Well, so I find myself here in an oasis in the middle of the Persian Gulf. I have finished a substantial chunk of my education, and my road for the next 2 years has been charted out. I sip my morning Bournvita, and look outside the French windows, and my gaze falls on a barren piece of land. No lush greenery, no beautiful lawn to look out on. But the cool breeze of the AC brushes my hair, and the comfort of this place comes back to mind.
Sick of my lazing around and putting on weight, and doing no other useful work than surf around and chat on gtalk with friends, my parents decide to call me out to go shopping. Unwilling to go, I try to make excuses.
"I want to write my blog. There's no time, and no battery in my laptop. So I need to stay home"
"No."
"My best friend from school is coming back today. I want to catch up."
"You can speak to him after coming back. Now come and enough of this joblessness."
"Please." I beg to stay home. These will be my last holidays. I want to enjoy them at home, I think. But I don't say it aloud. I'll play that trump card elsewhere.
And relenting, I walk out in a pair of three quarters and a t-shirt. A Proline t-shirt that my mom absolutely disapproves of my wearing along with the three-quarters that we purchased at Geant and which she despises.
We get into the four-wheeled chassis, one of Toyota's wonderful creations and villa no. 27 vanishes in a puff of exhaust smoke. We cruise along the flyover, one of the few things you'd envy being in India. And barely has it been 15 minutes, we're at our destination 12 kms away.
Yet another thing I envy. Speed.
But what astounds me is the way I've swinged my emotions from being an 20.5-year old unruly kid to an admirer of philosophically and aesthetically pleasing things in life.....and the grim satisfaction I get now, not entirely unlike that of a student who fills up a page in his answer book having written nothing of substance at all.
amortentia bezoar confusing concoction draught of living death elixir of life felix felicis hate potion invisibility potion love potion murtlap polyjuice potion regeneration sleeping draught twilight moonbeams veritaserum wolfsbane
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Thursday, May 24, 2007
They stopped an exploding man!!!
My new laptop rocks. It's arguably the best laptop in the world in terms of performance, and also in terms of the way you can see amazing quality movies on it. In my first blog from this lappie, a tribute to my parents who've bought me this laptop for my future life at IIM.
And yet it can do not 0.07% of the stuff that the guys I saw in Heroes on it this afternoon can.
Season one of heroes ended this week. To the trained logical mind, it would seem no more than a fantasy of sorts, with ideas ripped off from X-men and the like. But brush aside the curtain of cold logic, and behold the artistic capacities of the human mind, and thou shalt appreciate the greatness of heroes.
Artistic capacities, that give humans other artistic capabilities to "Save the World". And to churn supreme testaments on life like the following....
Where does it come from, this quest? This need to solve life's mysteries when the simplest of questions can never be answered? Why are we here? What is the soul? Why do we dream? Perhaps we'd be better off not looking at all. Not delving, not yearning. But that's not human nature. Not the human heart. That is not why we are here. Yet still we struggle to make a difference, to change the world, to dream of hope, never knowing for certain who we will meet along the way. Who among the world of strangers will hold our hand, touch our hearts, and share the pain and triumph?
Well, psychologically and aesthetically inspiring. More so, spiritually. Metaphysics being an interest of mine, it should rightly be so. But my head rolls in awe when I see people making a compelling television show, which you know can never be real, and yet it makes you think twice about life.
How Claire, in spite of her healing ability, played no part in saving the world as such.
How Hiro with his endearing eye-crunch to stop time, teleports centuries in time and kilometres in distance, and yet did no greater service than discovering his ability and landing amongst a bunch of Samurai.
How most of the heroes, having delivered sensational scenes and stupendous achievements in their own life and locale, were either too late or too weak when it came to the fitting moment.
How the most powerful of them all (Peter, the one who absorbs anyone's power when they some close to him, and retains it for life) is compelled to shoot into space so that he explodes without harming anyone. How in spite of having the power to fly, he needs his brother to carry him into space.
And thus reality bites now and roars at me - "A hero is not one who can work miracles or achieve the impossible. A hero is one who can exhort himself to the maximum when it demands of him that he shall. And put his priorities, his values before himself. "
And so comes my take on the whole thing. I'm not disappointed that I have no superpowers. I don't care if I can fly, if I can bend space and time or heal myself. Nor does it matter to me if others can and I cannot absorb their powers. But I would sorely be disappointed if I were called upon to be, and I failed in my duty, as a hero.
To wrap up, the bottom line from "Genesis"...(which by the way I think is amazing)
We dream of hope, we dream of change, of fire, of love, of death. And then it happens; the dream becomes real, and the answer to this quest, this need to solve life's mysteries finally shows itself like the glowing light of the new dawn. So much struggle for meaning, for purpose. And in the end, we find it only in each other. Our shared experience of the fantastic and the mundane. The simple human need to find a kindred. To connect. And to know in our hearts... that we are not alone.
So long, I'll be back, with more !!!!
And yet it can do not 0.07% of the stuff that the guys I saw in Heroes on it this afternoon can.
Season one of heroes ended this week. To the trained logical mind, it would seem no more than a fantasy of sorts, with ideas ripped off from X-men and the like. But brush aside the curtain of cold logic, and behold the artistic capacities of the human mind, and thou shalt appreciate the greatness of heroes.
Artistic capacities, that give humans other artistic capabilities to "Save the World". And to churn supreme testaments on life like the following....
Where does it come from, this quest? This need to solve life's mysteries when the simplest of questions can never be answered? Why are we here? What is the soul? Why do we dream? Perhaps we'd be better off not looking at all. Not delving, not yearning. But that's not human nature. Not the human heart. That is not why we are here. Yet still we struggle to make a difference, to change the world, to dream of hope, never knowing for certain who we will meet along the way. Who among the world of strangers will hold our hand, touch our hearts, and share the pain and triumph?
Well, psychologically and aesthetically inspiring. More so, spiritually. Metaphysics being an interest of mine, it should rightly be so. But my head rolls in awe when I see people making a compelling television show, which you know can never be real, and yet it makes you think twice about life.
How Claire, in spite of her healing ability, played no part in saving the world as such.
How Hiro with his endearing eye-crunch to stop time, teleports centuries in time and kilometres in distance, and yet did no greater service than discovering his ability and landing amongst a bunch of Samurai.
How most of the heroes, having delivered sensational scenes and stupendous achievements in their own life and locale, were either too late or too weak when it came to the fitting moment.
How the most powerful of them all (Peter, the one who absorbs anyone's power when they some close to him, and retains it for life) is compelled to shoot into space so that he explodes without harming anyone. How in spite of having the power to fly, he needs his brother to carry him into space.
And thus reality bites now and roars at me - "A hero is not one who can work miracles or achieve the impossible. A hero is one who can exhort himself to the maximum when it demands of him that he shall. And put his priorities, his values before himself. "
And so comes my take on the whole thing. I'm not disappointed that I have no superpowers. I don't care if I can fly, if I can bend space and time or heal myself. Nor does it matter to me if others can and I cannot absorb their powers. But I would sorely be disappointed if I were called upon to be, and I failed in my duty, as a hero.
To wrap up, the bottom line from "Genesis"...(which by the way I think is amazing)
We dream of hope, we dream of change, of fire, of love, of death. And then it happens; the dream becomes real, and the answer to this quest, this need to solve life's mysteries finally shows itself like the glowing light of the new dawn. So much struggle for meaning, for purpose. And in the end, we find it only in each other. Our shared experience of the fantastic and the mundane. The simple human need to find a kindred. To connect. And to know in our hearts... that we are not alone.
So long, I'll be back, with more !!!!
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Homecoming
Home at last. The flight was boring to use the politest word at disposal, and it's such a relief to be back in the air conditioned rooms of our house. Despite the terrible temperatures of the Middle East, and the barrenness of the desert all round, it still feels home. This was where I grew up. This is home.
And yet, there's this small and truthful voice in my head that goes, no, you don't miss this place so much as you'd miss college. And I think, yes. Our home for four years, NITK gave us glimpses of hell, and shorter glances of heaven, yes, but it was still home for four years. I'm already missing the long walk from the room to the bathrooms at the other end of the corridor as the taps at my end are running dry! (NITK hostels are built on a slope) Among other things, I also can't seem to forget the powercuts. The horrendous stench of sweat that didn't seem to stop because the fans weren't working. The amount we used to curse the people in the generator room as they would never switch on the generator. And always used to be partial to our block, no matter which block we lived in.
Memories flood my tiny cerebrum as I think of the bygone four years...the four years for which this sleepy little town on the west coast of India, Surathkal has been my home away from home. And finally, as I sit in the comfort of air conditioning in my parents' home here in Bahrain, the reality bites me, and I realise....I'm no longer an undergrad. Make no mistake ...I can't call myself a graduate either; my final sem results are yet in the waiting. But tehe point is, as I lie now and recline on this couch, I find I have nothing to worry about, and all I can do is to sit and reminisce.
It's all over.
And yet, there's this small and truthful voice in my head that goes, no, you don't miss this place so much as you'd miss college. And I think, yes. Our home for four years, NITK gave us glimpses of hell, and shorter glances of heaven, yes, but it was still home for four years. I'm already missing the long walk from the room to the bathrooms at the other end of the corridor as the taps at my end are running dry! (NITK hostels are built on a slope) Among other things, I also can't seem to forget the powercuts. The horrendous stench of sweat that didn't seem to stop because the fans weren't working. The amount we used to curse the people in the generator room as they would never switch on the generator. And always used to be partial to our block, no matter which block we lived in.
Memories flood my tiny cerebrum as I think of the bygone four years...the four years for which this sleepy little town on the west coast of India, Surathkal has been my home away from home. And finally, as I sit in the comfort of air conditioning in my parents' home here in Bahrain, the reality bites me, and I realise....I'm no longer an undergrad. Make no mistake ...I can't call myself a graduate either; my final sem results are yet in the waiting. But tehe point is, as I lie now and recline on this couch, I find I have nothing to worry about, and all I can do is to sit and reminisce.
It's all over.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)