Analogies

Analogy: A similarity between like features of two things based on which a comparison can be made.

It happens to be a clever way of introducing new ideas, or rehashed versions of old ones. An analogy helps people relate to arcane, outlandish ideas, and in many cases, bring a smile to peoples' faces. There is something indescribable about the sublime intermingling of ideas which blend with an overlap, not of such mundane criteria like size, shape or color, but of pure quintessence. These ideas merge as though it wasn't a coincidence that they were so fundamentally similar. Of course, all this seems poetic and mystical in description; well, because it is.

At least to an extent. There is more to this than meets the eye. It is true that these ideas overlap in a poetic way of capturing the most erudite mind. What is submerged within the outer overlap, and yet screamingly clear once you analyze it, is the undeniable existence of a fundamental plan, a symmetry in the being which we all are a part of.

Randomness is a term given by us to probable patterns too large or to convoluted for us to spot. These patterns are found sooner or later. They have always existed, waiting with an unshakable patience which only inanimate thoughts are capable of.

But I digress...

What does all this have to do with an analogy? Well, nothing and yet everything!
An analogy, by my scope is nothing but a collection and comparison of two ideas which came out of the same framework. These ideas are somehow disjoint and it is somehow destined for people to spot these connections and bring them to others.

There is a strange determinism which might sadden people who expect and want life to be unpredictable. Sorry to disappoint you, but the truth is chillingly omnipresent, no matter how much you ignore it.

There is something to take heart from. We aren't gifted enough to see through all the patterns, thus leaving room for surprise when that analogy works out for us. Enough has happened in this world to make it clear that there is a plan in the randomness, a method to the madness and a reason to the unpredictable.

Absolute zero

Infinite boredom
Even the air has stopped moving
There is no sign of life anymore
Time shows no propensity to pass

It makes you wanna end it all
Except even that amount of activity is abhorred
Thoughts decay in dull heads

Sounds sights and smells
Mean nothing to anyone
Meaningless words oft repeated
Akin to a cerebral power drill

Boredom spawns boredom
Unavoidable chain reactions of
Inactive body and mind
Productivity be damned
Is this what absolute zero feels like

Although not a sin in itself
It leads to many, beware
When did listening become such torture
The inevitable mental disintegration
That comes with success of
Sitting through a mind-numbing presentation

Choices

It is often the choices we make
And not our abilities, which
Define who we truly are
So said a great wizard

While he meant it in a context of good vs evil, altruism vs selfishness, and in a realm of virtue over power, even he had not a measure of the magnitude of what he had said. To consider the other parts, when one makes a choice, completely unhindered by peer pressure, familial pressure and other forces which might steer one towards one of the options, (thus making the options more academic and less real) is considered normal, responsible and a person who believes in live and let live.

The ones that don't, however, are those who are branded selfish, self-centered, egoistic and ungrateful. We are raised to be intelligent, knowledgeable, logical people, who, for the most part, think before they act. Yet, most of societies norms go against this very grain and anticipate the person to make decisions based on precedents. The whole purpose of decision making is defeated if one is told to move in a certain direction by others who claim superiority by position, experience, intelligence or ascendancy as an older relative.

Making one's own decision in the face of advice to the contrary is not only one's right, it is also the responsible and courageous way of leading one's life. The idea of analyzing the situation, doing what one thinks is best, and standing by it whenever tenable, is the very essence of liberty.

Mea culpa

Here is the time for me to accept a mistake, and cede a little. I have said formerly that without a doubt, Barack Obama is going to be the Democratic nominee. I am having some doubts about this now. Not because I am convinced that he is not leader material. It is not a result of the "bitter" remarks. It is the result of the pseudo-republican fake outrage machine, (known simply as Hillary Clinton.) Her reaction to this is as fake as the bullshit she says about her grandfather who worked blue-collar shifts in Scranton. It was class-A pandering to the working class whose votes she has a predisposition to anyway.
First of all, Barack Obama seems elitist because he made some sweeping remarks about people probably clinging to religion, guns and antipathy in economic woe. Instead of deigning to qualify his statements, Barack Obama should have used this to attack the credibility of the current administration. He should have said that "People will naturally cling to these, as these are the parts of the Bill of Rights that they haven't relinquished as part of the Patriot Act."
The amendments to the US constitution guarantee a person the right to free speech (1st amendment) the right not to have their person or their privacy violated without reasonable suspicion (4th amendment), the right not to incriminate themselves (5th amendment), the right to a jury trial if accused of a crime (7th), the right not to be subjected to cruel & unusual punishment(8th).
All of these rights are obliterated under the garb of national security and this free-market capitalist democracy is giving way to a socialized capitalism where taxpayer money is used to bail out big rapacious multi-billion dollar companies which are filing chapter eleven. What is converting this to a fascist system is that the only rights remaining are guns (2nd amendment), religion and, of course the right to antipathy is mainstreamed whenever there are times of danger.
So, when Hillary Clinton criticizes Obama, she is inadvertently helping Mc Cain so much. Barack keeps accusing her on issues, where she would not be hard done by when (& if) competing against Mc Cain. But Hillary is being extremely republican in accusing Obama, thus giving him a raw deal in the general election. In the Pennsylvania debate, Hillary announced that while Obama & she are fighting it out now, she will make sure that a Democrat will occupy the White House. Somehow she is fighting so dirty that she might ensure a victory for Mc Cain. She needs to mature some and realize that if she wants a Democrat to win, she has to take the high ground.

If however, by pandering to the working class and their misled republican ideologies, she is planning to secure a position in the highest office in the country, and then be the same radical hippie who wants socialized medicine and real benefit for the common people, then I salute her intelligence. Only, I don't think she is that smart or has it in her to take that big a risk.

Here comes my mea culpa. I take back my categorical statement that Obama will win the nomination. I do believe that the average American needs to understand that for the country to work well, he has to hand over the power to a much above-average person. If such a person makes a remark which seems sweeping, let it go or better still weigh it with all the good this man did on the streets of Chicago after graduating from Harvard Law, when he could have landed himself the cushiest of jobs, had he wanted.

Also, let's not forget that Hillary Clinton's popularity is largely because of her husband being president. Let both candidates make good on their statement that a Democrat should become president.

Gifted depravity

Morality is a tricky concept. There are a certain number of rules which were framed by people existing well before us. These rules are adapted by contemporary authorities. All is fair and well within the bounds of such rules.
Somehow we paint a horrible picture of those who transgress those limits that were prescribed by the purveyors of morality. It is probably not such a bad thing.

There are and have always been renegades who have shed these shackles of morality and chose to find out for themselves...well...everything.

The most gifted people in this world, intellectually or otherwise, have always displayed an almost contemptuous skepticism of the rules that have been set in moral code. They are often seen experimenting with drugs, alcohol, sex and crime.

One will choose to blame them for their narcissism in believing that they know more. The reality is that, they know they don't know. They also know that knowledge of morality did not reside at the feet of the pioneers of morality. Their desire to experiment comes from the true knowledge which resides in the realization that you know nothing.

People don't understand the strife that the gifted go through. Imagine going through life on the fringes of reality as you know it. There is no shelter of people smarter than you who will provide the proverbial umbrella should the rain come.
The highly intellectually gifted person is extremely frightened. This life is one of ultimate trepidation colored by occasional realizations about certain beauties of life and patterns of nature that simply passes through mundane brains, untouched.
The gifted person has no standards to live by, no goals to strive for and no targets tough enough that they would have to work hard to achieve.

The descent of the genius into depravity is the ultimate challenge. The prodigy challenges himself to climb out of this depravity, unscathed.

For one needs to descend for the purpose of ascending when one has no ascent remaining.

Intellectual rape

Cut to a well lit room...rows and rows young adults perched on desks. There are a few people monitoring them and making sure there is no foul play. No, it is not National Sudoku Championship. It is the main entrance test to the hallowed portals of technical education, running amok, pot-smoking, vodka guzzling, cruise through coursework as a result of extremely above-average intelligence, or simply put, the IITs. In one corner, we can see an eighteen year old guy frowning over his question paper, scratching every body part socially non-reprehensible struggling over a sum involving calculus applied to gravitation and surface tension all at once. Don't feel too sorry for him though; in four years, he will be at best, at MIT or a corporate finance genius, or at worst working at a high post in a smaller company. Well, he is smart and bright, so why not. But, oh look at the struggle writing this exam! Unbelievable! There is however another student who will catch your gaze: a cool customer, casually staring at his Tag Heuer watch, with the wrinkles in his Levis premade and the cluster of gold rings on his fingers making him uncomfortable. There is a shiny certificate near his hall ticket: a non-creamy layer certificate bought for the price of one meal at Noorani. It is this certificate that makes him so cool. How? Well, the odds arranged his way make the same complex head scratching question turn into, "How many toes do you have?"

The Indian Supreme Court has done it again. Bent over and let the minorities have their way with it. It has granted a 27% quota for OBC students at the prestigious IITs and IIMs. It is a very old statistic that IIT on an average, spends Rs 1 crore on each student. I am sure that the number has increased now. When I invest money in something, I would like it to be something that has the best chance of success. I am a little crazy that way! Why stop here? Let us give the entire IIT to the OBC, Scheduled Castes, Schedule Tribes, Nomadic Tribes and anyone else who wants an admission in a way other than merit. Earlier, identifying someone as an IITian automatically conferred upon him an appearance of intelligence. It was mostly justified too. There were some exceptions though. By exceptions I mean those students who were prenatally studying for their entrance so that by the time the exam dawns upon them, they know nothing other than the syllabus, and every possible question with its answer by rote. They represent a form of debased scum that should be despised too. But at least they earn their admission by an honorable form of trickery...hard work till you drop! Even that is better than walking in with pride just because your great great grandfather was not allowed to study by the persecuting Brahmans, after which he started a business which has prospered and allows him to employ the descendants of those very Brahmans.

In short, if you are driving down personally to your exam center and getting a short-cut into IIT, there is a grave miscarriage of justice. I know what you might say, what about those backward students who are studying under a municipality lightbulb? Well...all I can say is that let us subsidize their education upto XII. After they pass that, they are on their own. We will give them scholarships and fee waivers if they get in, but they are on their own until they get into IIT. But, who listens to me rave and rant? There is an idea though. We can start a private college which takes people in based on their aptitude and their willingness to pursue a particular course. Something like the universities which ask you to provide a personal statement. Most of all, we need an intelligence test and the government must promise to hire the very best who graduate from such a college and pay them competitive salaries. Just ask the netas set aside one month's worth of the money they scam from the people! Should be enough. If you want to build bridges that won't fall, or want a drainage system that won't collapse after short burst of rain (quite akin to the tears Lata Mangeshkar sheds when you hint at building a flyover anywhere in 3Km radius around Pedder Road), you will need to hire the top students from the technical schools. Earlier that job was slightly easier as the good colleges only admitted you on merit. Just head to the reputed college and start interviewing. You will find some people to your liking. Now, with colleges being forced to open back doors to "backward classes", there are no guarantees. All these charades are done to remove any hint of caste bias from our minds. In fact, the very target of this should be leveling the playing field so that no one will even think of which caste a person is.

The irony is that this rush of reservation has caused the following conversation:

A: What college did you graduate from?

B: IIT Delhi A: open quota? B (almost inaudibly): OBC

A: Oh!

And this will lead to the ultimate intellectual rape of the IITs and actually level the playing field between IIT and that paanwallah college you pass by while going for your favorite vada pav!

My posts: an analysis..wandering away into incoherence

Most of you who bothered to look at my blog might wonder as to what kind of deviantly possessed demented brain could come up with this shit...yet some stuff I write may make you nod...some others make you roll your eyes...well...writing is amazingly as spontaneous as farting.
Now many will cringe and ask me why I had to demean a noble act by lumping it with an objectionable one. The truth is people are prejudiced. We always say there should be zero tolerance for prejudice...but the truth is prejudice is one of our most primitive reactions.
Don't tell me not to judge a book by the cover...why else would a book have a cover? Would it not begin with index or the first chapter directly...or is the cover present to protect the sanctity of the book's interiors from the kanjoos people who try to read a book without paying for it at flora fountain or the "hip" kanjoos people who do the same at Crossword...sitting on velvet sofas reading away like it was the British Council library!
Back to prejudice and lumping two things together, where one questions social decorum and the other is treated by people as normal.
I believe that writing and farting are spontaneous and should be compared as they are really similar.
I could go into details but there is a certain master plan I set out to abide by when I started this
blog. I could elaborate, oh I wish to, but there is an alter of me which controls the shit I say...Now I know what you are thinking...it does not look like there is anything controlling what i say, but trust me, if you looked into my fucked-up thoughts, you would realize that there is a filter in the brain and it is working overtime!
I am going to concede defeat to those prejudicial people who hate my comparison, but I would retire with one statement...writing is not such a bad thing!

The first sighting

Many guys fall in love. They fall in love all the time, many times and fall out too. In most cases, it starts with that moment. The moment when he sees her for the first time. Most relationships start with infatuation, a physical attraction. People confuse that with sexual desires, but the truth is it is not really sexual. It is sublime in that the world starts fading away when he sees her. She need not even notice him. In fact, rarely do they notice the guy, coz not all guys are obvious when they stare. They cannot help but stare.
There is a zoom-in effect on her while everything else zooms out. Music really does start playing in the mind. Somehow she captivates him without saying a word. This beats all possible scientific explanations. It reminds us that we do not question science enough for what is science if not questioning?
The air gets a smell unfelt before. Worldly ideas, possessions and goals matter little then. Time does not really freeze, but he doesn't care about it passing. All he can think of...well he is thinking little then...is her. There is nothing purer than a genuine appreciation of true beauty, probably purer than the beauty itself.
He does not expect her to talk to him. He probably does not even want it. Nothing material, sensory or even sensual should disturb this pristine moment. It is just him and his thoughts with the mere sighting, smelling, sounds and very rarely, touch of her. It is a homogeneous, clear feeling blanched by the very light skimming her skin or apparel. A description of this moment is an insult in itself. It needs an enormous ego to foolishly attempt to dimensionally crush it into words, gestures or sounds.
Someone has to do it.
To the unfortunate ones who have never felt this, let me attempt to give you a horrible black & white vga version of a 100Mpixel view. Well, you know what, that is what I have done so far.
This ends, as it must, with a sincere apology to those who have felt this emotion as I have wronged them almost fatally by brutalizing their beautiful moments into crass, crude words bereft of timely punctuation.
What can I say...we don't control what we write...

The Average

You feel bad because you are average
I say you are the most gifted, for
Life is built for you, o common man
And you are tailor-made for this world

Your ambitions are lower, ditto expectations
Your disappointments run lower
There is no fear of acceptance, as,
Society craves affiliation with its own

You fit in well, I don't, I am
Hated yet cannot change myself
Cynicism and loneliness are my
Crutches in this world of ostracism

The average have everything in the world
Ability to enjoy everyday humor
The enjoyment in laboring over a puzzle
The attention of women who need a person
Slower than them to make them secure

Their attention is never divided
Ability to focus on mundane tasks
Is one of their discerning qualities
What can I say, they have all
That life asks

Masks we wear

I wish for a day when
the masks will be shed
the faces we proudly own
Will truly be read

There is nothing that we
Must fear to say or do
But what we truly feel
Why must we skew

I can never get over
The fear of disagreement
Of rejection and rebuke
So I hesitate to declare
What I feel or think
But little do I know
Where you stand to look

I know in depths of my heart
That you fear the same
While you are brazenly aware
I share your affliction

Yet we pretend nothing is wrong
To maintain this outwardly calm
So we waste time and energy
In putting up a sham

Maybe we are not meant to agree
With each other nor with anyone else
So shed thy mask and I will shed mine
And we won't get along just fine

Writer's Captivity

When one pictures a writer writing, one thinks of a closed room. There is a small window which lets in sunlight, moonlight, cold breeze or rain as per nature's proclivities. A rickety chair...okay maybe a proper chair beside a simple table with sheafs of papers flying about obscuring the writer's face would adorn the room completed by a water jug and some food lying around.
The writer is imagined to be a recluse with questionable hygiene and poor social judgment. Clothes are assumed to be disheveled with hair to match. There is little sound in the room but for the chirping of birds or other sounds beyond our control. All in all, the scene is typical and the conjecture is probably right.
One wonders about the power that a writer wields. Not the kind that we are normally familiar with, but the one in their own world. This thought is, of course restricted to fiction writers. They create ideas, situations, characters and whole universes. One thinks of the story as a little bird in the hand of the writer; a bird he can nurture and pet, or squeeze to death at a mere whim. It seems pretty obvious that the writer is the creator and god for this world.
What we don't see is that the writer, someone who visibly creates worlds and stories is as much a captive to fate as anyone else. There are many stories with alternate endings proposed by the authors simply because they probably published the official ending motivated by the need for public acclaim and popularity. The alternate ending or the twist which goes unsung ends up in the files of the author until his widow discovers it while clearing his room after wiping her tears for the umpteenth time.
Maybe I am being too morbid in my account, but one sees the literal morbidity in the previous few lines but the all consuming morbidity of the writer's captivity escapes most non-writers.
To them I advise writing something. When you relax yourself and allow thoughts to flow, there is an omnipotent gravity or rather gradient which forces your thoughts to flow in a particular manner. There is no reversibility here. The weirdest part of it is that this gradient is different for each person and yet common to all. We cannot control thoughts...we just cannot.
They control us.
When an author of a popular book series kills a character much to the chagrin of the reader, the reader wonders whether this was done just to attract attention or raise collections. The truly deviant one even casts aspersions on the character of the writer. These accusations may hold water if one assumes that the author is controlling the story.
It rarely happens so.
The truth is that an author can be truly successful in creating stories that readers can relate to only when he or she allows the random...Let the chips fall where they may...kind of flow of ideas. So the story flows from the author who ends up nothing more than an insightful medium. The rest of it...the flowery imagery, the thrilling writing, the emotional connections etc are mortal gifts that make books readable.
The ultimate proof of the writer's captivity is something that someone who writes will readily recognize. The impulse to write...the sudden, irrational, all consuming impulse to write...ignoring hunger, fatigue and most easily academics!

Judge above judgment

The adversarial legal process is a time-tested one. The idea of a public prosecutor whose only job is to do everything within the bounds of the law to convict the accused is as good as that of a defense lawyer who must everything he can to prevent that very action. One may think this to be a waste of valuable time and resources pitting smart people against each other, but the truth eventually emerges. The idea is that the side that triumphs after such a stiff fight has to be the truthful one.
This is excellent in theory, but in reality what we often encounter is talented litigators forced to win at all costs due to competition within their offices.
So, does the law and ultimately, justice suffer?
The judge comes into play here. He presides over the events in the courtroom with an impartial eye. This is a person who must be above the game and one with the law. The law must win at all costs.
The judge cannot prejudge the case and assume the accused's guilt. Such a judge may end up steering himself and a probable jury towards a guilty verdict. As much as it might bite him, the judge has to rise above personal conflicts and adhere to the law. It is probably the hardest job of all. The sad part is that too many prosecutors become judges. It seems to be on a prosecutor's agenda to either run for office, or become a judge.
Expecting a former prosecutor-judge to be completely impartial is not fair. These people have spent all their lives putting people away. It must be near impossible for such a judge to spot and deride any encroachment upon an accused's civil rights. No matter what one is accused of,(be it a simple matter of theft or something heinous like a brutal rape and murder of a minor) he or she deserves a day in court. The accused deserves the chance to confront his accuser, to cross-examine his testimony and to put up a defense. If he cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided to him. He has the right not to cooperate with any investigation which might result in his incrimination. These simple rights cannot be breached by any government official, and any evidence and following prosecution as a result of such a breach is void as a matter of law.
These are certain legal principles which are sacrosanct and the judge is employed to protect them from being raped by over-zealous prosecutors.
This is not a game in any way, but the judge must, in a cynical justification, treat it like one. The judge has to be a referee, an arbiter with no vested interest in the outcome. These judges have to be above judgment and refrain from judicial anarchy even if they are sure that an accused is guilty of the crime.
Such a beautiful legal system is based on the one premise common to all nations and free worlds: Let a hundred guilty escape, but not a single innocent one should slip through the cracks of the law.

A different Language

A different Language

Ever get the feeling

That everyone around you
Is speaking a tongue
That only you don't get

It haunts me these days
I feel seriously inept
When I hear all around me
Knowing so much about knowledge

If it was my IQ deficiency
I would have accepted it
But it is a deep cluelessness
That I can't swallow

I always thought I was
Capable and yet well above average
Feelings of cluelessness
Taunt me to no end

How come all of you
Were born with a purpose
And I was bereft of
Of that very gene
That tells me what
To think and to do

I am tired of being called
Lazy and impertinent
When all I need
Is merely a scent
Of a goal in life
In education
In work, in society
In family.

Times change people do too
There is something finite in me
That I must find and accept
So I can dream too

Raj...do you dare?

Do you really dare, Mr Raj Thakeray, to stand in front of the trains which come from North India?
Why are you so stupid as to create a feeling of national animosity towards Maharashtra? Aren't you afraid Maharashtra will be asked to leave India?
We can create another Mumbai anywhere else without your impeding self!
Economist S.D. Naik said that as of 2006, Maharashtra has a debt of Rs 1.15 lakh crore. Please count the zeroes in it. And then count again. And again...you might get it right eventually.First bother about returning it, then will address the issue of Maharashtra's autonomy. You being so proud of Mumbai and asking others to get a visa to come here shows your gross dereliction of a little book called the Indian constitution. Do you know who is making Mumbai the business centre? Take a look at Dalal street. You have a chance of learning Gujarati in one hour just by standing there....but then I forgot...you don't believe in observation, analysis and reason.
Mumbai is a geographical part of Maharashtra. It is just a bunch of people which includes but is not limited to Maharashtrians. It is portable, believe me. Remember when USA brought the IT industry to India and offered it to Mumbai, your stupid ass uncle Bal refused to take it and Chandrababu Naidu of Hyderabad lapped it up. Ergo, Hyderabad-Cyberabad.
You really are a dumbass.
So, go ahead. Stand in front of the trains coming from North India. To the rest of the nation, I advise playing Train Simulator. It will arm you with the necessary skills to put this idiot out of the way.
The deepest irony is this Raj, that I thought you were a shrewd politician, and you will eventually overthrow your cousin Uddhav. But believe me, while you are bumbling around being Sonny, Michael is at home with the Godfather learning his ways and who knows, Uddhav might improve. One thing is true, Bal Thakeray is a gunda too..but he is a smarter politician.
My final advice, collect some people of your party that you trust, go back to your uncle and plead forgiveness. Use the same expression we use to confront our dad after denting his car!

MNS has PMS!

The recent drubbing of Samajwadi party workers along with innocent taxi drivers and hawkers by gundas belonging to the Maharashtra Navanirman Sena led by the hero Raj Thakeray has reminded us just how far behind the rest of the world India really is.
The journalist from Times Now asked Shishir Shinde, the spokesperson of MNS as to why this was done etc etc...(Here I would like to add a word of praise for her for, as Dan Rather calls it Speaking Truth to Power). This man arrogantly replied that the taxi was destroyed as it carried SP members who had abused Raj Thakeray. Hellooo! We are allowed to abuse him. This happens to be a democracy. Here, I will show you...Raj Thakeray is nothing but an educated bandit who is raping the people of Maharashtra by preying on their frustration...just like his inept cousin Uddhav...just like his bandit uncle Bal. I have every right to say this as I am a citizen of India having the right to free speech.
This stupid pustule Shinde has the gall to say, (when the journo questioned him on innocent people harmed in this display of bullshittiness...there I said it again!) that these things sometimes happen. So here you go Mumbaikars, you are being partly represented by an ignorant piece of shit who treats harmless victims as collateral damage.
I think Raj simply has a case of PMS, which leads to PISS (Political Idleness & Stupidity Syndrome) which leads to CRAP (Cowardly Rape and Pillage). Sadly for you Raj, people were watching this on TV and they won't be swayed by fake Marathi chants unlike the public during your uncle's reign. There are reasons for this. First of all, your uncle had a semblance of a reasonable excuse: There was enough violence on both the Hindu and Muslim sides. Hindus needed some radical representation of their own. Secondly, people weren't as educated then and hence more given to radical thoughts.
I assume you collected a bunch of Gundas from people who had nothing better to do than do what you command coz they probably failed all their courses and could not get into good colleges even after you & your ancestors self-righteously halved the entrance cut-off for your brothers. And you are upset coz Amitabh wants to do something for UP? What crap! Don't we all celebrate when NRI's build nice temples in the Western world? Try to understand nationalism...you know what, go back to school and learn civics..you might learn some civic sense too.
If you are really upset with Uttar Bharatiyas coming to Mumbai and flourishing, (which by the way, smart Maharashtrians are doing too, as you prove by your 500 crore property, why don't you donate some of it as a true Maharashtrian, you hypocrite!)...again you are really upset with north indians flourishing, try and beat them at their game if you can...coz I love the samosas and chaat on the road...and I buy vegetables from bhaiyyas...do better in business than them and the gujjus...make your kids get better marks at school than UPites...oh wait...I forgot...your kids don't need good marks...you have rigged the system well enough to ensure that!
The person who loses in all this is the true Marathi who I know well. They form a bulk of my friend circle and they want nothing to do with you. Firstly because they are educated hard-working people who believe in getting what you deserve and deserving what you get and secondly because...well they are educated!
And lastly, another person who is most confused is someone who is not originally from Maharashtra but is as Maharashtrian as all of you. I belong to that category. Yes I have a native place in the south but I rarely go there and Mumbai is the only world I know. Who the fuck are you claiming proprietorship over our bhoomi!

Black letter on the Wall

I don't know if anyone else feels it or not. To me the Democratic Primaries are turning slowly from completely unpredictable to more and more one-sided. With the inevitable pull-out of Sen. John Edwards from the race, it is becoming more and more clear that Barack Obama is going to be the Democratic nominee to the most powerful office in the world.
Anyone who read Paul Krugman's article in the New York Times about the Edwards effect will appreciate the astute conclusions drawn by this man, which is just how important Sen. Edwards has been to this campaign. While he has thrown in the presidential towel, he might still be used to balance Obama's ticket. He will certainly add cream to Obama's coffee so to speak and help White America vote for the change that Obama represents.
With the combination of Edwards and Obama, and the support of a Democrat Congress, there is a good chance of seeing the dream of America's first non-white president.
When Obama became the first black president of the Harvard Law Review, he told people to refrain from thinking that black rights in America are now real and tangible. It was far from it then, and is far from it now too. Even today, your chances of being pulled over for almost nothing at all are more than double when you are non-white.
Who knows, Obama may actually help improve the condition of the people who make up America's true diversity.

Celebrations

Sameer looked around and smiled. It was a good turnout. This was one of the moments when one took stock of the people one has accumulated and treats it as a personal accomplishment. He looked at Ravi. Yes, Ravi's arrival was a surprise. Ravi was always his arch rival and his perhaps most accomplished critic. There was great mutual respect between them, but Sameer could not help feeling that there was something personal in Ravi's disagreements with his ideas. His calm demeanor somehow almost but only almost concealed some dislike which was far beyond reasonable discussion or explanation. Yet, Ravi was here and that had to count for something. His eye rolled towards Rita, who was beside Ravi. Figuratively speaking, she would never be an inch away from him in opinion, so much so, that Sameer often had a hard time comprehending who was doing the actual thinking. Today, literally their flesh touched as she stood beside Ravi, almost sycophantic in her constant approval of his every move. Well, there was no surprise there. Her presence and her behavior were totally predictable.
Sameer forced himself to look further and not obsess over them. This was after all, his special day. He could see Rekha almost clearly, there was a haze in his vision now. Distance did that to him. Myopia, the doctor called it; but Sameer knew this was merely his body telling him to focus on things, ideas and people close to him and avoid thinking of others, no matter how tempting they were. Rekha sure was tempting, in her off-shoulder gown. She always had such amazingly sharp features. Her eyes, blue and piercing, her hair well managed and peaceful were quite an indication of her personality. Somehow, in the haze, he could picture her clearer than he could have seen her. Her dress, sown to perfection, was showing the right amount of cleavage, sensuous without cheapness. Her legs were shown off in an inviting way which simply was not tawdry. There were few women who could manage that look. He knew his wife was not one of them. Yet, Sameer was glad that Rekha was there that day. Life is the most inexplicable thing, he thought. There were so many moments when Sameer knew his life made absolutely no sense at all, yet there were few moments when he could not have called himself happy. A few different turns in the road and who knows, Rekha may have been his wife today. Sameer could not help think that. Who knows, maybe Rekha was thinking the same. Maybe the fervency with which she kissed her husband Raj was just as hollow as the way Sameer touched his wife, Tina.
He looked at Tina. Well, he had to admit, she was in a sense prettier than any woman he knew. She did not have the oomph of Rekha but was the perfect trophy wife he had always wanted and he got her. To be completely honest, she cooked and cared for him, bore him beautiful healthy children and maintained an air of dignity that came with her upbringing and her education. All in all, he had to conclude that his marriage, although perhaps without passion, was definitely not loveless and was more satisfactory than most marriages he knew of. Samu, she called him affectionately. Somehow, the word which made him feel childish was giving the aura of closeness that he had never thought he would have. Today was clearly a special day. Every little thing he could observe gave him that very indication. She was a faithful, dutiful wife and he had to be thankful, especially today.

There was something in the air that night. He was generally a prosaic person not given to romantic excursions of the mind, but that night, he let his mind wander. Sometimes, our minds have minds of their own. He was still enjoying drifting aimlessly in thought, something people would never recommend to a person of his occupation, but he found rather engaging and rewarding. Yes, over these years he learned a lot of things and one of the them was that the more you rely on what people say, the more you befuddle yourself.

He stared at the high ceiling and the decorations on it. They were emblematic of his rise to fame, power and respect. His was not the kind of power that manipulated the stock market or forced favors from government servants, but was that of convincing people once he set out to convince them. He could not get a special table for himself at a restaurant but well...that was not what he valued in life anyway.

He always knew, from a very young age that he was different. He was never naive, never passe, always a step ahead. If he asked a question he knew whether the answer would be the truth or not. He could read people. Always. Somehow he could bore deep into them and find out their true thoughts. While he may have seemed hypnotically gifted in doing so, it was merely perceptiveness and very fast deduction. He was destined for greatness. This was not his belief but firm knowledge. It never betrayed him.

As he looked around his eyes searched desperately for his sons. He valued them the most and made that clear to anyone who knew him. He shamelessly professed that the only real wealth in the world was a child. He always knew he would be a model father. Someone who his children would look up to and emulate. This was one of the very few times he had been disastrously wrong. His overbearing and controlling nature had upset them at first, and then slowly driven them away. They were now busy with their own education and away from him. They rarely visited. Still, he expected them to be with him on this day.
He fantasized of a life with a perfect A grade on his parenting report card. That would be the highlight of his life. He would never achieve it now. This thought was so overwhelming and consuming that he almost did not hear his name being called out. Almost.

He looked up at the announcer, her Swedish accent unmistakable, smiled and walked up to the dais. He stood facing the thousand strong crowd that was present. He cleared his throat and said,"Ladies and Gentlemen, I thank you for being with me on such a special day. It is not everyday that one wins the Nobel Prize and this day would have been nothing if you had not been there to celebrate with me."