The Patriot Act

How many of you are patriots? I bet you all are. Except you cynical people who think it's cool to be cynical and not identify with anything. God, you pricks annoy me to know end, sitting their with that smug look on your face.

But let's talk about another thing that annoys me: patriots.

Now don't charge me with sedition just yet. "Oh, he's not patriotic, he must be anti-India!" Get off your high-horse, buddy. While you're happily shouting vande mataram, you might miss a couple of important things.

I'm annoyed by many kinds of people, but the one relevant to this topic is the kind who think they display a certain character trait (albeit a noble one) because they are from such and such a place. "We will forgive you, because we are ______ian." Ok, seriously: what the fuck? And they say it so matter-of-factly, like it's the ultimate truth. Because you are from some place, that makes you better, more forgiving, more magnanimous? Fucking bullshit. I honestly feel like slapping such people. Not figuratively, but really giving them a taste of my palm. Smack, right across their mouth. I would not even mind had they said "We will forgive you, because we are just fucking awesome." Ok, so they're noble and maybe a tad conceited. That I can abide. There is a good quality in them that they have by and of themselves, that doesn't stem from the latitude and longitude of their birthplace.

After all, there's a certain kind of people that think they are superior based on their birthplace and/or race. And historically, they have not been very popular.

Moving on to the kind of patriot that annoys me now. We have these hyperactive individuals who with fire in their eyes and a ruler straight back say, "I yam Indiyun." and they may pound their chest for effect. They are, merely by this admission, of an infallible legacy, of a royal bloodline of martyrs and kings, and torch bearers of the grand tradition of truth, justice and freedom that this great nation was built on.

SHUT THE FUCK UP.

Think back. Men and women actually gave their lives for the freedom that you so callously enjoy with blatant disregard for everything else. Bhagat Singh laid down his life for liberation. Mahatma Gandhi dedicated his life to the freedom of India. Sarojini Naidu was there, debating and fighting. The Nehrus tried to bring a fledgling nation into a modern age of freedom and prosperity. Men like Muhammad Yunus set up schemes to help the poor in the country. Anna Hazare fasted on behalf of all us lazy assholes who want everything spoon-fed to us. If you ask me, these are the real patriots. And obviously I can't mention all such people.

Honestly, what have you (adressing the people mentioned 2 paragraphs before) done to be Indian? Nothing really. Except be born. And that's fucking easy. All you had to do was pop out. And this whole patriot-giri is just an act. Because it's in vogue at the time, it's fashionable. You've been well fed your whole life, never known struggle, and when this whole "thing" blows over, you'll go back to being content. You'll drive your big car, guzzle petrol, waste food, pollute the environment, shop in big malls, and complain about the state of the nation in the comfort of your air conditioner. Patriot indeed.

I'm not asking you to grab a rifle and go stand on the LOC and shout obscenities at those across the border. If you want to be a patriot, if you really love your country so much, stop talking and pounding your chest and do something. The freedom struggle never finished, it's just taken a new form. So don't litter. Keep your roads clean. Don't take the illegal turn because the actual turn is just 100 meters ahead. Don't bribe the cop when you get caught because you did take the illegal turn. Don't drink and drive. Don't spit on the roads and in stairwells of buildings. Don't fuel corruption "because it's just easier." Don't waste food. Give more. Donate money, donate time. Join an NGO. Build a shelter. Volunteer at a shelter. Denounce regionalism. Don't identify yourself and others by statehood, religion, caste, etc. Say 'I'm an Indian,' and leave it at that.

And don't be afraid to rock the boat. Patriotism demands that when the system that is meant to serve the people breaks down, the people must dissent.

I'm not saying do all of it. I'm not saying be a saint. I'm not saying it's easy. But shit, freedom never has been easy. And neither should be patriotism. Start small, at your home, and then work your way up. Show your patriotism, don't tell me about it. I've heard enough.

(I shall not endeavor to bore you with the other reason I dislike patriotism, regarding my damned fool idealistic notion of global unity. So boring!)

Politicians are sucking the country dry. At least the British Raj were honest about looting us. There is ever prevalent filth and breakdown of machinery. It pervades all levels of life. This is nothing new. But it's getting worse. The country is in dire need of real patriots, more so than ever before.

So be one.

Disclaimer 1: My history is extremely bad. I may not know all the stories regarding certain personalities that I have mentioned here. I have used them for representative purposes. So if any of them have done something horrible that I don't know about, it's not my fault. That was not my point in mentioning. If you disagree with my calling them patriots because of some reason, etc., you didn't get the point of this article.


Disclaimer 2: Regarding my steps to becoming a patriot, I am not saying I myself always follow them. I am no saint either. But for every one-way turn I take on the wrong side, I refuse to throw 3 pieces of trash on the road. So we all need to try and contribute in our own way.


Disclaimer 3: If you still have a problem with what I've written, I will be much obliged to bend over so can kiss my buttocks on both cheeks. You goddamn right, mutherfucker. 

Random Rant-6 : The Shoulder Block Part 3- Blindsighted

This is the last of the Shoulder Block series, and I've chosen it for last because it is the most personal, and I don't think you would have experienced the particularities unless you travel from Hinjewadi Phase 2 to your home or place of residence on the bottleneck that is, well, the road through there.

But you two-wheeler-walas will no doubt understand that basic premise. During the monsoons, precipitation tends to collect on the visor of your helmet (of law abiding citizens who dare to wear a helmet, that is). This is expected and not a wholly irritating phenomenon. However, these little drops of water have the propensity to capture a ray of light and scatter it. And they all do this individually. Also it is the habit of the great Indian populace (baboons!) to ride at night with their high beams on. So not only do their headlights flash right in your eyes, the light-scattering droplets fill your helmet with a beautiful glow that shields your eyes from everything else.

Certainly a frightening situation.

So during the monsoons, when the road gets wet (and mind you, in Pune sometimes it doesn't rain, it just drizzles which serves only to make the road mucky and dangerous without being pleasant at all, but that's another rant), traffic invariable grinds to a halt, and proceeds from then on at a snail's pace. And while leaving the large commercial complex that is IT Park, this can mean encountering A SHITLOAD OF TRAFFIC in the aforementioned bottleneck.

Well, we twowheeler guys are damned if we're sitting through that bullshit. The main road has going and coming lanes separated by a divider which has gaps in it at certain points so a vehicle can turn around without having to traverse the whole stretch. So we cross the gap and go from the other side which is mostly empty. So much for law abiding citizens. But it cuts down travel time to a fraction of what it would be! And trudging through the traffic in a minor drizzle is a pain in the ass! Heavier rain is far better, believe me!

But the worst thing that can happen is you miss the gap. Because if you should, god forbid, you are in for about a kilometer of traffic, all the while roasting in your raincoat, slowly getting damp on the inside with aerosol-rain and sweat, feet getting muddy, and temper growing short. Combine this with the phenomenon of the glowing helmet and you'll see where I'm going.

You plan turn. You gdt blinded by fucking high beams and bastard rain droplets on visor. Bam. You miss turn. You screwed. Fuck.

There is no better way to explain this than a rage. My first. A new trend for a new year.

A New Year, A New Hope

Hope is a dangerous thing. Drive a man insane. It's got no place here. Better get used to the idea. 


Story of my life. My prison is my mind. My "Great Depression" is my life. Yes,  now I'm mashing disparate movies together.

2012. A brand new year. In the grand scheme of things, Jan 1st is just another day. If you stop thinking of years graphically as clusters of 12 blocks, and think of them contiguously linked together, you will see December melting into January so that the effect is less jarring. Well, that's how I think of it. And if you believe those pesky Myans, it's all going to end this year. God forbid. I'm hoping my life will begin this year.

Oops. There it is. I said the "h-word." Hope is a dangerous thing. And boy, don't I know it. The quintessential human emotion- simultaneously the source of our greatest strength and our greatest weakness (I did the movie thing again).

Let me tell you why hope is a dangerous thing. Because it gives you hope. Rather it gets your hopes up. Damn it, what am I saying... The point is, you deal with a lot of bullshit hoping that something will happen. But life ain't like the damn movies. When that thing doesn't happen, you're just left with a lot of bullshit, a confused look on your face, and nowhere to go. And such has been the case with me far too many times (yes, allow me to whine. This is my blog, after all). And that's fucking boring. It really is. That's right. For once I'd like to know the opposite feeling of having your hopes come crumbling down and being left with nothing and nowhere to go. Not only are you left in the pit surrounded by broken bones, you have no drive behind you to keep you going. And I'm fucking bored of that.

And like a child that never learns his lesson, I still keep hoping, after all that. Idiotic!

But look sharp! All is not so bad. I ended 2011 with river rafting and began 2012 with bungee jumping. Not a bad way to kick things off. And there are plenty of good things that I can do this year, what with MICAT looming. I just have to work really hard. Really hard. And I fucking better. Do, or do not. There is no try. Not anymore. Except it seems that I don't need to try to find suitable movie quotes.

Yup. Although finding the whole "holiday" spirit this year was a very difficult and trying task, I think I can still feel a bit of the old "new year hope." Why not. I just hope I have a little help this year, in more area than one. Right from home on up. I feel another quote coming on.


Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.


Andy Dufrane, fucker...

P.S. I haven't bothered to make a resolution this year. Maybe my resolution is to get into MICA. Oh, and pick up the guitar again. *groan*

MICA Dreaming

MICA Campus (taken off their website)

I am currently aspiring for a place in one of India's most prestigious universities for studies in communication, and one of India's most prestigious universities period.

It's almost lunacy- in a country with a population like this one, what chance do I have? Mathematically, at least?

But lo and behold, I, yes I, have been called for an interview for a lovely certificate course at said university. I am at the same time humbled and very pleased with myself. I leave tomorrow for a day long excursion at MICA (Mudra Institute of Communications, Ahmedabad for those of you who don't know).

So I've been touching base with fellow aspirants and some alumni and current enviables (read MICA students), and one of them said I should write about "what MICA means to me."

I don't know who said it, and I mean no disrespect, but that very notion kind of makes me laugh. Write about what it means to me? As if it is some girlfriend in some far away city? I'm not even in the college yet, it would be unfair of me to qualify how it makes me feel and what it means to me. I'm still chuckling as I write this. It's like one of those jokes that only you get and no one else does, know what I mean?

Ok, let me do this my way.

I had a dream, nay, a vision of what college was supposed to be. It was supposed to be a time of great freedom and self discovery. It was supposed to be an awakening, a time of hunger, a time of learning. I did have hunger. Around lunch time. That was it. You see, I did engineering (not my idea, and I won't get into that). There is nothing worse in this world than doing something you don't want to do. And my college... wow. The people*? My God. Every day my soul would be crushed. I felt the creativity and spark slowly being smashed out of me. It was enough for me to find the inspiration just to get up in the morning. I tried to find some comfort, derive some power from certain song like this one. "Believe and you will find your way..." Alas, on the days when I did believe and start off with a powerful attitude to take the day my spirit would promptly be crushed by 10 AM.

Then it ended. No tears, no final laugh and acceptance. I did not look back at the place like Tom Hanks looked back at his island when he finally escaped in Cast Away. I had left my Mordor.

My Mordor
Don't be fooled by the seemingly pretty campus! That was what trapped me!

But I missed all that "college fun." And partially, well, mostly, it was my fault. By distancing myself and refusing to participate, I missed out on a lot of things- late night hostel raids, college trips, singing in the bus, studying with friends, taking part in college events- things I would never have wanted to do in that college, yet still regret not doing. Now I see the error of my ways.

And now I get another chance... First and foremost, to do what I've always wanted to do. I was not born a scientist (even if I was born to one). I have a creative bent of mind, and I wanted to use it in such a field which combines that with some scientific thinking- advertising. I didn't get my chance out of school (for whatever reason). But now I have that. The Crafting Creative Communications certification course (whoa! Say that 5 times fast!) from MICA is one of the best in the country, as is their PG degree course. A "creative bootcamp" to drill me to do what I want. My mouth is salivating at the prospect of it.

I want to get my hands dirty. I want my old vision of people sitting under a tree, sharing ideas. I want to hear about extra classes that I would be interested in. I want to look forward to the next lecture, I want to want to hear what teacher is telling me. For too long I roamed around engineering college, wondering how could people be interested in that stuff (because I completely was not). No more! I've always been hungry for an education. Over those 4 years however, I forgot what that meant. There is more than just surviving the next exam!

And second, I will be able to live that college life that I missed. I will take part in everything. I will participate with unbridled enthusiasm and desire. No more fear stopping me- nuts to it! If there ever was a time to do something, now is it. Hostel, friends, late night dinners, study groups, singing along to someone's guitaring, practical jokes, college trips... I want it all, goddamnit! And now here is my chance to take it. All that and more.

Believe and I will find my way? I hope that leads here.

Sooooooo.... yeah. I guess that's what MICA means to me (I'm still chuckling as I write that). But seriously, MICA can provide me more than it's stellar education (and this is not an attempt to suck up, just go through their courses offered!). It can give me that college experience that I so sorely missed out on. It can match that high ideal of learning that I longed for. It can be a balm for heart and mind. A constructive force for my brain as well as my soul, all the while grooming me for a career in creativity... where FINALLY, work will become play, where finally I may be able to find happiness.

Not A Christmas Miracle :(

The strange heaven-sent lights are not a Christmas miracle. They have been put up for someone-who-lives-in-the-building's wedding.

Fark.

A Christmas Miracle?

I came home today and found mysterious lights hanging outside my window. Gasp! What sorcery is this? Could it be... could they be... Christmas lights? :D

Oh joy! I've never had such nice lights outside my window (in more than a decade at least)! From whence came thee, o strange glowing bulbs? Wherefore doth thou hang in front of my window?

It must be a Christmas miracle! It's not what I expected, but I'll fucking take it!

December? Christmas? Already? Fark!

What the fuck. This can't be.

It's already December. In fucking 2011. Over a year after I started this blog. I cannot believe it. I just turned around, and bam- it's December. "My December." Pffft. Stupid song.

It's jarring. Shocking. Especially after this year got off to such a promising start. A lot of new things were had. It was going slow and steady. Where did the time go? Where did the promise go?

And one of the more startling realizations that come with this time of the year is that Christmas is almost here. How? For me it was just that December was here, another month, another day closer to the next thing that I was supposed to do. It's supposed to be festive. But I need more time to get in the festive mood! Where's my bloody festive cheer, god damn it?

This can't be right. I don't have a drop of festivity in me at all. I need to load my iPod with the Christmas songs that are stored away the whole year in a folder, kept especially for this month. I need to get some Christmas movies. Bloody hell, I need to see something resembling Christmas soon, or else it's going to be the last week of the year, and IT WILL BE TOO FUCKING LATE. Christmas is meant to be enjoyed, and I need to do it now!

Damn my lethargic spirit! What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I not getting into this? No, I was always the one to carry on the torch of Christmas, to have that spirit burning inside me even though no one else around me gave half a bleeding damn about the holiday or it's fucking spirit. Damn it all to hell! This is the fucking subcontinent! No Christmas for you! Ha, I defy the naysayers. I wear my candycane heart on my sleeve. I shall celebrate Christmas to the maximum that I can.

Who cares if there is nothing Christmas around me? Who cares if no one seems to realize that the season is upon us and if we don't look now it'll pass us by? Who cares if it's the fucking 6th of December and I haven't heard a single carol, eaten a single cookie, seen a hint of tinsel or garland, even the traces of plastic needles from a fake Christmas tree? Usually, I'm able to do without... why not now? I need SOMETHING. Fine, I'm resigned to not having snow. But I'm ready to go to the mall and look at the soulless Christmas tree that they have callously put up merely to imitate their Western counterparts and cater to the rich-wannabe crowd, that of which I spoke so derisively of last year. I'll take it. I'll take anything if it can assuage this fear that the spirit of Christmas is dying inside of me. Anything.

I'm panicking.

But is it my fault? How much longer must I continue to carry on like this by myself? Where's my fucking Christmas miracle? It's about frickin' time! Where's my white Christmas? Is it too much to ask for to have a few semi-interested souls around me just to help carry the season's cheer? Something more than an empty piece of fruit cake or a fake Christmas card? No overly commercialized wannabe Christmas special on TV, but something real for a change? Or will I be forced to take the burden all on myself for so that when I finally do get the white Christmas there'll be nothing inside of me to even be moved to care, my biggest fear?

I don't think it's too much to ask for. No man is an island. Or, every man is an island. Whatever. But if the latter, then he's in a fucking archipelago. No one can do it on his own for too damn long.

I really need a Christmas miracle this year. Or hell... I'll settle for a Christmas happenstance. <Play "It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year">.

I'll sign off with a Christmas rage (courtesy Google):