The long term optimist

Years ago, when I was filling forms and applying to colleges, there often was a column for strengths and weaknesses. As my closest guide then (and friend later), Anand Sir had suggested 'long-term-optimism' as one of my strengths. Although I didn't exactly understood the meaning or implication of this 'strength', I simply complied, for I had no 'strength' (pun intended).

Now, almost six years later, I am realizing what Anand Sir was able to see back then. I have faced many bad times before as well as after that. And though those were bad times, only good came out of each one of them - in the long term of course. Moreover, I have learnt just one thing out of each one of such experiences - at the end, everything will be fine and if everything is not fine, it's not the end.

As I undergo another one of the difficult phases of my life, I again remain optimistic for the long term and hence, forward looking coz as Anand Sir would say, I am a long term optimist!

The 100th post

For no particular reason, some numbers are special; like the 100th post on this blog. So what special writing shall there be for the so special 100th one? This is the point, where I realize that the specialty of a number doesn't extend beyond the number itself. It is much like a new year, where dates and calendars change but the days remain the same.

Anyways, since the 100th one is supposed to be special somehow, let me talk about not-so-run-of-the-mill blabber in this one at least. In the previous 99 posts posted over two years, four months, and nine days, I have talked about my life and experiences, my dreams and aspirations, and my thoughts and the lack of the same. Sometimes I wrote for friends and sometimes for foes. Often it was humor targeted at myself and often I tried being poetic. Irrespective of all such distinctions, the end results were tragic only.

Most of my posts have a tiny '0 comments' written at the bottom but not all were as unattractive to all the readers. I got a few comments on a few. Most readers were polite enough to encourage and some were even appreciative. Sometimes, I got grand compliments and I felt proud as well. However, the moments of proud have always been counted - after all, people equally appreciate any damn crap writer (check any random blog, if you don't want to trust me). And I doubt if I have enough ground to stand separated from the 'appreciated' bloggers, namely, Mr. Tom, Mr. Dick, and Mr. Harry.

Beyond the posted thoughts, I have incomplete posts talking about my attempts at learning different languages, my take on politics and policy, the good, the bad, and the ugly of my life and experiences, and many more sorts of blabbering which is as irrelevant to the world as the previous 99 posts were.

However, as always, the more I say, the more remains unsaid. I believe the journey of the 'writer' me and the 'explorer' me is in its initial stages only. But someday, I'll have real milestones and not ones like the 100th post. In any case, I will keep exploring and keep writing about the life and times of yours truly. Thanks to those who stood by.

yesterday... once more!

For the past so many days, I've been trying to finish off some of the side-work and then start with my thesis work. And everyday, I'm neither starting to finish the other stuff nor am I embarking upon the thesis work.

The last stretch is always so difficult... and especially when those old days come in front of me and start talking, how can I not get nostalgic and crave for a piece of my good old 'Chhotu' times!!

That reminds me of several quotes and many more verses but sometimes, the words of wisdom and even poetry seems empty. These are the times when the life is devoid of life - devoid of life... or something like that!!!

Pondering - क्या लिखूँ

Once Padumlal Punnalal Bakhshi (पदुमलाल पुन्नालाल बख्शी) wrote an essay on what to write (titled 'क्या लिखूँ') and that went on to become one of the greatest writings on the art of writing. Now is my turn to try; however, I would be contended with a run-of-the-mill blog post only, for greatness and recognition is meant for more worldly people. (Oh yes, I have to pretend I don't want it until I get it.)

On a more serious note, since the time I discontinued two of my blogs, one for my poetry and another for policy matters, I have felt a craving time and again to restart those. Although my time constraints are such that I should discontinue most of my non-academic, non-necessary-for- life activities, I still carry on with most of those in a hope that there will be a day when I will have enough time to do all the nothing I want.

Since I cannot spare time for two more blogs when there are many half-written posts and many more unwritten thoughts lying in pipedreams for this blog, I sometimes feel like putting up my poetry up here. I even pondered upon discussing my policy, political, economic, and sociological thoughts over here. I am still not sure whether I shall make this blog a complete vent for all my blabber or shall I keep it limited to my 'unpoetic' and 'uneconomic' wordplay ventures only.

Any advice, help, or opinion in this regard is most welcome and would be dealt with equal contempt (sic). In any case, I think I will start putting everything here sooner or later. After all, if I have to bore the world with this, why discriminate between personal blabber and poetic or global blabber.

The sad assault on linguistic senses

"The British left India for they could no longer bear the assault on their language."

Although it's an age old joke; somehow, I find its relevance increasing progressively. The torture of the linguistic sensibility is more rampant. Ravindranath Tyagi, the great satirist and poet, has written at length about the torture brought up on Hindi. In his own style, he elaborated that how a slight misspelling can wreak havoc - सूत्रधार से मूत्रधार, स्तर से स्तन, और रेडियो से रंडियो.

In Gujarat, the story is not much different. In India, the snack parlors are aplenty but in Gujarat, all one can find is 'snake' parlor. In addition, there are no halls here, since all of these are spelled as 'hole'. I even found a coaching institute, apparently named after a planet, for teaching 'good' English. Just that they misspell their institute's name as 'Yuranus' (whatever it says about their learning orientations and methods, spare me the thought). The list is much longer than the bounds of space and time can hold.

However, the germs of linguistic lunacy travel faster than my wildest imagination. Hence, much to my chagrin, I have discovered two 'gems' in Lucknow as well. The city of nawabs, the last shelter of linguistic purity, the home of etiquette and mannerism, the land of gardens and science gave me a big shock with two signboards that read - "The Oaf Public School" and "Hilarious Beauty Parlour".

Et tu, Lucknow? Now where would Caesar fall :??

भूल गया सब कुछ...

I am becoming more and more forgetful by the day and then, by the night I forget a little more. Perhaps, I am moving way too fast on the path of becoming a professor, at least in terms of forgetfulness, if not in intelligence.

I remember it was years ago when I learned that I can't remember streets or roads or ways to anywhere. I have got lost in every possible corner of Lucknow, have lost my way in some 30 different cities and three different countries so far. Once, I even got lost on a straight road. In fact, I am often amused by the fact that I still somehow reach my home without forget.

When I was preparing for competitive exams and teaching alongside, I used to forget whatever I was saying in the middle of a sentence. And then I had to ask the class what was I saying. Mostly they thought, it was a trick question and kept quiet. More often than that, they were simply not listening and hated me for waking them up.

Few days ago, I was on a night stroll with a friend. He kept talking and asking things to me, however, I kept quiet for most of the time - I had forgotten his name. In fact, forgetting names is nothing new for me but since it offends people when I ask their name after seventeenth meeting, I have found a way around that. At IIMA, I ask their name and when they tell me their real name (with a visible irritation / disgust / surprise), I simply say, "duh! I was asking your dorm-name. I know your real name dude." Alternatively, I ask their e-mail id, which almost always gives a clue to the real name. However, the real problem arises, when I have forgotten someone's name a few times over and done asking their real name, surname, dorm-name, father's name, e-mail, etc etc. Please note that I use masculine terms for this paragraph for the simple reason that I don't forget any name from the fairer sex, primarily because they are they - the fairer sex.

And the trigger of this fond remembrance of my forgetfulness is this morning's event - I was leaving for gym, when I realized that my shoes have become loose. I happily thought that I have lost some weight. All those gym mornings helped finally. Then, to my utter disappointment, I saw my socks still lying on the floor. The shoes were obviously loose without socks. Actually I could have written this post last week as well. That was when I wondered one day that why the wind is super cool today till before seeing my jeans was still on the hanger. But then, I was too embarrassed to let everyone know that I really forgot that.

Despite all my forgetfulness, I still haven't forgotten somethings - some people, some days, some places, some memories, some dreams... I never forget a birthday, never missed an anniversary, and still remember all those days moment by moment, when I was with my dearest ones.

God of stupid things

"Genius may have its limitations but stupidity is not thus handicapped."

Elbert Hubbard said this about me before he passed away in 1915. And So far, I've humbly devoted my life in proving that he was not wrong at all. And I'd quote just a few examples of limitation of my genius (and the infinitive capability of its counterpart within yours truly) to drive home the point.

For once, whenever I cooked in my room, I preferred doing it with lots of vegetables and flavoring with ginger, chillies, and spices. So I used to buy, among other things, some green chillies, clean and cut them meticulously. And then cut other vegetables and finally onions, which caused a lot of tears. And then, I wiped those tears off, only to realize that the green chillies were still not washed away. So saving my eyes from onions invariably resulted in putting chilly in my eyes every single time.

Getting out of my small kitchen, I drive straight away to my driving genius in order to drive home the point. Well, to be honest, in my ten years of driving, I was always rated as a rash driver but I've never had an accident. That is, I've never had an accident when I was driving rash. My first accident was at 5 in the morning, second one at about 06:30, another one at around 0730, and the last one was around 7 in the morning. One common thing in all the accidents, apart from being an accident and my involvement in those, is that every time I was driving in third gear, enjoying the morning breeze, and thinking smugly about my driving skills. No need to mention that my smug thoughts were interrupted with a KAABBOOOMMMMM!!! Again - every time.

And I am reminded of my infinite 'genius' again today, when I took a glass of water in gym. I switched on the red tap, filled my glass, and looked at it, wondered for a while about the specks of vapor inside the glass, and then... then I took one large sip. I remember throwing it all out and then drinking lots of cold water before I finally stopped feeling my tongue. After about eight hours, I still can't differentiate my Ss from my Fs. Ironically, when I speak like this, people stare at me, thinking I am copying Shahid Kapoor of 'Kaminey'.

Well, the tales of my 'genius' are longer than my humble genius self can put into constraints of a mere 26 letters, added to already tight constraints of such limited space and illusory time. However, I'll keep us all posted. Thank you for understanding.