Showing posts with label frustration. Show all posts
Showing posts with label frustration. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 04, 2015

Crackin' Intolerance

India is such a huge nation, that to see trash opinions being doled out by the political class, amplified by the media class, and reacted to by the cattle class is terrifying. Intolerance is the latest "in" thing, and we are made to believe that the government that has in past gained huge vote banks on intolerant lines has nothing to do with encouraging these intolerant opinions, and it is not in protocol to give an open condemnation; that this tolerance of intolerant opinions is coincidental; and that we should all agree, without protest, that there is no intolerance in our society whatsoever, and call it a "jolly good day" every waking hour.

Five minutes of listening to these opinions have shut down my pyloric valve. Severe constipation might follow, a psychosomatic response to the verbal diarrhea from these protostomes that encapsulate several prejudices in a pithy dispatch - such viscerally vicious statements should be met with body's autonomous response and nothing else.

People in this country have a very limited thought space, as is, and yet others litter that space with garbage with existential abandon, and make one completely resign to not thinking at all, or giving them a cleanup job that leaves no time to think. It reflects our cultural attitude towards  garbage - there is so much of it generated that we just quit thinking about it instead of formulating wise civic policies to handle that menace. Our streets and neighbourhoods reek of it sometimes, but that is okay, we can always insulate ourselves further, and even mislead our guests about our standards of sanitation and hygiene.

The only intolerance we should show is towards time. Time, that is finite, will not wait while we sit and discuss or try to understand the nature of our politicians and our politik, - their understanding of religion, their definition of patriotism, and the ulterior motives behind foisting such retrograde constructs on a contemporary society that is trying to match shoulders with mature, diversified, and tolerant societies. Time wants to talk about progressive concepts, breakthrough research, and here we are squandering our money, and airtime on whose shit stinks more. One could derive through calculations the money circulated in the system over our daily fix of offensive garbage, and wonder how they - the common man - is never in loop of that money circulation, and if such spending could have - rather unjudiciously - simply been doled out to some community in death throes, on the verge of losing their art, their culture, their tolerant heritage, their song and their science.

Even my last hour of the daylight, on the 11,091st day of my life was irresponsibly spent in this reaction. FML. FMP.

Monday, October 08, 2012

Virgin ideas

One archaic concept still dominant in our present (Indian subcontinent) society is that of keeping one's virginity intact. Humour me here - so a girl could talk dirty, watch porn, flirt, go out, exchange saliva (and a variety of other fluids), let you annihilate their breasts, give and get blowjobs, let you finger her, even let you take her anally, and still call herself that - virgin? I know a lot through shared experience to register this rant - thanks, friends (and smaller subsets). It's just too hard for us guys to comprehend what a girl means when she claims being that. I guess is equally hard (or harder) the other way round, when a guy makes such claims.

It's quite like asking for vegetarian food, then being served a plate piled with dog meat, bull testicles, roast cockroach, and snake viscera, and then foolishly asking "you sure there's no chicken in it?" How can someone imagine us to believe in the concept of "virgin" anymore, and why are these people keen on passing this futile notion to their offspring?

Sunday, October 02, 2011

Rough cuts: Innovation and Education in India


Post-Brahma, India has had no creators. Only slaves. Production en-masse.
Watching The Social Network for the third time - second time in the same day - I couldn't help but wonder if innovation needs anthropological studies, to see how culture and the culture of innovation go hand-in-hand. D and I agreed to a common envy for Mark Zuckerburg, and also cursed our low-key college days at NIEC that now makes us feel kinda losers. But I bet that even the IIT-ans feel the same way. After all, India is a huge sweatshop: we dont invent, we replicate. (really cheap, too!) All the 'young talent' that graduates in this country, is a bunch of jerks. We don't have any Angel Investors here, because nobody wants to invest in a bunch of jerks.

Education-wise India is in a stalemate. Every education in India has a political context.
Take an example of PhDs: that the way PhDs are done is an insult to the academic process. Most people who enroll for a PhD do have their PhDs successfully finished, but it isn't because they end up learning on what they started their research on, but because they end up learning the exact science of 'successfully finishing a PhD in India'. Yes, 'Successfully finishing a PhD in India' needs inclusion as an official course in our Universities, since most will actually end up with that for majors, going through the same curriculum of:
- bending over to superiors,
- false co-authorship of papers,
- twisting outcomes,
- adjusting to external expectations,
- and basically just "doing as they're told".
We make friggin' Nobel Laureates of such people! Hah!

Saturday, October 01, 2011

balcony sleep

So many of my posts lately been including some aspect of my sleep. Well, then, this one goes no different. Its weird that the most talk-worthy moments in my urban living are when I'm just a motionless bag, an example of mere respiratory processes, of hibernation, of out-of-consciousness existence. But sleep does become a quest, at times, like yesterday when I had to manage a midnight basecamp shift to my balcony, owing to a really long power outage that not only had me restless and fringe-perspiring in the bed, but got worse when even the inverter backup turned cold after some hours.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Where are the airstrikes?

Thoughts always stray into fiction, fiction that is more like a fantasy than anything constructive or creative, fiction around the flesh. Hands sliding down the same cracks over and over again; working on the same breasts over and over; lips through the same kisses, till some stirrings make a grab for attention – more often going acknowledged.
Where’s the boy of the wonderworld, who would wander out and wonder if it’s a nice day for airstrikes – Viorar vel til loftarasa? With a displacement in musical preferences comes a displacement in personality. Though associating self - described above - with (a newfound appreciation for) The Flaming Lips would be sacrilege, it’s the missing Sigur Ros, Pink Floyd, and the power of suggestion that rattles.

Thursday, April 01, 2010

For the Sachin fans


Sachin,
Screw you for being the unambiguous cricketing genius.
Screw you for always being the safe option.
Screw you for making everybody look wise.
Screw you for dumbening down a million over-the-tea conversations.
Screw you for giving the girls easy conformity.
Screw you for leaving the aficionados with too many facts.
Screw you for lowering expectations from any of the other players.
Screw you for being unimitable.
Whom do people speak of, 20 years down the line? Still you?