Divine Retribution

I once read this article in the news about how some girl in Afghanistan had acid thrown on her face because she dared to go to school. It was something I believe the local Clerics considered to be sacrilegious. That incident served as a warning to all the girls in the area, that they ought to stay at home for the sake of their own safety.
Not to mention the attacks on women in the Kashmir valley who were attacked by local religious fanatics because they wore jeans.
Science has always held utter contempt for religion, because to them religion has always been seen as means to enslave and confine man within a sphere of fear, insecurity and guilt.
Throughout the ages numerous wars have been waged across the globe on account of religious differences.
In true terms, there has never been any triumph of faith. What has triumphed instead is might. The might of the military. Like the numerous crusades and the inquisitions which have plagued humanity for centuries.
The crusades, holy war, inquisitions and jihads serve as a grim reminder so as to how a faith actually spread.
It wasn't the open embrace of God by the devout. Rather it was the might of the sword and the instillment of fear within the masses that lead to the birth of a new faith.
It has always been so. For history is a witness.
Its ironic, since majority of the religions that have been propagated by war and persecution claim that their God is kind and merciful.
I suppose it is an odd way of putting things.
I really wonder then, so as to why must the followers of a merciful and an understanding God be so merciless in the way they chose to protect Him by throwing acid on defenseless women.
Whenever such people persecute the weak and the innocent they claim to carry out divine justice.

When any rational man of science sees fellow human beings killing and persecuting each other in the name of an entity called God(possibly the product of somebody's extremely fertile imagination), something no one can see nor feel, I cannot blame them to think that all religion is absolute nonsense.
And there's no way I can possibly convince a man of science that faith isint actually that bad.

The sands of time have erased from the minds of the people all memory of how their ancestors were tortured in the past to accept the faith they follow today.
I have no interest in raking up old issues, but nevertheless, todays so called defenders of faith seem to behave the same way their ruthless ancestors did to spread the word of God.

Does God really need numerous madmen to defend His honor? If so, then God must be one of the most weakest beings in existence where, something as trivial as improper attire can shake the very foundations of His realm.
Its a strange and sad little world we live in. Where there is little regard for humane conduct. The spirit though born free, it is rendered as a prisoner of rigid laws and rules.
No wonder people have started to hate the very aspect of faith.
Why wouldn't they? For what is there to gain from something that wont allow you to live normally, without being reminded at every instance that one small deviation of faith will send you straight to hell?

But all I can tell is this. Irrespective of the macabre picture of God painted by some of the leading faiths of today, I choose to follow faith as I see it best. Not on the grounds of force or ignorance, but on the grounds of the firm belief that God is no way the tyrannical monster people portray God to be. Its something I suppose you can realize on your own. Because its not God who brings upon misery upon others, its man and his ridiculous interpretation of God.
I suppose in the heavens above, God must be looking down upon us and wondering, "when will these humans learn to tolerate one another and set apart their differences?. How often must I come down and knock sense into them?...."sigh"...a Gods work is never done."

Entropy

A sense of change is in the air. Theres a good deal of revolutionary activity going on about in India. Indians have once again proved how they can rise and defend our great nation by securing our morales and ideals.
A great deal of people know well enough about the ruckus created by numerous local brigades of men who are hell bent on preserving the dignity of the women in our country even if it means they must bash them senseless (so that the women see sense) in pubs.
I suppose they went home proud knowing that they have saved the nation yet again from the evil clutches of western decadence.
But I don't think they did a good enough job, because in return for their noble labor they received a parcel of pink undergarments by evil, corrupt women who are literally asking for some more head banging.

Theres a sea of change in the realm of Indian television as well. Thanks to a new digital satellite provider I now can see almost 200 channels in excellent quality. Hmmm.....now theres a lot of options. Lets see...
Theres some 50 or so channels with fast paced melodrama, intense boohooing, and mind numbing twists which the average human being cant possibly comprehend. Dead sons come back alive, dead villains were just pretending to be dead, plus theres an immortal grandmother who looks as though she was born old and destined to remain eternally old throughout the series which spans a time line of almost 100 years.
Then theres 20 or so "music" channels which seem to show everything except music. Theres the cheeky VJ with a bad accent and a hairdo that would give Cher a complex, conducting absolutely inspired interviews with some of the film industry's best star offspring. I just cannot wait to know what is Blah Blah Kapoor's favorite flavor of ice cream soda. Gosh.....!
Then there is this show which attracts every freak from India, who are carefully scrutinized by a judge who barks ineligible drivel like a rabid dog, finally zeroing on a select group of contestants who earn the privilege of driving around on a motorbike across the country, bitch about their friends on camera and talk about how some hot girl dumped them.
Then of course we have at least 50 "entertainment" channels which showcase awesome reality shows kinda like the one with the motorbike, only slightly different which involve a group of almost famous people caged together in a house who also bitch, back stab and try their level best to get noticed by hurling insults at each other.
The remaining 80 channels comprise of mixture of news channels who claim to have found the footprints of a demigod in a farm, a dozen or so religious channels which have amazing babas with great bodily agility who make Michael Jackson look like an amature, movie channels who have successfully broad casted the same movie for the umpteenth time and educational channels like the history channel which showcase hour long ads of the amazing weight reducing sauna belt. Theres nothing like quality entertainment now, is there?

Apart from that India has found its own ingenious ways of getting people laid off during the international recession.
Local vegetable sellers, grocers in small towns have lost their jobs to big commercial shopping malls where you may buy everything under the sun. Never mind the fact that the cabbage is rotting and the T shirt you bought at the sale has shrunk to half its size after the first wash, at least you need not haggle with the small scale vegetable seller who has the audacity of selling you fresh vegetables for 1 rupee more than the shopping mall. Moreover all you need to do is travel 10-15 kilometers from your home to buy everything under one roof. Simple as that. No more getting cheated for a few rupees by the local grocer who lives a stones throw away from your house.
Now thats progress.

It has been six years since I have left India. Sarcasm apart, every time I visit, the sort of change my country is going through leaves me absolutely dumbfounded. In thermodynamics, Entropy is defined as the tendency of a system that is left to itself to descend into chaos.
All aspects in nature descend from order to disorder.
I fear that the sort of change going on about within Indian society will leave the masses more ignorant and ill informed than they previously were. And such a change is occurring at a rapid pace.
Who knows. Perhaps in the future, the women will be forced to remain in homes for good so that their "dignity" remains unscathed. Reality television might depict people killing each other for sport like the times in gladiatorial Rome(anything for TRP's). And the rate of crime will sky rocket due to the numerous people rendered jobless on account of large sprawling shopping malls.
I thought progress was something that took the masses ahead, rather than push them further into the abyss. So much for modernization. I suppose I'd rather live in the simple times of the stone age rather than subject myself to the charades of our current age.

Runaway Muse

Of late for some strange reason, I haven't been able to think of a single topic to write. I know all too well that ideal creativity is something that ought to flow constantly from within. But nevertheless I feel of late as if the stream of thought has dried up. Its a good thing that my bread and butter are not dependent upon what I write, but nevertheless, it irks me to a good degree that I cannot think of a single worthwhile thing to write about.
I really envy those who lead lives in constant motion. Those who's lives are constantly enriched with new sights and sounds. Like for instance a journalist or a photographer. Or even an entrepreneur of some sort. I'll bet they'll have a good deal in plenty to write home about.
Theres not much adventure in the life of a student. And a medical student to boot. The same dismal routine of going for class, coming back, shopping, cooking etc. (did I mention studying?)
Some say if your life doesn't have adventure, one must go ahead and make that adventure happen.
I suppose thats easier said than done. I always considered philosophy as a poor mans soup. Its rather easy for some wise guy to mouth off fancy quotations without having to physically experience the sort of ordeal the person opposite him suffers.
Theres always a philosopher amongst us. You know the sort. The sort of bloke who has his head in the clouds, seldom caring to bother about the real trials and tribulations that plague those amongst him.
But nevertheless, its rather an awful feeling not being able to think or create something because you feel positively uninspired and insipid.
Inspiration is the key.
One ought to draw it from all that one sees and experiences around him.
But of late, somehow everything around me feels bland and unimpressive. Perhaps its the monotony of the routine that we follow day in and day out.
Sort of a "ho hum" feeling.
Creativity is the sort of thing that needs to be constantly replenished with new ideas and opinions. Its the sort of thing that maintains a constant train of thought.
I don't know what could possibly account for the fact that I do not seem the least bit inspired of late.
In ancient times, Muses were considered to be the guardian spirits that constantly gave inspiration to poets and authors and artists. It was they who constantly provoked men of art to churn out masterpieces.
I suppose my Muse must have packed up her bags and gone off on vacation somewhere. Or perhaps she has found some other bloke who is in need of her services. I suppose the Muses don't care much for fidelity.
Either ways I am bereft of creative thought.
Perhaps I ought wait patiently for her to return. And give me back the creative impulse that has been lost to me.
Since patience is such a God awful virtue!

The Child Within

As a child, the world of the adults always fascinated me. The fact that they never had to do any homework, or the fact that they could watch television whenever they want.
They seemed a fascinating sort of people. Those who didn't have to answer to anyone. No one could boss over them, or reprimand them for trivial reasons. They didn't have to get up each morning to attend a god awful institution called school where one would be tortured by the continuous convoy of "teachers" who were nothing much but bored disgruntled house wives who wanted to spew out their venom on us poor lads .
And so I thought, "ahh....if only I were a grown up. I could make my own rules, yell at whomever I want, and watch television all day".
But growing up turned into quite a different experience, and a multitude of things took me by surprise.
But nevertheless, somehow, I didn't let the process of physical growth affect me to much of a degree. For I had a refuge. A friend with whom I could constantly play with. The child within me.

When I was almost 13, I would wander our football field immersed within a land of fantasy, where the football field was actually my kingdom, and I, its proud ruler who was renowned across the land, for his just reign. I spent the day muttering dialogues to myself portraying every character in my make believe kingdom.
Of course to the remainder of my friends who just took a break during half time, all they could see was a babbling lunatic all by himself across the field, acting the goat.
But their opinion then never bothered me.
I was far too busy within my kingdom, fending off the tyrants who wanted to usurp my throne.

The classroom was no different from the football field. While our teacher was explaining to a bunch of 12 year olds, the economic importance of the wool gathered from the merino sheep in Australia, I was busy sketching away in my notebook the map of my island kingdom.
Strangely the above practice in particular has still continued through the boring lectures at medical school.
The only difference being, that instead of maps I sketch...ahem...other noteworthy works of art.

The one good gift that God has given a child, would be the gift of imagination. The ability to remove yourself away from the world, when things do not seem so right. The ability to withdraw within your world of toy soldiers who battle evil men, when in reality downstairs, the grown ups are having one of their "arguments".

It is in the world of make believe that children seek refuge. But as one grows, the childish pastimes are rendered meaningless and one is subjected to the numerous aspects of reality.
But in my case, I never let the child within me go away.
I have kept him alive till today.
I still regale him with comic books and cartoons from time to time, least he gets bored of my grown up life and decides to move away.
I have kept him alive at all costs. I care precious little for public ridicule.
I suppose that is the reason why I never personally cared for the sort of situations that "grown ups" find themselves into.
The child within me matters.
In life theres no point in letting go of the few things that grant you refuge when the going gets tough.
Different people have different ways to escape momentarily from the world they live in.
Some watch movies, some go for a walk, while some get drunk and put a hole in the wall.
In my case, at times I go back to the child within me. Though I take care I do not look like an imbecile in the process.
To each of his own I suppose.
I owe a lot to the child within. For there are a lot of things that he has missed out on while growing up.
In time all shall be well.
And together we shall live happily ever after.

Letting Things Go

After ranting away about the people in an around me in my last blog post, I just had an epiphany.
These are the sort of things, that you only subtly realise one way or another. The thing is, I live in a bit of a crowded international students hostel with people from many countries, including my fellow Indians. Now, the thing about living together for long periods of time like peas in one humongous pod can have its affects upon you sooner or later. The whole familiarity breeds contempt bit.
As a consequence, over the years I managed to breed a good deal of hate, mistrust and jealousy towards my fellow compatriots.
Little misunderstandings, squabbles and arguments finally took their toll on my overall outlook towards those in and around me.
The thing is, with some of us humans, is that we just cannot let certain things go. We hold on to all that hurt us and affected us over the long years.
Truth be told, I am the sort of person who bears grudges for quite a long period of time. I remember(though I shouldn't) every insult, every humiliating incident, every embarrassing episode right from the days of high school.
And over the years all that keeps piling up like junk in the attic (useless things you accumulate but do not know so as to why you haven't gotten rid of them).
The thing is as far as old thoughts go, like any old useless thing in our day to day lives, they tend to rot and decay within our minds. Over the years they begin to affect our perspective towards life and all that we see and feel around us.
And that's not a good thing. For out of spite and suspicion you may actually rebuke someone who approached you with good intentions.

Today was basically an exhausting day for me. And when I went to the kitchen to cook, I found myself chatting away with my neighbour (whom I generally find very annoying).
And much to my own surprise, I actually had a good time chatting away to glory. Otherwise, for me it was usually " huh!!...its that self presumptuous pain in the neck again, why cant he go cook somewhere else"?
On other days I would give him the cold shoulder and curt replies. But today was different.
Subsequently I found myself speaking to more of my colleagues who I usually tend to ignore or avoid.
I realised then, that the reason I spoke so freely with them not withstanding grudges, was because I was utterly exhausted. Speaking to them was like a breath of fresh air in comparison to the damp environment of mistrust I had created all around me.
You see, bearing grudges is exhausting work. It tires you mentally and physically irrespective whether you realise it or not.
I was tired today, and I didn't have the energy to mentally rebuke them when they came to speak to me. But like I said, I enjoyed the conversation. I enjoyed it when I didn't have to consistently and subconsciously hate the person that approached me.
Its not worth it believe me.
The people around you may be different, they may not share the same views as you do. They may irk you out of your wits end most of the time. But in time its best to let things so.
Nothing much is gained out of spite and prejudice. Nothing at all.
You lose your peace, your solace, your trust in humanity.
One cannot hold on forever all the petty things that occurred in ones life. The uninvited parties, the bad gossip, betrayal by someone you trusted etcetera.
Holding on to things is hard work. And nothing can be more gratifying than to get rid off all the angst you have borne deep within.
Its like someone walking through a beautiful field, carrying piles of useless junk which one never needs. You miss out on all the wonderful things around you, while you stay obsessed with your grudges.

There are far more wondrous things out there, once we cast away the veil of hate that blinds us so.
Thus, the best way to life life to the fullest, would be to let things go.

Running Away

Sometimes, I just wish I could run away. Run so far that the world left behind me looks utterly insignificant from a distance. Run so fast so that none of my miseries can keep pace with me. I just want to run away as soon as possible, so that I do not end up as a sorry remnant of my previous self, battered and bruised by the unforgiving tides of ignorance and stupidity.
I just want to run, and never stop.

I always envied birds. They can always fly off where ever they want to. They look so free and sublime. So blissfully aloof, soaring far into the heavens.
To only be able to live such a life. Something that dreams are made of. Alas, for as a human theres not much I can do as far as dropping all that I am doing and scuttling off to where my fancy takes me.
Why must it always be this hard to incorporate your self in the very world you live in? And why, time and again must I be constantly thrust between those who have the I.Q. of peanut butter, and the sense of humor of a demented child?
Someone up there has an awful sense of humor!
The worst part of belonging to such a crowd, you end up doubting yourself. Doubting whether there is something wrong with you or something wrong with those around you.

Excerpts from the conversations that I must undergo every freaking day of my life:

Me: Hey, I just started writing a blog.
A "friend": Whats a blog?
Me: "deep sigh"...a site where you can write about whatever you feel, post your pictures and stuff.
A "friend": Why would anybody want to do that?
Me: "deeper sigh".....never mind!!

Once this dude walks into my room,
Another "friend": Hey, what are you up to?
Me: Nothing much, just writing my blog.
Another "friend": God!!....its so big!!...Who reads this shit?
Me: I don't care, I just write because I feel like it, that's all.
Another "friend": Man, you need a girl!
Me: Struck dumb.

Of course man seldom learns from his mistakes. I'm literally kicking myself after this recent conversation.

Me: Hey, I just started a blog.
Sort of Friend: Huh!!...Big deal! I started one three years ago.
Me: (A bit surprised to realise that one of them actually knows what a blog is)
Hey, that's cool...may I see it.
Sort of friend: Sure, its xyz.blahblah.com
A site opens with some music, and a picture of the dude in question......and I'm waiting to like, catch a glimpse of some posts.
Me: Its just a picture of you. And some info about you.
Sort of friend: Of course!...What did you expect?
Me: I thought you would have written something.
Sort of friend: Write? Jeez!...Who writes?
Me: (screaming within)...Oh! Okay.

So that's about it. Practically in a nutshell. These are the sort of people I must see and talk to, day in and day out. Since I cannot have any intelligent conversation with them, (and by intelligence, I mean the ability to talk beyond the subjects of cricket, the latest Hindi movie, and the curves on the girl who lives on the floor below), I resort to making funny awkward gestures and grunting noises. So now, I am the funny guy.
Do I like being the funny guy? Sure it has its perks. People notice you, and they call you over when they need some "time pass" in their dull as dishwater group. Other times they just acknowledge your existence by ignoring you when they have their intricately profound conversations like, "Dude!....I drank a litre of vodka and was sooo wasted!!..I puked all over the room."
Of course, not that I am complaining. There are things that I prefer staying out of.
At times I turn to the fairer sex for some solace. But at times even that can be a bit trying, when most of their conversations run around the shade of their nail polish or how their diet is coming along.
End of the day, I'm exhausted. Exhausted for constantly playing the role of 'the funny guy'. Forcing a big broad smile on my face every time I am around them (any other facial expression will actually reveal how I feel, and that might freak them out a bit!).
Spending all day constantly being who you are not, can take it toll upon you.
A toll on your mind, your nerves and your sanity.
Hence at times I just want to run away! Run so far and so fast that none of their stupidity can catch up with me, and turn me into one of them (shudder).
Am I a misfit? Perhaps. Or perhaps the classic case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. But the awful part is, that I have been at the wrong place for the past 23 years.
It just makes me wonder, do I really belong here?......

The Creative Impulse

A while ago, I made a painting. It was nothing much, just something I had recreated. Something that had caught my fancy. Basically as an amature painter, I tend to capture (or should I say recapture), paintings that somehow seem to me as unique and a tad different from the conventional things we see.
And hence after painting a couple of them I decided to put them up on the wall, so that my friends could have a look and give me their opinions. And so, after the usual formal compliments I thought to myself, "Great! I suppose it wouldn't have made a difference worth a shilling even if I had hung a Rembrandt on the wall. Pity no one even realised that the frame is crooked."
Now I am not the least bit cross with my compatriots. I daresay had anyone of them invited me over to have a look at their new motorbike, my response might have been equally lukewarm.
I suppose each of us have our own individual patronage.
Now, getting back to the event, there was this girl who glimpsed at my paintings.
And it was just a glimpse, not even a brief look. Soon upon her brief observation, she blurted, "why are you studying medicine? You ought to have been an artist."
Now I suppose I ought to have taken it as a compliment. But that didn't quite register the way she expected. Of course being the gracious host I mumbled a "thank you", and that was that.

Later on I began writing this blog. The main reason I started a blog was so that I could rediscover my passion for writing. To basically rekindle something that was long lost to me.
I sent my blog link to one of my friends, while chatting online who remarked, "wow, you write really well, why are you studying medicine? You ought to be an author."
For me it was déjà vu all over again.
So according to the assumptions previously stated, since I am a student of medicine I should be absolutely devoid of any creative ability.
Its sad when you think about it. Just because you have entwined yourself to a professional course it is assumed that you must be rid of any creative yearnings whatsoever.
But then, when I think about it, I do believe that there is an iota of truth that lies there.
Creativity is something inborn. It happens to be one of the most satisfying and self gratifying things that one can do for oneself.
Nevertheless its something, not all of us manage to hold on to. A few make their fortunes out of the art they possess, while the remainder opt for other occupations.
Now, not everyone can opt to become an artist, but at the same time it doesn't mean just because you have chosen a different line of work you need to be rid of the creative impulse within you.
I have no intention to abandon medicine, but nevertheless, that doesn't mean that I need to stop painting or writing.
Unfortunately not many realise this fact. I am not talking of the commercial aspects of selling your art. I refer to the sort of satisfaction one gets when one views one's creation with pride. People end up strangling the artist within them thinking it might come in the way of their career and their families.
But it is never so. Art is the mere expression of ones inner soul onto a material medium. It is like revealing oneself to the world by other means.
You need to be with yourself in order to invoke the artist within you. We spend much of our days engulfed with work, with family, and when we are tired, we forcefully subject our minds to the mindless entertainment that television offers.
I suppose on that account no man is ever left alone. Even for a moment. Creativity needs solace. It needs solitude. One has to rediscover oneself. For through time, almost all of us have lost ourselves to the constant ramblings of humanity.
I suppose when one is alone and not engulfed in any sort of activity, away from chaos, away from all the noise, the endless chatter, can one discover what he or she is truly capable of.

It seems apart from being an exceptional scientist Einstein was quite a decent violin player. He would play his violin, not in order to perform before the masses, but to grant himself solace from the chaotic world outside.
I wonder if anyone remarked to him,"why are you a scientist? You ought to be a musician."
One doesn't need to be creative just to chalk out a living, or because one is terrible at doing other things. Ideal creativity has no specific purpose or aim. Like I said, its just an impulse. A spark of light to brighten our dreary lives. Ideal creativity for some rests in their minds getting better with age, just like wine in a cellar.
You need not quit your jobs to be creative. Being creative happens to be a part of you, just like breathing and walking. It can be anything, say like gardening, carpentry, music, pottery etc.
We spend a great deal of our lives by engulfing ourselves with pointless activities. We all have but one life to live (at least the one that we are aware of), and its a pity that we discredit ourselves by spending a great deal of our time watching mindless dramas and reading about some actress who dumped her third husband. There is much more to life and living than all this.
One needs to be with oneself to be able to realise our true potential. Its stupid to let go of our lives, our creativity on account of the ridiculous dictates that society imposes upon us.
Let us not be the prisoners of our actions.
To be creative is to be free.