Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Signs of Life (or, a world of paradox and contradiction)

It is the best of times, it is worst of times,
the age of wisdom, the age of foolishness,
it's the epoch of belief, it's the epoch of incredulity,
the season of light, the season of darkness....
the spirit of hope, the winter of despair.
we have everything before us, we have nothing before us,
we are all going direct to heaven, we are all going direct the other way.
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
“It is a far, far better thing that i do, than i have ever done; it is a far, far better dream that I sleep to, than i have ever known.”
with all due respect and humble apologies to mr.dickens

Monday, January 14, 2008

the sleep of reason produces monsters…..or, au contraire!




















To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour
.


Thus begins William Blake’s Auguries of Innocence. Wonderful. But from this beginning Blake goes on to 120-odd lines that speak of good and evil, innocence and experience, corruption and clarity. All at once and then some. Contrasting one with the other. Talking of things to the contrary. Ah! William Blake.

A friend of mine liked the first four lines so much she went and read out the rest of the poem (“…after the elation that the first four lines gave me…” in her words). From elation she went to saying, “[I] didn’t expect the poem to leave me feeling disturbed….made me shift in my seat…”. But that was the genius of Blake. To show experience in the light of innocence and look at innocence through the eyes of experience.

For Blake, Innocence and Experience were two states that had to be each given its own due and acknowledged. Putting things forth as they were however disturbing they were. Innocence is not a vacuum, it exists in the world of experience. In Experience there is the vestige and hope of innocence. But while others would tell us one part of the story, hold out only hope, Blake would tell it as it is hoping his readers would go through his larger body of work to get to what he wanted to get at.

So in Blake’s worlds, and in his words, for every Clod which sang….
“Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives it ease,
And builds a heaven in hell's despair.”

…there was a Pebble that sang back,
“Love seeketh only self to please,
To bind another to its delight,
Joys in another's loss of ease,
And builds a hell in heaven's despite.”
In fact the sub-title to Blake’s most-beloved work is “Showing the Two Contrary States of The Human Soul”. But this relationship of Innocence and Experience, this inter-play of these contrary states, is not one of direct, static contrasts, but with ever-shifting perspectives and thoughts and tensions. But what about the Soul? If these be the Contrary States, what about the Soul itself?

The difficulty in trying to get the whole import (if one can ever get to it, or to the best of one’s ability) of Songs of Innocence and Experience is that the States are so intertwined that it is difficult to see the Hope in experience and the fear in Innocence. Later on in his illustrious career, Blake would be more clear….showing the separation of the States from the Individual. The Individual being real and eternal, with the illusory States being temporary conditions through which the Individual would pass. The Body and the States just a ‘clothing for the soul divine’ (see below). That’s what it says in the immortal Gita. With broad strokes, reminds one of the eternal philosophy of Advaita, from which we know that once you that ‘Thou art That’ and cast away the subjective reality of Maya, and uncloak yourself from avidya and agjana, will you realise that ‘Thou art Bhraman’. It’s a long way to go, seemingly impossible. But there’s still the hope. The knowledge. But coming back to Blake, why wait to read the later works, when this same message is there in ‘Auguries of Innocence.’

"Man was made for joy & woe,
And when this we rightly know
Thro' the world we safely go.
Joy & woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the Soul divine…"

But why not then make it apparent from the beginning? There’s a reason. It’s called progression. In Blake’s own words (selectively selected from The Marriage of Heaven and Hell)

“…As a new heaven is begun…the Eternal Hell revives……
…..
…..Without Contraries is no progression. Attraction and Repulsion, Reason and Energy, Love and Hate, are necessary to Human existence.”

Without Contraries, there is no progression. And another interesting point to note is that Blake refers to ‘a new heaven’ while hell is eternal. Hmmm….is it because Joy is rare and ephemeral, but misery and sorrow is ever present. Is it because Joy and Happiness come in small portions but Misery and Sorrow do not? Like Shakespeare wrote, “When sorrow comes, they come not single spies, but in battalions.”. Or is it because each Joy is Joy, but not every sorrow the same? Leo Tolstoy I think got it right when he started Anna Karenina with this of-quoted line, “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”

Well. Too much thought. One can think and think and write and write. Sigh.
Well, one can but barely scratch the surface, knowing that the answer and the explanation may never be within reach. But one can try. And spew it out from his onto his blog, for no particular reason except that one cannot help but think. Keep thinking. Sharks need to keep moving. If they stop, they sink. Similarly I guess if I need to stay afloat, I must keep moving, thinking. Even if it be to no end, to serve no purpose, and for no one but myself. But thinking has its own evils.

But some thoughts get to you. Some thoughts are like monsters. Restless. Eating into you, till you show them the light of day. Let them escape, and set them free from the caverns of your mind. You need to get them out somewhere. You need to grapple with thine demons. And thinking helps it not. Like that other great man in my pantheon realised, ‘the sleep of reason produces monsters…”. At face value, works just fine for me. And thus i guess I am left with some reason to put an end to this post with this image from Goya, called The Sleep of Reason produces Monsters...

“La fantasia abandonada de la razon, produce monstruos imposibles: unida con ella, es madre de las artes y origen de sus marabillas.”

Friday, January 11, 2008

Bharat ka Ratan

Thanks Mr. Ratan Tata. For making us proud again. For showing us that there are still more people left in this country we can look up to. For showing us how promises are meant to be kept, for kept they should. You did it again. Congratulations. And thanks.

Let's take a trip together

Let's take a trip together
Headlong into the irresistible orbit
Breathing the cold black space
With the glistening edges
Let's take a trip, me and you…

Let's go the scenic route
Get to finally
Get to finally
Get to know each other
Just to be
to be alone with thee…

Somewhere there's no distracting breeze of information
Leaking through the windows, dripping from the trees
Somewhere there's no earthquakes
Of other people's anxious questions…….
...............Let's take a trip together
Mark Sandman

Monday, January 07, 2008

And thus she’s mine forever

I felt her eyes on me. I looked sideways towards the fireplace. And true enough, I found her eyes turned in my direction. Those lovely eyes, limpid pools and all that. How they would dance with life! Sigh. Once upon a time this simple act and fact would’ve made me the most happiest man alive. To know she was looking at me. And I wanted that feeling to be mine forever. I tried. But it just wasn’t the same. Once upon a time I would have been the happiest man alive just knowing she was near me. No longer. It’s all over. It’s time to move on. It’s time to get back to life. And to find a place in the basement for the formaldehyde jar that contain her eyeballs. Closer to the rest of her. Can’t think I can take it no more….with their gaze on me all the time.

Thursday, November 29, 2007

Thursday, August 02, 2007

This is what happens when you let the character become you. More people are sorry for MunnaBhai than Sanjay Dutt. These are strange times we live in. Seen the Haneef Reality show yet? Well. What else can you expect from a country where national interest is held hostage by political exigencies? Where the Prime Minister is busy losing sleep over suspected terrorists and not soldiers and martyrs and things more worthy of losing sleep over. Where democracy has become a farce. People’s President, you said? Hah! All the millions and millions of you supported President Kalam, and signed petitions, and carried placard, did it matter a whit? But look at it this way. If President Kalam had a vision, our current President has ‘many visions’. Plural. Not to mention, an impeccable record (which means no hard evidence yet). That’s good, right?

Tuesday, July 03, 2007

Hitting the road...

Almost 750 kilometres on the road. Across numerous towns and districts, spread over two states. Over five hours on a steam-engine powered mountain train. Loud enough to still ring in your ears a week later. A world heritage on wheels. The charcoal particles in your hair, and soot on your face for free. Sunflower fields, cloud-covered hills and forest-covered vales. One and a half hours on the last seat of a rickety bus. no bee-ing in bed, but in bed with a bee. No sleep but innumerable chais, great music, awesome ragi mudde in ‘state famous’ hotallu. Close calls and curious cows. Night, day, night. Rain. Going one way, and coming back the other. Up, down. Right. Back. Directions decided on a whim and a pointed finger. All in just under 26 hours. Now whoever said that the journey is as important as the destination should now know that when it’s a journey with no destination, when the journey is a goal in itself, the going is good. Especially if you’re road trippin’ with your two favourite allies, fully loaded we had snacks and supplies, it was time to leave this town, it was time to steal away and that we did….and this one goes out to you, for you asked for it…and I speak for all me and all of us.







































and remember how i always say that the Shenoy must stop taking things too literally, here's he "hitting the road". sigh. should some people ever learn?

patriotism vs. Patriotism

This is Lakshmi Panda, a 77-year maid servant who’s been washing dishes and sweeping floors for the past many, many years who has the temerity to say that she now feels all that she did for the country was a waste. Hah! The sheer audacity of this woman. After all, who is she that she can make this statement?

She fought in the INA, yes, Netaji Bose’s Indian National Army in the Rani Lakshmi Bai Regiment under Capt. Lakshmi Sehgal. So what?
Does she not know that Bose and the INA never got us freedom from the British? It was Gandhi people, Gandhi and Gandhi alone that got us freedom! The INA was just riff-raff cobbled together by a disgruntled congressman who disagreed with the great Mahatma’s opinions and ideas. While Bose said, “My enemy’s enemy is my friend.” Gandhi said, “My enemy’s enemy is my enemy too!” Anybody with a bone of common sense can see who was right. Bose wanted to drive the British out of our country. Gandhi requested them to…please leave… And Gandhi won in the end. Sacrifice is the greatest ideal. And millions of our countrymen were sacrificed at the altar of Gandhi’s views, dying for the British, fighting for the Englishman and his cause. If that doesn’t make Gandhi great, what does?

Now, coming back to this maid servant, who thought she was fighting for freedom of her land. She hasn’t received her pension for the longest time. Making a living by working in others houses in the great Republic of India. She thinks she deserves a pension. But the Centre doesn’t. Their criteria is different. She isn’t a freedom fighter because she didn’t spend any time in jail. Now, that’s one hell of a definition. Clear. Concise. And no, prisons and hell-holes like the Cellular Jail might not count. There you go. That is why she doesn’t get any pension. Anyway, why ‘spend money’ on living freedom fighters who can anyway take care themselves? Think dignity of labour people!, even washing dirty dishes is a job! We’re better off not squandering our money way on these people with delusions of being patriotic when we can spend millions trying to get hold of the Great Mahatma’s handwritten manuscripts. After all, we got our independence because of Gandhi and Gandhi only. Ok. Ok. Nehru too. Yeah and some other random people. So given a choice between invaluable and priceless pieces of paper written on by the Great Man and people who gave their all to this great nation, who would you choose? Of course the manuscripts. You can laminate them and put them up for display at museums that tell us how Gandhi single-handedly won us our freedom. People, like Lakshmi Panda, will soon be dead anyway, and there’s no way you can put her on display.

After all, with the sixtieth anniversary of our Independence from the British coming up, acquisition of handwritten manuscripts make for better new stories, glamorous discussions, and opportunities to show more footage of The Great Gandhi than some old unglamorous shrivelled hag who thought she was being patriotic. And isn’t that the difference between patriotism and Patriotism? Media coverage and good PR?


Jai Hind!

pfffthooo!

Our Prime Minister says that a terrorist's religion is terrorism. A terrorist doesn't belong to any religion, caste or creed. Yeah right.
But the clowns that make up the Great Indian Media Circus are screaming from the rooftops and screaming out loud 'the Indian connection'. You $%^&*ing #$*@s, it's not a matter of pride or something that adds badge value to our nations name. If these dolts had their way, maybe terrorists (in the blind eyes of the world, and diplomatic prime ministers) may not have a religion, but a nationality they sure will. Even the campaign to get that overrated mausoleum into some stupid list with no real credentials is better than this news story, if you can call it that.

And they lived happily ever after…

That’s supposed to the classic ending, right? Wrong! That is the point that which people lose interest and move on to other things. Take any story with this ending, and you have grief, separation, tears and fears….and just when things go right, the story ends. And that brings me to the point that humans revel in misery. That’s what we’re interested in. That’s why stories with their misery-filled plotlines are the only bits we’re interested in and make a story out of. The minute the protagonists get set to be happy after their wretched experiences, The End! Sorry, we don’t want to know that. We don’t want to know what happens when you’re happy. All in all, ‘Happy’ is good for endings. Not the stuff great stories are made of. And stories with tragic endings. Now! There’s potential for more. If only the author would just have some patience and the protagonists are left alive at the end of the story. hmmm.....

Monday, June 18, 2007

For sale




Price: Approx. Rs.200
Value: Worthless

Description: The book that heralds the new Messiah of Atheism, Richard Dawkins.

Would’ve been better off as: A short essay of not more than 5 pages long (printed on one-sided sheets)

Darwin’s rottweiler Richard Dawkins his sights on God and religion, and foams at the mouth for over 200 pages without saying anything substantial. A Dawkinian Manifesto against Christianity and Islam, the author brings to light no new argument, and even more so, no new facts. This is not the same as loading the book with loads of factoids and interesting pieces of news. At the cost of being called crass, one is tempted to theorise whether this paperback is the result of some sort of childhood trauma, or abuse from some priestly pederast perhaps? Or even worse, may be the whole point of the book was to be condescendingly patronising towards NOMA and S.J. Gould. So often are his ‘friends’, Daniel Dennet and Steven Pinker quoted, cited and named, one is surprised that the names of these lapdogs no not appear credited as co-authors. All in all a waste of time. For those that are atheists already, this book offers nothing, and anyway you’re an atheist already, which is what Dawkins sets out to turn the world into. If you’re an agnostic, well…again nothing new, except some fancy terms and scales of measurement. If you’re a Christian or Muslim, and you believe enough, you’re going to hate this book anyway. Now coming to Hindus (for lack of a better word). If you’re a Hindu, well…there’s nothing in it. You can be a rationalist, theist, atheist, agnostic, spiritualist and yet be a Hindu, so this book offers nothing new. And also, neither does it mention anything about the eastern systems/religions/spirituality. Which also by the way makes the book looks like it was written by a dilettante. But then again, it could well be so. For it is not so much a manifesto against religion, as it is against religious fundamentalism. To get into a point by point refutation would be a waste of time, and I for one, do not think this books deserves that sort of attention. The only fear is that this worthless book will bias people against better books by the same author, which are at least thought-provoking. This one just provokes you into reaching out for Dawkins’ neck. If only…

Best recommended for:
- Those that want other people to think they’re intellectuals
- People who want to carry around a book that’s the flavour of the month (again, for reasons stated above)
- Those people that don’t like Dawkins and just need more reason to ridicule him, which he does so on a platter

Thursday, May 17, 2007

bridge across the river suvarna


Hanging Bridge
Location: Nidambally village, Tonse, Udupi dist. a.k.a. home

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Revisiting the continuing adventures of Romantic Lady Killer Man

He took her hand in his. Raised it to his lips. Like one would a glass of wine. Kissed it tenderly. Ah! He thought. Such a lovely hand. Too bad, he thought, that it should end this way. He gazed at her hand. Sparking green was the jade ring that he’d given to her. It looked better on her than anybody else he thought. And on this full moon night, out there amidst all the green, with the soft pale moonlight reflecting off her hand and the ring. What a lovely sight. Of all the women, this was the one he liked best. And what a lovely hand! What a waste! He steeled himself as he now had to do what he dreaded most. End it once and for all. This now, is the toughest part he knew. He held the ring between his fingers. With one swift motion, he yanked it off her hand. Sorry girl, he thought to himself, wish I could tell you how much I loved you. But he never did have the chance. He looked at the jade ring and put it in his pocket. Hope you don’t mind, my love, he said as he took one last look at her lovely red right hand and tossed it into the pit where it landed with a soft thud above the rest of her. Sigh! And only her love was on his mind as he started shovelling the wet sand over his latest love.

Friday, April 20, 2007

Anisuthide yaako indu ee haadu nanna haadendu

All hail Jayant Kaikini for this

Anisuthide yaako indu, neeneney nannavalendu
Maayadaa lokadinda, nanagaage bandavalendu
Aahaa yentha madhura yaathane
Kollu hudugi omme nanna....haage summane….

Suriyuva soneyu sooside ninnade parimala
Innyara kanasulu neenu hodare talamala
Poorna chandira rajaa haakida
Ninnaya mogavanu kanda kshanaa…
Naa khaidi neeney seremane
Tappi nanna appiko omme…haage summane

Tutigala hoovali aadada maathina sihiyide
Manasina putadali kevala ninnade sahiyide

Haneyali bareyada ninna hesara
Hrudayadi naane korediruve
Ninagunte idara kalpane
Nanna hesara kooge omme…haage summane


All hail Mano Murthy (U.S.A.) for the music. Mucho gratitude to Triskaidekophiliac for making me ‘listen’ to the lyrics. The recitation helped.

And thanks to Yogaraj Bhat, Udaya TV, KannadaBond and youtube (in that order) for this:

the first ‘feminist’

According to apocrypha and legends, Lilith is considered the first wife of Adam. But the Lilith figure goes much before that. Innana they called her. A part of the Sumerian myths and then some. Some call her now ‘the first feminist’ based on OT apocrypha. For she was created equally with Adam, from the same material (?). But unfortunately for Adam, and more importantly for Adam’s God, she turned out to be a person (note: not woman!) quite capable of independent thought. Created together, she considered herself the equal of Adam and refused to ‘lie beneath him’. Apart from the sexual role, she recoiled too at the passive marital role handed down to her. Bugger you and bugger your Eden said Lilith to Adam and his God and walked off into the dim mists of legend and lore. And reappeared as a demoness in most of the ensuing stories and legends, as baby killer, man sacrifier and an underworld avenger. Poor Lilith. Meanwhile, Adam’s God had already taken care of things – creating another woman from Adam’s rib, helping then to ensure woman’s subservience. Do you blame Lilith?

Well, leave you now with the Hon. John Collier’s portrayal of Lilith. Lilith, the one who started it all. Through amazingly understandable demand for equal status. By refusing to ‘lie under a man’. Hmmm…men will be men. Pigs will fly. And fish will need bicycles.

Tuesday, April 03, 2007

Amidst all this brouhaha about cricket and chappals, did anyone notice that Vishwanathan Anand became the world No.1 in chess?

Funny. You’d have thought that rather than concentrate on Sania Mirza rising up one spot to the grand height of No.45 in the WTA rankings or waste reams of paper on a worthless team whose only latest exploit is beating a team from a country with a population not large enough to fill even the eden gardens stadium, people and papers and the media would be patting Anand on the back. But no. All he gets is one half-column space article hidden between the man of the match SMS contest and a loser’s (read Indian cricketer) caricature.

Hasn’t somebody realised that finally another Indian is No.1 in a game when probably the last time we had a world champion was a few years after we invented it? Now that raises a lot more questions than answers. For we maybe Kabaddi champions today. But the day is not far away when Bermuda will beat us at that. But till then Congratulations Anand! We are all proud of you. There maybe those who would concentrate on our national team’s defeat, but there are those of us who’d rather look for people who bring glory to the nation in their chosen field. Not that you need our backslapping encouragement for you have always gone it alone, almost, but still.

But all said and done, this over-obsessive obsession with cricket must stop, if the rest of the games and sports are to go anywhere in this country.

But hey! It’s not like I hate cricket. I love cricket! Which is why I support the Australian cricket team. I love cricket. Which is why it think this humiliating ouster and its soap-operatic fallout is the best thing that’s happened to Indian cricket. Till then and even then, we have our Anands and Gopichands.

Buggering the Virgins….

The Virgins are here. Finally.
But I wish they weren’t. Not here. Not anywhere.
It’s time we sacrificed these Virgins at the altar of Anger.
Citing very valid reasons of good taste and everything good about comics.
Sadhu. Devi. Snake woman. The first taste of these left a very bad taste in the mouth.
Too soon to tell?
Too soon to be titillating?
Too soon to tell that it’s a pathetic, puerile bastardisation of myths?
Too soon to tell this feels like it’s going to be a parade of clichés?
Too soon to tell that most of these clichés will be overlaid with bad art?
And printed on toilet paper….bad toilet paper, in a neighbourhood colour Xerox machine.
Too soon to tell?
Maybe…but…
Who needs second-hand Virgins anyway?

So should you buy these Virgins?
Yes. I say.
Go ahead. Buy them. Buy them!
But then, it’s just my sadistic streak talking.
Buy them.
Because misery seeks company.
Buy them. Read them.
So you too can see what they mean when they say “Indian”.
Buy them. So you can burn them.

So will I buy them?
Yes. I will.
Because a hundred rupees is too small a price to pay for a good laugh.
Even though it hurts.
I will buy them.
So I can see my theories affirmed.
And because venom needs a target.
Will I burn them? Or consign this trash to trash?
No.
Because one needs to keep a record of ‘things wrong with the world’.
And having proof helps.

Maybe it’s time to take Laal Khopdi seriously and bring him to life…

fishing in hyderabad

Let’s say you’re in Hyderabad. And more particularly, in the Charminar area. And suddenly! you feel this burning desire to buy a fishing net. What do you do? What do you do? Maybe you’re fishing for the proverbial ‘other fish in the sea’ or maybe you’re a fisherman who really needs a net to catch some sea fish even though you’re miles and miles away from the nearest sea. Anyway, what do you do? What do you do?

Fear not! This is Hyderabad, where I saw a lot of strange and disturbing things over a rushed weekend. And met a great bunch of people from Dell. No that’s not a spelling mistake, notwithstanding certain circles I move around it. It’s Dell! Not Hell!! All courtesy The Eyyala. Who nowadays, goes around under the strange moniker of ‘Daddy!’ (exclamation mark included). Now this bunch is as crazy as it gets. At least two of them have the grand ambition of shoplifting prophylactics (ahem! euphemism?). Stranger than that is the person who they’re being smuggled out of stores for. Charming chappie, apparently always ‘working out’, and not! in the gym. Watch out women…here comes da man. Now this is the same gang that is known to relax in bean bags. Nothing strange about that you say? But relaxing on bean bags at 4 in the morning on a main road in Hyderabad…right bang in the middle of the road. Well….these are crazy times we live in and these people are crazier than that. Split my sides just being with them.

Now Daddy (previously known as The Eyyala) and me happened to pack in some hyderabadi mutton biriyani, the charminar and the golconda in a few hours. Of course a few land speed records were beaten. Not bad considering that traffic signals in Hyderabad don’t work the way they do everywhere else. Green means ‘Go’. Yellow means ‘Go’. Red stands for (you guessed it) ‘GO!’ Now each of these is a story in itself, not to mention the B&C + Tequila experience and the incursion into Mainland China. That was with Daddy’s Flock. Thank you gang for a great time!!!

Wait! What?? Ah the fishing net you ask. Ok. Ok. Let me not ramble on and give you the answer, which is this: If you want a fishing net in Hyderabad, do not go to the barber, tailor, the carpenter or god forbid! a fishing equipment store. Head straight (if you’re in the charminar area) to the Jeweller! Yes. The jeweller. Don’t believe me? Here’s evidence:

Thursday, March 22, 2007

yet another hmmmm....

"I hate quotations. Tell me what you know."
Ralph Waldo Emerson

"Talking much about oneself can also be a means to conceal oneself."
Friedrich Nietzsche

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Friday, March 02, 2007

everybody's free

why run around searching for supposedly new words, when someone has more or less already said the same things? recited is more like it. and set to music, to boot! listen to Baz Luhrmann's Everybody's Free 9to waer sunscreen). It's in theBox to your right. Lyrics here.

Friday, February 16, 2007

sharing is caring

the words of wyclef jean ring in mine head as me introduces a new feature on theBekku. just cast your eyes to the right and see a nice orange box. yes....that's the one!
it's the Box. where me will do the share on some stuff that mine mind thinks is good and needs sharing. it's a neat widget. just click on the file that you need to listen to. actually listen to all of 'em. will be uploading stuff on stuff at regularly occasional intervals.
And if you want to download the songs, just click the link below the Box and you will be taken to a page where you can see the files and download them for your continued listening pleasures.

Thursday, January 25, 2007

of boners and bibles

After the amazingly hilariously juvenile fun we all derived from reading about Boners – or rather about Batman’s Greatest Boner in particular – it’s time to move on to more serious topics. Like this!And remember, don’t do drugs (oh yeah!?). Reality is much better. And rehab is for quitters.
Speaking of boners in the bibles, this bible storyteller is going down. Rot in hell you sacriligious dog!

Saturday, January 20, 2007

when a cat goes away....

births. deaths. relatives. work. car that gives way. work. a quiz. ah! weekends over the past couple or three months have been consistently thwarting all attempts at repopulating mine residence with cats. and to think that's its not hard at all, not when you have people like this on your side, but one of these days an expedition (yes, all things considered that is what it will be) must be mounted and cats procured.

And speaking of procuring cats brings one to this: the cat that's been the icon of theBekku turns out to be an official Kitler. Which means that for now, this Kitler will go away for a while and this one will be the official Bekku for a while:

and speaking of cats going away, those of you cat-people who've lost one will surely understand this

Saturday, January 13, 2007

garrrrhhhh!!! who the fyukh ever came up with that term post-modern/post-modernism?
garrrrhhhh!!! why the fyukh did he ever do that for it to be perverted so?
garrrrhhhh!!! what the fyukh does the term post-modern/post-modernism mean?
garrrrhhhh!!! why the fyukh do people use the word post-modern and all its various permutations and combinations to describe everything from books and music to comic strips and las vegas strippers?
i hate. Yes hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate the word "post-modern" even though I have no fyukhin’ clue what the hell it means. Or what it’s supposed to mean. Contexts notwithstanding. Because none of the times when it has been used in various conversations has it made sense to me. Because none of the people who used it in the abovementioned conversations have been able to tell me what it means and most not even what they want it to mean. There are a couple of guys who made an honest attempt (you know who you are!), but I still didn’t get it cos we kept going around in confused circles. I guess I’m just dumb. All apologies.

All one knows is that if you wanna look cool and hip and intelligent (or sound intelligent at least) and be considered ‘an intellect’ please pepper your conversations with words like ‘post-modern’ ‘post-modernism’ ‘post-modernist’, etc. etc. no matter what you’re talking about.
phew.
*spleen alert!* Almost running out of spleen to vent. And with the last reserves of venom I give you this : PoMo - the amazing Postmodernism Generator!!!! (do you know somebody who speaks like this? Sure you do.)
Reading which, kind of reminds one of a post on theBekku not so long ago.
So this post’s last quota of spleen goes into directing you to the Revenge of Natives.

now, why would you want to know this?

this post is for the benefit of those who like Kiedis, but whose e-mail ids/names have not been given and/or for the benefit those whose friends haven't gone on a honeymoon in a long time.



















Used without the kind knowledge and/or permission of Mr. Anthony Kiedis. PS: There are some nice stories to go with these pics. go read.

thanks magaa

Mine friend, the Communal Cow, went on his “sponsored” honeymoon to Alleppey [the first of many, I’m sure!] and came back with these!!
Came back with these! For me!!!

currently tripping on Scar Tissue and crossed the part where two not-so greenhorn high school friends, a stoned Keidis and an equally stoned mike balzary (who would soon be known to the world as Flea), are jumping off buildings into random swimming pools. And the Red Hot Chili Peppers exist in the not-too-distant future. cool! Puppet Masters. Ah! What can one say about Heinlein what hasn’t already been said?

Sorry, no reviews. For either. Buy them, they’re worth it. Or just get your friend to go on his/her honeymoon. Hehehe….

Emerald Dog Poet - or - One thing leads to another

It’s funny when you look back into your life. And when the past rears its head up and you smile. You ask yourself, “was I like that?”. And you smile. For you know the answer. For you are the sum total of your existence. And that includes all the things, all the people that you were before. And are now. No regrets. You are what you were then. All phases included.

And why this now? Because this reared its head up: A poem (?) from mine past, circa 21-ish. Kinda dorky in an immature sort of way. I likes. For there is a story there.

And why did this rear its head up? Because i like inconsequential challenges. And thusly gave a shot at poetry after many years with this : A walk along the country lane : a poem by Poetess Sam a.k.a Samyukta.

And speaking of poetry or prose which garbs itself as poetry (or vice versa) brings back memories of the carefree times spent on various occasions in the cemetery, with the Criminally English and the Communal Cow and The Pillai who I don’t think has a linkable blog. The cemetery, where each took turns at writing one line of a story/poem as the case may be (wonder where those scraps of paper went?), in the august company of E.Obulesu (Army) and the Naidu family. Yes, they were six feet under us, but so what? Ah! My favourite cemetery spot in the whole wide world!!! Not including the burning ghats which I still prefer to cemeteries. Mine favourites so far being the Manikarnika in Banaras, and the one in Kathmandu near Pashupatinath. Now that topic is for another day.