A Bend in the Lane

I was reading the Guardian Books section (yes, i have to drop names just to try and pass off as belonging to the intellectual gentry) when I saw this tongue-in-cheek ad on the page. I loved the "Go on George, its free" line in the third column best :-) [click on the image, you can see it better]

I came across this excerpt while reading Count Belisarius by Robert Graves - " It is a well known that almost everyone in the world is discontented with his trade or profession. The farmer would like to be an emperor, the Emperor would like to plant cabbages; the lean captain of a trading vessel envies the big paunched wine shop proprietor - who returns the envy dissatisfied with his stay-at-home life." That was during the 6th century Roman Empire. It holds true even today.  I suppose some things never change.

Jayesh replied to my post "Monday Mornings" in the following way - "Suggested happy thoughts just for Monday mornings: (1) Your boss might be on vacation / call in sick / get hit by a falling aeroplane (2) You will be promoted today to President from Vice-President (in charge of Photocopying, Faxing, Taxibooking & Getting Yelled At By Painful Clients) (3) they have replenished the coffee in the vending machine (4) Friday is JUST 5 days away (5) Retirement is JUST 35 years away (6) Your zodiac forecast says that you just might travel to Cambodia in two weeks with some really really cool people" :-)

I wore this very 'Abercrombie & Fitch' sorta purple skirt that has this very gunny-sack, ragged and faded feel to it. My grandmother definitely wouldnt have like it. In fact she would have pointed out that her maid wears better rags than that. Anyhoo, I was feeling very attractive in this skirt, and needed some feedback. If you havent already noticed, i need constant feedback from the men in my life. So, I approached the single most important male figure in my life, my dad. He was (you guessed it), watching news. Me : Dad? Dad : Uh huh. Me : Dad, am I looking pretty? Dad [without giving me a glance]: Uh huh Me [whining]: Daaaaaaad Dad [looking up]: Uh huh? Me [doing a pirouette]: Dad, look! Look! Am I looking pretty in this skirt? Dad [slightly puzzled]: Come a little closer. Me [pirouetting some more]: See, its pretty, innit? Dad [puzzled]:  you are wearing it inside out. All the thread and seams are on the outside showing. Me [blinking]:Dad, its supposed t...

Food for thought : " Politics without principle, wealth without work, commerce without morality, pleasure without conscience, education without character, science without humanity, and worship without sacrifice. " ~ MK Gandhi

Monday mornings are such ghastly, hateful things.How does one survive 'em? Call in sick and stare at the ceiling for ages? Take urgent leave and sleep in? Stay at home and watch reruns of Days of Our Lives? Quit the job and become a gardener? There needs to be one thought, one damn happy, inspiring thought that should make it worth while to endure a Monday. One happy thought. What could it be?

Why Argentina? Well, number of reasons. But simplistically speaking, here are 1-2-3 - 1. Many Germans began to migrate to South Am since the 19th century. So, the SS men/ fugitives could integrate with the community there without raising any suspicions. 2. Although Argentina declared that she was neutral, Juan Peron, the then President during WWII was a known Nazi sympathiser. 3. Argentinian extradition laws are pretty rigid. Getting a fugitive extradited from Argentina is a Herculean task. Historically speaking, South American governments like Chile, Argentina, etc were always bogged by one coup or the other. Leaders often flee to neighbouring countries for political asylum or otherwise. Hence, South Am countries as a general rule have very strict extradition laws that seem to 'protect' fugitives. Think about it - You are President John Doe of a South Am country. You allow President Bud Joe who escaped to your country after a coup to be extradited to his Country C where he wi...

Aye, its "Land Ahoy!" The leak has been plugged. I sailed the high seas and am back on land. I can safely say, that I have a lot of time to bore you all till the paint peels from the wall.

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.