices at the door.

"One is sick to death of cleverness. Everybody is clever nowadays. You can't go anywhere without meeting clever people. The thing has become an absolute public nuisance. I wish to goodness we had a few fools left." ~ Jack Worthing in The Importance of Being Earnest PS: Its a pretty damn funny play!

Found this para in the above book worthy of some mulling over - " [Socrates on] being asked what was the best study for man to apply himself to, he answered, "To do well;" and being asked farther whether good fortune was the effect of study, "On the contrary," said he, "I think good fortune and study to be two opposite things; for what I call good fortune is, when a man meets with what is necessary for him, without the trouble of seeking it; but when he meets with any good success after a tedious search and labour, it is an effect of study.  This is what I call to do well; and I think that all who take delight in this study are for the most part successful, and gain the esteem of men, and the affection of the Deity.  Such are they as have rendered themselves excellent in economy, in physic, and in politics; but he who knows not any one thing perfectly is neither useful to men, nor beloved by the gods."

Have you observed how, happiness makes us insensitive? Like when you were happy, you couldn't comprehend or were patient enough to hear out or really feel for someone who's in not so great state?

The last post (Two Kinds) got me into a bit of fix. As many as 5 people contacted me with a range of questions – Person 1: “who are the people you referring to in particular?” Person 2: “just curious, what incident brought this up?” Person 3: “you talking about me?” Person 4: “what makes you think so cynically?” Person 5: As much as I am pleased that people actually read my blog, I was a little peeved with the pathetic fix I managed to create for myself. I dislike acting like one of those muddled people who think in circles and create trouble, most of all for themselves. As I like hearing myself talk and as I have plenty of other urgent things to attend to, I shall now set out to elaborate. Why are we nice? The simplest explanation is that we are innately good. But its far too simple to be true all the time. Are we nice from choice or from lack of choice? Did that tiny voice ever question you ‘would you still be nice if you had the guts to be otherwise?’? Ever w...

There are some people who are nice because it is their nature. Then there some who are nice because they are too cowardly to be anything else. The first kind are harmless, the later kind lethal …

Yesterday, a friend complained that it was very hard to catch me over the weekends and that appointments with me have to be booked in advance. And to illustrate his point, he was trying to make a plan to hangout when he is actually overseas. This made me do a double take and was a bit of a shocker, if you ask me. I have often prided myself about my availability to friends. I am usually game for trying things or simply sitting down for a good conversation. Conversation is key. I forget things easily. But I don't forget conversations easily. Take my college years. More than the lessons, more than the laughs, more than the trips, I remember exact details of so and so conversation and the effect it had. So, for a pal to accuse me of being unavailable for a good conversation troubled me. I went to bed thinking. True, it has been a while since I did the library jaunts with RR, or eaten a good morsel with Unpredictable. I haven't pinged XL, or met with S and a cluster of others in...

A declaration of my plan, just so that I actually carry it out, instead of it merely being a pretty Post It decoration on my wall. - Hit the library for 12 hours - Long overdue coffee with pal – 1.0 hour - Run in Botanical Gardens: 2.5 hrs - Hit Neil & Cantonment Rd and drop by antique shop on nearby Spottiswoode Ln– 2 hrs

There was a time when life held glorious promises. Promise of new lands to explore, of green valleys to wander in, of brooks to wade in, of peaks to scale, of people to inspire, of yarns to spin, of legends to make…. Oh the heady promise of dizzying freedom from winged flight of endless possibilities. Where have they all gone? What was a burning torch of passion, is now a mere flickering ember. A mere glimmer. A faint tinkle rather than the mad peals of bells. Have too many practical decisions snuffed the magic out of life? Has everyday monotony of a life lived ordinarily taken toll? Socrates thought that the best advice he could give his friends was to do all things according to their ability. I thought, until and when I find my answers, I have to do just that – make the best of what I have and do all things to the best of my ability, with dignity and integrity. But, it's not enough. What makes these sorry daily battles worth fighting? What is the prize? Why c...

I spoke to a friend for a long time yesterday. It is very hard to follow the wise line "Run as wild as you wish, but do not faint." I thought I had it all figured. I don't. I still fumble. I still faint.

Numb. Empty. Vacuum.

It happened during my lunch hour walk yesterday. I was ambling along the streets behind the huge field which is behind my office which is behind ...well never mind. 'Twas lovely weather. Heavenly breeze and a kindly Sun occasionally peeking through fluffy white clouds. To digress, I confess that I like to go 'house watching'. It's a habit I might have picked up as a kid growing up in Vizag, cycling along the roads in the MVP and Lawsons's Bay area, looking at houses lining the streets, sensing their aura - whether they were loved or unloved, happy or sad, imagining the stories that the houses might have witnessed. There is an art to House Watching. Not that I have mastered it. But I know a couple of things. Especially when it comes to guessing about the people in the houses. The no-brainers are whether there are kids or old folks living in the house, depending on toys strewn in the yards or well used lawn furniture. Whether the woman of the household is a homemaker ...

You may want something. But not at the expense of your self worth. Strive, but dont lose sight of your principles. Nothing in this world is worth losing your integrity for. Nothing. Let it go. If it was yours, it will come back. Let it go. And you shall be free.

Men are so tiresome. They never pay attention when you say "I need to talk". I mean just the other day, I had something of great importance to discuss with Dad. So, I sat down next to him on the couch while he was watching TV, Me : "Dad, I need your honest feedback. Are you listening? Dad [with full attention]: "Yeah what is it?" Me : "Well this thought has been troubling me for a bit, for a while actually. You know, like I am so totally in a dilemma. You could actually say its a sorta like a conundrum, but then its kinda bizarre. But whatever. I mean, I have been seriously thinking that I shouldn't do it. But then there are various reasons why I haven't totally written it off yet……[noticing that Dad's eyes were wavering back to the TV, so poking him] Dad are you listening ? Dad [guiltily]: Yeah. Something is bothering you. Me: Yeah so I was wondering if I should blah…blah…blah…yada...yada...yada. So you tell me, should I get my...

Nothing is for keeps. Not loves nor hates, not music nor words, not tears nor laughs, Listen to the whispers of your heart. Listen carefully. Tread with caution. This is life.  

Have you noticed, that perfectly innocent words like 'nice', 'tolerable' 'satisfying' have grown to have a negative connotation? I mean, so much so that, it's as good as insulting to describe a boy or a dress as 'nice'. We have to be extreme in the choice of our adjectives - It was awesome. The food was divine, the music was awful, mind blowing, fantabulous, abysmally pathetic ….. I admit that I am guilty of this sin too. We have to return to more steady adjectives and reverse this adjective extremism.

I have lived in Singapore for extended periods of time. But I have never been emotionally attached to the city state. So saying, however, I did not feel like an intruder as you do in a city you are visiting for, say, a month. But this one month during my parents' absence, I've been feeling like an outsider in this city. I have been walking along familiar paths, and yet, there is a sense of not belonging. Every day as I walk back home from the train station, I don't feel like I am going home. Now, I am not a very emotional person. I can survive and be fine without many people. I didn't need to come home for holidays during college because other unseen lands beckoned to me. I don't need to talk to my parents everyday because a world of exciting acquaintances awaits me. But, I suppose, the human parts of me are still in tact for it has dawned on me that, right now, home is where my parents are. Not my heart is.

If you stumble, pick yourself up and search for your place under the sun. Make the best of everything and do all things to the best of your ability. There is a place under the sun waiting for you. Rock the boat, but do it no harm. Leave no footprints, Leave just legends.