Yes as I've yet again proven from my own experience, poetry doesnt need inspiration...it can be minted in authorised fertile minds, just like money, based on the need of the moment, never mind that it increases the national inflation rate from 4% to 6%..How else could we explain the way our authors write for the Saradiya issues of our magazines? The way Sunil Gangopadhyay effortlessly cooks up a Kakababu and Moti Nandi pulls a Kalabati out of his hat everytime? Yes ladies and gentlemen, this is the era of Literature on Demand.
So I decided to take a leaf out of the books of our eminent authors and misuse my freedom of speech to throw yet another intellectual equivalent of molatov cocktail at you. It so happens that I have my IMT-G GD-PI tomorrow, and among my hobbies I mentioned writing poems. Now an MBA aspirant must be prepared for whatever comes his/her way, so what if they ask me to recite to them one of my own compositions? However, this poses a big problem, because even the livid bursts of poetic inspiration I have, cannot supress my overtly verbose nature. Naturally (bad ol' habits die hard.) the resultants are long winding meandering and looping essay-ical near-epics of atleast 32 line length, going onto over 200.. Naturally Its impossible to either remember or recite them. Hence the need of the moment required a crisp 4-6 liner that could be recited in under a minute and would show atleast a minimal level of thoughfuness. So i dug into the recesses of my mind and spewed out this nano-sized concoction..
"Fortune smiling brought your way a thousand friends and one,
But whose hearth will u go seeking, once her friends are gone?
Love like a silent stream on stone,
With slow patience cuts to the heart..
But if that stream then freezes over
Even mountains fall apart..."
Excuse the rampant misuse of punctuation, my weak point. It turned out uncannily like those Urdu poems where they speak of an occurence and then generalise with an analogy. Funny because I haven't read more than 5 Urdu poems in my life..
Monday, February 25, 2008
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Chilled me on the rocks :-)
Brainfall.com where i while away quite a bit of my valuable day...has the following to say about me.... ;-)
Take Free Myers-Briggs Personality Test
What Beer Are You? | |
 | You are Corona. You are easy-going, laid-back, and...well, chilled. Life is better in the slow lane for you, but your attitude sometimes comes at the expense of ambition. |
| Find Your Character @ BrainFall.com | |
 | manaswita took the free ColorQuiz.com personality test! "Wants interesting and exciting things to happen. A..."
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| ENTP - "Inventor". Enthusiastic interest in everything and always sensitive to possibilities. Non-conformist and innovative. 3.2% of the total population. |
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Reprobate Sinner
The phrase in the English language for a hardened criminal, someone who could hold a gun in a human mouth n pull the trigger like he (and here I try not to be correct with a "she" because i believe no woman would ever willingly commit the act of killing unless there were a strong emotional motivation behind it) were shooting at a block of wood. The definition would intrinsically exclude psychopaths, because they kill for pleasure or maybe redemption, relishing the pain or the blood or whatever it is they wish to gain from the murder. So, the question of being "hardened" doesnt arise because for that you would need to have been soft about it at some point, and well I dont say psychopaths arent soft, most of them are of a more delicate temperament than you or me, except their idea of crime or sin is different..I won't say warped because we are nobody to decide what is straight. (Logic in itself is never straight, though we often claim it to be so, because it essentially thrives on external influences, some prior knowledge and more than one preexisting fact. One sided logic based on a single fact cannot exist. Because then that wouldnt be a conclusion, it would just be a reiiteration of the initial fact. We need atleast one more fact in addition to the first to corroborate our conclusion, which makes it atleast a "Y" with the facts at the two prongs and the inference at the stem.).
But again I digress..The reason I began this post is because of the deep sense of guilt I just felt prevaricating to my boss in order to stay home and prepare for my upcoming GD-PIs.Yes I know there are malingerers who hve made an art of it, and I dont claim to be anymore morally upright than they are. Why I frequently lie to my parents shamelessly about where I am, which bus route I am taking home, where I am staying the night, or even which friend is staying in a hostel when in fact she is living in with her boyfriend. But all that is harmless, for a good cause (or so I believe; My parents, doubtless, would beg to differ.). No it wasnt the fact that I made my non-existant relatives die in a bloody car accident and orphaned their only nonexistant infant. That brutal murder too I couldve committed without batting an eyelash, but it was the overall feeling of betrayal. I wonder how Judas Iscariot felt just before he kissed the hand of Jesus knowing full well the consequences of that action. Did his heart not stop beating for an instant? Did he not wonder, what if I don't? Yes I will probably get killed instead, for failing to do what I promised, But atleast i wont have broken the fine thread of trust. There is glory in such a death, isnt there? Just knowing that I intend to leave this job to move on to greener pastures..and knowing that bunking is essential because I HAVE to move on..because I cannot spend my whole life doing something I not only do not enjoy, but which makes me miserable and depressed and cranky as a person. If I dont betray my boss I shall betray myself. But to "topi pehnao" him in such a manner, when by my regular working habits I have earned a reputation of trustworthiness, to just vanish into the dust when the ofice is in such a state of crisis and under such pressure from such heartless clients, when every helping hand counts...But no as the bengali saying goes "Charaibati charaibati"...move on, move on....I have to stop brooding and atleast complete the task I set out to do, the reason for this breach of trust in the first place, without which it will be meaningless....So, here's signing off..
But again I digress..The reason I began this post is because of the deep sense of guilt I just felt prevaricating to my boss in order to stay home and prepare for my upcoming GD-PIs.Yes I know there are malingerers who hve made an art of it, and I dont claim to be anymore morally upright than they are. Why I frequently lie to my parents shamelessly about where I am, which bus route I am taking home, where I am staying the night, or even which friend is staying in a hostel when in fact she is living in with her boyfriend. But all that is harmless, for a good cause (or so I believe; My parents, doubtless, would beg to differ.). No it wasnt the fact that I made my non-existant relatives die in a bloody car accident and orphaned their only nonexistant infant. That brutal murder too I couldve committed without batting an eyelash, but it was the overall feeling of betrayal. I wonder how Judas Iscariot felt just before he kissed the hand of Jesus knowing full well the consequences of that action. Did his heart not stop beating for an instant? Did he not wonder, what if I don't? Yes I will probably get killed instead, for failing to do what I promised, But atleast i wont have broken the fine thread of trust. There is glory in such a death, isnt there? Just knowing that I intend to leave this job to move on to greener pastures..and knowing that bunking is essential because I HAVE to move on..because I cannot spend my whole life doing something I not only do not enjoy, but which makes me miserable and depressed and cranky as a person. If I dont betray my boss I shall betray myself. But to "topi pehnao" him in such a manner, when by my regular working habits I have earned a reputation of trustworthiness, to just vanish into the dust when the ofice is in such a state of crisis and under such pressure from such heartless clients, when every helping hand counts...But no as the bengali saying goes "Charaibati charaibati"...move on, move on....I have to stop brooding and atleast complete the task I set out to do, the reason for this breach of trust in the first place, without which it will be meaningless....So, here's signing off..
Heaven n hell...
HEAVEN AND HELL....A picture I hacked off someones orkut album (back in the glorious days when spying was non taxable..and poking your nose into others lives could be done uninterrupted in the secrecy of your bedroom and without a nagging sense of guilt)...
King of all backhanded compliments in my opinion....not that i mind a good old grease oozing english breakfast myself with crisply done bacon and a pair of fried eggs, sunny side up...with fried sausages and roasted tomato, baked beans and mushrooms....(and if that made you hungry..heres something to "egg" you on..the classical English breakfast...never mind the avian viruses lurking in all that yummy yolk..)
As for German police...hmm..."Heil Hitler" anyone??
..and well Italians arent all that bad at organising are they? If youve seen Don Michael Corleone organising very efficient murders to avenge his fathers passage from the underworld to the otherworld.
But to come back to the point...it reminded me of that story about George Bernard Shaw (...my ultimate favorite author..with competition only from Oscar Wilde. And Upamanyu Chatterjee, though he is in a different category altogether.) where this beautiful (and I bet.. blonde) woman offered him her heart n her hearth in the hope that they could create something with her face and his brains. He promptly turned her down in the smartest refusal in history, with, "Yes of course, but consider if such a child had my looks and your brains?"! Ahh yes.. my Hero.. :-p
Peer pressure....old wine in old bottle....NO OFFENCE
Yes yes.. i see you raising that bore-annoyed eyebrow...with "not aNNother one" crossing your mind as you browse through your (n+1)th blog article of the day and read this completely overdone to the point of burnt topic on my blog. And i completely empathise (sympathise is no longer politically correct..what with its possible extrapolation by a short stretch of imagination into something akin to pity, which oh my God, we with our helium pumped egos can no longer accept as a possibilty about ourselves..) because yes, this reeks of the century before the last, which for wine maybe a great thing, but doesnt make this hash any more palatable.
And although I generally like to view myself as a class or two apart ( as Oscar Wilde first said--- "Everyone is unique"...which of course was the seed that germinated into yet another another spate of cliches) from the majority of the rat pack scurrying on the surface of this planet, i can't believe I'm falling into the same trap as everyone else...Who thought i would one day have to go to the limit of having to blog just to keep up the coolness quotient...I mean wasn't it once the stereo type of the geek who spent 25 hours out of 24 sitting bespectacled n openmouthed before his 14" LCD..living the RPGs where he got to zoom around in the Mc Laren F1s that his famously slow reflexes prevented him from doing in real life?..and dreaming about replacing that slicked-back hair mafia-henchman lookalike latino nailing that golden haired green eyed vixen into raptures of very vocal/noisy ecstasy? Werent it the depressed beer swilling and chocolate devouring bridget jones type single-and-likely-to-remain-so-becoz-of-obvious-reasons nonentities with staunchly feminist and GLBT supportive views who assumed fake identities just to get accepted by someone somewhere in the world, and who poured out their heart onto cyberspace in the hope that someone would actually LISTEN..(..errm..read)...?
Just because it is the IN thing??...because every sita gita n rita is doing it, not to mention nikita?...Its what they all discuss these days at the kitty parties over the mojitos n in the boardrooms over the amber colored "bottled mineral water"s...every rich punjab da kuttar..err..puttar worth his hot young blood and raging hormones is shooting his load (pun not intended, or is it?) of escapades with that argentinian babe on the dance floor, and thereafter, onto the land of opportinities (thats how I view the web, by the way...the US of A is so passe...something i hope to elaborate on later, much to your chagrin, i believe..) from his very own palmtop organiser....and rumour has it that MBA college interview panels are also going easy on the believers of "the blog is mightier than the sword"....naturally i cant be too far behind...after all bengalis pride themselves on leading every revolution which smells even remotely of intellect...ever since this one enlightened young bong chap RamboHun fell for one woman whose poor ol' husband had left his earthly abode but couldnt leave his earthly lust for his nubile young wife...so wifey deary had to follow him into his funeral pyre leaving earthly lover rambo behind...rama, rama, kya hai drama...Now as we all know, saala love ke liye kuchh bhi karega....so our hero broke every rule in the book of law, hurt popular sentiment and manipulated the British (who relished breaking anything indian...from backbones to customs) to abolish sati and allow widow re-marriage...so as the story goes, Rambo got his girl, got married and lived happily ever after, leaving the reform happy bengalis to sing hymns to his praise...(my, what a dissatisfied lot we must be if the very thought of change turns us on....Dont get me wrong..I'm bengali and I'm all for change...after all how else would I control my infinitesimally tiny attention span?)...
So here it is, my foray into blogging...and here's to the clogging of all the unfortunate minds who had to ruminate on this fodder...may you have many more such food poisoning sessions...
...CHEERS!!!! (clink)
And although I generally like to view myself as a class or two apart ( as Oscar Wilde first said--- "Everyone is unique"...which of course was the seed that germinated into yet another another spate of cliches) from the majority of the rat pack scurrying on the surface of this planet, i can't believe I'm falling into the same trap as everyone else...Who thought i would one day have to go to the limit of having to blog just to keep up the coolness quotient...I mean wasn't it once the stereo type of the geek who spent 25 hours out of 24 sitting bespectacled n openmouthed before his 14" LCD..living the RPGs where he got to zoom around in the Mc Laren F1s that his famously slow reflexes prevented him from doing in real life?..and dreaming about replacing that slicked-back hair mafia-henchman lookalike latino nailing that golden haired green eyed vixen into raptures of very vocal/noisy ecstasy? Werent it the depressed beer swilling and chocolate devouring bridget jones type single-and-likely-to-remain-so-becoz-of-obvious-reasons nonentities with staunchly feminist and GLBT supportive views who assumed fake identities just to get accepted by someone somewhere in the world, and who poured out their heart onto cyberspace in the hope that someone would actually LISTEN..(..errm..read)...?
Just because it is the IN thing??...because every sita gita n rita is doing it, not to mention nikita?...Its what they all discuss these days at the kitty parties over the mojitos n in the boardrooms over the amber colored "bottled mineral water"s...every rich punjab da kuttar..err..puttar worth his hot young blood and raging hormones is shooting his load (pun not intended, or is it?) of escapades with that argentinian babe on the dance floor, and thereafter, onto the land of opportinities (thats how I view the web, by the way...the US of A is so passe...something i hope to elaborate on later, much to your chagrin, i believe..) from his very own palmtop organiser....and rumour has it that MBA college interview panels are also going easy on the believers of "the blog is mightier than the sword"....naturally i cant be too far behind...after all bengalis pride themselves on leading every revolution which smells even remotely of intellect...ever since this one enlightened young bong chap RamboHun fell for one woman whose poor ol' husband had left his earthly abode but couldnt leave his earthly lust for his nubile young wife...so wifey deary had to follow him into his funeral pyre leaving earthly lover rambo behind...rama, rama, kya hai drama...Now as we all know, saala love ke liye kuchh bhi karega....so our hero broke every rule in the book of law, hurt popular sentiment and manipulated the British (who relished breaking anything indian...from backbones to customs) to abolish sati and allow widow re-marriage...so as the story goes, Rambo got his girl, got married and lived happily ever after, leaving the reform happy bengalis to sing hymns to his praise...(my, what a dissatisfied lot we must be if the very thought of change turns us on....Dont get me wrong..I'm bengali and I'm all for change...after all how else would I control my infinitesimally tiny attention span?)...
So here it is, my foray into blogging...and here's to the clogging of all the unfortunate minds who had to ruminate on this fodder...may you have many more such food poisoning sessions...
...CHEERS!!!! (clink)
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