Wednesday, November 9, 2011

An Awakard Account

Here’s to turning the normal acceptable norms upside down, topsy-turvy, rotate it on its bloody head and watch what kinds of tales falls and falters. For this is the very nectar of life and to reject that would be tantamount to killing your-self, by starving it of the flowers of plenty, that bloom, become beautiful, rot and die, to eventually regenerate with ever more bedazzling colors...

Just look at the damn seasons! Now is the winter of our discontent but that's so because Richard the Hunchback couldn't quite connect the nose sticking out of his face to the face; or where the nose lead to what the eyes beheld. Hence his passionate misery, and nothing loves misery more than desperate company; people as disjointed waiting with abated breath and a ready tongue to lash out the cruelties of life. Self-indulgence comes in many guises and one of its favorite avatars is playing the victim. The opposite is as delusional.

Conventional human behavior, and only human for if you’ve watched the un-endangered common stray mongrel, you’d have noticed that intense crotch-sniffing ritual dogs carry out upon encountering one of its own kind that's new to the block; whenever and wherever necessary. Perhaps nothing separates us from these so called beasts more than the feeling of shame. I’ve yet to see a non-human being express shame or be ashamed. Perhaps they are aware and know there's nothing more to the matter and that get on with, whether it be sniffing crotches or scratching balls.

Perhaps that’s just so ‘cos there’s enough damage done from that rotten feeling that gives rise to guilt - that formidable emotion capable of loathing, repentance and in some cases, extreme temper and the need to get Even-Steven, often resulting in violence.

The Sex Pistols demonstrated this with their smashing hit 'I'm an Anarchrist', from the album Never Mind The Bullocks; Here Comes The Sex Pistols. Most Sex Pistol members popped it, pretty violently. 'Round about the end of the Flower Power hippy hive came the invasion of the Bell Bottoms, Airplane Collars and Trump hair. Here a solo Lennon, long a lone Beatle, sang this reality in “Beautiful Boy” with a plastic band when he realized the magical mystery tours in the freshness of the now, went on to reflect that in some other classics as well: Instant Karma, Real Love and Give Peace a Chance. The Czech writer Kundera wrote about it, albeit a tad heavily and gravely, in just the title of that book entitled “The Unbearable Lightness of Being.” I’d have called it “The Unbearable Burden of Routine.”

The thing is this: why do we literally need an agenda? This winter will spring back to go summer our memories, shower it with monsoon madness and come falling down gracefully with autumn leaves. The guarantee and the comical notion of a secure, protected and sheltered life dotted with your own desirable jottings is as effective as aspirin is in curing cancer. Reminds me, we’ve shoe prints on that celestial ball up in the sky, brought back some of its pebbles called moonstones; built the nuclear weapon but can’t work out the formula for treating HIV AIDS, Cancer, or the rampant rape and abuse of Fossilized Fuels.

No more digression! See how this thing is panning out? F**K your plans. Wipe your arse with that mental itinerary and go forth- for the unexpected awaits you irrespective of your delusional sense of being comfortable and secure. Now think about all those basterds you love to hate, or can't stand, and the dormant grudges waiting to explode like dynamite on suicide bombers.

Then be thankful to those folks, and more so to the baddest arseholes in that gang. The selected few who are the chief cause of your great misery and sorry state of affair. See, without their invaluable presentness, you will always remain agoraphobic state of asphyxiated cocoon, calling it your comfort zone; your personal space. Hence our easy likes and dislike of people: if you analyze that part with some gray cells, you’d find that you like them ‘cos they like you back (and think the same thing, basically, of whatever you are thinking in regards to their likability or the opposite). When two individuals connect on this peak of comfort, terms such as De Javu, Karmic Connection, Soul Twin et al are aroused.

There is no threat, or there is lack of fear and danger in that relationship. So it rolls that you end up sticking around that perceived comfortableness. The catch is in time, that very thing becomes mundane, now so bloody familiar you find yourself hating it, and then you’d have peddled the full cycle! There is no escaping that actual course of events. Familiarity breeds contempt and contempt breeds resistance. When the path of openness is frowned upon with wrinkled brow, there will be that many more paths of resistance opening up.

The point, it seems, is to keep us as spontaneously fresh as possible. But we seek the path well trodden and invariably come upon that bubblegum spot humming “I’ve become... Comfortably Numb.”

Its like running away from your shadow, or avoiding it by staying away from the lights! And should the shadow suddenly creep up unawares there is panic! Anxiety! Fear! Uncomfortability! If we understood the shadow is nothing but a dark reflection of your body you’d just relax, or even learn to tell time or the position of the sun by calculating the contours and direction of your shadows.
Do anything but shadow-box! You’d be knocked out, every time you box in that ring!

The uncomfortable elements in our lives are the very instruments that makes life a dance and a song; a song and a dance. After I type this two-bit theory I plan to walk out this hotel lobby, pull over a rickshaw and head to Connaught Place. The chances of me doing exactly that are greater than a cat catching a mouse in an old godown. What will be different is the course of action in motion or vice versa. In a word it will be ‘Unexpected’. The degree of that unexpectedness is also dependent, directly, to the size of your mind. How big is it? How small? Is it preoccupied? Empty? Is it divisive? Angry? Happy? Etc. Etc. Etc.

Generally it tends to be occupied. There are scenarios unfolding in that fleshy little universe that would shame Shakespeare himself. So if you are already engaged in a dialogue and a drama that is ad infinitude then how are you gonna bring about that freshness? That cool breeze? That spontaneity? The answer is mostly a loud and fiendish 'No'! Hence the rise in usage of expressions such as ‘Mundane’, 'boring' and ‘Routine’ etc. Truth be told, you are living in memorabilia and your judgment and assessments of things and situations also emanates from that memorabilia.

Human nature being what it is, you will choose to remain content in your comfort zone (the Green Zone if you happen to be somebody in Bagdad). It is the discomfort which gives the impetus; an urgency to seek solace elsewhere. Hence circumstances and scenarios that you deem uncomfortable are literally, as such, your rocket boosters launching and thrusting you to the edge of the universe and beyond! But wait! No! You are not going to go Down Under but funny thing is you’ll remember these people, and those situations, for this is the beginning of little peeps and glances into the present world (which perhaps explains why we respond with a ‘Thank you’ when we receive a ‘Present’ – it is but the ‘Gift of Life’.)

MK Gandhi became the Mahatma not by design but by being open. Back in South Africa, where he was, as the legend goes, a young lawyer of average repute, he hopped onto a train one fine mundane morning and found himself thrown out of the first class train car he was seated in. His legal ticket had no effect. He was brown and the whites went “Out with his bloody little skinny brown arse!” And just like that, his life took a radical different course.

We gotta thank that white man or men for they had no idea of the invaluable service they’d just rendered to humanity in general, and to Indians in particular. It was probably just another routine day of chucking colored people out as far as the racists were concerned. But you see, life itself is a paradox that is only understood by Life, Death, and a scattering of Les Miserables scattered across the continents. One glance and it is seemingly both random and organized; organized and random. That’s the beauty of the paradox!

The rest you know is history. The lobby I’m sitting typing these rather sticky uncomfortable keys on a wireless board with chai in tow is situated in Arakashan Road, which is in Pahargang, located in Central Delhi, the capital of the Republic of India - which was under the perceived sense and rule of British superiority.
When you next journey unknown environs, try the path least printed, and drop the bloody map. The Lonely Planet gets left behind as well and then see what unfolds and arises!

Everything Connects! I'm betting a guess that besides the "WoW", Steve being Steve must have imagined a mental image that sorta loked something like this:
iLife; iDeath; iGo; iCome; iLive.

PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!

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