Contemplations

The Speed Force

2008-04-21T20:58:00.002+05:30

I thought of thought, waited and observed
Wisps of emotion speeding by,
Heralding the oncoming of blizzard,
And then I saw my face flash in the setting sun.

I smiled, amused, and watched me delve,
Deeper into caverns, uncharted but traversed,
Rushing the onslaught, I saw me revel,
And then I saw my face flash in the setting sun.

Under the placid without, lurked unrest,
Seething to release a fury within,
Incited in spite, I saw it burst,
And then I saw my face flash in the setting sun.

The mildest flicker on brow undisclosed,
While in raged a turbulence animal,
Clawing at memories layered or disposed,
And then I saw my face flash in the setting sun.

The ocean lashed under crepuscular sky,
I patiently watched the light, the laughter dim,
As sorrow flooded, I watched me respite deny,
And then I saw my face flash in the setting sun.

As ripped scabs of memory mine own ramparts breached,
I withstood and incited, a commander stoic,
I waged a war, civil, brutal, honor unpreached,
And then I saw my face flash in the setting sun.

I saw me suffer, I noticed, I smiled.
Felt pity and pain rankle my being,
As I wrecked myself, my ego defiled,
And then I saw my face flash in the setting sun.

I found my dreams broken, my splintered ideal,
As I witnessed the devastation, I lost sense of me,
To test myself, to know what I might reveal,
And then I saw my face flash in the setting sun.

I scoffed at myself, as pity did pity create,
Till I saw me smile and noticed myself see me,
To indulge my whim! I did myself berate,
And then I saw my face flash in the setting sun.

As I watched me laugh at myself amazed,
My condescending stare to sublime realization grew,
I saw me observe my observation amused,
And then I saw my face flash in the setting sun.

Enraged, angered, I thought of thought,
And saw me see wisps of emotion speed by,
Heralding in me an oncoming blizzard,
And then I saw my face flash in the setting sun.

- Thriddas Anorak

Cockroach

2008-04-15T23:48:00.002+05:30

Empty streets and darkening paths,
To endless ken their stretch define,
Cloudy firmament, unseen moon,
Forlorn hope, no inspiration divine.

As wishful hope dismal grows,
Due to reason unseen, unknown,
As questions grow to question why,
The moribund seeds are sown.

The mind meanders unchecked, unbound
Into streams, ideas, hitherto undefined,
They glaze by unheeded, unconcerned,
Memories of memories they do remind.

No sooner that chords of thought strike,
That the mind does split them in twain,
I stare amazed, confused, bemused,
I seek distraction in crowds in vain

Lost, in solitude, I guage myself,
alone, I sit, pensive, doubting,
wondering on changes, shifts,
On emotion, self-pity spouting.

Soon, placidity overcomes morbid thought,
As time and I echo ego and sense,
As I ignore, thoughts mine I forget,
Emotion exits, leaving but nothingness.

Then change beckons, chaos reigns,
A miasma of moods continue,
As normality resumes, I sigh and think,
It was fun being blue...

- Thriddas Anorak

Ah what the hell

2008-04-15T04:56:00.000+05:30

Greetings, denizens of the blogosphere.
I, Thriddas Anorak, pompously greet you.
Having indulged in a bit of unnecessary inanity and redundance, this is to announce that no longer will I only indulge in writing posts that actually mean something.

Earlier, (for those who might consider substituting insofar - I agree!) I was of the opinion that writting nonsense on a blog is pointless. Well, I still agree, however it seems like way more fun.

Current changes in the author's life :

A sudden surge of dedication and focus has somehow resulted in a more organised lifestyle. This is the result of the author long harboring a desire to actually get down to doing task that he vaguely held in his head. I actually have begun attending classes. Being a college student, that too one in BITS-Pilani, Goa Campus, that is indeed very surprising.

The classes suck. The heat is unbearable. To rip off a Wodehousian quote, I quite sympathise with those Abnech, Sheschach and Nebuchadnezzar blokes, heat's hard to manage.

Well then, in other news, I have started running. For all those who know me and have been privy to the mirthy ( If the word does not exist, screw you ) act, I am serious. I have also created a schedule which might actually actualise to me following it. The early waking hours are testament to that.

An exercise regime has also been inculcated. I have also begun reading the news. This is by far the only interesting habits that I have developed.

I have also realised that my stupid writing is irritating me. This is possibly the one post I will not reread. It sucks. I now realise that the blog, Contemplations has not been living upto its name. Henceforth, it shall be canvass for all my florid, fanciful thoughts...

Bye

iUtopia

2008-03-16T07:25:00.004+05:30

The dream of making the world a better place is one that has oft been cherished in the minds of fools and nurtured in the hearts of those poisoned with chronic idealism. A Better World. Ostensibly, this seems to be a mere velleity, one that lurks around in the corners of our thoughts. It is however one implanted in our minds, an attempt by farmers of thought to inspire and mould the consequences of our actions towards this fallacious goal. These aren’t just the words of a sceptic or cynic, though I admit, I profess to be both. This is definitely not an attempt to dampen the buoyant naiveté of those who strive to mould the world to their definition of an ideal future and what follows is not mere verbiage intended for sake of argument alone.

The notion, of “better” unaccompanied by a concept of a “best” is what prevents this fallacy from dawning on humanity’s expectant shoulders. Since the birth of civilisation, since man overcame his awe of fire, since the tiller deployed oxen to plough his tracts, since humanity mastered first machine and then the elements, to now where he commands the very constituent of existence to his whims and seeks to both question and answer all, man has come far. Through the ages, history - with its tapestry of narratives and obloquies etched in blood - has proven the restlessness that lurks within the spirit of all humanity. Man has always tried to better himself, and more so, aimed at bettering the state of the world as a whole and in the process, the masses have managed to aid and abet those who seek but their own ends. The single flaw with the above process is that every idealist who aims to make the world a better place usually has his own indulgent opinion of it, which conjugated with severely megalomaniacal tendencies, give rise to leaders, be they jingoistic, fanatical or merely those of a spiritual or philosophical kind.

The concept of a “path to a better world” would indeed be acceptable if there was at all a notion of an ideal world. If we knew exactly what levels we aspire to attain, maybe then the entire enterprise might not seem as asinine to me as it currently does. Again, however, it seems extremely unlikely that a concept of an ideal world, a utopia does or could ever exist.

An ideal world is a child’s fairytale and an adult’s wishful thinking, one that probably helps him look forward to the day next in hope of a better lifestyle. What constitutes a better world? A utopia? No crime, no poverty, happiness in every man’s heart, equality, morality, a world devoid of fear? As tantalising as the above may sound, they are trite, repeated statements parroted without understanding the consequences of their implementation, if at all. Poverty for one, is a relative term. Any notion of eradicating poverty completely comes hand in hand with Communism, Socialism and the breakdown of individualistic thinking. The only thing we can hope to achieve is the establishment of a minimum quality of life and provision of bare basic amenities essential to subsist to all. If everyone gets richer, money has merely lost its value. Even in the most advanced societies, concepts of rich and poor will still rankle the mind of dissatisfied individuals.

The human spirit is one that quests for perfection, one that creates obstacles for itself in hope that it has the ability to overcome them. For such a being, the pursuit of happiness provides far greater satisfaction than happiness itself. The theory of the prospect of a journey being far more inviting than the realisation of a goal applies in this aspect of man’s personality. Any joy that the fulfilment of a task may bring is temporal, being soon shadowed by a far greater challenge that the individual would try to overcome. Dissatisfaction lurks within the skin of humanity. This primal instinct for betterment abhors stagnancy and will, nay, can never allow man to maintain a sustained level of comfort with himself for too long a period of time. It is this that man should attribute all his successes to. The will to survive, the will to prove that he is better than himself, the will to assert his superiority over obstacles of his own creation, the will to Power.

Man’s lack of an infinite ego is the cause of this Will to Power. The term, first widely used by Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche, a German Existentialist, is the part of a theory that insists that man needs to assert his dominion over others. As this goes, this extends not only to his fellow inmates, but also to inanimate creations, and absurdly, to himself. The notion of willpower, of overcoming your own innate shortcomings is also a sign, of man wanting to win over something, in this case, himself. This Will to Power sees happiness as a potent sedative, one that restricts, inhibits and binds man to a state of torpid indolence. The representation of the world - by the Warchowski Brothers - as part of a matrix programmed to artificially imbue happiness is our minds was, to many, a detestable notion. Why? Because it took away the sense of achievement, the passion, the fight, the prospect of a challenge, and the sheer surge of satisfaction on success. Happiness eradicates this beautiful sense of victory, and that man will never accept. A utopia leaves no scope for betterment, and as aggravatingly circular the logic might sound, it is this very lack of future betterment that prevents man from reaching the destination.

If the world existed to satiate the whims and needs of all individuals, it would be an isolationist world, one comprising of individuals in the ideal sense of the word. Society binds men in fragile, bonds of gossamer, never seen or felt, merely apprehended on every occasion. It was on the might of a collective that man managed to survive the ages. However, the happiness of an individual can never actuate to the happiness of a collective. The spark within man that urges him to relatively better himself is prevalent in all. However, this unity is that which leads to disparity. To quote a friend, society is merely a compromise reached between individuals in order that their basic rights will be guaranteed and will stay inviolate by mutual consent. When the very nature of society exists on a compromise on ideals, there can be no notion of individual and collective happiness. Each has ideals of their own, and the more persuasive, the more powerful, the more influential supersede the rights of others. The world is the result of the choices of a few who sought to mould the future to they’re concept of an ideal. This creates society, and it is on this that society thrives. The inequality of power. And as long as this exists, a collective happiness can only be achieved by denying Freedom of Thought. And a greater blasphemy is hard to conceive.

As I reach the conclusion of my arguments, I would like to clarify a few points. I assume they stem from a basic need to not be misunderstood. I would like to apologise for the lack of a cogent, consistent argument through the entirety of the above. My views need refinement in their presentation. It was possibly an amateurish attempt to philosophise but I strongly stick by the ideas presented above. The passage, ill-titled though it may be, attempts to establish the non-conceivability of a utopia and tries to give reasons to support the claim. Many of the reasons can be supported (with my current persuasion skills) only by day-to-day examples. The reasons that I allude to are, by themselves, long-winding theories and notions established in my messed up head. Putting them into readable words is difficult. Ignore the presentation of views, correct the lacunae (if any) in reasoning, but do try to understand the essence of the views presented.
I do admit, the reason I even tried to bottle my thoughts into a passage with a vain attempt at both brevity and explanation (and (initially) a mere show of my love for words and long-winding sentences) was a little influenced by the theme of my college annual magazine, “How to make the world a better place”. It was not, however the reason for the train of thought. It is a notion I had maintained for quite some time.

Consumattum Est

- Thriddas Anorak

Quite

2007-12-21T01:39:00.000+05:30

And my long spree of non-blogging ends with another pathetic attempt to merely fill up space on the internet and quench my egoistic tantrums. So i will blog. not the type of morbid, moribund, melancholic rants i am prone to at my creative best. this shall be, more inspired by boredom than inspiration itself. the author of this blog, who with some wishful thinking and another passable attempt of megalomania has discovered that referring to himself in the third person will fill up sentences in a blog that has content which is but an incoherent, splattered representation of his flagrant, grandiose trains of thought looping themselves in four-dimensional helixes (helices?) lacking cogent grammar and sentence structure. There. haha. In my more un-sleepy (non-sleepy) (awake simply does not pander to my necessity to use unconventional adjectives to describe extremely simple nouns) moments where gravity seems to be my predominant attribute (it's not a weight remark, all you science geeks stop sniggering) and i tend to concentrate or rather brood - to choose a more apt term - about the whole "wastage of time" "the aims and goals of philosophy" and some other nonsense, i would often dream of a time where i could unleash my stupidity on this fearful little concept induced in the minds of mortals which they title "existence". 1:23 am, 21st December, 2007 has finally arrived. hallelujah. the author of this piece - as we journalists are prone to title our works of art (or wodehouse character wannabes) - is currently a resident of a delightful city called banaglore. For those of you who envy me, i envy you the fact that you envy me for the selfsame reason that i don't envy myself though i wish i could for then that would imply that i am having fun and was merely envying myself to get stuck in concentric multi-dimensional paradoxical mobius strips that confuse even the circular references in MSExcel and other delightful spreadsheet programs. I could possibly rant about the mismanagement of bangalore's infrastructure, its sucky roads (yes, i do use words like sucky sometimes) (damn, just realised i shifted back to first person, the author shan't (haha, still funny) persist in this plebeian routine any longer) if one would wish to negotiate traffic signals and actually reach one's destination prior or at the specified time that one had had a preconceived notion about, one would be sorely disappointed and would have to be content with staring at the rear end of vehicles for time measured in geological eons. Then its cold. The sun seems to have disappeared behind the thick cloud of clouds hindering our view of the one star that we can count on to look like the sun so that we may continue with out mundane lives without being worried about filling space in a blog which no longer caters to the original reason it was created (contemplations indeed) but merely panders to the creator’s assumption that as the owner of a blog, they must contribute to the blogosphere on occasion. If any poor pitiable soul has actually managed to read till here, you’re really really really stupid stupid stupid. If you must read, I could offer you a plethora of literature, non-fiction and better senseless crap to choose from rather than waste your time on this piece. This was written merely to while away the time, not as a canvas for my expression, not so that people could view, analyse and splice my notions, views and ogle at my method of thinking like apes are wont to stare from their cages when a giant panda which had erstwhile been quite placid suddenly starts developing superpowers and quoting kannada films, and not so that I could reread this with pleasure.

Now that I am out of content, and my inanity is beginning to fade away, I must post this before I come to my senses and delete this senseless collection of words. Check out the Chomsky bot.
Bye
to think i actually edited my grammar after all this...
the pity of sleep,
the pity sleep distills.
not in context, i know
screw you.
i had actually stopped at bye initially.
but providence has stopped my from discontinuing my inanity.
actually, it has
no, it has not...
Have at thee, base villain.

Why are mumbai and cochin mutually contradictory?
Coz' they're a paradox.
Deja vu'
Vuja de'
Bye
Whaze Dumb?

Tranquility

2007-09-05T20:58:00.002+05:30

The shores of oblivion lure me closer,
As I gaze on to the unending void,
Obscurity beckons, deadening the sounds,
The calls of reality I avoid.

I stare amazed into infinity,
Its caresses tearing down life’s bonds,
Listless horizon, ethereal sky,
I sit alone, and Melancholy responds.

In oblivion I seek to shun myself,
Hopelessly, I still notice shapes in clouds,
Inconsequential speck of sand, so proud,
I drift along lonely in friendly crowds.

In verse I strive to bottle expanses,
And as words fail me, I question my goal,
Creation’s wonder, is it life’s reality?
Can a part ever represent the whole?

I stare again, still, amazed, confused, bemused,
In passionate wonder, chaotic sea,
I question yet again, in vain, I smile,
Melancholic, Poetic, Ineffable it be.

- Thriddas Anorak

Bits on BITS

2007-07-29T15:25:00.000+05:30

BITS Pilani, Goa Campus. Birla Institute of Technology and Science, Pilani, Goa Campus.

That is the current location of your moody, recovered-from-a-headache author. Due to an innate necessity to blab and having few interested listeners, decided to pen down thoughts. I love reading what I write!!! Here I am, after a grueling 12 hour train ride from Mumbai, in the hostel, all organized, complaining how the coffee here sucks and how this place, idyll rustic paradise-like place inspires writing and I feel myself lacking in words…

Descriptions first, it’s quite nice actually… Hmm…something more explanatory seems to be required… On the Main Goa Highway (Mumbai-Mangalore apparently) there’s a left which people often take, atleast those who wish to reach the airport, and there on that left-turn road off the highway is Zuarinagar, once mighty Fertiliser plant setup by the Birla conglomerate, now moderately famous as the location of the location of the author, that is I (aarghh!! How silly does that sound!! Still, will let it pass, no egoistic, narcissistic, editing)

Scenic place, tucked near the banks of River Zuari (a bit of which is visible from the view of my window), it proves to be a great location to fall asleep, a tendency I have been prey to owing to the great weather. The innate windiness of this place is quite amazing. Ah, the campus, is beautiful, extremely well planned, especially the drainage etc. The hostels are quite near the campus (300 m or so) and the shopping complex, your all in one need – for books, photocopies, stationery, paraphernalia like dusters, toothpaste etc – quencher is around 1 km from the hostels. A long walk, the effects of which would hopefully be noticeable in a year or so, especially to the inch tape measuring the girth of my waist, stomach etcetera etcetera.

Rooms are decent. Nothing like a five-star resort, an 80 square foot room with a bed, a wardrobe, mirror, electricity, long table, a not-so-uncomfortable chair thrown in for good measure. Needed a bit of clearing up, organizing my stuff, buying buckets, dustbin, a broom? (mothers!) bottles (empty ones, just to clear up matters with my not-so-bright, prone to inebriation readers) and other things, just got settled to the rooms around 24 hrs after arriving.

My first sight of the students (a girl I saw on the train debarring, since the experienced, observant, wise-to-my-grandstanding readers would notice the careful application of the plural (Semantics!!)) was that of a horde of student getting down from a bus!! A huge group, an odd sight in comparison to lone autos or taxis or vehicles trudging in. All with parents (usually two, note that the usage of plural does not clarify preceding point) Quite reminded of the time at Calicut airport where an entire village or so had seemingly come to see off one person (departing to the Gulf, in all probability) To those not familiar with the argot of people who know about the huge exodus of Malayalis (predominantly) to the Middle East looking for a better job, earning in dinars, and not paying much tax, accompanied by a huge rural entourage at airports, the Gulf is a term ascribed to the countries in the Middle East (to the Westerners, of course, to us Indians, its very much in the West)

So as to not regress from the observations being made, the students were all from one place, Andhra Pradesh. I was aware of the largely linguistic regional majority that populated the BITS campuses (campii to some) but was still mildly taken aback. Those who know the author personally would know that he is prone to understatements so as to appear cool (a term he highly detests but assumes fits in context)

Telugu was always a mystery to me, and it was surprising to see so many using it as the primary mode of communication. Quite startling when someone starts presumptuously talking to you in what he considers to be lingua prima without making any enquiries in respect to your linguistic capabilities. (Had some pathetic guesses at translation, which owing to my mother being present, thankfully did not lead to any far-reaching consequences aka disastrous results)

The seniors seem to be quite helpful. Nice place. Already mentioned I suppose. Since its my first taste of hostel life, expected worse. Common bathrooms. On application of arithmetic, 3:1 is the ratio of students to bathrooms. By bathrooms, I mean bath-rooms and not basic sanitary facilities as the word is often flippantly employed to refer to.

I expected a large amount of intelligentsia, and was quite surprised to see that the student population was not quite well off in that sector. Their knowledge and application of the English language leaves much to be desired. That notwithstanding, they seem to have made a very poor first impression. Though prone to extremely prejudiced judgments on the rare occasion, I seem to have got it right atleast a modicum. My father, bright ray of sunshine that he is immediately informed me that he was extremely skeptical of the success of my dreams of establishing a scrabble club in BPGC (Bits pilani, goa campus to non-students.. haha losers!) “Of course, these very students whose linguistic ability you mock will be the ones who get top GPAs, get into American Universities, mint money and run their younglings through the same procedure, will also be the ones to get the best marks and jobs (repetitive but true)” said my other self (who is rarely introduced to common public due to him being extremely pessimistic, morbid, blunt and obnoxiously rude at times) with a touch of bitterness in his voice.

That shrugged off, those that consider Goa to be a haven for beaches, barbecues and babes (This is basically for the benefit of the male population of my readers, if any at all) would be taken aback (or not) to know that BPGC proves to be an exception to this widely accepted statement (axiom if you must)

The following description is not for those unacquainted with Indian cinema of a lower rung (that which rarely makes it to Cannes or even popular cinemas in cities) where tall, dark, swarthy, brutish beasts (male) make off with extremely short, fair, pretty females (hot babes, basically to those not used to euphemisms etc.) there seems to be a large portion of the student fraternity which would be at the top of Type A list (me included, some smartasses would point out) and a shortage of not too little acuity of the second. Of course, the type A mentioned may not be necessarily dark, swarthy, tall and the term brutish might be a seemingly fanciful flight of the author’s fancies but the acute shortage part is quite honest… ah pity (not that I had great any expectations or any ambitions etc., I just thought it was a rather interesting way of describing the student body inhabiting the campus)

Now, I suppose banal trivialities like attending to the purchase of a new SIM card etc have to be attended to and since I have run out of things to rant about, will stop. Considering the ass of an author conveniently forgot a LAN wire (in non-tech jargon) (also, an extra pair of spectacles, something of rather great importance to one whose eyesight is as weak as mine, a few books, and other minor things), this is posted later (or will be posted)

Thriddas Anorak
1st Year, (BITSian)
B.E. (Hons), Electronics and Instrumention
BITS Pilani, Goa Campus,
Existence

Dated : 27th July 2007

More later, I suppose
We live in eternal hope,
So don’t catch what misery throws,
Just laugh, and don’t dope!

Maktub

2007-06-13T15:04:00.000+05:30

Why Maktub? "It is written" not that I read it myself but then again, it's the word. Words are beautiful and the irony is that the word beautiful does not match up to the thought. In the last few years, there have been words I have come up against, that imprint themselves on to my memory, those I cherish. "Huzun", "Maktub", "Incommensurable", "Ineffable", "Melancholy", "Umpolung" and others I can naught but recall at this moment.

However, that was not the intention of this rant. I started blogging to pen down my thoughts, and most importantly my poetry, for it was the best vent I could give to my feelings, a doorway to my own soul to be melodramatic. Initially, I had hoped to type down all my old poems to preserve them, but then, now in retrospect, they seem to childish, so naive...But then again, its their naïveté which is so endearing and its why I have typed them out. On occasion, I am victim to unsolicited inspiration. Those rare times, which are most when I am sleepy and thereby not in my "rational" senses, I spout poetry and its not necessarily in verse. Lines poignant, which I read later to my own amazement, their profundity I marvel at and then again laugh, thinking that it is but due to ego mine that I think splendid. But then again, it is my nature to try and disprove my thoughts, silly though it may sound. In truth, I like what I write to the point of egoistically vainly rereading even the inanest of my rants....

I come up with lines that strike me as philosophical and though they are probably derived or inspired from others....still

"There is Beauty in Sadness and Sadness in Beauty"
"Most men do not want happiness, they would rather spend their entire life seeking it"

This from today morning :

I must admit it is not as good as what was running through my head the instant I thought it and the timegap of two hours or more would have probably diluted it to quite a large extent.

The line drawn inspiration from "Even all the water in the ocean may not fill a bucket with a hole" and "The discord is a tribute to them" from a graphic novel on Lucifer

The hallmark of humankind is its imperfection, and its most endearing trait the quest to negate its own existence by seeking perfection. All the water in the oceans of the world may but fill a bucket with a hole if there was a steady flow, but then, happiness is turbulence personified...We seek solace and create contradictions and paradoxes so beautiful and yet we even ignore the beauty in our imperfect thought. We seek solace in life from life using escapist religions, seek happiness and yet shudder in horror; for the fact that we be selfish and would dare want our own good is anathema to us. Such is life, or atleast as most lead it, touching, endearing, pitiful by its own accord. And such is humanity, mired in contradictions, baffled by its own creations and annihilated by its own thoughts. We shape life by thoughts our own and yet regret existence. The beauty of melancholy is in the fact that beauty by itself is melancholic to a degree and what greater tribute to beauty than life...

Consummatum Est

This blog article as such is not well written, for the desire to write did not move me, its just that I had to put up the above somewhere and hence, listening to sound advice thought that the blog was probably a better home for it than an Orkut profile.
Hence.

Dreams and Death

2007-04-05T15:31:00.001+05:30

Poem written around 6 months ago.
Thought of one line, and was generally disappointed with stuff, wrote this piece. Its ok.

Dreams and Death

Have you ever watched the death of a dream,
Seen it shatter, crumble and fade away,
Into recesses of despair, to oblivion and beyond,
As it moves to forlorn darknss from hopeful day?

Have you ever seen man grasping at straws,
Clinging to hope just so he may just hope again,
And plead in tribunals of time and death,
To but enjoy the fruits of his toil and pain?

Have you ever nurtured a desire, a dream,
And for it hoped reality's embrace,
Only to finally see its destruction,
And feel the charred embers burn your face?

Have you ever achieved success in life,
Met and been loved by elusive Fame,
Seen your dreams come alive, been overjoyed,
Only to hear on Death's lips your name?

As my errant mind wanders new horizons,
Sadistic options balance in questioning mind,
Situations, crises unfold and choices,
Arise up, and demand to be determined.

What could be worse, I wonder,
When after encountering hardship infinite,
Would not watch the life of your dreams?
Or would you rather watch your dreams die?

- Thriddas Anorak

I like the ending. The rest is a tad bit forced.

Children of a lesser God

2007-04-05T15:22:00.000+05:30

Poem against injustice in general.
Methinks its decent. Tad bit immature, but still decent.
Written around 2 yrs back. Age 15.

Children of a lesser God

Scales unbalanced in reasonless prejudice,
Unfair Judgements in Justice's Halls,
With joy and happiness as servants,
And misery at Fate's beck and call.

Why do some toil in endless labour,
Only to lose what few they gain,
Whilst others in luxurious comforts enjoyed,
Breed wealth again and again.

While few fall in pits of sorrow,
Drowning in mires of sorrow and shame,
While some soar to heavens of glory,
Scaling the ever-increasing summits of fame.

Why do some see only dark clouds,
Andd miss the tiny silver line,
Whilst others when in lowest spirits,
Always seem to wear a smile.

Studded with jewels, bedecked with gems,
Some in palatial mansions reside,
While others beg scraps on busly streets,
And nightly retire on slums beside.

Why are some blessed with brilliant brains,
While others can depend on but hard work,
Where few have beauty that the world does stun,
While on others' appearance society does smirk.

Lady Luck is injustice personified,
Equality's rules does she brazenly break,
On some fortune does she shower,
Others she does cruelly forsake.

Even nature is puppet to fate's will
Sometimes becoming the messenger of death,
With no jury, no tribunals, no fairness,
She decided who will have but one more breath.

While some have walked the highway to success,
Others on difficult paths have trod,
Why do some suffer in this cruel world,
Are they children of a lesser god?

- Thriddas Anorak

The poem is quite immature, considering perception and attitude has nothing to do with luck and I do NOT believe in fate.
Its funny, the stuff i wrote earlier was crazy.

Clouds of Death

2007-04-05T15:19:00.000+05:30

Poem written when I was in the 9th std. There was an earlier poetry festival where we were expected to write a poem on clouds of grey. Had written on something similar. Hence for elocution competition, snitched that, modified it, improved it and came up with this. I have no clue why I even attempt explaining the ulterior motives behind my poems... Probably as a memo...

Clouds of Death

Clouds of Death enveloped the sky
Fear approached slithering by,
The Earth was filled with Natures sigh,
To see man suffer and hear his pitiful cry.

As Elephants stampeded in the Heavens,
And electric weapons clashed,
Racing winds howled with rage,
On the Earth, now a desert, barren and flat.

The nuclear radiation engulfed the air,
So much suffering man could not bear.
His defenses could only delay the inevitable end,
For once, man’s proud back was forced to bend.

No trees to purify the poisonous air,
No water to purge the waste,
Only UV Rays, Toxic and Acid Rain,
All of them out to finally put an end to man’s pain.

Man who destroyed the shield of ozone,
Man who turned Nature’s children – his siblings –to fur and bone,
Man whose greed destroyed the trees and fish,
Man is to blame for all this.

In the end, after the destruction,
After all of humanity’s extinction,
The earth is calm and serene,
No sound is heard, no life is seen.

No one to mourn, no one to wail,
On the vast seas, no one to sail.
No life to walk, creep or crawl on the land,
No birds to fly, no insects in the sand.

Nothing but the sound of silence, the sight of corpses,
To be given a funeral by Nature’s resources,
The Earth heaves one last sigh,
And begins the formation of a new world – a new ground, a new sky

Eons later, the Earth is fully cleansed,
The cycle of evolution begins once more.
Nature hopes that man will change,
And not commit the same mistakes again.

For if he does, his fate is sealed,
His doom is near, his end revealed.

Before acting, let him refrain.
Let him pause and work his brain,
And understand that if his promises to protect the earth go in vain,
THE CLOUDS OF DEATH WILL ATTACK AGAIN.

- Thriddas Anorak

The Z Files

2007-04-05T15:15:00.000+05:30

Poem written for some dumb competition. Title to be written on : The Z Files...
What would I write on? SLEEP???

The Z Files

In a land far, far away,
Exiled from the confines of time and space,
Beyond our comprehension, away from reality,
A messenger did sit and at humanity he did gaze.

Since the dawn of mankind,
Had he sat, waited and watched,
The workings of humanity, of every individual,
To every living man, his attention he devoted.

He had watched man grow from ape to emperor,
Through his conquest, his discoveries, his gains,
He observed humanity’s race against time,
He watched them cause innumerable pains.

Humanity’s greed grew and grew,
Increasing in magnitude in high acceleration,
From the necessities of life had man moved on,
His requirements were now his creation.

Countless wars had man fought,
With foe and friend, kith and kin,
But for his greed, his vices,
What a paradise the earth would have been!!

But, the flaws of humanity were not his concern,
He was but assigned to notice every man’s guiles,
Every lie, every crime, every sin,
Would be carefully noted in the Z – Files.

The insignificant act of murdering an animal,
Or trampling the nest of an hardworking ave,
The uprooting of the land in uncounted hectares,
For these crimes, punishment to man on earth who gave??

But far more grievous were the acts,
Committed by man on man himself,
Premeditated crimes to benefit one individual,
Which led to the downfall of another.

Grievous, Heinous crimes,
Insignificant and sometimes legal in the eyes of the law,
Bu done with malice, with hatred, with spite,
All these crimes this seraph saw.

Betrayal, Lies, Jealousy and spite,
Cruel emotions entrapped in man’s mind.
The dark sentinel watched and smiled,
Oh! How he pitied mankind!!

For they of all creatures,
Were made in HIS image,
HE gave them a mind of their own,
And with it, power animals could not gauge.

But with power came responsibility,
And this mankind did neglect,
OH! How unaware were they,
Of the Fate that the Almighty for them did select.

The iron-clad avenger sat and watched,
He was one of the first, the best seraphim,
He had a soft corner for humanity,
At their fate, he was grim.

Appeared had he in many forms on earth,
As a Messiah, a prophet, as many preachers,
To teach humanity the virtues of life,
Of love & respect that elevated them from creatures

But stubborn humanity did not respond,
It stayed as unwilling as Balaam’s Ass,
How he wished that they would know,
For their sins, on them what would pass!!

For after their spirit from their bodies did recede,
They would encounter the Almighty’s Fury,
With no lawyers, no defence to aid them,
Before an omnipresent, omnipotent and omniscient jury.

Then, for their sins, they would be punished,
Horrible torture for their crimes,
They could not beg, they could not plead innocent,
It was all written in the Z – Files.

Every crime, every minor sin,
That was noted on every page,
For each mistake would they be punished!!
They would encounter HIS rage.

Doomed to spend Eternity in torture,
Which very well could have been eternal bliss,
A life of pain rather than happiness,
Only because his virtues were outweighed by his sins.

There was no cause now for lament,
No returning to set things right,
The mistakes done undone could not be,
Wisdom on him did NOW alight.

Time backwards he could not turn,
His crimes he could not rectify,
Left with nothing but self reproach and repent,
The Past he could not modify.

Man wished with painful, pitiful regret that he had more sense,
He wished he was virtuous, sensitive, humane,
But, till the oceans did exist, the mountains on Earth did stand,
Till time itself doom did not meet,
The ink etched on the Z – Files would remain………….

- Thriddas Anorak

Bored

2007-04-05T15:07:00.000+05:30

There are times when you do not feel like doing anything, even expressing urself in complicated big words. And yet, u refuse to just sit and let ur thoughts wander, coz THAT's a big waste of time according to u, no???
There are three days left before I attempt an examination for which I have been preparing for two years, and know for certain I am going to screw it up....
Do not feel like studying, hence thought will type out all my old shit poems, which I frankly think are mostly crap. Not that I'm modest or prefer the self-deprecating tone, haha, that would be funny. Its just I think they suck as compared to the stuff I write currently...
BAD BAD GRAMMAR!!!

Written in the 10th standard in a civics extra class.
Suicide Poem (Could not come up with a better title)

Darkness on my mind did descend,
Englulfed in clouds of despair,
My mind and heart solace did seek,
They sought love, affection, care.

Shamed was I of my failures,
Of futile attempts to succeed,
Lost was I in my nightmares,
As despair despair did breed.

Lost had I almost all my battles,
With few triumphs to balance defeats,
A long struggle against loss I endured,
Despair, finally hope did beat.

Crushed I was, my spirit shattered,
No hopes or dreams did I cherish,
My mind was filled with but one thought,
On how my miserable life should perish.

My mind was made, my decision contemplated,
I thought where this me would lead,
But atlast Happiness would I find,
In this atleast, I would suceed.

- Thriddas Anorak

I know it SUCKS!!!

Ruin

2007-03-31T13:05:00.000+05:30

The poem was written by me when I was 15, round 3 yrs ago.
The entire poem was inspired by one line.
Its the last line in the Hush Series comic - Batman
when batman remembers jason todd, and how he could'nt stop the joker from killing him...
I can think of greater fear, no darker despair than to see ur child dead before you. Like most of other old poems, I felt I had to use this line somewhere and came up with poem, titled ruin / betrayal. Like i care.
Not that most of you would prefer to know why/how I write/wrote my poems...
My blog takes more of an introspective and one and is merely to assuage my own ego, atleast that takes greater priority when compared to the fact that most would have already stopped reading some time back.

Ruin

My mind tore apart like grains of dust,
Thrust in the midst of a blizzard,
My soul quivered in righteous indignation,
As my mind grew dark, my senses numb, my vision blurred.

Recall back the days of innocent yore,
When we once were friends inseperable,
With but one mind and no thoughts concealed,
With friendship strong, firm, unbreakable.

We grew together as time flew by,
With eternity's minions strengthening our bonds,
Vows many did we once swear,
To keep our secrets to the bitter end and beyond.

Like one mind in dual entities,
Never did conflict between us intervene,
You playing Damon to my Pythias,
Such friendship legend had never seen.

Even with the forest entire uprooted,
One tree firm would always stand,
That firm mountain which once could hell could brook,
Has now crumbled to particles of sand.

When the world ran in greed or fear,
For other each did we wait,
Like two swords in but one sheath,
We would stick together till trouble abate.

What compels you now to turn your back,
To your dear friend in his time of need,
Neither wealth nor power could be motive strong,
To make you laugh in mirth when your comrade doth bleed.

But ideal or love be reason might,
To this moment be evil seed,
What wonder to the world it be,
That such friendship to such hatred could lead.

Though the world be against me,
Steadfast alongside I thought you would be in my strife,
But now I have no desires, no hope,
Without a friend, a life is no life.

I can think of no darker fear, no greater despair,
Than to live to see your friend betray you,
O ye Unfaithful, cursed may you be,
Et tu, Brute, Et Tu, Et tu....

- Thriddas Anorak

Masqued Existence

2007-03-27T00:19:00.000+05:30

Do not know why I wrote it...
Written on date published...
Also, all titles henceforth are to be ignored.
Do NOT know what to call my poems.
I personally am not too fond of the way I wrote this
could've done better, I suppose.
Like the idea put forth, but could've done it better, probably made it less direct and self-explanatory. However, the idea oblique thought oblique concept I wished to express is not yet clearly defined in my own mind. On ordinary occassions, would not have tried to write on what I clearly have not yet understood..
Still, an attempt, be nice. (Hahahaha!!!)

Masqued Existence

We all wear a gamut of masks,
Of varied moulds, colourful, chaotic,
A plethora of emotions dressed fancy,
Bedecked by customs, prejudices, principles.

Changing masks with time, person, place,
In orderly self-righteous, composed assuredness,
No qualms about delusion, self deceit, honesty,
Propreity and societal norms demand fluidity.

A mask is but a cloak that hides,
True intent, nature, primal instincts,
The aspiration of self and ideal emerge,
Approved by all and deemed correct to wear.

All prefer to show what is not,
True selves disappear in layers of veils,
Adapted, improved , perfected mannerisms,
We misdirect all in blinding light.

Most are ignorant of deception of self,
Masks unnoticed, though smothering,
An accepted lie to truth does morph,
Pretense and act do actions become.

We tremble in thought of what exists,
Deep beneath the barriers we place,
Unchecked by morals, inhibition or altruistic bondage,
What vile demon is spawned in us?

Binding our fears, our obsessions, our darkness,
We project what not we are in thought,
A cynic hopes to never hope again,
In cowardly fear of fall.

Our masks govern our thought and mind,
But what of those few, poor souls,
Who of masks are aware and despise
Yet play in hope that they might believe they only play.

They who recognise themself as object, not image,
And yet would rather prefer to not,
For brutal truth to helplessness does lead,
And they life in hypocriy, knowledge, loathing.

For they understand and respect it not,
And project themselves true but as masks,
In hope that as other masks removable it be,
And convince themself that they only act.

When the mask becomes a mask itself,
To convince themselves and others of false false,
They believe that they participate in facade and farce,
To salvage their sanity and conscience.

We all wear a gamut of masks,
And in self-deception ourself delude,
Are we waiting for an epiphany,
Or is this is reality, life?

- Thriddas Anorak

If any do read this piece and notice how confused it is, tell me. Do indeed point out all the lacunae in my thought process. I however cannot respond. I do not know why or how I wrote what I did. Would like to...Help me understand what I have expressed whether it be flawed or not.

Memories

2007-03-26T19:57:00.000+05:30

This poem was written for a friend...
The intention was to write a poem which conveyed what she meant to all of us and suchlike sentimentality...
However, I realised that I was not one among those who could express such sentiments in poesy. Happy, sentimental, heart-warming poems written by poets, I admire and envy, for the bitter, mordant cynic in me has ceased to be able to write such poems... Pity

Memories

When oft we be lost in thought idle,
Reminiscing of days long bygone,
Or with weary brow, we brave a smile,
To face tribulations yet unborn.

The mind is thrown by torrents of gale,
Through raging winds, amidst dreadful storms,
Or to tender rain on beaches gold,
Memories fleet by in different forms.

Secretly untracked by conscious mind,
Slipping through rational defence and guard,
They assail our mind, negate other thought,
Though hard we may try to keep them barred.

Piercing mists of time unyielding, firm,
Reliving days o innocent joy,
Ephemeral glimpses of ecstasy,
Which time’s momentum would soon destroy.

Thoughts phase to darker, more troubled times,
Memories tougher than endurance,
On sanity’s summit, edge of dying hope,
Thoughts then futile now fond smile befriends.

Ponder we might on both alike,
Be lost in time’s deceitful mires,
Behind lay memories, cherished, loved,
Ahead fate’s furnace, testing fires.

Though fortune and mercurial fate,
Conspire to quench aspiring thirst,
Strong we will stand, with steely resolve,
Eternity’s minions do their worst.

And if ever will falter or mind unsure,
While hurdles you uncertainly face,
Permit a glance alongside at us,
Be with you, for you, by you always.

Worthy treasures we share beyond account,
Of days past and hopes yet to fulfil,
Wishful sighs self-envy accompany,
If but damn time would once stand still…

Though forest entire be unrooted,
Mocking fate, would always stand one tree,
Through joy and sorrow, colour and grey,
Together, ever with you, we’ll be.

We’ll be there for you,
When the rain starts to pour,
We’ll be there for you,
Like we’ve been there before,
We’ll be there for you,
Cause you’ve been there for us too….

- Thriddas Anorak

Expressions

2007-03-26T16:37:00.000+05:30

The poem was written around 5 months ago.
I like it... its a tad bit too simple, and superficial...
but still...
I had not expressed thoughts in verse for quite sometime and this was a poem that I wrote with intention different...
I thought I would express something simple but however ended up thinking that somethings are better left unexpressed...
Hence wrote this.

Steeled Minds

2007-03-20T19:37:00.000+05:30

When oft I lay in idle thought,
Of things, people, thoughts I lack,
Or be in chore or tedious task at hand,
My mind to one vision goes back.

Ah, how maddening it is to loose control,
Of one’s own mind in times of need,
To let it wander in listless pastures,
As gnawing thoughts on sanity do feed.

Repeatedly, persistently, the mind returns,
From lands away or ideals yet unborn,
To haunt mind mine with thought one,
With that one thought, the rest are gone.

No trick of mind or delusion of self,
Dismisses it from conscious state of mind,
Yet laughable it be to think again of it,
And yet of it, I often myself remind.

When path be clear and intent be strong,
And reality appear as brightest day,
Yet in idle ideal fantasies I dwell,
Why, Why does it not go away?

It is pitiful that I for all my thought,
Enslaved I am by manacles known,
To be judged as part of throng and mob,
By mockery and passion is my heart torn.

Though beautiful indeed is that one vision,
And to peals of happiness my heart it sets abeat,
Yet ignore it, I must to my best,
Wrench it away, though difficult be feat.

For afford I can’t to ponder even a while,
For thought to mind brings hope along,
And though lost I be in passions adrift,
At end, to rational mind my thoughts belong.

To long for goal proven elusive,
To know path chosen, having led the way,
Having known and been capable to judge,
How did one such as me get led astray.

Away, I scorn it for fear of control,
When in grasp of fear mine I be,
For one such as me, what is cure?
Is it piteous, Is it pathetic, Is it me?

- Thriddas Anorak

Note : The poem above is only about my mental condition the day it was written, due to an errant recurring thought, about which I believe I have expressed enough, the above was written. I am assuming others would probably know the feeling of some stupid thought in your head which refuses to play ball a la Balaam's Ass....
Any resemblance to any experience the reader has gone through is purely the ways of fate or rather the stupidity of the human brain and one is not to flatter oneself and assume that the above poem had them as a source of inspiration.

Any request or enquiry about what exactly the errant thought was will not be entertained. Not that anybody actually cares, considering no one or rather few know about this blog, but still... the inherent nature of a self-important egomaniac had to show its true worth.

Toodle-oo
Pip Pip

My Orkut Profile

2007-03-20T19:19:00.000+05:30

My Orkut profile was long overdue for editting
However, could not delete old stuff,
Am vainly attached to all my creations and hence, moved to this illfated blog
I find it mildly humourous and good fun to go through....

Before the next line is my poem "Entropial Anarchy of Mind"
and for the sake of the reader's sanity and my own laziness, I have refrained from reposting it considering its just down here in the same blog on the same page!

The following stanza is a comment after the poem and after this, it rambles on to a considerable extent about myself

Do I take the closed integral over all paths for maximum probability???
The above poem is a product of confusion, as can be observed from the stanzas. I have no idea why I want to put it up on my profile. This is my first attempt at a whole poem in blank verse (I mean, without rhyme) The only thing I have strived to maintain is the amount of syllables in every line. How do others manage syllabic symmetry. Found it quite difficult...…

ACHIEVEMENTS : Went to WYSC, Minesweeper expert in 153 seconds, sane.

Nothing is absolute.I like to believe that I am immune to self - delusion.
We base our behavior and principles on our thoughts and actions and not the other way.
Amazing how people are so hypocritical especially in the presence of strangers...
New conversation style : garmana ganthiny dan vegitherny.
godo nuf nad on eon nac duntersand uyo.

I have a penchant for talking crap. Utter nonesense and most of what i say is not worthy of your least attention.
Do try and check out Fermat's Last Theorem. Also read up on Maxwell's Laws. Amazing....

Understanding myself has been the toughest thing on the planet. (not anymore though) However, as others see me, I am a geek, a studious dimwit who grabs any chance to a make a fool of himself or show off. I love comics and cartoons, am extremely moody and temperamental. My sense of humour is absurd if existent and I am really really good at irritating people. Pretty good at scrabble too.
I behave VERY differently with different people. I discovered that I have a multi-fragmented personality. The correct me is resonance stabilized. So don't mind the echo! Ask any one of me and i'll clue you in on the other two, HEY!! That's my line!!

The way i behave depends on my mood, the music i have heard, the number of times i repeat myself and overstate the obvious.
If I don't think highly of you, don't be expect to be all nice, sickly saccharine sweet to you. I might not be rude to u, just cold and indifferent.
Have decided never to delete parts of profile, just add loads more rot to it..

I have absolutely NO will power...

In brightest day,
In darkest night,
No evil shall escape my sight,
Let those who worship evil's might,
Beware my power, Green Lantern's Light...

The decrees of fate are not ordained my mankind.
As an analogy, my mind is equally confused, contradictory and my views change.

And now, let the cry ring out,
Let it shake the ground and rock the firmament above,
That Krona shall know, we come for him,
AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!!!!

Aye, base villian, Thor, Thor - God of Thunder,
Who hath had enow of thy witcheries,
Cease thy prattling.
Like these others, I am myself again,
And more, I am angry,
I shall brook thy perfidy no longer,
So says Thor, Odinson.
Get Thee gone!!

Phrases to be added
By Heimdall's Eyes,
Odsblood,
By Odin's Beard,
In all the Nine Worlds....

War

2007-01-01T07:46:00.000+05:30

This was the oldest poem I could find that I had written. A meaningful one that wasn't written for the sake of rhyme or for a story. (I remember writing one in 2000, was in the 6th std. about Houdini and a gun and an escape, I was / am crazy)

This was written round 2003/04 after the Iraq was invaded and the military overthrown. I read a moving story written by a few seniors and was inspired to pen down a poem.

War

The night was dark,
My mind darker still,
As in the village I saw,
The plight of those who dear I did kill.

I saw the bloody sight and paled,
At my horrific deed, I was greatly ashamed,
And all the pride of winning that I had claimed,
Crashed! As for those deaths, I was to be blamed.

Near a half-eaten, destructed hut,
Stood a little girl, in deep painful sorrow,
Hear tearful eyes brown and sombre
Her face palely beautiful, her mouth thin-lipped and shut.

Tears did her eyes on her cheek splatter
Like pearls embedded on a silver platter,
Gentle dewdrops on the face of a rose,
At me she threw an accusing cold stare; As time stopped, my blood froze.

"Murderer" screamed that one voice
It stood out amidst the wails and cries.
Her young, shrill voice did in sorrow break down.
In guilt, misery and shame did my mind drown.

She did so resemble my daughter,
All of just twelve years old.
But, the evil of war had transformed her,
Into a fighting spirit, young but bold

Her father she was mourning for,
Orphaned by me was she,
From her dear father, her had I tore,
And this is turn, gnawed and tore me

In her eyes, guilty did I plead,
For I had done that dreadful deed,
What did she know? This was war's need.
I understood War's futility, its undying hunger, its greed.

I walked up to my cabin,
And found my gun, sleek and thin
I held it up to my forehead,
And fired, I then saw my body slump down, cold and dead.

The night was dark,
My spiriti troubled and darker, still....

- Thriddas Anorak

Resolutions for the Year anew

2007-01-01T07:28:00.000+05:30

Hmm...
2007. The year where the fates play havoc and have me attempt choice few of the toughest examinations that could probably have been designed by the criminally devious. My English needs improvement. Need to stress more upon making sense as opposed to sounding abstruse and complicated (simple word Yay!!)

Have decided to swear less

Also to be less blunt (more sharp does not actually convey the same, though any professor of the English language or of Mathematics would probably expect two negatives to make a positive, yeah Right)

Have resolved to avoid overuse of cliches

Have considered trying to not be two different, blend in and join the thralls who revel with the mob. Get rid of superiority complex and try to not to be not normal.

(The last two may seem to be a tad bit contradictory, but they aren't)

Observant readers would have noticed the clear avoidance of repetition of nouns and adjectives, must stop kidding myself. Vocabulary too limited to attempt such feats. Hence will repeat words henceforth.

Have decided to stop wasting time playing on comp, must study, blah blah

Have decided to find more creative spouts to let out boredom eg. blogging

Must remember to not be too moody / self-analytical / analytical in general.

Must not think of world / universe / abnormal (not ordinary) stuff

Study Harder
This blog will be editted regularly

Will be publishing poems soon (Check earlier post)

Entropial Anarchy of Mind

2006-11-10T18:11:00.000+05:30

Conflicting thoughts flash past my mind,
Confused, ravaging, destructive,
In times of joy, fleeting quickly,
Or due to pain of pain unkown.

What nudge my chaotic mind,
In directions all, infinite,
Through pathways both traversed before,
And some with grey cement drying...

My mind jumps with alacrity,
Trifle nuances to lacunae,
Like a boat in search of a port,
In a deluging turbulence

No clarity, no cogent thread,
Between thought unique and action,
From white on black or black on white,
How are canvasses of gray made?

Of morality and logic,
Sentimentality and sense,
Deep debates rage within my mind,
Subjective or objective?

Pretense, subterfuge, fake niceness,
To want others to think well of you,
Why do people behave so funny,
Or am I the violation.

Thoughts of reasons, explanations,
I reason my thoughts alone, confused,
Thoughts as to why reason at all,
And why think of reasons to think.

To think is a boon or a curse,
How can storms be quelled with unease,
Why must every road end in forks,
Conflict eternal, chaos reigns.

Is absolute that absolute,
Or truth and lie but reflections,
Mercurial Ambiguity,
Two faces, million sided dice.

Must I question all in fullest,
And debate both action and thought,
Why does grey give rise to grey,
Why is the war so damn civil?

- Thriddas Anorak

Do I take the closed integral over all paths for maximum probability???

When one's own mind is confused, what logical analytical device must one use to gauge my sanity. Delusion v/s Truth. Are will power and delusion that disparate? I must mull these at leisure...

The above poem is a product of confusion, as can be observed from the stanzas. This is my first attempt at a whole poem in blank verse (I mean, without rhyme) The only thing I have strived to maintain is the amount of syllables in every line. How do others manage syllabic symmetry. Found it quite difficult...…

Poetic Canvasses

2006-11-08T23:21:00.000+05:30

The human mind, is probably one of the most fascinating aspects of existence. If there was ever a grand purpose, or a reason for my existence, it would probably be to understand myself and my mind. The egoistical, lame, humourous, delusional, intellectual, childish, crazy aspects that I have assigned to myself - probably due to a complex need to analyse out each and every thing or deluded myself to believing I am more complex a person than I really am - and the confusion that is a result of every thought and action in the mundaneness of life can only truly be expressed in poetry. Prose just does not do justice to the myriad thoughts of the mind.

Most of my poems were created out of a desire to write something, not an innate desire to express my deepest...
However, as time progresses, I seem to drift towards a bank where poetry or a desire to write emerges due to a compulsion to express myself.

Personally, I believe, (or rather I have more or less convinced myself that i do probably due to desire to want to believe) that poetry is not meant to be shared / published. Shown to a select like-minded mortals who can acknowledge your efforts, understand your mind or for vain vaunting to few, poetry that one writes about oneself is not meant to be dissected and understood the way textbooks undertake a gross travesty of the poet's talent.

But then, I really do not know why I intend to post all my poems that I could scavenge on a blog, (for storage, maudlin sentiment, memories, or for vain display and a serious want for attention?), I cannot judge...

In the next few weeks, I will be posting select poems that I am/was personally proud of when I wrote them. Those that I considered worthy of preserving atleast.

Pardon the grammar, the repetitive sentences, the rather obvious ambiguity (or a desire to be ambiguos) and confusion in all my posts in prose. Some poems do have the same style of writing, but presented in a better manner.

Also, upcoming is a profile that I had built on orkut, something which I was for some reason fond of. Although my orkut account was deleted by me in a fit of passion, I have preserved the profile. Will be posting that too... and a detailed description of all my sub-personae.

Truly confused,
Siddarth Raman

My Reserved Life

2006-04-28T23:58:00.000+05:30

I tramped through the dirty downtrodden, wait, the noun that follows is defined as roads, but that was but one of the troubles that crease my worried brow. My mood, as any blind beggar with the meanest powers of observation would aptly put it, was far from upbeat. For most of the blighted 10 billion people who populate the earth and are unaware of my existence, I am merely a 17 year old boy who is trampling through the streets of a city called Mahamumbai in the year 2036. Oh yes, I am a not-so-proud citizen of a developing country – India.

I hear frequent tall tales of how India was supposed to be one of the greatest nations of all, of how we emerged from the colonial rule, overcome poverty, hunger, disease, established the world’s largest democracy, of how the students from our universities landed the best jobs in the world, of how Indians were rumoured to be the citizens of a superpower, and how there was a time when our growth rate was second to none and how (here’s the one with the greatest height) and how - for those who lost track of the sentence – there was indeed a time when there were equal opportunities for all.

Then, around three decades back, our fortunes took a turn for the worse. There occurred a paradigm shift, a policy that was initiated by the logically challenged. Then our education system and soon the entire social establishment went to the canids.

However, this tale is not about the digression of our society. Instead it’s the current pathetic state of affairs that we have landed in. Here are the few rules that have come up in the last few years. The rules have all been adaptations of Rule 16 (4), the rule established few years after independence that insisted on reservations for those sections of Indians who were not adequately represented. Soon, as standards reduced, grammar deteriorated and adequate began to be interpreted as proportional. Now there is 47% reservation for OBCs in all Universities, Central and Private Sector Jobs, 28% for SC/STs and another 15% left to the whims and fancies of the college/company. However, mind you, this is merely another type of affirmative action taken to uplift the downtrodden masses. It is of no consequence that quite a large percentage of the supposed upper class is in a lower income bracket. It does not matter if the supposed lower class lands up in the best institutes due to their caste certificate, you are a caste-driven fanatic if you are of the opinion that it is unfair that they have access to the best amenities due to virtue of being born in a family with a surname that entitles them to classified as “low class”

It was around two or more decades ago that up to 50% of seats were reserved in all Central Universities due to a minister with delusions of grandeur. Few years later, all private institutions had reservations. For private institutions to reservation in private jobs was no quantum leap, merely an incident that provoked a little bit of outrage, vied for print space in media reports and was accepted and taken in stride. Few minor changes then took place. Firstly, income tax was reduced for all citizens belonging to the castes and subcastes that Mr. BP Mandal has enumerated in his report in the 1980s. A system was introduced by which they got 10% discounts in all stores.

Then one of our many political maestros hit upon the idea, why not introduce reservations in politics? This too faced little opposition as no one wanted to commit political hara-kiri by denying the “socially backward” the right to be represented in the making of the laws of the nation. Now, every 3rd President must be an OBC or an SC/ST else we are not providing retribution to the people for historical grievances committed on their ancestors 5000 years ago by the ancestors of the elitist general class.

More rules emerged. Ludicrous yes, but some bordered on the verge of insanity. Like the one which stated that any backward class citizen who had an annual income greater than 27 lakhs, if his business crashed, he would receive compensation from the government. If a disaster occurred, the first to be rescued and rehabilitated would be the supposed posterior of Indian Society

The downside of having reservations was that when thousands got into universities by pure anomaly of fate, few passed. The worried government instantly reduced the education system by claiming that it laid too much stress on the brain of the youth. When this did not achieve desired results, the citizens of the backward class were encouraged and provided financial support to raise larger families so that the number of students would increase and the chances of a smart young un being born and capable of passing through the university was higher. In retrospect, many admit that might not have been the smartest piece of legislation but then, it was done by the people and for the people. With the result that now there were more students clamouring for less seats with more competition.

Any reader, who not being present in this wondorous time may wonder, why did the government not increase seats in universities, provide more jobs and privatize the airlines or the railways to provide more job opportunities? Well, when other nations noticed that the talent coming out from the top brass of Indian Universities was not up to their expectations, a supposed travesty of justice occurred due to which they lost faith in the Indian economy. Due to reduction in Foreign Investment, the Sensex crashed. It is currently struggling at around 8000 points.

Most of our budding industrial leaders left India to make their fortune in foreign lands. Duly accuse of being treacherous and unpatriotic, the finest crème de la crème of emerging India intelligentsia moved to other nations where opportunities were not denied by virtue of birth.
It’s a shame. The current scenario is reminiscent of Ayn Rand’s work – Atlas Shrugged where industry collapses. This is worse. The fabric of society into which we all were interwoven as one people in one nation has been shredded to bits by those who lust to reside in corridors of power.
Well, we had a debate in class about the current situations. When I laid across my viewpoint (which I had chanced to read in some old archive of one of a newspaper) that in 2006, when there 50% of the population constituted OBCs, and assuming atleast 0.25% grew to be of college going age, was it too difficult to find few thousand meritorious brilliant students from the OBC category out of the 13 lakh students? If yes, were we not undermining the intellectual capacity of these people? They are humans, born as equal as us. They do need to grow up holding crutches. They are capable enough to be given enough dignity to make their mark in society without the aid of a caste certificate.

If by some chaotic fluke, they weren’t then what was the point of including students devoid of intellect in an institution which would drive them nuts? Was the problem being addressed by simply laying down reservations or did the problem lie deep within at the very roots? On hearing this, I was accused of developing casteist undertones, being a bad influence on the fragile minds of other youngsters and sent to therapy for having a dubious psychological profile and unpatriotic thoughts.

As a punishment, I was asked to write a 300 word composition on My Motherland. The other students were shocked to hear that such a harsh punishment was meted out to me. Most textbooks after all had only 180 words on such topics. Well, I wrote this and poured all my angst, my frustration, the pity that a once proud nation was reduced to and a hope that in other parallel multiverses, the future would not be so rotten.

Yours Democratically,
S.O.S

(Shattered Opinion of Sanity)

The Farce of Democracy

2006-04-17T22:07:00.000+05:30

One need not read the following text if you are categorized as clairvoyant, illiterate or nonchalant to the point of stupidity. You may be excused if you are bored or if you already know about the whole reservation fiasco and have signed a petition at http://www.petitiononline.com/No_Quota/petition.html.

Been following the news lately?

For those of you who haven't, you would (or rather should) be aware of the fact that our great HRD minister (Human Resources and Development, methinks) has announced a 27% reservation of seats for OBCs in all Central Universities.

For those of you who belong to the supposed elitist "General Category" and who aren't filled with a rankling sense of injustice and high strung outrage at such a blasphemous action by the Parliament, you possibly do not understand the outcome of such a rule and the dire consequences that will spring to your life due to this rule for the people, by the people and of the people.

India is a rich and diverse country with years and years of "culture". Apart from striving to be worthy of its rich and varied heritage, one must understand that we are millennia away from the Vedic Age and that the direct result of having few people in power in that era led to the caste system, which at its very roots emanated a fundamental logic of identifying people by their profession. The direct branching of this logic into underhanded motives of the rule-makers led to thousands of supposed "lower castes" being mistreated and looked down upon. Centuries later, we still have Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes who merely subsist, they have little or no sources of income, they live in dilapidated regions with little or no scope of development and in certain parts of India where people still stick to their supposedly proud Hindutva Roots; they are still ill-treated.

This was the germination of the seed of Reservation, the reason why "Dalits" (which is a very offensive undermining term) and other tribes got subsidies from the government. After all, these were underdeveloped sections of society and the tribes were the original inhabitants of the land who had had no notion that their few scraps of land would be taken way to herald in a republic.

Come the new age, there was a feeling that somebody should do something about it. Though there were many good people who sincerely cared, the majority of our great leaders were interested in wooing the votes of this class of people. Though far from ethical, this at least was understandable from the viewpoint of the Indian citizen who considered anyone who dabbled in politics to be the slime and muck of society anyway.

Usher in Mr. B.P.Mandal. The character of Mr. Mandal is unknown to the common man. He may have been a nice man, kind to animals and such-like, but on absence of data, these facts are hard to prove. However Mr Mandal headed a committee that was to decide on the social and economic upliftment of these classes. To ease myself the pain of doing justice to the injustice done to Mandal and his compatriots, I would like to refer to the opinions of Mr. S.S. Gill, one who was part of the Mandal committee.

Check him out at http://www.hinduonnet.com/2003/06/24/stories/2003062400731000.htm.
So, am I stating that Reservations should be imparted considering the financial position of the individual? No, that is like igniting a fire to conceal a spark. Social stigma can to some extent be corrected by achieving a social position of economic stability. But economic backwardness is not a clear cut measurable quantity as a person’s income has the capacity to vary with time. Ups and down, rags to riches and vice versa stories are quite popular urban legends/myths/facts. The notion to award deserving students scholarships is sound but on what criterion would you adjudge the ability of a student? On a test of some sort. But is that exactly what we are so desperately trying not to do? And poor and rich are relative terms. To quote Mr. S.S. Gill’s article Billions of rupees under the Five Year Plans are spent every year for the eradication of poverty and the benefits accrue to all the poor people, including those among the `upper' castes.

Also, a new twist to the rule applied which was passed by the highest judicial body in the country states that an individual who gets in purely by merit does not qualify to be tagged under the quota. To put it simply, an OBC who gets in on pure merit will get his seat from the general category. So, for an exam like the JEE for which 3 lakh and growing students attempt, the first 2000 (the author has approximated the seats to 4000) seats are awarded on a purely meritorious basis, whereas the last 2000 seats are based on the highest OBC and SC/ST rankers whose ranks go from 2000 onwards. Intermittent gaps of 500 or 1000 rankers will not affect the Central government in any way. So what if a student with a rank of 5014 gets preference of a student who is 3000 ranks above him. So what if standards get diluted beyond normality? The Government does NOT CARE. After all, the legislation to be implemented from the next year was created and approved by the elected representatives of the people and the law was made by, of and for the people.

All Premier institutions of the country will now have a 50% reservation for OBCs and SC/STs. Even an institute like NIFT (National Institute of Fashion Technology) will have few vacant seats as reservation whether their occupants have any interest or skill or creativity. Ever state college will have this reservation enforced on it.

This is just the beginning of the Mandalisation of Education. This will spread. Next year even the private colleges will not be spared the onslaught. And added to that, no additional seats will be put up due to "shortage of funds" in all these premier institutes.

Some may think that this is undermining the intelligence of these classes and we are blasting things out of proportion. 60% of those candidates who have failed after getting into IIT due to them not being able to cope up with the level of competition are students who got in on the SC/ST quota.

This is not only unfair to the students of the general quota, but also unfair to the SC/ST students who can’t be expected to compete at such a high level as their fundamental education has been grossly neglected. The government should take sterner measures to promote basic primary, secondary and even college education among these backward classes before taking such a huge step as 50% reservation in all universities of higher education. But no, instead of taking the tough way out, the government will choose the shorter, easier way and as usual the masses are sacrificed at the altar of vote driven maniacs who crave to be in power without addressing the true issues that face the country.

It would be way more logical to create special universities only for these backward classes so that they learn at their pace and not simply to acquire a tag of qualification. BUT NO!!! That would be tantamount to castiesm. But when the government puts more than half of the total students into a university simply because they’ve got a caste certificate and they end up being tagged as a quota student, become the cause and brunt of the frustration of others and the poor souls end up with high competition they can’t cope with, having to face others’ hate and self-doubt, that is positive affirmative discrimination.

Most students end up learning about the presence of backward classes due to reservation of seats. When one sees others who are less qualified or who have got in on virtue of birth, that sows the seed of anger, animosity and outrage. This is what brings about discrimination on basis of caste. One needs hardly any reminding to look back at the caste riots that took place one and half decades ago.

If such steps like the Mandalisation of education do help, then why haven't the backward classes progressed in the last 10 years. And if they have, then why are they still bannered with the title of "Backward" and if they have progressed then why the need for reservation?.

Back to Square One. Reductio at absurdum.

But then, what do we, the students, the future of this great and powerful republican democracy do against this farce?

Scream out, slog harder to beat competition, create new political parties, take to the streets and start rioting or kill the HRD Minister a la Rang De Basanti? (That is NOT an option. Please do not pickup subtle hints of violence and make me preemptory accessory to the crime. This is not instigating arson or murder and might be treated as an attempt at humour if so desired)
This is where your eloquent, slightly dull, highly outraged and supposed upper caste author falls flat. He has no answer. Like a blind man in a dark cul-de-sac, he is clueless and is simply left with the dull, mind-numbing feeling that someone should do something about the mess.

Hence the long patronizing rant that has stretched so long. I needed to express my angst, the pent up anger against such a cold, shrewd, vote-soliciting action by the Indian Leaders.

Have you noticed that not one political leader has spoken against the reservation bill. Yes, they have denounced Arjun Singh, Manmohan Singh and spewed mud on Sonia Gandhi. But no – one has protested against the entire Reservation idea as such.

COOL IDEA : Why not have reservation for everyone?? 38% within each quota for women, 8% in each sub-quota for those who know the longest word in the dictionary (pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanokoniosis), 13% with scars in their ankle and another 3% for those with pet cats. That should make things interesting.

EVEN COOLER!!! Why not just stamp a graduate sticker on all SC/STs or all OBCs . 17 years after his birth and registration as a member of the classes, he will get a graduation certificate couriered to his house.

That should reduce competition AND gain votes of, by and for the people.

Sorry if I seem grotesquely bitter but that's what this incident has left me. I have lost faith in Indian bureaucracy. The country seems to going to the dogs. Next year, they are planning to introduce the quota into private colleges even and also into courses in super – specialty medicine.

A new disaster or event will grip the mind of the ever-fascinated media which seems to have the attention span of a sparrow's mentally deficient young one and all will soon forget about the whole thing and this author will just be one of many who go one plodding relentlessly with their lives, their short outbursts of emotion lost in the chaotic miasma of events that life is made of. He will go on to studying, saying the nation has no hope, another shattered soul who will appear for such competitive exams the next year and go on with his life….

For those who survived till the end, I will await comments, suggestions, bouquets and brickbats. Point out all the mistakes to me. You want to establish a point contrary to mine. Go ahead. Would love to hear others’ opinions.

Thank u 4 taking time out to read this, also please do petition if u feel as strongly as I do…