"The Perfect World" from: The Madman by Kahlil Gibran
God of lost souls, thou who are lost amongst the Gods, hear me:
Gentle Destiny that watchest over us, mad, wandering spirits, hear me:
I dwell in the midst of a perfect race, I the most imperfect.
I, a human chaos, a nebula of confused elements, I move amongst finished worlds - peoples of complete laws and pure order, whose thoughts are assorted, whose dreams are arranged, and whose visions are enrolled and registered.
Their virtues, O God, are measured, their sins are weighed, and even the countless things that pass in the dim twilight of neither sin nor virtue are recorded and catalogued.
Here days and night are divided into seasons of conduct and governed by rules of blameless accuracy.
To eat, to drink, to sleep, to cover one's nudity, and then to be weary in due time.
To work, to play, to sing, to dance, and then to lie still when the clock strikes the hour.
To think thus, to feel thus much, and then to cease thinking and feeling when a certain star rises above yonder horizon.
To rob a neighbour with a smile, to bestow gifts with a graceful wave of the hand, to praise prudently, to blame cautiously, to destroy a sound with a word, to burn a body with a breath, and then to wash the hands when the day's work is done.
To love according to an established order, to entertain one's best self in a preconceived manner, to worship the gods becomingly, to intrigue the devils artfully - and then to forget all as though memory were dead.
To fancy with a motive, to contemplate with consideration, to be happy sweetly, to suffer nobly - and then to empty the cup so that tomorrow may fill it again.
All these things, O God, are conceived with forethought, born with determination, nursed with exactness, governed by rules, directed by reason, and then slain and buried after a prescribed method. And even their silent graves that lie within the human soul are marked and numbered.
It is a perfect world, a world of consummate excellence, a world of supreme wonders, the ripest fruit in God's garden, the master-thought of the universe.
But why should I be here, O God, I a green seed of unfulfilled passion, a mad tempest that seeketh neither east nor west, a bewildered fragment from a burnt planet?
Why am I here, O God of lost souls, thou who art lost amongst the Gods.
August 10, 2004
August 3, 2004
THE RAINY DAY by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
July 24, 2004
It was around lunchtime. I was sitting there on those stone steps leading to the entrance of a building that’s over a hundred and twenty five years old, just looking at the people walking by, and others zooming along in their cars and on their 2–wheelers.
The thing I like most about these old British stone buildings is that they give you a sense of tranquility, of peace. The issue section has their annual inventory happening – all the old books being dusted off and stacked neatly – Byron, Keats, H.G. Wells, Homer – great names, great thinkers. They are no more, but they live forever in those yellowing pages.
…and I’m thinking: what must life have been like in 1875 when this place was built? And how many before me have sat here on these steps watching the world go by? Were they just like me? Did they eventually go on to do great things and leave their mark on this world, or did they just go with the flow and end up in the ocean everybody else?
Then a guy parks his car in the no-parking zone across the road. I watch him step out – one of them doodh-malai mama’s boys – highly paid software chap probably, who’s got everything he could possibly want in life. His Little Miss Muffet steps out on the passenger side. They hold hands, smile at each other – newly weds.
“Bhaiya, yahaan parking allowed hai? she asks the rickshaw driver who was stopped in front of them. “Haan haan”, he shakes his head. Nothing like having a little fun with Little Miss Muffet
“Oi buddy, you cant park there”, I shout across to him. He looks at me funny and says “but the auto-walla said… ”
They walk away, still holding hands. Less than ten minutes later, traffic police tow-truck comes and takes away the car. Rickshaw driver gives me a wicked grin.
And I thought about it: does the world need people like me any more?
Why is it so hard to live and let die.
The thing I like most about these old British stone buildings is that they give you a sense of tranquility, of peace. The issue section has their annual inventory happening – all the old books being dusted off and stacked neatly – Byron, Keats, H.G. Wells, Homer – great names, great thinkers. They are no more, but they live forever in those yellowing pages.
…and I’m thinking: what must life have been like in 1875 when this place was built? And how many before me have sat here on these steps watching the world go by? Were they just like me? Did they eventually go on to do great things and leave their mark on this world, or did they just go with the flow and end up in the ocean everybody else?
Then a guy parks his car in the no-parking zone across the road. I watch him step out – one of them doodh-malai mama’s boys – highly paid software chap probably, who’s got everything he could possibly want in life. His Little Miss Muffet steps out on the passenger side. They hold hands, smile at each other – newly weds.
“Bhaiya, yahaan parking allowed hai? she asks the rickshaw driver who was stopped in front of them. “Haan haan”, he shakes his head. Nothing like having a little fun with Little Miss Muffet
“Oi buddy, you cant park there”, I shout across to him. He looks at me funny and says “but the auto-walla said… ”
They walk away, still holding hands. Less than ten minutes later, traffic police tow-truck comes and takes away the car. Rickshaw driver gives me a wicked grin.
And I thought about it: does the world need people like me any more?
Why is it so hard to live and let die.
July 18, 2004
I was just reading Jivha’s post titled ‘Teresa the Merciless’. It seems people are saying that Mother Teresa and her Missionaries of Charity weren’t so charitable after all. They allege that she hogged all the poor for herself, to serve her own purpose and benefit.
It's true that what starts off as the mission of doing good often ends up becoming the business of doing good. But then again, doing good is almost always ‘bad’ work, isn’t it?
I remember reading in the local papers some time back on how the men who clear garbage from the municipal bins every morning earn up to 10 grand a month. "Unbelievable!", I said. Here you have graduates who cannot earn half that much, and these guys get 10 grand!
But would we do it? Even if picking up garbage paid a lakh of rupees every month, would you and I do it?
Now I’ve never been to Calcutta, and so I haven’t seen first hand what the scene on the streets there is like, but all I can say is that people like us have no business questioning the ethics or the ulterior motives (if indeed there be any) of someone who has done, or attempted to do, those things that we, sitting comfortable on our backsides at home, would never ever think of.
And what people do with their money isn’t anybody’s concern either. Sourav Ganguly lives in Calcutta – so why isn’t he doing anything to help the destitute children of that city. Why do we need Steve Waugh to come down all the way from Sydney to start an institution like Udayan?
But this is not our question to ask; just as it is not for us to question what the Missionaries of Charity do with all the donations they get. I am a Roman Catholic and I know that the Catholic Church is very, very rich. They could do more for us - much more, but they couldn’t be bothered. So what do I do? Simple - I don’t give them my contribution. If you think the money is being misused, or deposited into Swiss bank accounts, then don’t give them any.
I’ve heard people say the same thing about the other so called Godmen like Satya Sai Baba, Osho Rajneesh, and that Art of Living chap - Sri Sri something. Well, other people - their devotees – may not be as intelligent as you and I are, to see that they're being taken for a ride (that is, if they are indeed being taken for a ride - who’s to know?). And so in the process, the Godman becomes very wealthy and lives a life of luxury. But, if he is providing a large number of people with what they are looking for in order to lead better, happier lives, then the money he earns is nothing but payment for services rendered. And I don't think anybody can object to, or deny him that.
In short, what I'm trying to say is this: while you may not always agree with the manner in which other people go about doing their 'good', the fact remains that there is really nothing you can do to stop them. Except maybe become a Godman yourself.
...so tell me, how does 'Sri Sri Saltwater' sound? :)
It's true that what starts off as the mission of doing good often ends up becoming the business of doing good. But then again, doing good is almost always ‘bad’ work, isn’t it?
I remember reading in the local papers some time back on how the men who clear garbage from the municipal bins every morning earn up to 10 grand a month. "Unbelievable!", I said. Here you have graduates who cannot earn half that much, and these guys get 10 grand!
But would we do it? Even if picking up garbage paid a lakh of rupees every month, would you and I do it?
Now I’ve never been to Calcutta, and so I haven’t seen first hand what the scene on the streets there is like, but all I can say is that people like us have no business questioning the ethics or the ulterior motives (if indeed there be any) of someone who has done, or attempted to do, those things that we, sitting comfortable on our backsides at home, would never ever think of.
And what people do with their money isn’t anybody’s concern either. Sourav Ganguly lives in Calcutta – so why isn’t he doing anything to help the destitute children of that city. Why do we need Steve Waugh to come down all the way from Sydney to start an institution like Udayan?
But this is not our question to ask; just as it is not for us to question what the Missionaries of Charity do with all the donations they get. I am a Roman Catholic and I know that the Catholic Church is very, very rich. They could do more for us - much more, but they couldn’t be bothered. So what do I do? Simple - I don’t give them my contribution. If you think the money is being misused, or deposited into Swiss bank accounts, then don’t give them any.
I’ve heard people say the same thing about the other so called Godmen like Satya Sai Baba, Osho Rajneesh, and that Art of Living chap - Sri Sri something. Well, other people - their devotees – may not be as intelligent as you and I are, to see that they're being taken for a ride (that is, if they are indeed being taken for a ride - who’s to know?). And so in the process, the Godman becomes very wealthy and lives a life of luxury. But, if he is providing a large number of people with what they are looking for in order to lead better, happier lives, then the money he earns is nothing but payment for services rendered. And I don't think anybody can object to, or deny him that.
In short, what I'm trying to say is this: while you may not always agree with the manner in which other people go about doing their 'good', the fact remains that there is really nothing you can do to stop them. Except maybe become a Godman yourself.
...so tell me, how does 'Sri Sri Saltwater' sound? :)
July 9, 2004
you took your coat off and stood in the rain
you were always crazy like that
and I watched from my window
always felt I was outside looking in on you
I would have been reading the morning papers now, but one look at the Times of India and I said, "forget it". All that colour and those badly drawn caricatures make the front page look like a cheap comic book. Done in the Wild West theme, the headline goes: 'Your Money Your Life' with a huge cartoon of Chidambaram made to look like a Tamilian cowboy - guns drawn and ready to fire. They're calling him 'Quickgun Moneygun'. At the bottom of the page Sonia is shown riding in a stagecoach with Manmohan and that other commie sardarji at the reins. It looks like The Times has some very enthusiastic and overly creative people working for them - who need to be bludy sacked!. Some people may like this kind of stuff, but as for me, I just end up putting away the paper and switching on the computer - listen to some music, type something here even though I don't really have anything to say.
You know, at the library yesterday evening, this guy who I used to see in the study room during exam time came and sat next to me and just started talking. He's a CA student and has failed his exams 3 times. I listened to him tell me how hard he's worked without any success; his folks want him to something else, but our man wont. Then I told him how long I've been at it, and he just looks at me in disbelief.
In the next one hour or so he told me about his work, his studies, his family, his goals for the future, and also his thoughts on women and the tricks they play with us guys. But the question I'm asking is: what made him want to come and tell me all of this?. How did he assume that I would listen, or that I give a damn or care about his troubles? Truth is I don't.
Perhaps he was down or confused and someone told him to go talk to this guy saltwater blues who's been at it for a long time and hasn't thrown in the towel yet. Maybe talking to me made him feel better about himself, because his face was much brighter after our talk - it seemed like his burden had somehow been made lighter.
So is that what I'm here for now - to make people feel better about themselves? And what about me - who's going to do the same for me? I'm on my own, I guess.
Playing now is the song 'Foolish Games' by Jewel Kilcher from her album 'Pieces of You'. If you'd like to know more about Jewel and her music, then read Madcaps latest post. BFN.
you'd teach me of honest things
things that were daring, things that were clean
things that knew what an honest dollar did mean
so I hid my soiled hands behind my back
somewhere along the line I must've gone off track with you
excuse me, think I've mistaken you for somebody else
somebody who gave a damn
somebody more like myself
these foolish games are tearing me apart
your thoughtless words are breaking my heart
you're breaking my heart
you were always crazy like that
and I watched from my window
always felt I was outside looking in on you
I would have been reading the morning papers now, but one look at the Times of India and I said, "forget it". All that colour and those badly drawn caricatures make the front page look like a cheap comic book. Done in the Wild West theme, the headline goes: 'Your Money Your Life' with a huge cartoon of Chidambaram made to look like a Tamilian cowboy - guns drawn and ready to fire. They're calling him 'Quickgun Moneygun'. At the bottom of the page Sonia is shown riding in a stagecoach with Manmohan and that other commie sardarji at the reins. It looks like The Times has some very enthusiastic and overly creative people working for them - who need to be bludy sacked!. Some people may like this kind of stuff, but as for me, I just end up putting away the paper and switching on the computer - listen to some music, type something here even though I don't really have anything to say.
You know, at the library yesterday evening, this guy who I used to see in the study room during exam time came and sat next to me and just started talking. He's a CA student and has failed his exams 3 times. I listened to him tell me how hard he's worked without any success; his folks want him to something else, but our man wont. Then I told him how long I've been at it, and he just looks at me in disbelief.
In the next one hour or so he told me about his work, his studies, his family, his goals for the future, and also his thoughts on women and the tricks they play with us guys. But the question I'm asking is: what made him want to come and tell me all of this?. How did he assume that I would listen, or that I give a damn or care about his troubles? Truth is I don't.
Perhaps he was down or confused and someone told him to go talk to this guy saltwater blues who's been at it for a long time and hasn't thrown in the towel yet. Maybe talking to me made him feel better about himself, because his face was much brighter after our talk - it seemed like his burden had somehow been made lighter.
So is that what I'm here for now - to make people feel better about themselves? And what about me - who's going to do the same for me? I'm on my own, I guess.
Playing now is the song 'Foolish Games' by Jewel Kilcher from her album 'Pieces of You'. If you'd like to know more about Jewel and her music, then read Madcaps latest post. BFN.
you'd teach me of honest things
things that were daring, things that were clean
things that knew what an honest dollar did mean
so I hid my soiled hands behind my back
somewhere along the line I must've gone off track with you
excuse me, think I've mistaken you for somebody else
somebody who gave a damn
somebody more like myself
these foolish games are tearing me apart
your thoughtless words are breaking my heart
you're breaking my heart
July 7, 2004
"...love or marriage!!???? Choose wisely, you may not get both!!!!!!"
Wise words indeed from Wonderbug. It's got me thinking this Wednesday evening.
Well, whatever happened to 'Love and marriage go together like a horse and carriage'? Manu is right when he says the two need not always be exclusive, but somehow it doesn't appear to be the case in lots of relationships these days.
They say both love and marriage will happen when they have to happen - that is if it's destined. And if they don’t, then sorry buddy - you've just got shit luck ...go get drunk or something!
So why then do you have people wanting to fall in love or trying so desperately to get married when they're of age?
In our family (and our family is very large) we have great 'made for each other' marriages; not so great 'just put up with the bitch/SOB till she/he dies' marriages; and, disastrous 'how much does a contract killer cost?' marriages. And with those in the latter 2 categories, it began with what they thought was 'made for each other' and later deteriorated downwards. The reason is simple I think - somewhere along the way love fell by the roadside. And they never turned back to look for it, pick it up again.
It also makes me wonder whether they were ever in love in the first place. Perhaps it was all done just to get the satisfaction of knowing that they've proved to themselves and society that they've complied with the norms that have been laid down with respect to these matters. To put it differently - to have shown everyone that you're not a damn misfit who's not capable of falling in love and/or getting married.
Dr. Daniel Goleman in his book 'Vital Lies Simple Truths' talks about the power of self-deception that our minds have acquired through the process of evolution and which is used as a tool to take an unhappy/undesirable situation and turn it around - something similar to thinking of the glass as being half full instead of half empty.
We deceive ourselves all the time, and it happens without us even realising or knowing it. If it didn't, most of us would now be in various stages of depression or suffering from other mental illnesses.
But does our mind do the same thing with love? Do we fall in love with, or get married to the wrong person because we want to, or because everybody else wants us to, simply because that is what we believe to be the right thing to happen at a certain time and age?
I guess many of us do. And when that happens, we find that sooner or later the engines start to fail and the occupants decide to bail out. After that, all that’s left is for the marriage to come crashing to the ground and go up in flames.
It is my belief that we as human beings have evolved, or rather our mental capacities have developed so much, that we often cannot tell the difference between the real, and the games of deception being played in our heads.
And in many cases, we don’t even want to know. Perhaps its better that way.
Wise words indeed from Wonderbug. It's got me thinking this Wednesday evening.
Well, whatever happened to 'Love and marriage go together like a horse and carriage'? Manu is right when he says the two need not always be exclusive, but somehow it doesn't appear to be the case in lots of relationships these days.
They say both love and marriage will happen when they have to happen - that is if it's destined. And if they don’t, then sorry buddy - you've just got shit luck ...go get drunk or something!
So why then do you have people wanting to fall in love or trying so desperately to get married when they're of age?
In our family (and our family is very large) we have great 'made for each other' marriages; not so great 'just put up with the bitch/SOB till she/he dies' marriages; and, disastrous 'how much does a contract killer cost?' marriages. And with those in the latter 2 categories, it began with what they thought was 'made for each other' and later deteriorated downwards. The reason is simple I think - somewhere along the way love fell by the roadside. And they never turned back to look for it, pick it up again.
It also makes me wonder whether they were ever in love in the first place. Perhaps it was all done just to get the satisfaction of knowing that they've proved to themselves and society that they've complied with the norms that have been laid down with respect to these matters. To put it differently - to have shown everyone that you're not a damn misfit who's not capable of falling in love and/or getting married.
Dr. Daniel Goleman in his book 'Vital Lies Simple Truths' talks about the power of self-deception that our minds have acquired through the process of evolution and which is used as a tool to take an unhappy/undesirable situation and turn it around - something similar to thinking of the glass as being half full instead of half empty.
We deceive ourselves all the time, and it happens without us even realising or knowing it. If it didn't, most of us would now be in various stages of depression or suffering from other mental illnesses.
But does our mind do the same thing with love? Do we fall in love with, or get married to the wrong person because we want to, or because everybody else wants us to, simply because that is what we believe to be the right thing to happen at a certain time and age?
I guess many of us do. And when that happens, we find that sooner or later the engines start to fail and the occupants decide to bail out. After that, all that’s left is for the marriage to come crashing to the ground and go up in flames.
It is my belief that we as human beings have evolved, or rather our mental capacities have developed so much, that we often cannot tell the difference between the real, and the games of deception being played in our heads.
And in many cases, we don’t even want to know. Perhaps its better that way.
July 6, 2004
The music of Rusted Root is simply fabulous. Bro heard them perform live in Rhode Island last year, and he says their drummer is the best he's ever heard - and he's been for lots of big acts like Clapton, Aerosmith and Metallica.
Playing now is the song 'Beatiful People' from the album 'When I Woke'
I saw the shame inside your addiction
Hatin’ to see what was passed on by
I saw the shame and wondered why I should live and die.
Leave a note and tell me
Leave a note and tell me why.
Amazing percussion work, and haunting vocals. Made 2 copies of this 'Best of' CD for 2 beautiful people. The guy at the I-Way who did the CD writing asked if he could keep a copy for himself. Sure I said. He's a nice Gujju guy with a cute wife - newly wed's; and they keep talking to each other almost non-stop in that language. It's nice to see people happily married - who complement each other so perfectly.
Inshallah someday!
Playing now is the song 'Beatiful People' from the album 'When I Woke'
I saw the shame inside your addiction
Hatin’ to see what was passed on by
I saw the shame and wondered why I should live and die.
Leave a note and tell me
Leave a note and tell me why.
Amazing percussion work, and haunting vocals. Made 2 copies of this 'Best of' CD for 2 beautiful people. The guy at the I-Way who did the CD writing asked if he could keep a copy for himself. Sure I said. He's a nice Gujju guy with a cute wife - newly wed's; and they keep talking to each other almost non-stop in that language. It's nice to see people happily married - who complement each other so perfectly.
Inshallah someday!
Prick in Love
Prick, that noblest of asses, came of age without ever experiencing the vicissitudes of love. Poor Prick! Sadder and wiser folk — which is to say, essentially, everyone — knew that he was heading for a fall. The longer those pains, those ecstasies, those astonishingly personal embarrassments are deferred, the harder they hit when they arrive at last.
And so they did. Arrive at last and hit hard, that is.
Prick sighed. He moaned. He wrote bad poems. He rued the day that he was born, and could not wait for the morrow, when he might see his beloved again. He masturbated frequently.
We must be a little vague on the subject of Prick's beloved because, if the truth be told, he was a little vague about her himself. He knew her name, and had some notion of her appearance. He was aware that she was blond, though whether natural or bleached was beyond him. But that was it. Of her thoughts, opinions, and inner life he knew nothing. Love scoffs at details! It cares not for such superficialities as a woman's mind.
Perversely enough, this young lady — whoever she was — did not return Prick's adoration. She cut him dead on the street. She returned his love letters unread. When, for token of his feelings, he secretly manured her garden one night, she latched the gate and let it go to weeds.
There was only one thing for a love-struck swain to do — serenade her at her balcony. Prick set several of his poems to music. Then he hired a monkey to play accompaniment on the guitar. The beast was no looker, but he had a melancholy way with the instrument, and this, together with Prick's dulcet bray, the young ass reckoned should be enough to rouse the woman's emotions while simultaneously bypassing her better judgment.
They began rehearsing.
The more Prick sang, the better it sounded to him. He made a few alterations to the lyrics. The monkey suggested chord changes and a shift in tempo here and there. They added a cover or two to their repertoire, and quietly dropped some songs that weren't quite up to snuff.
Finally, they were ready. Prick rented a production studio, and they cut a demo. One of the smaller labels snatched them up. They put in a season opening for a rockabilly retro band, and another season as headliners. Their first LP — An Officer and a Gentleman, an Ape and an Ass — went platinum.
Prick was midway through a sold-out tour of Japan before it occurred to him that he never had gotten around to serenading his one true love. By then it was moot, though, for he'd completely forgotten her name. He felt chagrined, of course, but not for long. It's hard to maintain a sense of shame when you're snorting cocaine off a teenaged groupie's tits.
Let this be a lesson to us all. There is no such thing as a bad experience. Everything is grist for the mill. When life hands you a lemon — make lemonade!
Even love can be put to good use.
from: The Sleep of Reason by Michael Swanwick
Prick, that noblest of asses, came of age without ever experiencing the vicissitudes of love. Poor Prick! Sadder and wiser folk — which is to say, essentially, everyone — knew that he was heading for a fall. The longer those pains, those ecstasies, those astonishingly personal embarrassments are deferred, the harder they hit when they arrive at last.
And so they did. Arrive at last and hit hard, that is.
Prick sighed. He moaned. He wrote bad poems. He rued the day that he was born, and could not wait for the morrow, when he might see his beloved again. He masturbated frequently.
We must be a little vague on the subject of Prick's beloved because, if the truth be told, he was a little vague about her himself. He knew her name, and had some notion of her appearance. He was aware that she was blond, though whether natural or bleached was beyond him. But that was it. Of her thoughts, opinions, and inner life he knew nothing. Love scoffs at details! It cares not for such superficialities as a woman's mind.
Perversely enough, this young lady — whoever she was — did not return Prick's adoration. She cut him dead on the street. She returned his love letters unread. When, for token of his feelings, he secretly manured her garden one night, she latched the gate and let it go to weeds.
There was only one thing for a love-struck swain to do — serenade her at her balcony. Prick set several of his poems to music. Then he hired a monkey to play accompaniment on the guitar. The beast was no looker, but he had a melancholy way with the instrument, and this, together with Prick's dulcet bray, the young ass reckoned should be enough to rouse the woman's emotions while simultaneously bypassing her better judgment.
They began rehearsing.
The more Prick sang, the better it sounded to him. He made a few alterations to the lyrics. The monkey suggested chord changes and a shift in tempo here and there. They added a cover or two to their repertoire, and quietly dropped some songs that weren't quite up to snuff.
Finally, they were ready. Prick rented a production studio, and they cut a demo. One of the smaller labels snatched them up. They put in a season opening for a rockabilly retro band, and another season as headliners. Their first LP — An Officer and a Gentleman, an Ape and an Ass — went platinum.
Prick was midway through a sold-out tour of Japan before it occurred to him that he never had gotten around to serenading his one true love. By then it was moot, though, for he'd completely forgotten her name. He felt chagrined, of course, but not for long. It's hard to maintain a sense of shame when you're snorting cocaine off a teenaged groupie's tits.
Let this be a lesson to us all. There is no such thing as a bad experience. Everything is grist for the mill. When life hands you a lemon — make lemonade!
Even love can be put to good use.
from: The Sleep of Reason by Michael Swanwick
July 5, 2004
The gang was here till 3am last night watching the finals of Euro 2004. Since most of us are Goans it was Viva Portugal!, but Figo & Co. were disappointing. Anyway, at least our garbage woman is happy - I guess nothing brightens up her day more than the sight of so many empty beer bottles. As for me, I was all for Greece.
But its funny how people in Goa, and Goans elsewhere, wanted victory for their former colonial masters. Apart from building hundreds of churches and giving the world a million DeSouza's, the Portugese did bugger all for the state. Electricity came to Goa only in the mid 70's, and telephone is still a luxury in many places. As far as roads, public transportation and other infrastructure is concerned, the Portugese obviously didn't find the need to do anything; and every government since independence has more or less carried on that trend.
I'm sure the British would have done a better job with Goa than the Portugese. How many of you guys believe that India might today have been one big Hong-Kong if we hadn't driven the Brits out?
And how many of you would agree with me if I said that some people are totally incapable of governing themselves, and need to be ruled by other powers? Are we Indians one of those people? Judging by the job we've done with our country in the 50 plus years since independence, I'd say we are.
"So what if we took the Kohinoor Diamond", my Brit friends used to say - "we gave you a lot more. You want to change things in India, call us back." And frankly, I had no answer.
But would the British even want to come back? Going by the problems they're having with the Asians in their own country, I dont think they'd want anything to do with us.
In the news today I hear that the opposition is hell bent on disrupting the budget session of parliament on the issue of tainted ministers. And the PM has promised a debate. Frankly it doesn't look like any issue can be debated when you have a bunch of hooligans running around.
Everyone says, and I agree, that the former BJP government was doing a good job as far as the economy was concerned. If only they could have abandoned their religious agenda, and focussed more on things that really matter.
Aldous Huxley wrote this in 1926, and its sad that his words still hold good today.
"Religion is a luxury which India, in its present condition, cannot possibly afford. India will never be free until the Hindus and the Moslems are as tepidly enthusiastic about their religion as we are about the Church of England. If I were an Indian millionaire, I would leave all my money for the endowment of an Atheist Mission."
Sometimes I feel that the only thing any government in power can really do is 'damage control'. Getting this country back to good is a very distant dream.
Ok, thats Part 1 of post. Now to Part 2.
Anita :) good to have you back ...did you catch anything?
Manu: lol ...yes I think that should be edited to "what a girl that Maria Sharapova is" It is true that womens tennis has always been about the women, never about the tennis. My all time favourite is still Martina Hingis.
Madhu: I found the Chinese guitars suprisingly good. They also have acoustic's with built-in pick-up's and equaliser controls for 6 grand. I'd rate them on par with the Korean one's. Btw, nice post that - on bumper stickers. I saw this one on a Pajero recently:
"I believe in Tit for Tat. Want some Tat?"
Ok, what else? ...lots of people have stopped blogging recently. Sommersaults blog says 'closed'. Hope its only for the holidays. But I guess after a while you either tend to run out of things to say, or you just want to shut up for a bit.
It seems the Muslim Personal Law Board is considering putting an end to the practice of divorce by triple Talaq. Hmmm... quite frankly it would be fun if we guys had something like that. Wife not behaving? - just say Talaq twice - that'll teach her a lesson!
Just kididng! BFN.
But its funny how people in Goa, and Goans elsewhere, wanted victory for their former colonial masters. Apart from building hundreds of churches and giving the world a million DeSouza's, the Portugese did bugger all for the state. Electricity came to Goa only in the mid 70's, and telephone is still a luxury in many places. As far as roads, public transportation and other infrastructure is concerned, the Portugese obviously didn't find the need to do anything; and every government since independence has more or less carried on that trend.
I'm sure the British would have done a better job with Goa than the Portugese. How many of you guys believe that India might today have been one big Hong-Kong if we hadn't driven the Brits out?
And how many of you would agree with me if I said that some people are totally incapable of governing themselves, and need to be ruled by other powers? Are we Indians one of those people? Judging by the job we've done with our country in the 50 plus years since independence, I'd say we are.
"So what if we took the Kohinoor Diamond", my Brit friends used to say - "we gave you a lot more. You want to change things in India, call us back." And frankly, I had no answer.
But would the British even want to come back? Going by the problems they're having with the Asians in their own country, I dont think they'd want anything to do with us.
In the news today I hear that the opposition is hell bent on disrupting the budget session of parliament on the issue of tainted ministers. And the PM has promised a debate. Frankly it doesn't look like any issue can be debated when you have a bunch of hooligans running around.
Everyone says, and I agree, that the former BJP government was doing a good job as far as the economy was concerned. If only they could have abandoned their religious agenda, and focussed more on things that really matter.
Aldous Huxley wrote this in 1926, and its sad that his words still hold good today.
"Religion is a luxury which India, in its present condition, cannot possibly afford. India will never be free until the Hindus and the Moslems are as tepidly enthusiastic about their religion as we are about the Church of England. If I were an Indian millionaire, I would leave all my money for the endowment of an Atheist Mission."
Sometimes I feel that the only thing any government in power can really do is 'damage control'. Getting this country back to good is a very distant dream.
Ok, thats Part 1 of post. Now to Part 2.
Anita :) good to have you back ...did you catch anything?
Manu: lol ...yes I think that should be edited to "what a girl that Maria Sharapova is" It is true that womens tennis has always been about the women, never about the tennis. My all time favourite is still Martina Hingis.
Madhu: I found the Chinese guitars suprisingly good. They also have acoustic's with built-in pick-up's and equaliser controls for 6 grand. I'd rate them on par with the Korean one's. Btw, nice post that - on bumper stickers. I saw this one on a Pajero recently:
"I believe in Tit for Tat. Want some Tat?"
Ok, what else? ...lots of people have stopped blogging recently. Sommersaults blog says 'closed'. Hope its only for the holidays. But I guess after a while you either tend to run out of things to say, or you just want to shut up for a bit.
It seems the Muslim Personal Law Board is considering putting an end to the practice of divorce by triple Talaq. Hmmm... quite frankly it would be fun if we guys had something like that. Wife not behaving? - just say Talaq twice - that'll teach her a lesson!
Just kididng! BFN.
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