Wednesday, May 14, 2014
Marco Guptaji
Saturday, August 24, 2013
She Thinks Not
- Break a few ceramic plates and glass …. well, glasses.
- Scream aloud and do some hair pulling
- Decide that I don’t give a four-letter f-word
- Suddenly realize that I am still left with a few four-letter f-words to give
- Repeat steps 1 to 4
- Decide to jump off from the fifth floor of a building. Realize that my twisted ankle (or sore joint …. you get the gist) would hurt severely moments before my ultimate demise. Decide to not jump off. Repeat steps 1 to 5
- Try to convince myself that true happiness lies within. Search for true happiness lurking in some deep corner within. Get acquainted with what truly lies within : forlornness. Exchange pleasantries and all. Leave the rendezvous after many awkward silent moments later. Feel more depressed. Repeat steps 1 to 5
- Try my hand at poetry. Stop trying my hand at poetry. Try my hand at prose.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
2011
On a warm February afternoon in Bangalore, as I retrospect on the year that just went by, a realization surges within me. I realize that I do have the aptitude to perform a more constructive and demanding task than just dawdle. At the same time, I remind myself that dawdling is so very convenient. It’s not very difficult to fathom which of the preceding propositions wins (by a landslide margin, by the way). So, in the true spirit of dawdling and after invoking the true gods of dawdling (*ahem* HR people *ahem*), I dawdle.
2011 Keywords:
Promotion
Anwar’s knot
Ligament Tear (cast on the right leg)
25
Seefay
Deviated septum surgery
Zeroeth Keys
DL6CC2690 (green)
Kaju big-bro’s knot
Jai & Juliet (Bangalore) / Desires Unlimited
Kiran Chaturvedi / KC / Felix
Iris – Butt – Honey
Are-you-sure’s knot
Club club
Tennis elbow
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Tuesday, August 02, 2011
The MOST Intelligent Person on (at least) Earth
Over the last three years of my stay in
My nose has been exuding huge dollops of phlegm continuously for the last seven days. This has been a recurrent event throughout my life, sometimes occurring randomly and mostly when I’m trying to impress a girl.
It obscures the clarity and coherence of my thoughts, just the thing a rival country or species from another planet would have wanted. Otherwise, owing to my intelligence and potency, I would have solved all of the problems of humanity. So, phlegm was planted in my body to prevent me from using my intelligence to its fullest – a perfectly reasonable and mostly logical conclusion.
Given below are my phlegm’s properties:
• It’s huge. It grows and occurs in huge dollops.
• It’s not tasteless. It tastes awful.
• It is not odourless. It smells awful.
• It’s not colourless. It’s coloured awful. If there can ever be a general consensus on an awful colour, the awful colour would be the colour of my phlegm.
• It’s thick.
• It’s very thick.
• It’s mind-bogglingly very thick.
• It’s stubborn.
• It’s very stubborn.
• It’s not mind-bogglingly very stubborn, though. It could, however, pass as mind-bogglingly stubborn.
• It has no evaporating point. It does not evaporate. It stays. Forever.
• It’s highly viscous. It could stay put and party in my nose and breathing tract forever sans my body’s efforts to dispel it. Maybe it plays cards all this while in my breathing tract, or does something else to while away all the time (like composing songs for the Indian Coke Studio or drafting
• It self-replicates/reproduces vigorously in my body. Research is underway to replace guinea pigs with my phlegm.
• It was rumoured that
• It’s a lot like love. It make one breathless. It makes one stammer. It seems to attempt to fill every void/pore/empty-tract of my body. One can get it from another.
• It’s very irritating. If irritation could be condensed into tangible matter, phlegm would be the result.
• It’s absolutely useless. For example, it can not produce electricity. Otherwise, I could have used myself to charge my laptop. In the process, I would have saved a tree or two, much to Rajendra Pachauri’s delight.
• It’s an obnoxious little twit, much like the HR folks.
• Finally, and oh-so-frustratingly, it’s inescapable. Again, much like the HR folks.
Eff You Phlegm. May you rot in Splitsvilla, or a Paris Hilton's leaked video. Forever.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
The Transmuting Phantom and its Ephemeral Existence – Part I
I believe that one must brood upon and create ideas that one may not be otherwise required to. Being the (ostensibly) only living species that possesses the wherewithal to rationalize and philosophize, man is not only privileged but is also obligated to do so. Otherwise, one might as well be replaced by an animal or a robot (which will, by the way, pretty soon develop such faculties).
Coming back to “the” thought chain, it was a progeny of a conversation with one of my close friends. For the sake of this post, that friend shall be referred to as BMP2. The seminal conversation occurred largely in the most unexceptional fashion. However, it led to a major shift in my perception of BMP2. Later on, a retrospect on the outcome of the conversation led to “the” thought chain.
Before elaborating on the thought chain, a short discourse on my hypothesis of life. What is life? It is not, and I don’t expect too many dissents on this, just a corporeal operational system – the living body - inhabiting and serving a customary purpose in a co-operative societal setup. Consciousness. This is a word that is too often used (and even abused) for describing the core essence of life. What, then, is consciousness? It is the reply to this question that I will take a (rather juvenile and jejune) shot at giving.
Consciousness is plainly the cumulation of memories of different experiences. Here and during the remaining of this deliberation, I use the word experience interchangeably with perception of the experience. A new experience might react with, instantaneously or over a longer duration, other experiences in ways that alter one or more memories incurably. For example, an event “a” might be experienced by an individual “X” in a way a-X. Therefore, X’s consciousness is the set {a-X}. With the termination of X, the unique sub rosa set {a-X}, completely owned by and defining only X, ceases to exist. Hence {a-X} perishes with the death of X. This could explain why people write autobiographies. An autobiography could be X’s attempt to share and materialize {a-X} in a perdurable fashion. Such a venture, if successful, would result in sustained existence of {a-X} which is the definition and form of the person X. This points to X’s voyage in man’s eternal quest for immortality.
For a person Y such a set would be {a-Y}. The possibilities and permutations abound. The sets {a-X} and {a-Y} might have common elements. An element of one set might, directly or indirectly, influence an element of the other set. A new element of a set, apart from being added to the set, might alter the already existing elements of the set. In this aspect, such sets are dynamic and inter- & intra- dependant. Now, a lot of challenges and brickbats might be thrust upon this theory. Children, animals, artificial intelligence, nature, supreme consciousness, dreams are just some of the many entities from our immediate milieu, the justification and resolution of which demand a vigorous scrutiny of this theory. However, in the interest of the current context, I reserve such scrutiny for future time. In the meanwhile, I will have to be humoured by the prima facie acceptance of this theory.
Now, “the” thought chain. The conversation contained a particular soliloquy from BMP2 that changed markedly my perception of BMP2. So, my memory of the experience “BMP2” was altered irrevocably in one go. Though this was a drastic and glaring change in my consciousness, it pointed towards changes that often go unnoticed. These numerous, and very often unheeded, subtle metamorphoses occur in my, and for that matter in everyone’s, consciousness every second of our supraliminal existence. This implies a ceaseless modification in one’s consciousness during the course of one’s existence. Such modifications might have a somnolent tinge or might, in other cases, be accentuated.
What does the recognition of such a continuous change connote? Well, a lot. The first idea that germinated in my sciolistic mind was the futility of judging people. My perception of people, of whom I have a perception, mutates every passing moment. I might or might not be consciously aware of such mutations. Also, there is a possibility that after several modifications, I might come back a full circle – arriving at a particular perception of a person that had already existed in the past. In light of the ever-transmuting nature of this phantom, passing judgment on a person based on the prevailing perception is futile, if not wrong. Whether such estimates, an apt alternative to the word ‘judgment’, are required under certain circumstances or not is a different question.
Resorting to the set representation, my consciousness at some time “t” would be {a-Me-t}. Each element of this set is modified, to varying degrees, with each passing moment. At time t’ my consciousness would change into {a-Me-t'}. At time t, I might have utilized element ‘P-Me-t’ to form an opinion on a person P. At time t’, when P-Me-t would have developed into P-Me-t', I would realize that the earlier formed opinion has changed. So, the act of forming the opinion was an exercise in futility.
This thought is replete with logical inconsistencies and gaps. However, if the thought is accepted for a brief instant, an experiment that I carry out on myself with a lot of other thoughts, a liberating feeling surges. Many a knots, intricately wound together by grudges held against others, unravel.
The set representation of consciousness acted as a precedent to another thought, even more liberating. The proceeding thought was far-sweeping in the elements of life directly conflicted by it. This was the thought that almost made me let myself run over by a car. More on that later.