Category: Thoughts uncut

Another year has come, and here I am… musing

going back

It’s that time of the year again. The time to slowly and desperately count down to the end of the year, hoping only for what could be a better year.

A lot of people now are either talking of, or writing about how great, or in some odd cases, how plain and dull the past year was.

I’m going to do nothing new. It’s the same, old story; from rants and happiness; of work and fun to missed reunions.

2013, a year which I honestly didn’t expect to face. I did believe in the “Big Bang” that the Mayans deprived us of, sadly. But 2013 did come, and is now past.

It was a very confusing year for me as an individual. Facing exam pressure, coming out bruised but nonetheless glad, making big decisions, struggling to find my voice amidst my family’s inconveniently many loud ones, oh yes. Yes, what a scarily amazing year!

I won’t go into details of how the year unraveled before my sometimes-protesting eyes. That’s a boring story. But what really interests me is how much I’ve grown (figuratively, if course) over the year.

At the beginning of the year, I was one who people would call “living under a rock.” I was so far behind on current events, both good and bad, both economical and technological, both political and environmental.

Now, I am quite the same when it comes to being the all-informed person, but I have explicitly accepted that curiosity isn’t worthy of me keeping it. It isn’t just revelation, but realization.

I always had problems with being around people. I don’t mention it to anyone of course, but the thing is, I make it obvious when I am in the company of new people. I simply don’t get along. At the beginning of the year, I was a student and I thankfully didn’t have to face too many new eyes.

But as the year wore off, I moved off to another city and another society all together. The transition left me nothing short of a stunned. I was lost, despite having my brother, who was always around.

Scarily, I felt alone. It was all new. Being alone had never before bothered me, I was, in fact, a loner. I preferred being with myself  most of the time.

But that’s not what the corporate world is looking for. They want people who would and could easily open up and socialize with people they’ve met a couple of seconds ago. I was a bit terrified. I like to take my time around people, I don’t rush into acquaintances or friendships.

My biggest habit was in question, and I suddenly was hunting for people who would listen without judging.

I ain’t good at finding people.

After witnessing a lot of people and their attitudes, I had learnt it the hard way — to save myself from a lot of pain, I should speak up, unless I’m alright with being crushed under others’ feet.

The world isn’t happy with you being quiet and personal. Introverts are expected to adopt extroversion, or the consequences would be hard.

If you’re someone like myself, you would know that embracing something that you are not is no easy thing to do. It’s like becoming someone else, while retaining the original you.

I am not going to join ranks with the ones in power, those who expect everyone to behave just like the way they wish them to be, but I’m not going to be quiet either. There are a lot of people who’d think silence is a mark of the weak. I am not of Gandhi’s level to smile serenely at their foolishness and wait for time to show them.

I will have to give people a taste of my mind, if that’s the only thing that would keep them from making a bad judgement.

That’s the biggest lesson I’ve learned last year. A lesson that took some of my naïvety, but it’s alright. If that’s what it takes to understand the harsh realities of life, then so be it. I have no use with being naïve.

So, that brings me to my resolution. I have decided that speaking up isn’t such a bad idea after all. Particularly, if it can get you a voice of your own.

Happy new year folks.

The Road Not Taken

For a long time, I’ve been wanting to write about this poem. I’ve felt a certain closeness to this particular poem, ever since my teacher introduced me to it. It was love at sight, and though I wasn’t new to the experience, it kept haunting me. It seemed to probe me to do what I felt was right. (but it is tougher than I expected it to be)

What, in the world, is so special about this poem? I can hear you wondering.

Well, it has beautiful words.

No, really. Apart from conveying the greatest piece of advice, the words were beautiful; the wording was artistic and the story it portrayed was an absolute classic.

Go ahead and read it, if you haven’t already.

The Road Not Taken

The Road Not Taken.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

-Robert Frost

 I told you so!

The Curiosity Factor; what’s wrong with not knowing?

I am not curious.

Yeah, I don’t care who killed that random person walking on the street. By the way, which person are we talking about anyway? Random street killings happen everyday. Try keeping a track of those for about 15 years, after which they convict the wrong person.

Isn’t it better to not be bothered about the how the once-great society turned to the sewers? Just forget about people killing each other. Don’t worry about it until you get killed, but then again, you would be killed, so why worry?

We’re all going to die. We would either die early or late. So what matters if one person drowned and another was shot? They just died, that’s it. It’s a perfectly natural thing to do. (even if the cause maybe quite otherwise) Why bother when you can’t do anything about it?

The next thing is the news. People ask me, “Have you heard the news? It’s all over the papers.” Hey! If it’s all over the papers, then why ask me? Go read the paper. I am just not interested in the unlimited things that happen everyday. They are going to happen regardless of the number of people who know about it.

Give me proof that rapes and murder cases have declined, just because a few thousand people are discussing it, then I’ll consider knowing, or even talking about it.

Until then, I’m better off without knowing current events. In fact, knowing the news of how many people actually die falling into open sewer passages isn’t going to make me cautious. Instead, it will only arouse fear. It’s going to make me this fearful person, who couldn’t dare to step out of the front porch because she was afraid that she would fall into a ditch.

Trust me, fear is worse, far worse than an ugly death. Death is heavenly. It’s this amazing thing that happens where you are, all of a sudden, freed from all of those factors binding you to earth . But people fear Death. As if you could evade Him (or Her, (I never thought of it that way!)) forever. It’s quite amusing to see the uncanny ability of us humans to gravitate towards the things that make us miserable.

Being “aware” of all the pathos is only going to hamper our ability to appreciate our lives, and by the time we do, it would be too late. We’ll never be younger folks — as far as I know!

Halfway Through Realizing a Dream

I’ve heard a lot of people talking a lot about the blissful feeling of achieving your dream, but let me tell you, it’s absolutely no use of listening to it until you do it yourself. Do I make sense? Blurry, right?

Well, here’s what I’m trying to say. People told me that when the joy you get when you fulfill your dreams is matched by nothing. I now realize the truth in those words. It’s one thing to watch, from the sidelines, at someone who goes out there and realizes their dreams, but it’s another thing altogether when you are looking at yourself one morning,  fully contented at having made your dream come true.

I’m just trying to say that I’m half way through my first attempt at a novel.

Yeah, it was a dream. Not any more; now it’s my reality. I signed up for National Novel Writing Month wondering if I could prove to myself that I could become the author I always wanted to be. Half way through the month, I have a satisfaction that I’ve never before had in my life. This is the most I’ve ever written in my life for a novel. There were countless beginnings, but I had never gone past three chapters, at the maximum. Now though, I’ve completed thirty chapters. Wow, I never knew I could surprise myself so much!

I’m on my way, 30 000 done, 20 000 more. Here I come!

PS: I know I didn’t have to write 250+ words to say that I’m  NaNoWriMo participant, but hey, this is the month of words!

The Last Lecture

“Take Time Out. It’s not a real vacation if you’re reading email or calling in for messages.”

Randy Pausch, The Last Lecture

While reading the book, there was only one thought in my mind. How the hell did a programming nerd (yeah, that he was) have such an interesting way of thought?

I know a lot of programmers, the nerdy people whose world is made of directories and variables. There are exceptions everywhere, yes, but I have seen programmers who are so immersed in what they do, that they have made it their life. They’re the classical thinkers; the impassive people.

For a romantic thinker like myself, they appear dull, and I’ve seen the shocked look they give me when I tell them coding is boring. They look at me like I have no interest in life. To quote another person, you know you are a romantic thinker when, “you give more importance to feelings and less to facts.”

But that’s the way we think of each other.

Getting back to The Last Lecture, this Randy Pausch was such a classical thinker, except for the craving for fun. He was a nerd, a computer scientist and a professor. And from what I could discern, he was good at what he did.

Before writing this, I went through the reviews of the book and the lecture on Goodreads. There were a lot of people who gave four or five stars for the book. But, there were some who rated it one or two. There was such a contradiction and wondering why, I concluded, sometimes it’s arguable that one takes a view of life as Randy had, when he is counting his time. I don’t care though. Dying or not, the book has some very valuable thoughts. There is no guaranteeing that it would work for everyone, but it sure did for Randy, and considering that the lecture and the book was his message for his kids, I would say that Randy has succeeded in leaving a legendary legacy behind.

This book greatly reminded me of a similar story I read sometime back. A story of a dying professor – a story about living, in the words of a student. This, on the other hand, is a narrative from the professor himself, about the way he lived life and his regret of not being able to be a father.

It’s ironical that he practically raised his sister’s children and so many other students, but not his own children. That’s the sad part; that you were reading words of a dying person who prepared for his last lecture instead of spending his little time with children who would hardly remember him in future.

The book was the written form of his lecture. I watched the lecture too and Randy was careful to avoid topics that would make him emotional. He was just joking around, like he was trying to make an interesting class out of a dull one.

As a lot of people would say, the book was bound to have pathos spilled all over. It was, yes, it’s a pity to realize that the man who had such unique views is no longer living.

It’s quite similar to what I felt when I read Tuesdays with Morrie; I wish I had had a teacher like that. Two teachers; two conditions; two very different attitudes; both wonderful!