The Lake

I don't usually write poems, but one day, I saw something that made me feel the need to acknowledge it some way or the other. So here it goes..a descriptive poem (or something like a poem!) :)

The lake was like molten gold
As it reflected the scorching sun 
On its surface.
Like an oasis in the desert,
The lake was an island
In the concrete jungle.

Out of place,
The trees made a ring, 
Enclosing and separating the lake,
From prying eyes.
Like old bearded men,
They brooded gloomily,
Over the plain sheet of mirror
Lapping at their feet.

Amidst this,
Stood a lone cylindrical pillar 
A pillar of concrete and steel
Reaching out to the sky.
Restricted by the ruins.
The creepers creeped over it
And seeped into its cracks
And engulfed it whole.

An inconceivable 
An inconsequential 
Victory of Nature
Over the seemingly invincible.
Like an oasis in the desert,
The lake was an island
In the concrete jungle.

A Book's Cover

“Are those randomly multi-colored nails?”

“Why would you get four piercings on one ear?”

“Do you have to wear such long earrings?”

“Do your accessories always match your clothes?”

“Are your nails really painted fluorescent?”

“Is that lipstick?”

“How long do you take to dress up everyday?”

These are questions I’ve encountered through my life. Superficial and limited to how I look and dress. Everyone judges a book by its cover. The first thing anyone notices about you is how you look. If you are blonde, you are dumb. Apparently, it doesn’t matter if you are actually a Harvard Graduate. If you are blonde, you are dumb. If you have a tattoo and piercings, you are a rebel. It doesn’t matter if you are an accomplished surgeon. If you have a tattoo and piercings, you are a rebel. All of us, no matter who we are, have been in situations were our looks were given primary importance. We have all either been rejected or wholly accepted into something because of the way we look.

“Her clothes are too loud. I don’t like her.”

“Her nose ring is weird. What is wrong with her?”

“He is wearing a pink shirt, he has to be gay.”

“If she spends so much time dressing up, when does she ever study?”

“She is so shabbily dressed. Her mind is probably as disorganized as her dressing sense.”

A counselor once told me that everything I wear and do to myself reflects something about me to the people around me. That had me wondering – when I choose what I’m going to wear every morning, am I aware of the image that I want to portray? Do I realize what kind of vibes I’m going to be giving off and still choose to dress a certain way? A small part of my brain responded, “Yes, I actually do.”

Even though I often feel that people over-analyze my clothes or that they unnecessarily attach importance to things that barely matter to me, it hit me that there is actually a reason for this kind of attribution. I wear bright clothes because it makes me happy – I am a person who attaches importance to the small things that make me happy. I have outlandish piercings – I actually want to stand out and be different.

The clothes we wear and our selection of accessories are actually another part of your personality. It is what distinguishes us from those around us. It helps us identify with those similar to us. Essentially, it represents our individuality. What we are on the outside represents what we are on the inside. Maybe not an entirely accurate depiction, but it is closest depiction of what you think you are.
Just the cover of that book is not going to tell you everything about the book. The cover is just giving you a glimpse of what lies inside. If you really don’t like it, maybe it is not your kind of book, but you’ll never know for sure, because you never took the time to actually read it.

Campaigns – not just politics, a livelihood

When a political campaign is announced at any part of the city, the average middle class man goes out of his way, literally, to make sure he avoids the scheduled place, through his day. “They are all about politics. We know all that we need to know. Why should we attend campaigns?” says B. Venkatachalam, an accountant. In Chennai, campaigns are not just about the politicians and their parties, it is also about the common man who makes a living out of these campaigns.

The increased density of a massive, unruly, and most often, fanatic crowd lures all kinds of traders to political campaigns. Street hawkers who sell stickers with party symbols, pictures and towels or even food items like samosa or tea earn more money at the campaigns then at their regular jobs.  V. Thirunakarasu says, “I have a binding shop, but during election times, I am fully devoted to making stickers for DMK.” He follows the party around Tamil Nadu and sells at every campaign. He says that he makes Rs. 200-300 more when he travels outside Chennai. These hawkers are dedicated to a particular party and sell products that showcase the party symbols, colours and statements.

However, tea and samosa sellers are not particularly aligned to any political party and usually, do not travel long distances to attend campaigns. The crowd and the prospective customers draw them to the nearest campaign. “I don’t care much about parties or politics. People buy sundal and murukku here just like they buy it at the beach where I usually sell them.” says G. Selvakumar. He claims to earn Rs. 400 at every campaign, which is Rs. 150 more than he gains usually.

The male members of the family are not the only ones profiting from these events. L. Kuppamma, a housewife, says she is offered Rs. 300 for attending a campaign and an additional Rs. 50 for every other member she is able to rally to this cause. “Every election season, I am guaranteed a regular flow of income,” says Mrs. Kuppamma. "The party doesn’t matter. I choose wherever I want to go.” 

Although there are many who gain out of this political play, the local shopkeepers are at a disadvantage. A campaign in their area keeps the pharmacists, tailors, tutorials and local grocery shops shut and out of business for a whole day, due to fear of riots.

With the election season coming to an end, everyone will have to get back to his or her regular business and daily routine.

Eighteen

After all those months of whining, I am finally 18. The magical number that represents The Mysterious World of Adulthood. I am not sure what I expected, but I think I vaguely expected to just wake up on the 28th and feel mature and responsible and somewhat…adult-like. In reality, I woke  up on the 28th in my Superman tee lying beside my teddy bear on a Disney bedspread. I had cake for Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner, I indulged in my chocolate cravings, I actually got scared of a little dog that growled at me, I frightened myself watching horror movies, and I jumped around excitedly seeing and touching real human brain specimens. Nothing I did, could be described as “adult-like”. I was barely a day older and it was supposed to represent a year of growth.
One of my best friends had given me the idea of making a list of the silliest activities that represented childhood and completing every single one of them before I turned eighteen. I wasn’t able to complete all of them and I felt like I was beginning a new chapter of my life without reading the last few pages of the previous chapter. Now that I am officially an adult, emancipated and on my own, does it mean that I can’t be immature, stupid and silly? On my birthday, my friends helped me remember that chapters might get over but there is still a long way to go in my book. 
Maybe growing “old” was not exactly what I had expected. I don’t have a license or a voter’s ID. I haven't donated blood or gotten a tattoo yet. I haven't lost all my teeth or grown gray hair (wait, I do have that!). On that special Friday, my friends helped me remember that even if all of the above do happen and I’m sitting all alone in my rocking chair 80 years from now with my five big dogs and eating tofu, I’d yell “Oh my God! I feel like I’m eating my brain!” I remembered the child in me, or rather, the child that is me, and I’ll never forget that even if I could be referred to as a Major now. I know that there is just a part (if not the whole!) of me that will forever remain a child. And I accept that — Disney-loving, cartoon-watching, Happy Meal-buying, Supernatural-fearing — part of myself, because, let’s face it, what’s the fun, playing your age? :)

More than my usual blog post, this is a special dedication to all my most awesome friends for making my day so memorable (because just a status is too mainstream :P ). Thank you all so much! :)

Dispersed

I attempted at something like poetry and I ended up with this :D
(Small Clarification - It's from a guy's perspective.)

Dispersed

I don't understand. I don't understand what she says. I love her. I love her almost unconditionally. I love her for what she shows me and I love her for what she is. But is she really the person I think she is? Am I only seeing one side of her? 

Is there a dark side of the moon? 

Should I keep my distance?

And be blinded by the sun 

Who chooses to ignore me, 

Or should I be a tide?

And accept my attraction 

To the beautiful moon 

Who chooses to embrace me 

In her seemingly warm hug.

When I get too close to her,

Will I realize that she is not warm,

But cold.

Cold on the outside

And frozen on the inside - 

Too damaged to salvage anything at all?

My sun is all I have.

My sure source of warmth.

But why would you burn me?

Never let me get close to you?

Winner of The Best Blog

I'm extremely proud of the fact that this blog won The Best Blog Competition at Mélange 2014 - Udbhaavana, A Media Fest conducted by CMS, Jain University!
This maybe cliché, but I really would like to thank all of you who have actually taken some time to go through my blog which is nothing extraordinarily out of the blue. 

I hope you liked reading some of my absurd as well as platitudinous thoughts which I tried to put into words.

And I do hope my words have spoken loud (as if my voice weren't loud enough) :P

So all I'm saying is...Thank you :)

Illusion

Illusions are tricks that rays of light, your eyes and your mind play on you. You think it is real but it isn't. Sometimes, you don't see it, but it is right there and before you know it, bam! you've walked right into it. 
Is it there or is it not there? 
Does it exist or does it not exist? 
Do you wonder sometimes if life itself is an illusion? 
That you would wake up one day and realise that you had actually dreamed a whole day or two or maybe your whole life and none of it really happened? 
Have you ever wondered if what you see is real? 
What if we are actually aliens controlled by a simulation machine and what we see are only conjured up by what we want to see?
What if the friends you believe that exist are actually only a figment of your imagination but you don't realize that because you truly believe they are real?
What if what each person sees is actually unique to themselves and you don't see the same things they do? 
What if they view something that looks like a Nintendo world and you view what you think is normal?
What if there is no normal?
What if all the colours are inverted? 
What if you call Green what I call Red but you see Green in place of Red? 
What if we can actually see more than 7 colors but we are too stubborn to count the 8th because it is not a color we like?
What if Ghosts, Grumpkins, Snarks, Leprechauns, Goblins, Sprites and Fairies are all real but you don't notice them anymore because they are such a mundane, regular part of your life?
What if you are conjuring up places, people, situations, things at this very moment except you are unaware of it and continue to crib that you are incapable of controlling your life?
What if the schizophrenics are right and what they see is the truth, which we don't want to accept, and employ defence mechanisms, hence calling them Schizophrenic?
What if we are just mere puppets in some Grand Scheme which was written well before time?
What if it's all just a giant illusion and you don't exist at all?

The Good vs. The Bad

One of my very deeply rooted, and strong beliefs is that every human being is genuinely good. That whatever their intentions may be at any given point of time, and however evil they may look, they are truly good and that is what they most often strive to be. I believe when Carl Rogers asks me to give everyone unconditional positive regard. I believe when the Humanists tell me that every Human strives to be the best they can. The reason for the existence of such a belief is so that I always remember to give others a second chance. Just because one particular act of a person was wrong does not mean they are destined to be so, right? After all, there is a saying that goes that every child who is born into this world is born innocent and how he turns out depends on how he was brought up. John B. Watson definitely backed that up when he said, "Give me a dozen healthy infants, well-formed, and my own specified world to bring them up in and I'll guarantee to take any one at random and train him to become any type of specialist I might select...regardless of his talents, penchants, tendencies, abilities, vocations, and race of his ancestors." 
Yet, despite all this, there are those times, when I start questioning myself. When I start questioning my beliefs. And then I don't know what my beliefs stand for any more. I watch movies, read stories and hear news. I come across tales of Killers, Psychopaths, Cannibals, Rapists and other abominations. I think, I wonder, I question, but I can't find the Good in them. I can't understand them, or their actions. I can't understand how they fit in or are a part of the complex structure of our Universe. I can't understand. And it terrifies me, because I don't believe in my most basic philosophy anymore.
I do understand how they operate. Their needs, their motives. Psychology helps me understand that some people are just created that way. That something in their childhood traumatised them. Or they lack the basic empathy gland in the brain. Or their sex drive is overpowering. Or that there is something about them that just doesn't match with the "normal" people. People are different because they are shaped by their differing exposure to various stimuli of Nature and Nurture.
What I do not understand is, how can there be a creation of Nature that is so completely devoid of Good? A creation wrought just to create chaos in, what I would like to believe, a perfect Universe. Taking the example of a serial rapist -- driven by his need to aggress, rape and assert his dominance. What does he give back to the society or the Universe after taking so much from it? How can there not be any Good in him at all? What can justify his grotesque existence? Is he merely a vessel created to bring about Karma to the ones that supposedly "deserve" it? Is he merely a tool in His Grand Scheme fashioned to "teach" lessons? 
There is a lack of balance. The scale is supposed to be tilted one way. But it remains straight, and I'm unable to see the invisible weight that balances the Bad out on the other side. And my questions continue to remain unanswered.
I heard a story. An old Cherokee story. The closest I've gotten to having my questions answered. The belief is that each of us have two wolves within us -- the Good Wolf and the Bad Wolf. Every action that we indulge in feeds either the Good Wolf or the Bad Wolf, and each grows stronger through our actions. One day, one Wolf will grow stronger and consume the weaker wolf. The choice between which Wolf we would like to feed depends entirely on each of our personal decisions.

To My Thatha

The first time I truly felt the loss of someone, was when my Granddad passed away in December 2012.

It took me a long time to come to terms with it. Denial, being my most overused defense mechanism, I refused to accept it or cry for the first few months. It felt like if I cried or acknowledged it, it would become real. Eventually, I came out of this childish fantasy. I still walk into his house and expect him to be sleeping inside. I still do or watch something and think, “Oh God! Thatha should totally hear about this!” I still refuse to talk in past tense. But then, there is that feel. Something that tells me that somewhere, something has changed.

The most cherished memory I have of him was from a time when I was around 3 or 4 years old. I used to watch him train our dog Tuffy. Being a young child, I was afraid of the overactive, jumpy, hyper dog. Thatha would then ask me not to be so silly and give me a fistful of dog biscuits, which I would feed Tuffy every time she fetched the ball he threw. He would make me sit on the wall and I would watch him command the very obedient Tuffy, in complete fascination.

I do not know why I have held on to this particular memory so tightly, but I do know that this defines the way I looked up to him. Fully captivated, I would hang on to every word he said. And he had a lot to say! There was absolutely nothing my Granddad did not know about. Science, Medicine, Astrology, Art, History, Philosophy...his thirst for knowledge was unquenchable. He was the man who would go through a surgery and tell you exactly what the doctors did to him despite the fact that he was given anaesthesia. He had accumulated this knowledge through the years and held on to it as he accumulated more. All this information, he learnt during the time Google didn't exist (in case, you don't know the pain of that, try doing your next project without using the internet). He read books. Many, many books. Giant Encyclopedias. And he owned so many of those, that he could start his own library (which he did, for a short period of time).

He had a particular love for watches and pens. He had his own magnificent collection, which he was very proud of. I remember, the first time I told him that I was going to start writing with a pen in school (instead of a pencil), he gifted me my very first pen, a Hero pen. The next day when I came home, he had dug up his entire collection of pens, and spread them out before me. He explained the use of every pen, the different calligraphy nibs and styles, how to clean and take care of a pen and everything I'd every need to know about a pen. His knowledge was unlimited.

He was a man of routine. There were things he had to do everyday at a specific time and he doesn't usually appreciate broken routine. One of the things he used to do was smear Vibhuthi (ash) and Sandhanam (sandal) on his forehead every morning. Some how, ever since I was a small child, I loved watching him do that. And then, he would read the newspaper everyday and later, do The Hindu crossword in the evening. He was so good at it, that he wouldn't take more than half an hour to finish the crossword. At any event or occasion, he did not like to be late. He was a man of time and had to be at the venue five minutes before time. He had a short temper, so if we weren't ready by the time he wanted us to leave, he would leave without us!

When he moved on, I couldn’t help thinking about all the experiences I would miss sharing with him. He would never see me go to college. He would never see me grow up and become whatever I am going to become. He would never spout a gazillion more random facts. My sister would never truly know how awesome he was… I could continue this list forever, but the most important thing is, I did experience many wonderful, amazing, cherished moments with him that will last with me forever. I will never forget cooking Pasta for him with all the cheese that he ever wanted. I will never forget our late night games of Rummy. I will never forget the Thatha-granddaughter day of watching Da Vinci Code together. I will never forget the bazillion movies at Race Club or the bazillion books from Cosmo. I will never forget his naughty smile while he stole slices of mango from my plate. I will never forget the time he wore suspenders, shorts and a beret and cheerfully shouted, “Let’s go walking!” I will never forget how one hour later he told me, “Achu, everyone looked at me and I felt like such a proud old man!” I will never forget any of this.

He’s gone. I may forget that sometimes, but I’ve finally come to terms with it. I have learnt not to cry or get emotional at every mention of him or anything about him or anything that even vaguely reminds me of him (trust me, I have done that just way too often). Even though it is hard, I realized I must stop being so selfish. I feel like I should let him move on and not cry over how he is not going to be there for me. I think he will want me to cheerfully remember who he was and not cry over who he won’t be. I am not going to idolize him now and remember only the positives. I will remember his short temper. I will remember how he had the habit of swearing. I will remember him for what he was. Because, the truth is, no matter what, there is just no denying how awesome he is. I will remember him for exactly what he was and build a monument in my heart.

To my Thatha...
The best Granddad in the world...
Because you were my inspiration, my role model, my walking-talking encyclopedia, my true man of steel...
Because you taught me more than just discipline, morals and right from wrong...
Because the 16 years I had to know you were the best...
Because I love you....
Because you will be in my thoughts and memories forever...
Because you will live on forever in our hearts... 

Our Thoughts, Our World

Thoughts can be defined as an idea, plan, opinion, picture or anything that is formed in your mind. The concept of thoughts having the power to create, alter and affect your reality is not new. People have been claiming to do so for years. Going by the name of Mentalists, these people practice what is known as “Telekinesis” or “Psychokinesis”. Mentalists claim to have the ability to change, move or dematerialize an external object using the sheer power of their mind.

The authenticity of Mentalists is a topic too vast and unresolved to be debated.

Yet, one topic that has persisted and aroused the curiosity of many is the effect of Human thoughts on the physical world. Many orators and inspirational speakers have insisted time and again in different words, using different adjectives, that our thoughts have the power to change the World, and by controlling our thoughts, we can control the World. People may have different views about the accuracy of this versus the easy moneymaking scheme that the motivators may have in mind, but I personally have only one question. If so many people believe that their thoughts can change their World, there must be some truth to it: What is the science behind such logic? How do the thoughts work?

Dr. Masaru Emoto is a famous Japanese energy scholar and author, who conducted an experiment, which examined the effect of the exposure of glasses of water to positive thoughts and prayer. He found that the crystals that were formed after freezing these exposed glasses of water were much more beautifully formed than any normal glass of water. He claims that human thoughts and feelings have a direct observable effect on the structural formation of ice crystals. The human body is 2/3^rds water. If human thoughts have such an effect on water, how adversely would it affect our body? Scientific scholars, however, have dismissed Dr. Masaru Emoto’s experiments as pseudoscience, but it does give us a lot to think about. Even if negative thoughts do not create bad crystals, positive thoughts certainly create beautiful ones.

According to Quantum Physics, our physical reality is proven to be a very elaborate mirage, which is the result of a particular frequency. Therefore, by changing, amplifying or altering this frequency, you can change your physical and current reality. Since thoughts also produce this frequency, by changing how and what you think, you can change the frequency and consequently, your reality. Every time you entertain a particular thought, you emit a very specific and corresponding frequency. Keeping in line with this perspective, your thoughts directly shape your reality and your reality is exactly what your thoughts make it.

Benjamin Disrael once said, “You will never go higher than your thinking.” This is one of the truest statements ever made about our thoughts. Before any action is performed, it has to originate in our thoughts. Even if it is an on-the-spot action, the thought should have occurred before. So the higher you think, the more the space for you to accomplish things. By setting the bar very low, you will never be able to achieve anything above the bar, because there has to be a thought before any action. Humans, also, have the tendency to dwell and overthink negative thoughts, thus, spawning inaction. Moreover, our thoughts are converted into action – intentionally or unintentionally. Freudian Slips, for example, are the unintentional errors in speech that are generally attributed to the presence and motivation of some unconscious thought. Willingly or unwillingly, our thoughts are constantly converted into action, and action creates our reality. By reigning in and controlling our thoughts, we can effectively control our action and therefore, our reality.

Buddha said, “Your worst enemy cannot harm you as much as your own unguarded thoughts.” The extent to which your thoughts affect your reality is unknown but it cannot be denied that your thoughts have a direct effect on yourself. The more positive your thoughts, the more positive is the effect on yourself. The more negative the thoughts, the more negatively you are affected. So let’s be positive! After all, what do we have to lose?