Tuesday, July 17, 2012

There is a popular boy, a bitchy popular girl and (initially) ugly nerdy girl. But then the popular boy takes the nerdy girl to the prom. Turns out she wasn’t ugly after all. Somehow.

Story starts with poverty, orphans, child marriage, queer family ends with a vamp who lusts after the family’s wealth. Always.

Kids go to a house that has a big sign board saying “DO NOT ENTER”. Black and bold. They miss the sign. Of course.

Chick goes to the forbidden room in her underwear. Gets killed. In her underwear. Somehow. Hmm.

School children go to school and do everything but studying. Lucky bastards

They might look dumb but no they will go to Colombia or Yale. Somehow.

Sourav Ganguly gets kicked out of every team. But never loses his Gods and hope. Wow. Yes?

They never want to get married and make babies but things change. Always.

Deja vu much?

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

True story.

People generally hear me say, “Where has all the pessimism gone? Out with that optimism!” Because of course you must have heard me say this a hundred times over now: if you are a pessimist you expect only the worst out of every situation and should the worst thing happen to you, you will not slit your wrists because you saw it coming and should something better happen to you, you will be surprised and happy of course! The drawback of optimism is that when what you expect doesn’t happen to you, you cry your guts outs. The whole reference to my negativity is the fact that I have formulated certain negative but flawless philosophies.
>All good things come to an end.
>Humans will be the death of the world.
>All relationships come with an expiry date, emotionally or physically.
>Love is an illusion.
Now I’ll elucidate on the last philosophy. Whatever we do to people we profess to love is so that we get some good coitus. And of course the soul reason for the existence of two different sexes is to procreate newer ones of the same species and if we happen to derive some pleasure out of the act of creation, well it is an added benefit. Human beings are driven by the need of company, so we huddle together in communities. Human beings are jealous. They won’t share resources and partners and to prevent adultery, humans created the concept of marriage. It only traps us into a Sisyphus task. Yea, long after the children grow up, old married couples start to fall out of the need to be togethers now that the nest is empty. They stick together in certain societies where divorce is still a taboo. They stay together under the same roof but stay detached from each other. Ever wondered why old people are cranky? Well you know now. Hence the word love is entirely constructed and illusory, there’s no feeling called love exactly, but it can described better if we say “need”. I need you. That is an apt feeling. It is through collective consciousness that a society works, so we need each other. Even those isolated obsinate fools who stay locked up alone in their rooms have a certain spider pet or whatever to engage into the sense of bonding with someone. We think love is merry, colourful, shimmery and evergreen forests, and pixies throwing sparkles on us. All that comes from the Fairy Tales we read, all the movies we see, all our favourite love songs. And we think about this “love” so much, that we engage ourselves in a quest for love which results in obsessing with the idea of “love” rather than “being in love”. And then starts a series of trial and error method, you make up, you break up, you move on and everything else that is worthless in my opinion because you think ohh that was love, and then get to know that it wasn’t love and of course you still haven’t got rid of the idea of love so you keep looking, you’ve been hit once, but hey, given the dork you are, you’ll never be twice shy and full of optimism.
Now the question is why did I type this, right? Because something extraordinarily uncanny thing happened today. I randomly typed “Love is an illusion” in chrome and then quite arbitrarily clicked on a link and guess what I read? The exact same words that I have been telling my friends to demotivate them, the same reasons that I cite, the same examples I have been using for a long time. I did not even know this particular dead philosopher called Arthur Schopenhauer until a few hours back who said pretty much the exact same thing that for a long time I have been telling my friends to demotivate them. It was an idea that was original to me. It is almost as if I was Arthur in my last birth. Yea that’s quite a fascinating idea for me. :D

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

I wake up in the morning to find a troubled sms from Arjun, “Something terrible happened. Newspaper front page.”

Fearing another massacre in the name of region or religion where me, my friends and my family always miraculously survive, I check the newspaper. “Assam boat Mishap” it said, “over 200 dead” and I quite surprisingly heaved a sigh of relief. I spent another twenty minutes evaluating my cruelty and insensitivity. How could I sigh? How dare I sigh? ONLY 200? ONLY A BOAT MISHAP? Nothing less than a group of militants or a death toll of 500 will do to invoke a great deal of sadness. It’s a lot like Kill Bill you see. You scream and claw your skin terrified at the sight of the first gruesome murder. By the end of it, blood is only red, only some kind of a liquid that stops churning your stomach. Gore is only a term. It’s all a psychological mumbo jumbo. You master the craft of avoiding sympathizing and feeling or getting horrified. Growing up with Khasi-Bengali communal wars, which alarmed my parents so much, that they dislocated me from my roots much to my dismay, by moving to a place full of hostile Bengalis because “it is safer to be with one’s own kind” and in that process, erasing all possibilities of a mixed community around me (I don’t blame them), I have learnt to grow up an immunity to face mass death. Because in Shillong, you could be jogging in the morning when you bump into a body. A dead body hanging from the street lamp. Beheaded. Or a massively mutilated dead body right outside your door. And as if mutilation wasn’t enough, the murderers will have shaved the poor fellow’s eye brows as well for special effects. And you think ohh, another dead body?  If it is not death that you read about first thing in the morning, it is a celebrity’s redundant love life. It’s a bargain for life. I have learnt to not let it affect my emotions. More dead people. Ohh. More prisoners, ohh. They filled up the cemeteries and jails. Is that so? Only one person dead? Not enough I must say! 

Arjun texts me back, “No Adidas. Some management issue.”