It has been a stagnating long time since my last post. And if you were my diary, I would be apologizing profusely. But as it turns out, you’re not. So deal with it.
However, this is mostly going to be a post in introspection.
Okay, sometime maybe you are a diary.
In this weird inability to pen down my thoughts lately I have come to realize that perhaps it isn't just some clichéd writer’s block. It is perhaps something deeper, something that has got to do with the fundamental methodology of my writing.
There are people who can be unattached to the subject of their writing. People who can rave about random things that don’t matter much to them. There are some others who must feel what they write, must make their own what they write, whether it is their own feelings or somebody else’s. And I perhaps fall in the second category.
And this takes me back to the purpose of this article, that perhaps I haven’t been feeling anything lately that I can call my own. Yes, there have been moments of joy like coming back home, misery that all my friends aren’t here, exhilaration when I go out and have a good time, and disappointment when things don’t go as planned, but somehow none of that or other things
have brought about any expression in the form of words.
I wonder what elicits this kind of numbness and the ability to feel and yet not feel. Whatever it may be, I hope it ends soon enough, for though it might be good to be unaffected, it is a worthless life without the myriad emotions that exist in this world.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Saturday, October 16, 2010
A life of lies
The angst is limitless. It is surprising how some people get along with their lives without ever knowing pangs of this kind. For the rest, those sleepless nights when you cry yourself to sleep, where the morbidity of your life finally becomes too much to bear, is when you’re truly alive. Because the rest of time, the ways of the world teach you to leave your inner self behind.
There is nothing more painful than knowing that you are alone. There is no despair greater than when laying on your bed at night, after surviving the whole day with that fake smile plastered on your face, the tears flow relentlessly. And its agony when every day of your life is such a day. The charade of the people around you and the pretence that you yourself are forced to put up take out every ounce of sanity left in you. In the end, it’s just you, the soreness, and the tears.
In this world, nothing is the way it seems. The intertwining of the lunacy, the deceit and so many people is something that is too much to take. You die inside each time you realise that there is yet another way that people can hurt you. And there is nothing you can do. You sit put when all you want to do is run away. To escape. In a place where none is a friend, where none really understands you, it is the pretence that lives on eventually. And at the end of the day, when in the confines of your solitude, you finally let go of this farce, it is impossible not to break down completely. Impossible to stop the pain from flowing into each part of your body. It leaves you cold and damaged.
There is nothing more painful than knowing that you are alone. There is no despair greater than when laying on your bed at night, after surviving the whole day with that fake smile plastered on your face, the tears flow relentlessly. And its agony when every day of your life is such a day. The charade of the people around you and the pretence that you yourself are forced to put up take out every ounce of sanity left in you. In the end, it’s just you, the soreness, and the tears.
In this world, nothing is the way it seems. The intertwining of the lunacy, the deceit and so many people is something that is too much to take. You die inside each time you realise that there is yet another way that people can hurt you. And there is nothing you can do. You sit put when all you want to do is run away. To escape. In a place where none is a friend, where none really understands you, it is the pretence that lives on eventually. And at the end of the day, when in the confines of your solitude, you finally let go of this farce, it is impossible not to break down completely. Impossible to stop the pain from flowing into each part of your body. It leaves you cold and damaged.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
The Darkest Hour
The night is darkest before the dawn. Or so people say. But in that dark, desolate hour, when the heart screams in agony, when the mind is twisted, when the soul is shrouded, what does one do? Where does one go?
There come many instances in life when faced with such intensity of emotions. I’ve rather had a bit too many of them. Right now, it’s one. It’s difficult to console the mind. It’s impossible to see reason. And certainly it’s unimaginable to believe that indeed dawn is but a little while away.
The whole hopelessness of the predicament is nauseatingly painful. It’s like being lost in a deep dark alley and not knowing the way out. In a place like where I am, this alley only gets more daunting.
I feel caged. I feel like I’ll never see daylight again. And what makes it so much harder is knowing I’m alone in this battle. Knowing that if I ever do outstretch my hand in search of a little hope, a little help, I will only grasp empty air. Air that reeks of desolation and of despair.
There come many instances in life when faced with such intensity of emotions. I’ve rather had a bit too many of them. Right now, it’s one. It’s difficult to console the mind. It’s impossible to see reason. And certainly it’s unimaginable to believe that indeed dawn is but a little while away.
The whole hopelessness of the predicament is nauseatingly painful. It’s like being lost in a deep dark alley and not knowing the way out. In a place like where I am, this alley only gets more daunting.
I feel caged. I feel like I’ll never see daylight again. And what makes it so much harder is knowing I’m alone in this battle. Knowing that if I ever do outstretch my hand in search of a little hope, a little help, I will only grasp empty air. Air that reeks of desolation and of despair.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
The trickling of the heavens
The incessant rain in Pilani now has finally compelled me to dedicate an article pondering over this amazing new phenomenon. For someone who has spent only a little more than a year at this place, this is quite remarkable and simply beautiful.
We all remember our favourite rainy days, like back in class one when my dad had come to pick me up from school in the lunch hour amidst torrential rains that filled up the cars and autos with at least knee length water. Or when school was cancelled because the roads were waterlogged and we stayed home watching T.V. and devouring on mom’s amazing food. Or more recently lying curled up in bed with some awesome book and looking out of the windows occasionally not being able to help but wonder and be amazed by such breath-taking beauty.
For me, the best part of rain is before it actually pours, when the sky is completely draped with dark clouds, the leaves waver in the soft cool breeze; you know then that something exquisite is about to happen. The pleasing feeling that comes with it is unmatched, it never fails to awe or soothe the mind. I remember spending countless days in my room back home just staring out of the window when it rained. Those memories have a lot to do with rejuvenation.
Here in Pilani, its all the more beautiful. The greenery, the pristine sky and the relentless rain; its nothing short of magical. Even now as I look out of my hostel window I’m simply enamoured by how picturesque it looks, and how pleasing it feels.
There is something about the rains that forces you to forget all else. Something about it, that though it makes your hair curl up like noodles, smudges your kajal all over your eyes and drenches you through and through, it still makes your heart soar.
The romance of rain is perennial and forever endearing. As I look heavenwards once again, I can only be thankful for all that I behold, and all that I feel.
We all remember our favourite rainy days, like back in class one when my dad had come to pick me up from school in the lunch hour amidst torrential rains that filled up the cars and autos with at least knee length water. Or when school was cancelled because the roads were waterlogged and we stayed home watching T.V. and devouring on mom’s amazing food. Or more recently lying curled up in bed with some awesome book and looking out of the windows occasionally not being able to help but wonder and be amazed by such breath-taking beauty.
For me, the best part of rain is before it actually pours, when the sky is completely draped with dark clouds, the leaves waver in the soft cool breeze; you know then that something exquisite is about to happen. The pleasing feeling that comes with it is unmatched, it never fails to awe or soothe the mind. I remember spending countless days in my room back home just staring out of the window when it rained. Those memories have a lot to do with rejuvenation.
Here in Pilani, its all the more beautiful. The greenery, the pristine sky and the relentless rain; its nothing short of magical. Even now as I look out of my hostel window I’m simply enamoured by how picturesque it looks, and how pleasing it feels.
There is something about the rains that forces you to forget all else. Something about it, that though it makes your hair curl up like noodles, smudges your kajal all over your eyes and drenches you through and through, it still makes your heart soar.
The romance of rain is perennial and forever endearing. As I look heavenwards once again, I can only be thankful for all that I behold, and all that I feel.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Ramblings and some more.
Somehow no matter how many stories in the form of books or anecdotes from your friends’ lives or even your own imagination you might have heard or thought about, a story involving people in love does not cease to enthral, excite or just please.
It was probably the umpteenth number of rom-coms that my friends and I had watched in our hostel rooms, gushing over those crazy or sometimes just clichéd proposals, never refraining from oohing and aahing at every cute or just dumb dialogue. They were like the breath of the sweet perfumed air over and over again, admittedly not original but beautiful all the same.
People left and right of me seemed to be in love, or at least what they thought was love. Though it was often unbearable, to say the least, it was also extremely endearing. It was all well and good till the last of my friends got committed and there was just nothing to do except to listen to their heart-warming episodes of real-life love sagas. Yes I’m being slightly sarcastic here.
Finally it was nauseating enough to choose studying over hanging out with them. The whole sensation of realising that something might be positively wrong with me had finally hit. There seemed nothing I could do about it; I didn’t have the slightest clue about how these things worked. I mean how you know who you like, or how at all it could be possible for two people to simultaneously fall in love with each other. It was statistically wrong.
But people seemed to defy all logic anyway. Either everyone was weird or it was just me. And I couldn’t possibly think it was me, I mean that was just impossible.
It was probably the umpteenth number of rom-coms that my friends and I had watched in our hostel rooms, gushing over those crazy or sometimes just clichéd proposals, never refraining from oohing and aahing at every cute or just dumb dialogue. They were like the breath of the sweet perfumed air over and over again, admittedly not original but beautiful all the same.
People left and right of me seemed to be in love, or at least what they thought was love. Though it was often unbearable, to say the least, it was also extremely endearing. It was all well and good till the last of my friends got committed and there was just nothing to do except to listen to their heart-warming episodes of real-life love sagas. Yes I’m being slightly sarcastic here.
Finally it was nauseating enough to choose studying over hanging out with them. The whole sensation of realising that something might be positively wrong with me had finally hit. There seemed nothing I could do about it; I didn’t have the slightest clue about how these things worked. I mean how you know who you like, or how at all it could be possible for two people to simultaneously fall in love with each other. It was statistically wrong.
But people seemed to defy all logic anyway. Either everyone was weird or it was just me. And I couldn’t possibly think it was me, I mean that was just impossible.
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
Tomorrow is another day
Bearing in mind that I’m spending what could be the most jobless phase of my life (i.e. considering I’m never unemployed in my later life), I could say that I’m giving shamefully less time to things that I enjoy, reading and writing to mention the two most important.
With time stretching apparently infinitely, the motivation to actually do something worthwhile is low. And that pretty much reduces the daily timetable to getting up as late as 11 in the morning and then getting glued to the television till its tea-time watching any random movie that might be airing at the time. Well thanks to Sony Pix, Star Movies and HBO, though majorly fruitless, the day turns out to be sufficiently entertaining. Facebook and Gtalk pretty much take care of the rest of the day.
With over a month of such a routine, the mind seems oddly attached to it and thinking of any alternate lifestyle involving hardships of any kind not only is very, very unpleasant, it also seems to squeeze out all of the fun of the particular moment that the thought occurs in and the ones after it too. So I take to the policy that I have used more or less all my life, (which in fact was even employed by Scarlett) - I put the thought at the back of my head where I imagine it is safely locked until I voluntarily release it. It works most of the time.
But the instances that such thoughts occur have been rising recently. Now, with less than a month remaining for yet another phase of a little more than hardships, the disturbing thoughts plague my mind more often.
Weird though. When I was at the land of hardships, I quite enjoyed my stay and I even wondered before the break, what I would do for the long time I would get for doing basically nothing, how I would stay without my friends I was used to seeing 24 hours a day and how I would ever get used to soft beds and good food.
But within a week none of that mattered. The place I’d grown fond of wasn't so appealing anymore. Old friends resurfaced, relatives became confidants and well, soft beds and good food became the norm. And now it’s hard, very hard indeed to think of letting it all go, to go back to the mundane and morbid.
But as always, “tomorrow I’ll think of some way...after all, tomorrow is another day”
With time stretching apparently infinitely, the motivation to actually do something worthwhile is low. And that pretty much reduces the daily timetable to getting up as late as 11 in the morning and then getting glued to the television till its tea-time watching any random movie that might be airing at the time. Well thanks to Sony Pix, Star Movies and HBO, though majorly fruitless, the day turns out to be sufficiently entertaining. Facebook and Gtalk pretty much take care of the rest of the day.
With over a month of such a routine, the mind seems oddly attached to it and thinking of any alternate lifestyle involving hardships of any kind not only is very, very unpleasant, it also seems to squeeze out all of the fun of the particular moment that the thought occurs in and the ones after it too. So I take to the policy that I have used more or less all my life, (which in fact was even employed by Scarlett) - I put the thought at the back of my head where I imagine it is safely locked until I voluntarily release it. It works most of the time.
But the instances that such thoughts occur have been rising recently. Now, with less than a month remaining for yet another phase of a little more than hardships, the disturbing thoughts plague my mind more often.
Weird though. When I was at the land of hardships, I quite enjoyed my stay and I even wondered before the break, what I would do for the long time I would get for doing basically nothing, how I would stay without my friends I was used to seeing 24 hours a day and how I would ever get used to soft beds and good food.
But within a week none of that mattered. The place I’d grown fond of wasn't so appealing anymore. Old friends resurfaced, relatives became confidants and well, soft beds and good food became the norm. And now it’s hard, very hard indeed to think of letting it all go, to go back to the mundane and morbid.
But as always, “tomorrow I’ll think of some way...after all, tomorrow is another day”
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Being Home
There is something magical about the way your heart feels a fuzzy warmth at the sight of something dear and familiar. And nothing compares to the pure joy of being back home in the city you've grown up in, after you've been away for so long.
Yes, the excitement of feeling the train finally coming to a stop at the familiar station after 21 hours of journey; stepping out of the train with luggage the size bigger than yourself, but hardly noticing it in all the jubilation; and finally looking up at the faces of your family members come to receive you; its these simple joyous moments that make life.
I got home on the 16th and its been two glorious weeks of relaxation, good food, movies and the kind of joblessness that is exhilarating to say the least. The roads, the people...they seem to welcome you with all the commotion and otherwise disruptive noise. The malls, with their KFCs, McD's and CCD's and their stores- Levi's, Pantaloons, Shopper's Stop, they beckon you with a longing thats severe and strong. All the things that after the village life in Pilani seem like a big treat. Don't get me wrong though, I love my college and the campus, but nothing equals the feeling of being home.
Calcutta. Its warmth, its passion, its simplicity, its sheer love for music and literature; everything about this place not just makes me immensely proud but tugs at my heart in a way no other place could. It is after all the place I've known and loved all my life, the place of unquestionable beauty.
Sunday, May 02, 2010
Euphoria
As the night dawns on, the rhythm begins. The calmness, the serenity of the soundlessness of the world sleeping. Its miraculous, its peace personified. Then the voices begin. The crazed voices of the unknown lurking close by, just out of reach, taunting and sneering at me. As time progresses, the conscious mind gives in. It ceases to exist, as the subconscious is born, feeding on the dead remains of its counterpart of the sane world. As reality and dreams and nightmares mingle to form one, the zenith of the hysteria is reached.
Its madness, its Euphoria.
Its madness, its Euphoria.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Meaningless Meaning
The world is beautiful as long as you want to believe it is. It's rosy when you're pumping with pounding blood in your system, when you're in general in a state of euphoria (of varied stages) and when you're not faced with doubt and hypocrisy so severe and shocking that it dislodges your very sense of self.
It is a cynical world, out there. One that will not change just 'cause you want it to and believe that because you were noble and kept the end of your bargain, everything's going to fall into place, everything is going to work out exactly as you'd hoped.
In spite of everything that goes on in this world people remain the same, no one and nothing changes. its the loop with the counter tending to infinity. Its miserable and pathetic. There is nothing in here that is sane or logical, or some so logical that its inhumane to say the least. everything's dis-functional, programmed to fail. Yet there are people who try, and try to make some sort of an impact, some change, any change. But more often than not they realize that they are either too insignificant or powerless to make even an iota of the changes they had dreamed of.
Life is mundane. Its the same old story being said over and over again with a different protagonist, (each his own of course) with no coherent rhythm or reason for its existence. We might as easily have not existed. Would it have mattered to the cosmos? I'm thinking not.
Getting to the hypocrisy, isn't it rather painfully amusing that no matter how much some people appear to be 'sacrificing', and above all otherwise useless and mundane things of life like jealousy, anger or some supposed vice, they are always, without fail, merely pretending? A pretense they have carried on for so long that they forget it was pretension in the first place. Yet the fact remains that it is not part of who they are. It is not, 'cause it can't be. No one remotely human or otherwise is capable of it because put very simply they are the only entity where their life story begins and ends. There is no other soul that can matter as much as they matter to themselves. Its the very law of nature. Self preservation is too ingrained in us to let go. Any other form of supposed self-less behaviour is only a misplaced or enlarged notion of self. But it is the self. Every time.
Life teaches you many lessons. One of them is to observe and appreciate the remarkable faulty mechanism of life in place that works so perfectly for the imperfect world we live in. The other is living in denial, believing as we are (yet again) programmed to believe, how simply gorgeous life is and how life itself suffices the very meaning of life. The latter is how most of us think and undoubtedly life is comfortable that way; ignorance after all is bliss. But the few who are cursed to look at life in the other way have a forever jinxed mind. It doesn't do you good to know that every good thing done to you is because of an ulterior motive that benefits the benefactor himself.
Despite every change, one thing is certain, nothing will change. The only change significant enough will be when we all perish. Well it is a crooked world and a crooked world it shall remain.
PS: I'm not very sure if this post made much sense, but well its 3 am and I'm sleep deprived. We all know what that can do to the body and mind.
It is a cynical world, out there. One that will not change just 'cause you want it to and believe that because you were noble and kept the end of your bargain, everything's going to fall into place, everything is going to work out exactly as you'd hoped.
In spite of everything that goes on in this world people remain the same, no one and nothing changes. its the loop with the counter tending to infinity. Its miserable and pathetic. There is nothing in here that is sane or logical, or some so logical that its inhumane to say the least. everything's dis-functional, programmed to fail. Yet there are people who try, and try to make some sort of an impact, some change, any change. But more often than not they realize that they are either too insignificant or powerless to make even an iota of the changes they had dreamed of.
Life is mundane. Its the same old story being said over and over again with a different protagonist, (each his own of course) with no coherent rhythm or reason for its existence. We might as easily have not existed. Would it have mattered to the cosmos? I'm thinking not.
Getting to the hypocrisy, isn't it rather painfully amusing that no matter how much some people appear to be 'sacrificing', and above all otherwise useless and mundane things of life like jealousy, anger or some supposed vice, they are always, without fail, merely pretending? A pretense they have carried on for so long that they forget it was pretension in the first place. Yet the fact remains that it is not part of who they are. It is not, 'cause it can't be. No one remotely human or otherwise is capable of it because put very simply they are the only entity where their life story begins and ends. There is no other soul that can matter as much as they matter to themselves. Its the very law of nature. Self preservation is too ingrained in us to let go. Any other form of supposed self-less behaviour is only a misplaced or enlarged notion of self. But it is the self. Every time.
Life teaches you many lessons. One of them is to observe and appreciate the remarkable faulty mechanism of life in place that works so perfectly for the imperfect world we live in. The other is living in denial, believing as we are (yet again) programmed to believe, how simply gorgeous life is and how life itself suffices the very meaning of life. The latter is how most of us think and undoubtedly life is comfortable that way; ignorance after all is bliss. But the few who are cursed to look at life in the other way have a forever jinxed mind. It doesn't do you good to know that every good thing done to you is because of an ulterior motive that benefits the benefactor himself.
Despite every change, one thing is certain, nothing will change. The only change significant enough will be when we all perish. Well it is a crooked world and a crooked world it shall remain.
PS: I'm not very sure if this post made much sense, but well its 3 am and I'm sleep deprived. We all know what that can do to the body and mind.
Monday, March 01, 2010
My First Holi
This is one of those times when things just refuse to go the way you’d hoped or planned; when i am in such a cranky mood that nothing other than the best could ever hope to please me.
My first holi in BITS...apparently a very joyous occasion. Beautiful clear sky, peacocks calling from just outside the hostel and a calm, serene atmosphere...just perfect for the upheaval called holi.
Then why you wonder i’m sitting here in my room with bitterness oozing out of every stroke of the keyboard keys. Well like i said before, in my world if things aren’t perfect they don’t exist at all. My ideal notion of holi in my first year college was that all my friends and i would take the place by storm and have a mind-bogglingly good time, even perhaps try out the ‘bhang’ (well yes i haven’t ever tried that yet, surprising i know but that is how it is).
But as you have guessed right, that was not to be. It turned out very few of my friends happened to share my views on how we should celebrate holi. They all decided to run back home. I sometimes wonder why i even befriended these people from Delhi and Jaipur, why i couldn’t hang out with people from the places farthest from Pilani. Ah well even while the question was framing i got my answer...simply ‘cause i love my friends here. But that of course is beside the point. The fact remained that my ideal holi was ruined and no fragmented holi celebration could appease me now.
My first holi in BITS...apparently a very joyous occasion. Beautiful clear sky, peacocks calling from just outside the hostel and a calm, serene atmosphere...just perfect for the upheaval called holi.
Then why you wonder i’m sitting here in my room with bitterness oozing out of every stroke of the keyboard keys. Well like i said before, in my world if things aren’t perfect they don’t exist at all. My ideal notion of holi in my first year college was that all my friends and i would take the place by storm and have a mind-bogglingly good time, even perhaps try out the ‘bhang’ (well yes i haven’t ever tried that yet, surprising i know but that is how it is).
But as you have guessed right, that was not to be. It turned out very few of my friends happened to share my views on how we should celebrate holi. They all decided to run back home. I sometimes wonder why i even befriended these people from Delhi and Jaipur, why i couldn’t hang out with people from the places farthest from Pilani. Ah well even while the question was framing i got my answer...simply ‘cause i love my friends here. But that of course is beside the point. The fact remained that my ideal holi was ruined and no fragmented holi celebration could appease me now.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Broken Heart
You can very broadly categorise girls into two types, one that believe that the world is fair, there is beauty about everything that you can see and most importantly that there exists this heavenly emotion called love that is undoubtedly meant for everyone and that sooner or later they too would find that perfect person they were meant to be with. And then there is this other kind who think that it’s a big bad world out there where no one (and certainly not Prince Charming) would come and help you out if you ever were in distress, that it’s a world where you must know how to defend yourself or you shall perish like the million others that do every day.
Being an idealist since as far back as I can remember I happened to fall in the former category. And not just that, I used to be incredibly proud of it too. I would often give these long ‘inspirational talks’ about how god is just and kind; how there is a balance in everything that exists and how it is so absolute that good things happen to all people. (Yes I was greatly enthused and moved by all the novels I had read.)
This faith only strengthened when on my seventeenth birthday my best friend proposed to me saying how much he loved me and how he could feel it to his very core that we were meant to be together. Until then I hadn’t known that the feeling of happiness could be so powerful, so ecstatic that it could actually bring tears to your eyes.
The following two years were the best in my life. We ended up in the same college and almost all the same classes. The feeling of being in love was ethereal. It was like I was constantly supported and protected by some invisible shield and that somehow nothing wrong could ever happen to me again.
Only it did.
I can still recollect that time easily, as if it had happened yesterday and not sometime in the distant past. It is still so clearly etched on my mind because of the deep wound it inflicted on my heart and the scars that are still unhealed.
On the 2nd of august two years ago, I found out that the very basis of all my beliefs, of my life was untrue. It was a myth I had conjured up in my own head. The one person I had cared for, worshipped and loved beyond sanity was snatched away from me. Yes, the source of all my happiness, the reason for my being no longer existed. I could feel life ebbing out of me.
I had always believed in a fair world, in a God who was just and kind. But all that had changed. I realized what it meant to be alive and that it was nothing but pain.
And now no matter how hard I try to erase those memories from my mind they seem to make only a deeper impression. Even now I can clearly hear his voice resonating in my head; I can clearly see the look in his eyes as they had bored into mine. Waves of memories from the past as they strike my already broken heart...break it in into a million pieces. Scattering them such that I would never find them together again, to be able to try and join them somehow. Even now when I close my eyes at night the silent tear that runs down my cheek reminds me of my heart that is no longer whole and shall never be whole. Sometimes the pain is so acute I feel like ripping my heart out, just to make it stop, to stop any kind of feeling at all, because the only emotion left in me is of pain, of loss...A feeling I’m now too weak and tired to feel.
Friday, February 12, 2010
The Essence Of God
Being born into a hindu family but one where too many rituals were never follwed(though very spiritual) I had enough liberty to think in an unbiased way about what religion and God meant, or more imporantly what they meant to me.
I have somehow never thought of God as any of the idols you get to see so often. Being a bengali the Durga puja has been a very important part of my growing years, but somehow these elaborate pujas and festivals have never been much about God and feeling Him (or Her) near as it has been about the pandal hopping or the hanging out with friends and cousins. Somehow in all that noise, the sound that would tell me the meaning of it all is lost.
So here it goes..I have never beieved in religion. It just doesn't make any sense to me. How can an institution ever define something so deeply engrained in my soul, that I myself have trouble understandig? How can it define so ordinarily and collectively such a distinctive part of God that is my soul. I agree that religions were established with the pure aim of benefiting people. But now if wars and hatred and intolerance of others is justified in its name then something has definitely gone gravely wrong.
If it were for me, I would have to agree with Mahatma Gandhi when he had said that there should be as many religions as people if you equate your connection with god as a religion. My god is mine alone in the sense that the way I feel about god I could never and would never expect anybody else to feel that way. Its unique as its pesonal. In moments of absolute aloneness it is this god in the form of your soul that gives you the answers you seek.
For me these moments of aloneness, absolute darkness is special, necessary even, to appreciate that incessantly burning glow I see before my eyes when I know I'm with Him. The glow that is overshadowed in the everyday hustle and bustle. The feeling that gives meaning and purpose to the otherwise mundane life we lead.
Its unwise to generalise and then to punish for not conforming to this generalisation. It is in my opinion a murder of the very essence of our love of God.
I have somehow never thought of God as any of the idols you get to see so often. Being a bengali the Durga puja has been a very important part of my growing years, but somehow these elaborate pujas and festivals have never been much about God and feeling Him (or Her) near as it has been about the pandal hopping or the hanging out with friends and cousins. Somehow in all that noise, the sound that would tell me the meaning of it all is lost.
So here it goes..I have never beieved in religion. It just doesn't make any sense to me. How can an institution ever define something so deeply engrained in my soul, that I myself have trouble understandig? How can it define so ordinarily and collectively such a distinctive part of God that is my soul. I agree that religions were established with the pure aim of benefiting people. But now if wars and hatred and intolerance of others is justified in its name then something has definitely gone gravely wrong.
If it were for me, I would have to agree with Mahatma Gandhi when he had said that there should be as many religions as people if you equate your connection with god as a religion. My god is mine alone in the sense that the way I feel about god I could never and would never expect anybody else to feel that way. Its unique as its pesonal. In moments of absolute aloneness it is this god in the form of your soul that gives you the answers you seek.
For me these moments of aloneness, absolute darkness is special, necessary even, to appreciate that incessantly burning glow I see before my eyes when I know I'm with Him. The glow that is overshadowed in the everyday hustle and bustle. The feeling that gives meaning and purpose to the otherwise mundane life we lead.
Its unwise to generalise and then to punish for not conforming to this generalisation. It is in my opinion a murder of the very essence of our love of God.
Thursday, February 04, 2010
For the love of Science
Another regular day at college. Only nothing gets creepier than this. Of the various methods available in this universe our great gurus at college could adopt to teach us invaluable knowledge of science, they decide on extreme torture and shock treatment. I mean what is more beautiful than organic chemistry with its various awe-inspiring reactions and reasons (and I’m not being sardonic here) or say the electromagnetic theory that Maxwell had discovered (and I’m assuming this with almost complete surety) with absolute passion. I know this is clichéd but if only they would allow us or just give us room enough to appreciate all this the way they were meant to be I am sure we would not only enjoy this so much more but actually get better at it.
To resume what I was saying earlier..a creepy day at college. Chemistry quiz early in the morning at 8. God save our souls. It’s already a feat in itself to wake up that early to reach class on time during the winters of Pilani and add to that the usual botheration of quizzes. And had it been only that I would still not be cribbing about it. The very next hour, ‘Surprise quizz’ in physics. And surprised we were in every sense of the word.
So basically what could be a true learning and enriching experience is marred by the absolute unnecessary ritual of evaluation. So what if some people would hardly ever open the book if evaluation was to stop, those interested would still gain their quota of knowledge (and the others could rest in peace as well).
In any case we are here for the love of science (some with the prospect of getting better jobs; but we aren’t focusing on them now) and let us all remember that in our hearts. In Einstein’s words –“The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed.”
To resume what I was saying earlier..a creepy day at college. Chemistry quiz early in the morning at 8. God save our souls. It’s already a feat in itself to wake up that early to reach class on time during the winters of Pilani and add to that the usual botheration of quizzes. And had it been only that I would still not be cribbing about it. The very next hour, ‘Surprise quizz’ in physics. And surprised we were in every sense of the word.
So basically what could be a true learning and enriching experience is marred by the absolute unnecessary ritual of evaluation. So what if some people would hardly ever open the book if evaluation was to stop, those interested would still gain their quota of knowledge (and the others could rest in peace as well).
In any case we are here for the love of science (some with the prospect of getting better jobs; but we aren’t focusing on them now) and let us all remember that in our hearts. In Einstein’s words –“The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed.”
Jobless
its after one in the morning as i realise i have been staring blankly at the textbook for the last one hour. Damn i don’t even remember which subject it was. My roomy soundly asleep, having practised all the eg plates atleast twice. I mean she is a nice girl and a very dear friend but sometimes she gives me the creeps. Like god when i go to sleep she is staring at the book when i wake up she is still with it. did she even sleep?
Oh i see now. My maths book is open in front of me. And oh..i have a test tomorrow. After having studied maths for mre than 13 yrs (and its always been my fav subject and mind u i am actually good at it)i fail to see why in the name of god we have to prove 0u=0! I mean even physics always made more sense to me than this does.
Its two in the morning now. No..didnt make it to the next page. ‘facebooking’ is somehow more appealing than mugging absolutely ridiculous theorems. ‘facebooking’...funny how people coin such terms...first it was orkutting...strange though we never seemed to have used ‘hi5ing’.
Yeah am absolutely jobless. Sleep wont come, well even if it did my heavily running nose wont let it stay. God! Such punishment for 1 choco vanilla icecream! And i thought there existed some form of justice in the world.
Ok..now the headache. Yes ye almighty succumb to your majestic powers. Let me just sleep.
Yes i will sleep now.
Oh i see now. My maths book is open in front of me. And oh..i have a test tomorrow. After having studied maths for mre than 13 yrs (and its always been my fav subject and mind u i am actually good at it)i fail to see why in the name of god we have to prove 0u=0! I mean even physics always made more sense to me than this does.
Its two in the morning now. No..didnt make it to the next page. ‘facebooking’ is somehow more appealing than mugging absolutely ridiculous theorems. ‘facebooking’...funny how people coin such terms...first it was orkutting...strange though we never seemed to have used ‘hi5ing’.
Yeah am absolutely jobless. Sleep wont come, well even if it did my heavily running nose wont let it stay. God! Such punishment for 1 choco vanilla icecream! And i thought there existed some form of justice in the world.
Ok..now the headache. Yes ye almighty succumb to your majestic powers. Let me just sleep.
Yes i will sleep now.
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