The Bearded Bard

The best thing about the Bard: he makes you think. He fills you with wonder, shows possibilities you hadn’t considered, and leaves you in a flurry of amazement.

Shakespeare’s command over the language stuns me. How could one man possess such understanding of the language we hold dear?

Words are sharp, they are powerful. They inspire all kinds of emotions. The good, the bad – they’re all in words. Even those deep feelings we can’t put into words — Shakespeare has his way of bringing them to our mind’s eye.

He makes you feel the word. Is it the wording, or a full stop in place of the overused exclamation mark? A little use of the license, or a negligible grammar violation that makes a tasteful piece of writing?

No one does it as well as the Bearded Bard.

If words be actions, Shakespeare can make you cringe in shame, in such a way that you relive that moment each time you face a mirror. All these, without laying a finger on you.

The sheer thought of such power scares me.

Everything the man ever wrote is wisdom for a society that’s as foolish and as ignorant as ours. There never will come another writer whose works live as long as Shakespeare’s. Five centuries old; still as attractive, as delectable as fresh pie.

Though he largely referred to the Elizabethan society, his works seem tailored for us.

That makes me wonder — why do we have such a society? A society that holds self before anything else, one that judges people on birth, instead of the person they’ve become.

Why are we such Assholes?

It’s all in the marriage of two minds.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand’ring bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me prov’d,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d.

We are a society that prioritizes the need for a partner. For everything. It begins at school when we look for a lunch buddy, visit the restrooms in pairs, or hang out in groups.

Solitude is taboo. We grow up to that principle. We are so accustomed to the warmth of human companionship that we reach a point where the quality doesn’t matter as much.

We’re happy as long as we have a partner. Perhaps that’s what forces us to rush into relationships, both marital and otherwise.

Perhaps we don’t dedicate thought to the person we commit to spending our time with. Because when we do, we realize the subtleties and positives of the relationship.

If only people’s minds were married instead of the bodies, we would have a whole different populace.

Our attitude toward life would differ. It would be a full, retrospective thought process, where we’d have worthy priorities.

People would marry for true love, they would sacrifice, and do so, knowing the consequences. And everything we do would have clarity. Our society would sincerely respect each other.

Or as the great man says himself, we’d know from experience,

“Love is not love … which alters when it alteration finds,”

Once we realize the truth in those words, nothing would be greater than true love. Love that spreads warmth and compassion across the world.

And that would be a world worth protecting.

The Career Conundrum — An Open Letter to a High-Scorer

Hey there!

I heard you got your SSLC (Secondary School Leaving Certificate) results sometime last week.

Looks like you’ve done pretty well, huh?

The whole of Tamil Nadu rejoiced that over 40 students had scored 499/500. What fierce competition! And for something as trivial as memorizing a certainly erroneous textbook.

Surprised? Didn’t you realize how silly your syllabi were? How can you claim printing blunders as petty?

Plus, the top people in the education department worry about the falling standards. At this rate, they say, top-scorers wouldn’t stand a chance in a nation-wide evaluation.

Some even suggested new syllabi for better education.

No worries though. This result is still a big deal.

Your parents know it. But it seems you don’t. And that’s why I decided to knock some sense into your over-creative head.

How come you haven’t realized it yet? This result determines your future! The more you score, the greater your chances are for groups 1 or 2 — which is eventually Engineering. Or Medicine — if you’re that ambitious.

But I hear you have something else in mind. Trust me, you don’t want to hear about the third group.

Only those who are too stupid and lazy to study choose the Arts. Oh, yes.

As Indian, nothing is more prestigious than becoming an Engineer or Doctor. They are the highest-paying jobs and will earn you a lump dowry in the marriage market. Why would you want to give up on that?

There’s a saying, “Indians become an Engineer first and then decide what they want to become in life.” Like most people, you probably think it’s just another of those Facebook fads, but it sure as hell is not.

True, most Engineering graduates spend four years discerning the mechanics of things they care naught for.

Then there’s the MBA infatuation.

After wasting years and parents’ money, they spend a couple more years suited-up in college. They hope it’ll be their cherry, but none of them notices the ice-cream melting.

Because it’s all part of the social convention. The more you follow the common folk, the less they’ll look down on you.

Besides, melting ice-cream’s pretty amazing, don’t you think?

Choose the Arts, and people would judge you sooner than your high-school teacher. Arts graduates spend the next five to all their years explaining to an unbelieving mob why they don’t like Engineering.

And how can you not like Engineering? It’s not like you have a choice — it’s like primary education.

Denying a degree in engineering is declining a basic need. After all, in today’s India, engineering is survival instinct.

Choose the Arts, and you’ll be lower than everyone else who were wise enough to avoid it.

Choose the Arts, and you’ll drabble in unemployment and poverty for the rest of your life.

Choose the Arts if your Dad’s a money machine. Otherwise, be wise.

Unless you can become the next Shakespeare or Michael Jackson — just don’t do the Arts. Only a fool picks the Arts over Engineering.

Trust me though; no one else will say this to your face. Instead, they’ll tell you it’s awesome to follow your dreams — because no one else dares.

There’s a reason no one else dares.

Your classmates — the would-be engineers who hope to land an unrelated career — would tell you how pitiful their life is. At least your family considered your interests.

Whereas your family would counsel you on how foolish it is to choose the Arts. How it’s a dying breed, how doing Engineering before anything is a backup if you ever flunk your dream — because hey, shit happens.

If you come out of it, and still wish to do Arts, then perhaps I underestimated you. Perhaps you do have a strong will.

No matter. The rest of society will succeed where your family didn’t. A month or two in the real world and you’ll probably run off to an Engineering college, realizing — but not accepting — ‘Mom knows best.’

There aren’t many people who endure all that negativity and still stand their ground.

Of those few, just a handful succeed. Most of the Arts folk are just depressed, alone and bitter. And definitely cynical.

Because that’s what society does to you. They’d tell you to be yourself — but if you do, they’ll crush you.

You could be unknown, you could be broke — but remember one thing. No one knows Banksy, the person.

And real Artists don’t care.

Time for Truth

“Love’s love. Whoever you are born as.”

The auditorium erupted in applause. She stood solo, accepting the world’s praise.

Motivational speaker. Voice of the minority.

She had shed light into thousands of lives. Helped them accept themselves.

Years of spreading awareness, and now, she could only smile. Seeing the couple glowing with pride, she walked up to them.

After 15 years, the time had finally come.

“Mom, Dad. I want you to meet her.”

The Soul Drink

I love coffee. Nothing soothes me like good coffee. But even I can’t deny the times when coffee falls just short. It’s sad, yes. But there’s always tea.

That awesome English beverage that has enough caffeine to satiate the soul.

I like my coffee in any way: hot, cold, black, sugar-less, freshly ground, without chicory – it rarely matters, as long as it’s there. But tea – there are plenty of conditions. And that’s why it’s so difficult to find the best cuppa. Oh yes, I’m in love with that English term as well.

Perhaps it’s the rarity that makes me crave it. Perhaps it’s also why I can’t refrain from photographing my tea.

I can hardly stop looking at this photo. I fell in love with my own work and Instagram.

Some things in life are minute. It takes an artful look to see through the beauty of miniature. Much like the froth that brims in this cup of tea.

The photo is a moment captured in time. When you look close enough, you’ll see your reflection on the tiny bubbles. To capture such a moment on a lasting frame is a great feeling. And if an amateur like myself can do a decent job of it, I cringe to think what professionals could do.

I’m biased, but I love everything about this photo. The tumbler isn’t perfectly aligned with the dabara (the cup). But that’s what makes it natural. It looks like a cup I’m going to drink from, and not a model for product photography.

The lighting is average. I know nothing about the technical aspects of aperture and lens light. All I know is to point and click.

The bench, its shade,the blurry finish, the reflection of the tree – everything adds a little to the story. And plants improperly aligned – everything says outdoor.

Above all, it’s the reflection of the tree’s branches around the dabara that impresses me. They might be negligible, but it makes the photo all the more likable.

However much I boast about my photo, I can’t deny that none of its tiny, lovable aspects was intentional. It was a happy accident that Instagram highlighted and transformed.

Which makes me wonder about human nature. We don’t look at anything as it is. We constantly sharpen, hone and improve. It’s natural to pay attention to details, obsess over them, to give importance to even the negligible aspects of an object – to make it look better.

And that ability is worth more than anything else. A photo, a sculpture, a portrait, or a piece of writing – every work of art reveals mankind’s scrutiny. And that’s worth more than a thousand words.

Testing Times

Amit feverishly flipped through his worn MBA books. The final test was upon him. He was now just one step away from the corporate life.

Ah! How much he had heard!

He would clear the interview; he would show his father. Amit snorted. His father, the old fool. He had no idea how competitive the corporate world is. He had been constantly pressuring Amit about not getting through in campus interviews.

“Well, what does he know? He’s just a petty banker!” Amit thought to himself furiously. A ‘cling’ from his phone brought him back to reality.

“Why aren’t you at the party? Everyone’s here!”- It was Tina, his girlfriend – No. Friend. Just friend. He sighed.

“I’ve got to study. :( You guys have fun.” – Hitting send, he cast his phone on the bed and returned to his books.

Amit sat outside the manager’s room. Cracking his knuckles, he waited to be interviewed. He was called, and barely managed to avoid the usual foot-trip.

The next few minutes went exactly as planned. They asked him a few questions, and he answered them perfectly. Then came the usual question.

“Do you have a recommendation?”

Amit’s eyes lit up. This time, he did. He handed over the letter – from a respected politician. After Amit’s outbreak last time, his father had agreed to pay for the letter.

“Welcome to our company, Mr. Amit.”

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