aloque

Is there a God watching

the children of his thought?

Is he guiding their living

or, are our conceptions

wrong, lies dearly bought?

Do we fear a redemption,

shackled by original sin,

when imperfection is our lot?

If we can honour our being

with motives free of deception,

do we need to honour a God?

Discovery. Is that what drives us forth? Is that what sustains us through the repetitive cycles of history? The discovery of something new at every turn of the wheel, appending, incorporating into itself, growing in size and paradoxically, in knowledge makes drives us furher by making us more aware of our capablities, our potential to be more than we are. Limitations are but things of the moment and if the churning wheels of time have taught us anything, it is that we have always overcome, we have always found a way to further ourselves.

Then, can this process of collective discovery be applied to the individual? Maybe, I should go a step further and ask if self discovery is not the corner stone, the basic building unit of the collective whole? If, at work, we toil to make a contribution to society and the world, thus furthering the race, do we not, in our own time, face the struggle of furthering the self? As individuals, can we make more difference to the world if we are aware of the self? Simply put, is the wall is stronger when the bricks that go into making it are stronger? Moot point.

Self discovery is the most exhilarating, the most exruciating but the most worth-while risk that we can hope to take. Pushing our limits to know and understand what lies within our complex minds, what it is that makes us do the things we do, what it is that makes us surprise ourselves, disappoint ourselves, exalt, debase, love, hate ourselves is truly a magnificent undertaking.

The thing about self discovery is that it's like the proverbial sand that slips out of a tightening grip. The further inside the self we try to get, the more we lose ourselves in the complicated processes that make us who we are. I think the near point for viewing the self is from the outside. Not by self analysis, but by self observation from a detached, third (in this case second) person perspective. The trick then is simple. Think of your thoughts and actions as being someone else's and do not be afraid to judge. Everything is simpler from there onward.

ps : I must make a confession and tell everyone here that I had to delete and re post this one coz of a deluge of devotion from a dude that got angry with the submit button. If i didn't want people to read this I'd keep a journal. If I am angering the gods by spamming their favourite virtual devotee, let him send all butthiri posts exclusively to my mailbox for the rest of my life. I'll suffer for the rest of FullHyd.

When a stranger's songs make my feelings painfully tangible, describe my emotions, better than I can myself, I know they are going to stay with me and that they will be a part of me for ever. Memories will forever accompany those words, and the emotions that lived then will live again and I am transported back to my past. Happiness, heart-break, gut wrenching sadness all reclaim the mind like they never left. But the difference lies in that they are empty now of threat or promise, just shells of their former selves, similar in appearance, but devoid of substance. And the fact that I have been down that road, fought those battles, and survived to look back always is a happy thought.

I will forever remember a dozen friends on a picnic singing 'always' at the top of our horrible voices, forever want to scream ' when love and hate collide', always think of love when I play 'november rain' and laugh at my pathetic attempts to ape the raw edge in brian adams' "please forgive me" as I tried to sing it over the phone. I will always associate ' I'll be there for you' with driving my car, trying hard to fight back the tears that related to every one of its words and revel in a trance every time ozzy sings 'solitude'.

Its harder to deal with emotions that are beyond us, just out of reach. Its that moment when those thoughts find an outlet that a song becomes my song, like it was written as a prophecy, perfect in itself, revealing its message only at the appropriate moment including in its understanding, the initiation of healing.

Going back has always been a pleasure.

The best mornings, I think, are those when I get up before the alarm clock goes off. A sign of the truly well rested body. The sun shining right in my eyes doesn't hurt them as much. The tooth paste tastes good. My voice in the bathroom doesn't sound so bad. And it sounds good when I take the tooth brush out!

  I can face up to the world of haatu haatu uncles and ghaatu ghaatu aunties on their early morning runabouts to office, and look at their freshly powdered and over madeup faces without cringing. The moron who will cross the road at the last moment will have me laughing at his stupidity rather than the usual thoo nee ammma.

There is nothing like getting up on the right side of the bed.

World, BRING IT ONNNN!

Freddie Mercury, in a drug induced delirium once hit upon the truth when he said the thing about fat bottomed girls. Easy for him to say, he was gay.

There are definitely more fat bottomed gals and guys out there than skinny ones. But, it makes sense that we love the skinny ones more, given the state of denial we have made our permanent companion. We got a fat ass, so must mean that the skinny one is better. The human condition could probably be summed up best by the grass is greener on the other side maxim.

Ever since the first woman was born and made man aware of curves, he has been aiming to increase the size of his own skinny behind.

Every major discovery we have made since has has a direct effect on the human ass.

Fire - sit and warm your behind.

The wheel - move while you sit on your behind. A noble idea further perfected by Ford, vehicles of all shapes and sizes which have been made increasingly complex over the last century but they share one thing in common which brings us to the next big butt idea.

Seats. Easily the single biggest contributor towards cellulite in the history of mankind. All other big butt activities rely on the amazingly versatile seat to propagte their own variety of fat. Long live Layzee Boy.

Bet Copernicus thought " if the world was round would it be physically impossible to retain the sitting posture. ergo world is flat"

Newton - saw the apple coming but was sitting on his butt so he let it fall on his head. makes me think if his theories on gravity were due to the apple falling towards the ground or his fat posterior refusing to lift off it.

Graham bell - wanted only to talk to his assistant without having to walk up a flight of stairs (also addressed by the escalator, elevator etc) but stumbled on the telephone. We would, everyone of us, be a few kgs lighter if it weren't for the infernal telephone.

I could go on about radio and tv, the computer and internet, but I think the idea is firmly entrenched in your minds now that the fat butt is here to stay. The only way to get rid of it is to lose all the above mentioned luxuries.(proved in fact by castaway, wherein Tom Hanks becomes a neandethral no-butt from a fed-ex fat ass in just a couple of years).

All I am concerned about is that I can get up to get my next chicken leg from the microwave once I finish this post.

Big Butt ideas that deserve an honourable mention

1. Buffets

2. Buffets with service at table

3. with finger bowls at the end

4. Remote controls

5. Bed pans

6. The clan of jeeves

7. Big Macs

8. Le Big Macs In France

9. Bat man costumes

10. Silicon

If only we accepted our fate...we could watch TV in peace.

Just you wait Ms Crawford. The cellulite will get you. Right in the ass.

What do you do when love looks you in the face, throws itself at you in undying hope of you coming around to a supposed reality that is not possible. What do you do when you hear heart break in every restrained word that escapes her lips, when you want to hold her close and tell her that you will be there for her but you cannot because you are the source of her concern.

Is it cruel to be truthful?, insane to refuse something that you can never be sure of having in the future?, dishonest to accept? Is it callous to never give it a second thought?, to assign no importance to her feelings because it precludes compromise?

Is it madness to continue this way, each of us hoping the other would come around?

When her love is not enough, how do you know your love will, one day, be? Is hope a fool's dream? Is it enough to lay a foundation to live on? Will it bring you crumbling down? It might take you to heights unimagined. What are the chances?

Loneliness has a way of leading you down the path of misery and longing, but also hosts the most amazing moments of delirious happiness and self discovery. 

Bottomline, true happiness is a feeling of content within self. And that, I think, only exists in sporadic moments and the balance of life catches up and teaches us to appreciate them all the more.

One new year's eve, I saw the sun go down over the ocean. It was a celebration in the skies as the aerial populace, each filtered the dying rays and coloured the sky in myriad hues of their own perspective. There was a ship on the horizon, dark, mysterious, intriguing, highlighted only by the now placid orb in its background. It was as if the ship was sailing right off the edge of the earth into the setting sun.

I walked along the beach, a golden streak of light shining its reflection across the water and merged with my shadow where the waves caressed my feet, each approaching swell countered by the recession of its predecessor.

The ebb and flow of life itself, nature's equilibrium dancing at my toes.

As the sand slipped away from under me, I was happy to be alone and insignificant. 

Last night I was up watching the Euro '04 match between England and France, and I fell asleep to the best game in ages! I spent all day today damning myself. However, this post is not about sports. Well, in a way it is. It is about life away from work. I have always been going on over here about work. I love it, no doubt, but I think I would get sick of it if it were the only thing in my life. It always fills me with wonder, sometimes envy, sometimes scorn, sometimes sadness, when I see a person who does nothing but work. Has no time for himself, for broadening his horizons. A lot of times I felt like they have more dedication, a better work ethic, more sincerety in their closed little worlds. I found I was so wrong when I had to work with them. They invariably do not have the diversity required to handle people from different walks of life. Unfortunately, I have to deal with people like this more than people in other professions. Having a single minded focus often takes you far in this field that is academically oriented for as long as one lives. I have always appreciated that, not having it in the same copious quanities myself. When I see them try to emotionally relate to a patient, its sad that they are all at sea.

So, I walked into the hospital today and when all the doctors had a break, I made the mistake of introducing the topic of last night's game. I was met with blank stares. I couldn't handle being asked what Euro '04 was. Back when I was in Inter about 6 years ago, there was a woman who topped my class all the time. One day we were discussing how Jurassic Park 2, which had just come out then, was a lousy movie. I would have forgotten totally about it except that she asked me what Jurassic Park was. I know that there is prolly nothing she lost by not knowing that. She used the time I spent watching a bad movie to study. And study. She went to a better college. Prolly studied there as well. Isn't it important to have an identity beyond work? Isn't it important to have a personality? Isn't life about self discovery? How can you work towards a future that never comes?

That girl had ambition. And determination. She wanted to be rich and have a lot of cars and a big bungalow in a posh neighbourhood. She never said anything about happiness. I dunno if she even thought about it. Of course she did. Who doesn't think of happiness?That's why we are here, right? How many people dare to pursue it then? How many prefer the relative safety of ignorance rather than risk a broken dream or two?

I am reminded of 'another brick in the wall' part 2 video, about the factory manufacturing students. I am surrounded by faceless people who merge into one another so much that I find it difficult to remember their names sometimes. I have a friend who has a common name for all of them. The Vasudevans. Its a unisex term for the faceless. It depresses me to think of the monotony of their lives.

Be born. Go to school. Start studying. Never follow on a crush ( I am hoping they have them). Go to college. Continue studying. Join a professional education course. More studying. The other sex is still taboo. Finish the course. Put up name in all the matrimonials. Find decent guy/gal from the same caste. Match horoscopes. Get married. Make more kids like themselves.

We must be the only country in the world so obsessed with becoming our parents.

WARNING! THIS IS PLAIGARISED MATERIAL.

But it was somewhat in line with my issues with dating, and its funny, so here it is.

In the world of romance, one single rule applies: Make the woman happy.

Do something she likes, and you get points. Do something she dislikes and points are subtracted. You don't get any points for doing something she expects.

Here is a easy-to-use guide to the points system -

SIMPLE DUTIES

You make the bed...+1

You make the bed, but forget the decorative pillows...0

You throw the bedspread over rumpled sheets...-1

You leave the toilet seat up...-5

You replace the toilet paper roll when it is empty...0

When the toilet paper roll is barren, you resort to Kleenex...-1

When the Kleenex runs out you use the next bathroom... -2

You go out to buy her milk and bread... +5

In the rain...+8

But return with beer...-5

And no milk and bread...-25

You check out a suspicious noise at night...0

You check out a suspicious noise and it is nothing...0

You check out a suspicious noise and it is something...+5

You pummel it with a six iron...+10

It's her cat...-40

AT THE PARTY

You stay by her side the entire party...0

You stay by her side for a while, then leave to chat with an old drinking mate...-2

Named Tiffany...-4

Tiffany is a dancer...-10

With breast implants...-18

HER BIRTHDAY

You remember her birthday...0

You buy a card and flowers...0

You take her out to dinner...0

You take her out to dinner and it's not a sports bar...+1

Okay, it is a sports bar...-2

and it's all-you-can-eat night...-3

It's a sports bar, its all-you-can-eat night, and your face is painted the colours of your favourite team ...-10

A NIGHT OUT WITH THE BOYS

Go with an old pal...0

The old pal is happily married...+1

The old pal is single...-7

He drives a Ferrari.... -10

With a personalized license plate (GR8NBED)...-15

A NIGHT OUT WITH HER

You take her to a movie...+2

You take her to a movie she likes...+4

You take her to a movie you hate...+6

You take her to a movie you like...-2

It's called Death Cop III...-3

Which features Cyborgs that eat humans...-9

You lied and said it was a foreign film about orphans...-15

YOUR PHYSIQUE

You develop a noticeable potbelly...-15

You develop a noticeable potbelly & exercise to get rid of it.....+10

You develop a noticeable potbelly and resort to loose jeans and baggy Hawaiian shirts...-30

You say, "It doesn't matter, you have one too"...-800

THE BIG QUESTION

She asks, "Does this dress make me look fat?" You hesitate in responding...-10

You reply, "Where?"...-35

You reply, "No, it's not the dress, I think it's your bum"...-100

Any other response...-20

COMMUNICATION

When she wants to talk about a problem: You listen, displaying a concerned expression...0

You listen, for over 30 minutes...+5

You relate to her problem and share a similar experience...+ 50

You're mind wanders to sports and you suddenly hear her

saying, "Well, what do you think I should do?"...-100

You have fallen asleep...-200

ITS THAT TIME OF THE MONTH

You talk...-100

You don't talk.... -150

You spend time with her...-200

You don't spend time with her...-500

You look unhappy...-750

You seem to be enjoying yourself...-1000

Think you can be in the positive...?

Innocence. A quality exclusive to the very young. (Later, its called stupidity). A quality that is valued highly by everyone except the innocent one himself. Thats what makes babies as lovable even though they tear, burp, puke, piss, crap all over your new sweater. Try doing that at three for a flaming red bottom, and anytime after the age of six to ensure visits to the psychologist. But, in the tender years, it's even a good thing to be the target of the innocent bodily secretions in question.

baby aloque's parents shopping twenty two years ago.......

"hold him for a sec will you?":-)

"sure":-I

"hey, he peed all over me!":-))

"he loves you more than he loves me!":-(

"thats obvious!" *patting the wet patch proudly* "but have you noticed he ALWAYS does it when we come to the book-store?"

Figments of my imagination apart, here is what I know. I only remember the loss of innocence. These are the moments of new perspective, changes, growing up and so on. Only the parents are sighing about me growing up too soon, learning cuss words at an alarming rate.

Only parents to tell me how innocent I was. About my bisyllablic conversations of "vasthaava?(won't you come)" and "kodatha!(will hit you)" with the kite that was stuck in the tree in our courtyard.

About not caring about 12" long pig tails by the time I was 2. (my mom wanted a girl!)

About when I politely inquired if we were sitting in a large bus at my first movie theater experience at 3.

Simple is as simple does.

Here is what I remember. Glorious moments of discovery!

We had a broken down car back then and all the kids in the colony would take turns to sit at the wheel and furiously hurtle down imaginary streets at breakneck speeds while the rest of us pondered the life altering decisions the umpire inflicted on us in the just concluded cricket match. No girls allowed of course! They didn't care but we just wanted to antagonize!

Once, an older boy told us how babies were made. In retrospect, a technique which could end the human race as a result of wrong orifices and sore backsides. Later, he got to drive the car all evening while we were gagging in the back seat. But we were irreversibly perverted. None of our parents would be patting an innocent little head anymore!

I think i was about 8 when I mouthed the first F U in front of my dad. Of course, I didn't know what it meant but the colours that were rapidly changing on his face and his legendary flaring nostrils ensured i would use it in plentiful quantities, although away from the reach of hands that want to twist ears.

Of all the trouble we went through to keep the girls out of our car, my first crush was not without irony. When I was about 8, we had a carpool to go to school and there was a girl, lets call her A. She always chose the seat by the window and three little boys making stinky faces whenever they had to sit next to her, each secretly glad ( I was!). I even devised a game where we had to pretend that inertia was totally in control of our bodies and we would fall away and over each time the car negotiated a curve and i always liked the left handed curves more than the right handed ones. Sometimes, I just cheated inertia and acted 'innocent'!!

got to stop some time. and now, before you are subjected to the unpleasant story of the discovery of puberty, seems as good a time as any!

Dating is such a mind game now. Crazy statutes of limitation on everything possible. No wonder us dudes are a confused lot!

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