Thoughni m technologically challenged, i have gathered the courage to experiment with the template.

too tired to write anything

Life can be so comfiting, never tought in these troubled times. Mom n dad came over to Ranchi for celebrating the new year with me.
All the cloistered comforts of a HOME revisited me today. Breakfast, lunch, all served with grand traces of Victorain morality. Enjoyed the day. I thoroughly enjoyed the company of Mummy n daddy. As I pen down my elations, I m also forced to think of a past when I wanted to be as free as a bird. As a student, I spent Sundays confined to the order and discipline of home, felt incarcerated. Wanted to break free, wanted to free myself from the ghostly orderd life, always considered myself to be another rastafarian in making. But now when I m free n on my own, I want to relive those moments of incarceration, want to be intrexicably intertwined to the order and disscipline of life, which i always hated as a youth,,,
will resume later

The Lord was born today some hundred years ago. So, it was celebration time for his blind followers. I say 'blind' because even an iota of reason can shake off ones faith. When reason comes in direct conflict with questions of faith, the present circumsatnces would let us believe that the later will undoubatably overpower the former. So, we are actually, in a world riven with hatred, celebrating an illusion created by religion.
But, in the contemporary times, when the word 'trust' has been relegated into oblivion, where do human beings repose faith in? Is there any institution or person left to rely on? Religion, it seems, is the only sacred space. But when does one turn to religion? In times of distress or when he/she is extremely elated? Or religion has some unexplained metaphysical dimension? What is it that draws all and sundry to religion? Any answers!
Enough of philosophical diarrhoea! So, i would like to shift back to mundane conversation.
So, finally it took off! Still in a limbo! hah...
Today I called up Ranjan after a long time to wish him merry Christmas. Felt nice after talking to that forgetful but generuous bugger.
Enough 'food' for thought for the day.

Posted on 12/19/2003
People are discussing here the eternal sin of not taking bath regularly. I contest. Well only GOD knows how difficult and spine-chiling experience it is to take bath in winters. Whether Adam and Eve bathed in the Garden of Eden remains yet another religious obfuscation as it is no where mentioned in the Bible. Well, I think no one bathed before the great Deluge. And then they latched on to Noah's ark to evade water's fury. So, the logic is simple...even GOD made that invincible ark to protect human beings from water. I think some religious scholar might take up this 'humane' aspect for research.
Ah enough of tomfoolery! Well the day passed on as usual. The kitchen was in a mess, so had to clear it up. Picked up reading after a long gap. My story is still on a hold over. Well it shouldn't bother people who have miles to go before they sleep...
The situation in office is a little tense these days...professionalism is being forced on a people used to the affronts of Babudom. New postures, new guidelines but same old story, the quality leaves a lot to be desired. But I have no grudges.
I try not wail discordantly but as a journalist it comes to me naturally,,,,I crib for the sake of cribbing,,,
Will wail tomorrow also
enjoy my uncelebrated writing (i guess even the Rushdies would also have sleepless nights after my write-up!)

Wow never thought that our team could do so well Down Under. The wall stood tall. "Dravid slays Goliath," read the headline of an Australian newspaper.
And what a day it was. The wall of ego also crumbled.
I dont know but creativity is choking today. To rephrase the truth,"My emotions are sounding like the mechanical clicks of the keyboard." Emotional reality is surrendering to the technology. Expressions of my heart are lost somewhere in the microchips of the comp. And without expression and feeling, one cant write. So, i have again found an escape route not to write? I betray myself.
But I sometimes feel that the most intense and creative writing is borne out of madness and tragedy. Or as some say by the intoxicating magic that Bacchus weaves. So, today, I m neither mad nor tragic. And Bacchus, the God would do well to stay back in Greece.
"Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, but on the viewless wings of Poesy" I will fly to thee...where the soul lies in mirth and elation.
But writing seems to be a highly classical and pedantic task. A prose sans romantic poetry is sterile. Though I m romantically overcharged today, my writing lacks intensity.
The pastoral in me dominates today, still it seems that the muse has turned hostile to me. Why cant she lend her magic to me? Where is the rhythm? Oh muse I pray to evoke u from ur slumber! Bless me so that I can write. Hah Muse doesnt rise and I wind,,,

It just takes seconds to lose your sang froid and everything built over ages goes to the grind.
One moment of anger takes away years of happiness. It's like a nuclear holocaust that leads to unassumed catastrophes. The marvels of humanity are reduced to ashes. The art, science and the noble faculty that a man is all become a thing of the past, never to be born again. And the new breed also undergoes severe trauma.
Over the years, my resentment has grown, as I have not been able to fulfill my own expectations. One's frustration is reflected in his severly distorted personality. Especially when one is trying to overcome his limitations. But I commited the grave mistake of losing my temperament, not expected of a man. But that was an "unintended consequence".
But when I look back at past few years, the timelessness of time grips me. It soothes my raging soul. I again tread back to the more humane way. I feel myself elevated to a higher position in the chain of beings.
Anger vanishes, love floursihes.

I have learnt the art of deriving pleasure out of pain.
So, the final answers? A damned soul, a man indeed, a revenge seeker, a retatliator and what not.
Anyways, the winter is too chilling for the ice to break .
When does one retaliate? When he/she is pushed to the wall. Retaliation is very human. It does not reflect manhood or womanhood. Threats, premonition....Oh I m doomed to misfortune, the pitfalls of sordid reality. I m not the last one to break the ice, not even me,,afterall I m a MAN, with capital M.
I m least bothered as I m already dying under the weight of allegations and recriminations.
I have never stopped people from being themselves and today also I would not compell them to refrain their wishes. New blog, not a bad idea to completely kick the damned souls out of life. But I have no grudge because I have my own way and one adapts to circumstances. What do you do when you are a victim of circumstances? You learn to live not for yourself but for others.
Neglect is one attribute of life that I have learnt to live with. What happens when one falls short of expectations? It leads to frustration. A frustarted soul withdraws into a shell trying to neglect the society as a whole including the near and dear ones.
Will resume my wailing tomorrow,,,

Cul-de-sac, that's where life seems to have come to a screeching halt. The deluge of passion has suddenly dried up.
There is something great about insularity, it allows one to be true to himself.
Parsimonius, thats what I was meant to be, I thought in my seclusion? Is this the guiding principle of life?
Bridges connect pieces of land. But if human relations start clamouring for bridges, they are doomed. Bridges are artificial, they connect, they dont bond.
Human bondage dont need bridges.

"Ignorance is strength"...one of the three famous phrases coined by George Orwell. Do I get carried over by this Orwelian double-speak? Can I always hide the acrimonious realities under the garb of irony and sarcasm?
Innocence has given way to knowledge, knowledge of the surreal, that sometimes passes into the kafkasque realms of nightmare ready to cave me in. I never had felt so depressingly low.
Today was yet another hectic day in the life of this dignified clerk. With zero intellectual activity, the output being below the standards, life can be very boring. Yet the only saving grace for the day was a timely call from HOME. Felt elated to talk to mom n dad. They have promised to come to Ranchi by the end of December. But the zeal has evaporated into thin air. Everything seems to be derailed and there is no hope of getting onto the right track.
When the life gets derailed, there is an urgent need to pull up the chains,,,,desperate situations demand desperate measures,,,,huh,oft repeated,,,
Confusion grows with age. I think that misunderstanding also increases with better understanding. It's a different matter that people chose to ignore or they compromise because they have to make a choice between "which is more correct". But I never had such confusions because I think that I understand people, all n sundry. No, it's a grave mistake to pontificate that misunderstanding grows with better understanding. Rather it increases with a greater sense of over possession and love.
Will resume tomorrow, hopefully not with cribbing,,

Is DEATH the final answer to all ills plaguing the SELF?
I run out of patience, my greatness betrays me. May be some day, out of frustration, my SELF would turn treacherous. And when one is not himSELF, life can be at the mercy of DEATH.
How often I have been buried under the debris of crumbled high rise mansions of expectations that were only erected to satiate the voracious dreams? But I never said die. I always reminded myself of that famous phrase: And miles to go before I sleep...I have not slept but I m trodding a wasteland, a moor that is crowded with centaurs ready to devour my dreams.
It seems that I have lost the battle and now I m on the way to losing the war. Seems that the final blow has been dealt to my dreams. I no longer dream, I survive the vagaries of time.
Today I was reading Love in the time of Cholera and the delightful reading, typical of magic realism, made me more pensive. Particularly those moments when Dr Juvenal Urbino dies. Few lines
"...and he looked at her for the last and final time with eyes more luminous, more grief stricken, more grateful than she had ever seen them in half a century of a shared life, and managed to say to her with his last breath: "Only God knows how much I loved you." "
Made an interesting reading. Couldn't help thinkin about future, old age, misconceptions, misunderstandings, love, elations, family... People say that there is an enjoyment in reading tragedy. I felt it. What happens when one starts drawing vicarious pleasure in tragedy? For the first time in life, I felt literature.
I dont understand the various manifestations of sex appeal. I m too naive to do that. I m too much pre occupied with hard realities that certain things escape my notice, I deliberately try to do it or it happens. Only GOD knows.
I think I can not compliment genius, I never was. And it's my own drawback that I have been unsuccessful in letting expressions come through.
So, the final word : I m a failure on all the fronts. Wings of dream Pegasus have been clipped, I can no longer fly.
a loser

The real and the surreal astonish me. I try to seek refuge in a makebelif world to evade the stark realities of life. But the dream castle seems to lie beneath the debris of realities, which have turned the tables on me. I m dead crying for help. Realities do stare right in my face. I m the example of what not to be. I aspired for something else but I have ended up being a run of the mill, ordinary journalist. I will never be happy n wont be able to keep others happy because I will always be frustrated with myself. Life is a cauldron ready to drwon me, my heart, my ambitions sink. I can not see my hope keeping afloat. I tried to wade through the trubulent waves but I m now in troubled waters. I m dead n gONE.
But I will come back with vengeance to reach the zenith. Time is not on my side, I will wait for it.

An intellectual mishap it was,,,,Oh i m cursing the day i joined journalism,,,,today i ended up making three pages,,,my ass is paining n i dont know on whom i should vent my ire,,,,so i decided to virtually let it out on the net. P****** is right when she says that it is a thankless profession, a profession dominated by crooks n cheats, psycophants,,,,my experience has been horrible,,,,People do master the art of euology in journalism,,,,But i cannot be a panegyrist, it's really difficult for me to sing peans to my seniors unless they really deserve,,,,But for how long can i survive ? The sooner i leave it, the better it is.
Has the fire inside me been extinguished by false sense of achievement? Can I define achievement? How can an aim be transformed into achievement? Well these are difficult questions for which answers can be found through conventional wisdom. Well I m still longing for it.
By the way, the days I have missed out on blogging are glaring examples of the seventh sin of sloth,,,,hah!

Elections-jubiliations for some, depression for others. How inextricably our lives are intertwined to the outcomes of this democratic farce? Perhaps this election was not one of the chicaneries as the anti-incumbency factor played in. The worms are out of the can. The BJP says that the BSP factor has helped them to unseat the Congress in MP, Rajasthan and Chhattissgarh. The experinece in southern states has outlined that changeover of governments leads to prosperity of the region. But it can not be generalised.
Will resume tomorrow as the ideas are getting strewn all over the place.

The seventh sin of sloth is smothering my potential. But it's very difficult to overcome this obnoxious trait. The events of the last few days was weighing heavy upon my mind but now my mind is gradually shedding off the extra burden. I m trying to get back to my usual ways.
will resume later in the day,,

Done to death,,,That's the attitude one needs to wear on his sleeves in this pusillanimous society,,Cowards n thus compromosing,,,that's how i wud describe my brethren,,,,We dont have a sense of history because we never wanted to recall it,,Why? Because we are losers,,,,,we were always smothered by the invaders,,,,In fact the blame has to go to the history,,
the so much talked about tolerance has made us cowards,,,,,Since we were always trampled upon by the outsiders, we became obsequious in the course,,,,So the habit to be under some or the other kind of dictatorship, which comes under the veil of distorted democracy, comes naturally to us. Thus our present day attitude to let go anything without protest.
Hats off to the capracious cowards n inefficient system of our country.
A disillusionised youth.