I was sitting in the balcony of my house letting my mind drift away in no particular direction. I just kept thinking.
The other day, I'd just finished the weekly room-cleaning routine when my close friend Rohan came over. He looked extremely happy and excited. He gave a cursory look over my room and deemed it spotless. I smiled. I mean. All that effort put in had to pay off. Nobody could deny that. Then he said "I have some awesome news dude and you're the was the first person I'm telling it to." I was curious. Naturally. So I asked, "What is it?" He replied "I got the job man! They are paying me 7 lakhs! " It was the job he'd always wanted. The Citibank dream-job. I thought of what to tell him. I mean. I've got to tell him something. I am expected to feel overjoyed. I don't know. Perhaps he'd want me to jump with joy or hug him or something. But there I was, feeling nothing. Absolutely nothing. I smiled, shrugged and let out a little laugh. That was how I reacted when I didn't know how to react to something. With that I did what I was expected to do. I congratulated him, did the usual pat on the shoulder and hug routine, and put on the cloak. The cloak of happiness. In the hyper-excited state that he was in, I hoped he didn't notice all this. He went on and gave me all the details about his job and all and I was just laughing sheepishly and nodding now and then. Then he left.
I kept thinking about what had happened and I remembered something else. An incident that had happened a couple of years back.
I was in my room watching TV and I heard someone come into my room. It was my friend Amit. He walked in slowly, his head tilted low and it was as if it was a great effort for him to even walk. He looked like somebody had died. Really. I said, " Hey what's up man? Why do you look like somebody died?" and laughed. And he just burst into tears. I was baffled. I mean. What the hell did I do? He said "My sister. She was killed in an accident an hour back." Oh my! That just threw me totally off guard. I had to feel something atleast now. I must probably feel guilty about saying what I had. I was trying so hard to feel something. But then I just ended up shrugging and I almost let out that little laugh. Would you believe it! I was about to laugh after hearing that my friend's sister had just died. Immediately, I tried to bring a sympathetic or emphatetic or whatever expression on my face and consoled him saying " I'm sorry. Really. It must be really hard on you. I hope your parents are ok." I mean. I didn't really know what I should be saying. Then I hugged him and asked him to be strong and something and he left. I still didn't feel anything. I went back to watching TV. I was supposed to be sad and solemn and all. It was weird.
Then I remembered many more such occasions.
Like the other day when my friend came rushing into my room to show some nice piece he'd written. I read it and just smiled and laughed and gave him a few words of appreciation. Oh well. It must have been something like 'Nice piece dude' or ' Hey good. Keep writing' or maybe ' Oh cool! When did you write it?... Oh I see' or something. I'm sure he felt a little disappointed.
Take this for another instance. I had come back to college after a month long vacation and met all my friends. They were so happy they jumped and hugged each other and I could see the genuine happiness. I was smiling, the vague smile which I put on to show that I was also happy, as I was being hugged by everyone.
On an other day my sister was in tears after failing to get through and exam she had prepared for almost two years. I was just standing there not knowing what to feel or make of it, smiling vaguely. God knows why I was smiling at such a moment. But that was exactly what I was doing.
Even on the day my girlfriend broke up with me, all I could manage was the vague smile and laugh. I still remember her saying that I was always like that and that I'd never really loved her. It was like I was just watching myself stand like a rock in front of my girl who was going through an emotional roller-coaster.
I asked myself what sort of a guy I was. I mean, really. I'm sure one could discover more emotions on a stone than on my face. Had I lost the ability to feel or something?! Why was I like this? Am I some vague floating entity in this world where people are alive and feel stuff?! It was like I just didn't have those parts of my brain in place. The parts that make one feel stuff. I should feel bad about not being able to feel! Surely.
I just shrugged and laughed.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Sunday, June 04, 2006
A matter of expression
Every living being on the earth has some means or the other to express itself. As humans we have various ways of expressing ourselves. Being a human myself, let me focus on humans.
A person can share his feelings with others through various modes. For example, speaking, making physical gestures, making eye contact, writing, playing and/or composing music, dancing, the list is endless. Heck, one may communicate his feelings by just being with someone doing nothing at all.
But then, why is it that not everyone can effectively express themselves in all these ways? Some people dance well, some people draw and paint well, some are excellent at music, others at speaking or writing. Is it something that is intrinsic or is it something that the person acquires because of his environment? That is to say, are things like the way he was brought up, the friends he has and everyone he meets and interacts with, where he lived, incidents that happened in his life,etc completely responsible for his being good at a particular mode of expression? Honestly speaking, I am not sure as to what it is.
Yet, I think we're all born as equals and that the deciding factor is the surroundings. Some people criticize this point of view by saying that it can never be verified; because one cannot provide the same environment to two people at the same time. I'd still go with this school of thought because I don't really like the idea of our lives being determined completely by some sort of arrangement of chemicals. I wouldn't like to believe that we're destined at birth to be good at some things and not good at other activities. The destiny theory just gets to me. Big time. There just has to be something else to it.
I recently wrote a post in my blog because I just felt like writing something. One of my close friends read it and told me writing is just not my way of expression. She told me I was impenetrable through the post and that it was extremely formal. Bluntly speaking, it meant that I hadn't written well. I wonder if I'll ever be able to write "well". But again, I wrote it. And I am one who is of the opinion that any activity that a person does can be traced back to the person's state of mind given that one knows certain basic principles of psychology, which I believe apply to almost everyone on this planet. It is something that set me thinking about all this.
Can one can reach any level of ability at a chosen activity by sheer hard-work and determination? Or does one need to "have it in him" to be good at it? I'd choose to think that one can possibly attain a good degree of ability at a given activity, provided one devotes enough time and energy to it. I may be wrong but what's the harm in giving it a go? Here, people tell me that I'll probably end up being mediocre at it and that there is no point in putting in so much effort. But in my opinion, this point of view may lead to disastrous consequences. One may not pursue an activity that one likes simply because of the apprehension that shrouds him as to whether he'll be good at it or not. And there are the matters of interest and want as well.
Heck, if one likes to do something I believe there is absolutely no harm in going ahead with it, even if he's not great at it. Does everyone who writes have to be a Maugham or a Shakespeare or something! Does everyone who plays football have to be a Pele or a Maradona! I believe one should strive to get better at what he likes to do or what he does because it is the only way ahead as I see it. If one is happy doing something, however bad he may be at it, he should go ahead with it keeping in mind that there is always time for improvement. As George Bernard Shaw would like to put it, A life spent making mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing. I sincerely believe in the fact that no one is born a genius.
I don't know if I've conveyed the exact idea that bugs me but I think I've given a decent idea of what it is.
A person can share his feelings with others through various modes. For example, speaking, making physical gestures, making eye contact, writing, playing and/or composing music, dancing, the list is endless. Heck, one may communicate his feelings by just being with someone doing nothing at all.
But then, why is it that not everyone can effectively express themselves in all these ways? Some people dance well, some people draw and paint well, some are excellent at music, others at speaking or writing. Is it something that is intrinsic or is it something that the person acquires because of his environment? That is to say, are things like the way he was brought up, the friends he has and everyone he meets and interacts with, where he lived, incidents that happened in his life,etc completely responsible for his being good at a particular mode of expression? Honestly speaking, I am not sure as to what it is.
Yet, I think we're all born as equals and that the deciding factor is the surroundings. Some people criticize this point of view by saying that it can never be verified; because one cannot provide the same environment to two people at the same time. I'd still go with this school of thought because I don't really like the idea of our lives being determined completely by some sort of arrangement of chemicals. I wouldn't like to believe that we're destined at birth to be good at some things and not good at other activities. The destiny theory just gets to me. Big time. There just has to be something else to it.
I recently wrote a post in my blog because I just felt like writing something. One of my close friends read it and told me writing is just not my way of expression. She told me I was impenetrable through the post and that it was extremely formal. Bluntly speaking, it meant that I hadn't written well. I wonder if I'll ever be able to write "well". But again, I wrote it. And I am one who is of the opinion that any activity that a person does can be traced back to the person's state of mind given that one knows certain basic principles of psychology, which I believe apply to almost everyone on this planet. It is something that set me thinking about all this.
Can one can reach any level of ability at a chosen activity by sheer hard-work and determination? Or does one need to "have it in him" to be good at it? I'd choose to think that one can possibly attain a good degree of ability at a given activity, provided one devotes enough time and energy to it. I may be wrong but what's the harm in giving it a go? Here, people tell me that I'll probably end up being mediocre at it and that there is no point in putting in so much effort. But in my opinion, this point of view may lead to disastrous consequences. One may not pursue an activity that one likes simply because of the apprehension that shrouds him as to whether he'll be good at it or not. And there are the matters of interest and want as well.
Heck, if one likes to do something I believe there is absolutely no harm in going ahead with it, even if he's not great at it. Does everyone who writes have to be a Maugham or a Shakespeare or something! Does everyone who plays football have to be a Pele or a Maradona! I believe one should strive to get better at what he likes to do or what he does because it is the only way ahead as I see it. If one is happy doing something, however bad he may be at it, he should go ahead with it keeping in mind that there is always time for improvement. As George Bernard Shaw would like to put it, A life spent making mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing. I sincerely believe in the fact that no one is born a genius.
I don't know if I've conveyed the exact idea that bugs me but I think I've given a decent idea of what it is.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Ah! The pleasure of groundnuts!
I was walking down the sidewalk of the road, on my way back after a tiring day at work, carrying my office bag on my shoulders. The weather was positively amazing and I could feel the gentle, cool breeze caressing me.
As I continued sauntering along, the air began to get humid, the dark nimbus clouds invaded the clear sky and I could just about see the faint glow of the sun behind them. Perhaps it was going to rain.
As I made my way through a lot of people, who were hurrying with, I thought, intentions of escaping the rain lest they should get wet, I noticed the evening traffic whizz past me on the road. Then, I could sense in the air the unmistakable aroma of fried groundnuts. This seemed to rejuvenate my spirits for I truly loved groundnuts. I kept wondering if I was just imagining things until I came across the stall from which that gentle fragrance emanated. And I was right. The vendor was selling groundnuts, indeed.
I asked him for a packet of nuts, with a pinch of salt in it, and paid him two rupees. I watched as the vendor deftly made a cone out of one of the newspaper bits he had and filled it with groundnuts. Boy, Did I feel refreshed!
I continued strolling back towards home, packet in hand, eating groundnuts one by one. There was a light drizzle and the air was filled with the faint fragrance of moist mud. Two rupees well spent, I was a happy man.
As I continued sauntering along, the air began to get humid, the dark nimbus clouds invaded the clear sky and I could just about see the faint glow of the sun behind them. Perhaps it was going to rain.
As I made my way through a lot of people, who were hurrying with, I thought, intentions of escaping the rain lest they should get wet, I noticed the evening traffic whizz past me on the road. Then, I could sense in the air the unmistakable aroma of fried groundnuts. This seemed to rejuvenate my spirits for I truly loved groundnuts. I kept wondering if I was just imagining things until I came across the stall from which that gentle fragrance emanated. And I was right. The vendor was selling groundnuts, indeed.
I asked him for a packet of nuts, with a pinch of salt in it, and paid him two rupees. I watched as the vendor deftly made a cone out of one of the newspaper bits he had and filled it with groundnuts. Boy, Did I feel refreshed!
I continued strolling back towards home, packet in hand, eating groundnuts one by one. There was a light drizzle and the air was filled with the faint fragrance of moist mud. Two rupees well spent, I was a happy man.
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Some places never change
After going through a particularly nightmarish semester in college it was time for the holidays. Phew! I desperately wanted that break. But then a month into the holidays I started feeling that the time at the college was better off . I was feeling absolutely wasted because I couldnt do anything that I had planned for the holidays. The boredom was killing me slowly.
On a particularly boring day I went to have a coffee with my uncle. As we walked around the streets of the city I suddenly felt something was odd. I kept wondering as we sauntered along on the street. Then it struck me. What was strange was that the place had not changed much at all in the ten years I was away. Everything looked exactly the same as it did years back. It was almost as if I could point to a pothole on the road and say it was there all along. Apart from a huge departmental store that had come up absolutely nothing had changed. The same old houses and the same old people.
As if to reinforce this very fact I noticed one of my grandfather's friends riding the same vehicle that I had seen him ride as a child. The TVS 50 moped - it was just unmistakable and surprisingly the person looked like he had stopped getting old a decade ago. The familiar strands of grey hair on his temples still exactly the same. And the yellow cloth bag that he always used to carry along was still there.
Then we came across this tender coconut shop I vaguely remembered. But then when I saw the vendor it all came back so clearly. God!The guy was still selling coconuts and he looked same too.The same old makeshift hut made out of coconut tree leaves. The same old lump of fresh coconuts on one side and the junk on the other side with houseflies all over it. And we moved along. I could see so many familiar faces and almost every building on the sides of the road was there then, too. I started feeling weird.
Then we reached one of the popular restaurants in the city. We were greeted by the manager of the place. Guess what, he was there a decade back as well. We sat down at the usual table for a coffee. I wondered why the place hadn't changed at all. Had the people not aged? Had time frozen in this part of the world? My lips parted into one of those smiles people give when they feel as if they know everything about the place they are in.
Some places always remain the same. And thats one of the reasons it feels so comfortable to be there. With the same old resourceful friends all over the place and all the relatives it sure is a place where one can live a peaceful life.
It was then that my uncle almost shook me to say it was time for us to return. Damn! Back to the monotonous schedule.Back to the boring holidays. Back to waiting for the college to reopen.
On a particularly boring day I went to have a coffee with my uncle. As we walked around the streets of the city I suddenly felt something was odd. I kept wondering as we sauntered along on the street. Then it struck me. What was strange was that the place had not changed much at all in the ten years I was away. Everything looked exactly the same as it did years back. It was almost as if I could point to a pothole on the road and say it was there all along. Apart from a huge departmental store that had come up absolutely nothing had changed. The same old houses and the same old people.
As if to reinforce this very fact I noticed one of my grandfather's friends riding the same vehicle that I had seen him ride as a child. The TVS 50 moped - it was just unmistakable and surprisingly the person looked like he had stopped getting old a decade ago. The familiar strands of grey hair on his temples still exactly the same. And the yellow cloth bag that he always used to carry along was still there.
Then we came across this tender coconut shop I vaguely remembered. But then when I saw the vendor it all came back so clearly. God!The guy was still selling coconuts and he looked same too.The same old makeshift hut made out of coconut tree leaves. The same old lump of fresh coconuts on one side and the junk on the other side with houseflies all over it. And we moved along. I could see so many familiar faces and almost every building on the sides of the road was there then, too. I started feeling weird.
Then we reached one of the popular restaurants in the city. We were greeted by the manager of the place. Guess what, he was there a decade back as well. We sat down at the usual table for a coffee. I wondered why the place hadn't changed at all. Had the people not aged? Had time frozen in this part of the world? My lips parted into one of those smiles people give when they feel as if they know everything about the place they are in.
Some places always remain the same. And thats one of the reasons it feels so comfortable to be there. With the same old resourceful friends all over the place and all the relatives it sure is a place where one can live a peaceful life.
It was then that my uncle almost shook me to say it was time for us to return. Damn! Back to the monotonous schedule.Back to the boring holidays. Back to waiting for the college to reopen.
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