Solitude

Well my month long hiatus is over, and I find myself with something to write again.

Being alone is not really all that bad. The solitude gives you time for introspection and makes you appreciate the little things in life. As an only child to 2 working parents I've had my share of solitude, and I'm none the worse for it.

What is bad is being lonely. I know that both things may be the same, but my command of englissh is not great enough to pull a word out opff the myriad of them that encapsulates what I mean. Instead let me try and explain.

Being alone is a state. It arises when thorugh external factors, there is noone to keep you company, and you accept that. It passes and noone really cares. Being lonely, in my concept of the term is when you feel unwanted by people and hence you try and be alone. In my concept, being lonely is a decision you make, when you excuse yourself from socciety because you don;t feel like you can take its beating anymore, and as icing on the cake if you will, this leads to your friends feeling offended and themselves feeling lonely.

Friends are essential. That goes without saying. There's only so much that one person can bare, and friends help share the load. They're your support, your laughter and your tears. But they are not yours. If one fails to understand that one's friends are not just one's friends but induvuduals all on their own with lives, hopes, dispairs of their own, then one isn't a friend at all.

Being lonely is a direct consequence of the failure to appreciate the life of one's friends. You expect them to always be there for you to pick you up, straighten you out and say- tomorrow is another day, but they are human too. And if you're lucky enough to come across that rare individual who puts you above themselves in every action.  consider yourself the luckiest person on earth, but bear in mind, they're human too, and just as they are your friend, you're theirs too, and you need to be all that they are to you. Because every relationship goes 2 ways.

But its not enough that you make yourself available. Anyone can say call me when you need help. What matters is actually meaning that. Actually meaning that whenever you need me, whenever your lonely, whenever the world seems to beat you done, I'm there for you, above everything else, I will pick you up, I will set you right, I will share your smile, and I will wipe you tears. For that is what being a friend is all about, and in the selfish ssociety that man has created for himself, that is the only way to ease ones passage through the relelntless gauntlet that is life.

 

Literature again...

I'm someone with 0 will power. Meaning I start things and never finish them. Most of my projects never even see the light of day. I'm also someone with lots and lots of ideas in my head, and the stuff below is the prologue to one of the many story-lines in my head right now. I really like this particular one. The prologue doesn't convey much about the story, except the magic mechanism. I'll post the back story later. I'm writing it right now, kinda done with it so anyways....

Prologue: The Man in the Dark

The man walked on.  Cloaked in black, he was as visible as a shadow at night, and the night was darker than usual. The sky was shrouded in clouds and though the full moon tried valiantly, it remained hidden behind them.

The man neared his destination. The wooden walls of the outpost seemed granite in the night. He pulled his cloak around him tighter. Calling on the years of his training, he embraced the cunning within and became one with the night. Moving between the shadows he quickly neared the main tent, put up in the middle of the camp. The tent of the rebel leader Arkanor. He lay sleeping within.

The man arose out of the shadows of Arkanor’s dresser.  The lamp he used to keep the night at bay, proving  to be his downfall. The man slit his throat,  but he was careless, or perhaps bored. As Arkanor fell from his bed, his outstretched hand knocked over his helm, which lay just beside him. The clattering sound of steel on hard earth bought the sentry ‘guards’ running. They saw the man with his bloody dagger, and their leader dead at his feet. They immediately raised the alarm. The mans face twisted into a grin.

The man summoned the rage within him and his body immediately set itself on fire. From head to toe, the man was alight. His dagger turned the reddest of red, and seemed to weep blood. The sentry guards were charred to cinders in a moment. The tent a moment later. Now the man lit up the whole camp like a bonfire,  drawing to him the soldiers like moths. Calling on the justice within, the man crystallized the light of the fire into an impenetrable barrier that stopped all swords in mid strike, those that did not melt in the horrendous heat of his body that is.

The man stood and watched as soldiers charged towards him and fell, burned beyond all recognition. Then the archers arrived. Summoning his will to survive, the man created around him a space of no-time. As the arrows came, they entered the no-time and fell to the ground. But the archers continued on. Getting bored of this entertainment too, the man called upon the determination within him and summoned the power of the Maelstrom. The water in the air around him solidified into daggers of ice that he threw with unerring accuracy, ripping the archers literally to shreds. The lines of the soldiers were decimated, and yet they charged on. The man was getting late. He had one more assignment to finish off in the night. Unleashing the power of his courage, the man called forth the tempest. From the sky, bolts of lightning crashed down on the remaining soldiers. They fell dead where they stood. The howling winds carried then off into the air, and threw them, like a petulant girl would her dolls, onto the ground. The camp lay deserted. The man rearranged his cloak. Looking deep within to find the feeling of emptiness, the man collapsed the space between where he was and where he needed to be. The man took one step and vanished, arriving at his second destination, a thousand miles away, within the blinking of an eye.

The man still wore the grin, but now he was even whistling to himself. He was happy with how things had gone. Not only had he done the job, he had had some fun as well. Whistling tunelessly to himself, the man pulled his cloak around himself and strolled down the street, searching for his next target. 

Requiem of a Memory

Bowing to popular demand, I've decided to post another of my literary works. 

I signed up for this 'certificate' course last sem. On embedded systems or something. Suffice it to say that the class was so interesting that I found myself writing poems during it. I have maybe 3 or 4, and the popular demandee(my best friend Spike) telle me to upload one a week. I know mentioning his name is totally redundant, but he practically begged me to. Well he didn't actually, but its more fun this way. So anyways, the poem...

Requiem of a Memory

The day passes, the light dims

Memories once diamond bright

Rust as they recede to the dark

To return to sanity, I must fight.

Memories once fond, once cherished

Turn to ash as the clock turns.

Hours and hours of my history collapse,

My past life, slowly it burns.

At their birth, when they arose,

Took my higher deeper stronger.

Now, crippled by emotion,

Every day, to return, takes longer.

Memory! Why torment me now?

Why bring back pale shades of the past?

Again and once again in plunge,

Into sorrow, head first, feet last.

As I treead this lonely road,

Struggle do I against the burden I carry,

A life of hate and worry,

I hastern, I must not tarry.

But as I trek up the peak of my past,

Laughter, life flashes in a moment.

Times when joy in me heart I felt,

Perhaps life is not just torment.

But like light cannot exist without dark,

So too must joy and sorrow remain,

Bound together, forever alternate,

Gives life to this requiem, this refrain.

One's history is one's own unquestionable,

But why one oneself causes pain?
This query resounds in my every breath,

I wonder, Why this heavy chain?

As one day turns to the next,

In my life and in my past,

I come to see there is just cause,

To laugh, to cry, at last.

Choices Revisited

This is a follow up to a previous post is a sense.

Last week after lunch, I'm walking back with a friend when we get to THE shop. It's called enzo, ans stocks everything a guy needs, from coke to lays to hide and seek, and for the nerdy people, stick files and notebooks. Anyhow, as I walk towards Enzo in the oppressive heat, I start thinking, should I buy a frooti or an ice cream? Instantly, my mind starts weighing the pros and cons of each, and a second later, the thinker in me surfaces. Why can't every decision in life be between frooti and ice cream? There is no wrong answer. There is no 'wrong' choice. Wether I buy the Frooti or the ice cream, I'm going to be happy. The only hesitation arises from not knowing which one would give me the most satisfaction. but they both will.

Life on the other hand offers you choices between something that 'might' satisfy you, and something that most definately will not, in the long run. It is the instinctive knowledge of that inherent aspect of all decisons, that we always hesitate before we make a choice. 

In the previous post, I proposed the abolition of choice, which is inherently impossible, but here I propose the abolition of the concept of a 'wrong' choice. This too is a very very hopeful thought, considering the selfish society, but it is slightly possible...

I didn't have either by the way.

Another observation I made is particularly applicable to collegers, is how no mattter how many days you have to do something, you always do it at the last moment. I mean, I do it, I corrupted my room-mate into doing it, and I am in the process of corrupting my closest friends. The whole reason for that I feel is that only when there is the pressure of-AARGGHHH tomorrow??? that you can actually bring yourself to do something. Otherwise no matter how hard you try, you end up with a small voice in the back of your head going-why now? you have time. relax... When the deadlines the next day though, the voice conveniently changes into-HaHa should have done it earlier!!

I've been telling myself to do work beforehand since I was 9. Now, 10 years later, I still do things on the last day. I have an assignment for tomorrow, and I haven't even gotten the materials. Oops.. I just realized my mom reads this...

As a final note, I apologize to my faithful readers (you guys) for the tempests(thats me) lack of posts over the past week. My internet got over and the internet-selling-person here conveniently got a fever. But, I'm back, and the storm is coming!!

God or the Proton?

I know its been a while since I posted, but I plead the excuse of exams and fever.

Lately I've been caught up in a discussion on the merits of science versus religion, as in which one is superior. To be frank, I don't think either is. Both are necessities in anyones life, and I really don't think that believeing on one prevents you from following the other.

Science and religion are actually intertwined. Religion explains the world through the heart, science through the mind. Ultimately, both seek to explain the world. And if you think about it, science arose in a sense because of religion. When man started questioning 'why?' religion began. When man started asking 'how?', science began, and inevitably, the why comes before the how.

I've always wondered why people are obsessed with 'why' something came to pass. It has already happened, so do the motives really matter? Consider a war. Knowledge of why it happens means very little to the widows and orphans. But knowing 'how' their dhusbands or fathers died is another matter. I feel the ultimately, 'how' is far more important than 'why', simply because 'why' is open to interpretation, while 'how' is not. The explanation of why someone did something is entirely dependant on the explainers mindset, beliefs and world views, while how is entirely objective, atleast in my opinion. There is only one possible explanation for how something happened, and that is inevitably factual.

Manss preoccupation with motive is absurd really. 500 years after something, knowing why it happened doesn't really matter much, because the world's changed, the people have changed, everythings changed. But from 'how' it happened, man can still learn.

I think I'll get back to the religion/science debate another time. Got class you see. But I leave you with this Menon original-"Man needs science to get thorough the day, but he needs religion to sleep aat night'.. Cool eh?

Choices...choices

Ah... Time to post again... actually not since I have exams right now, but then again exams may come and exams may go, but the blog goes on forever eh? Well thats the idea atleast... my mom might not be too happy though...

I recently learnt something pretty interesting about mosquitoes. They seem to have a rite of passage. It goes something like- suck blood from the biggest thing in the room. The flirtation with death for them seems almost exhilarating. I mean if you really think about it, you have to give the humble mosquito its due. Everytime its hungry, it has to put its life on the line. Imagine having to hunt a tiger for breakfast, lunch and dinner. That should put things into perspective.

Have you ever really considered the concept that humans are the highest form of life? I mean if you look at the apparent evidence, then I guess you could say we are, because in the grand scale of things, there is no other speccies who can boast of the level of dominion we have over the world. (Except maybe cockroaches. If you're afraid of bugs then pray that you don't survive a nuclear holocaust. All you're going to have for company will be those yucky little things)

Anyway, getting back to the highest form of life train of thought, it seems a given doesn't it? Even our religious books say that only after doing good deeds several times in previous lives does a soul gain shape as a human. Well here's where I disagree. I feel that a stone is luckier that a human. The reason being that a stone has no choice in what it can do. A stone can only exist. And its purpose is to just exist. It has no ambitions, no aspirations, no dissappointments, nothing to stop it from acheiveing its purpose of just being. Take a look at us though. From the day we're born, to the day we die, we face troubles, hardships, and worst of all- choices. You might disagree with me and feel that it is the power of choice that makes man who he is, and that a life without choice is an utterly pointless one, but what is the ultimate aim of life? Is it to be happy? Is it to have lots of money? Is there even an ultimate aim at all? Going by any of these assumptions, you have to concede that a life without choices would make it easier. There is no 'wrong' decision. All the ones are 'right'. And no matter what you do, you have the sense of satisfaction that you will accomplish your goal in life, to live.

I know I'm not making myself all that clear, so let me try again. A life with choices is one that has a much higher probability of having suffering one time or the other than a life without choices. And here I don't mean a situation where the lack of choice is forced upon you, but rather where the lack of choice is universal. The very concept of choice is to give man a sense that he has control over his life. And to be fair it does. I choose to write this blog. You choose to read it. But if you really think about it, aren't the really important decisions in life already made for you?

I leave you with that thought.

Hmmm....(2)

Now that the blog is officially up and running, I am faced with the daunting task of quality control. If I am to expand my reader base, I have to make this substantially more than the ramblings of a half-crazy 19 year old...

The stuff below was a song I wrote for my band, but it never really took off. Might have something to do with the fact that I was lead singer, and I cannot positively absolutely sing for peanuts. I changed it a bit, took out the chorus, and was left with something suprisingly poetic...

What the world has made (of me)

Life seems to slip away,

I lose my place for good,

I forget who I am,

And I ask of myself,

Is life worth fighting for?

Is love worth living for?

Because now I see, what the world has made of me, 

And I give up all my hope.

What is the purpose of this?

Why this life at all?

I wonder why this fiction, 

I want to leap from up high.

As I stand on the edge

As I stare into the deep,

I clearly see what the world has made of me, 

And I give up all my hope.

Why continue this fight?

Why live in twilight?

Why not give in?

Why not give up?
I can't even see the sun,

The stars dont shine for me,

Now I am what the world has made of me,

And I have given up my hope.

(guitar solo ending in a drum beat)

How can I give up this fight?

How can I abandon

All that I love,

All that I live for?
As I stand on the edge,

My heart beats again,

I refuse to be what the world has made of me

And I must hold on to my hope.

I stare into the night

But my head is held high

My soul stirs from slumber,

My passion re-ignites

Life is worth fighting for

Love is worth living for,

Now I see that the world has made me, me

And I live in my hope...