Left is never right.

Will it be right if I take the left? Ya, take the first left. That’s right, no it’s left but its right. I mean the right is not right, the left is right. But left cannot be right! Where do I go from here? The prudent thing to do is to take all the rights. Any number of times and the chances are you’ll land up at the same place with the same question, “Where do I go from here?” If you are nonplussed, and under the circumstances, which you’ll be, it’s advisable to give the situation some deep thought and subject yourself to some sound reasoning. That is, if I take left I have already taken the wrong lane. And if I take right, which is right but not in this case, then I am taking the wrong route again. What the deuce, take the middle path or just get lost.

A Thought.

When I was on my way to school, a thought hit me. I though the thought was worth a thought to give it a thought. So I thought over the thought till I couldn’t think any longer. I decided (for the sake of my half-quarter brain) to brush aside that thought and think on other things that merits my thought. Ten years have passed since then but that bloody thought refuses to leave me alone. It’s still haunting me and pushing me to give it another thought. So I did and I am still thinking. And so are you for sure.

What?

Standing on the window sill late in the night he let the dry air run through him. It carried dust, sand, sound and some memories he had salted away. The world around him was sleeping and he was feeling cold, happy and sad. In fact the whole surrounding was reinforcing the fact that he was marooned in a far away land with virtually no human contact. He stood there for sometime till he felt heavy-eyed thinking of the swarm of people he will have to run into the next day. Without delay he hit the sack.

Prime Suspect.

That docile neighbour, who always wears Jamaican Shorts and a friendly smile, perennially on the balcony watering the plants. That taciturn colleague who comes to office only to work. That total stranger on the street who went out of the way to find you an auto rickshaw to make sure you reached your destination safely and on time. That shopkeeper who told you that his product carries a defect and is not worth buying. All prime suspect. They have been too good to be true in this world. It’s not how a normal person of decent is supposed to conduct himself towards others. What is the hidden agenda behind such show of kindness? Must be something utterly malicious. It’s so inhuman to help others.
There aren’t many surviving specimen of that kind though. Thank God! And they are thinning day by day. Going by the trend, a day isn’t far when we will be seeing the last of them. It’s not that mothers have stopped bearing them. But they grow up in an environment that repeatedly hammers them with survival tactics. Every step out of the house means a lesson. A lesson how to live for oneself.
Like, during my preschool days I learned shedding tears or behaving properly in front of guests fulfilled my demand for ice-cream. Then scoring good marks or pretending to study hard did the trick. And after that money supposedly to visit the book fair or buy an important book. And finally, sitting in front of a computer for 9 to 10 hours at a stretch and in between dishing out sermons to pliable juniors and boring them to death. A nice way to earn money. So the more exposed I was to the world the more I leaned to wriggle my way out or manipulate my way in. I became a pro. More learned and wise. More distrusting of people who are upright. While commuting in a bus if a co-passenger picks up a conversation with you for no apparent reason one tends to be a little wary of the conversation starter. And if you don’t then that gives the other a reason to be.

What Is This?

This is my house. This is my room. This is my bathroom. This is my wardrobe inherited from my sister. This is my pair of jean. This is my music system. This is my corner. This in my window. This in my view. This is my sky. This is my share of wind. This is my cycle long abandoned. This is my neighbourhood. This is my favourite facing window. This is my girl by the window. There goes another one by the promenade. And many more. This is not what I meant. This is not what I want from life. This is not me writing. This is me smoking in the loo. This is me lighting an incense stick to douse the smell. This is me sitting idle. This is me hooked to the phone. This is me on the dining table. This is me sleeping till late hours. This is me writing. This is not what you want to read.

Wasted

Wake up. Brush your teeth. Take a shower if you have to. Put on the first thing you lay your hands on and rush. Skip your breakfast and comb your hair with your fingers on a rear view mirror of a vehicle parked irresponsibly. You are late for work as usual. Damn the snooze button. Never realized what 10 more minutes of indulgence could cost.
Board the first bus and jostle with the crowd. Everyone it seems is running late. Scamper for a seat but there’s none. After some pushing and elbowing you find your place to land your feet. Hold on to anything nearby to keep from falling. Keep one hand free to hold the bag. But the fact is the crown wouldn’t allow you to tumble down completely. You had bathed sometime back but now you’re bathing in sweat. Squirm lest you accidentally feel a lady passenger. You have struggled to get up the bus, now struggle to get down.
After you have brushed against so my things in the bus, your clothes takes a beating including your morale.
After another such round, equally harried as the first you finally enter the sanctum sanctorum. Plush and sprawling. All correctly dressed and always running against time. But that’s ok (I mean the dress part). After you have entered that you begin to realise you have entered a place which is not worth half the hassle you have taken. You were better off, all naked under the scorching sun, with the dust, grime and crowd than inside a place done up by expensive interior designers with air conditioners and coffee machines. What are they trying to hide here? Who are they trying to scare or impress. All the glitterati is only to fool you into believing that you’re in for something big. Something meaningful. Something, if it they didn’t do, the world would be poorer. What hogwash. Loot at you. What purpose are they serving? Do they really think they deserve the richness? They think that the glass cabin, the laptop, the expensive car, the golf clubs at the car dickey, the English will hide the inefficiencies. All smug in their incompetence.

Because they are doing it right what is generally accepted as right. Because they have a rule book which says this is how it’s supposed to be done. Because that’s not what the rule book said. Because that’s the correct way. Because that’s the safe way. Because someone else has already done it and it has been fruitful. Go out of whack and you’re at fault. Now wouldn’t it be foolish to do it another way. Not because it’s not correct, but because it’s not how it’s expected. Never mind the brilliance, unless a book says it is.

Now, step out, not only from the place but also from the mould. It’ll make you one of them. Instead, take another bus back home and don’t show up again.

Work Ethics

Be the insufferable brat in the group. Refuse to budge. Defy logic and talk nonsense but take none. Be late for the important meeting, or don’t turn up at all. Promise everything and fail to live up to it. Commit to a deadline and forget about it. Be late when you have to reach early. Be the last to enter the office and be the first to leave. Make mistakes and find fault in others. Stand up for the small fry. And fight with the big ones. Break all rules. Create some and break them again. Wrangle with your boss. Quit.

'me' factor.

I hate people who are selfish, selfcentric, narrowminded. Because they are so. I hate people who are always unhappy with life. Again, because they are always thinking about themselves. I hate people who are dominating. Specially to me. I hate people who are successfull, because I am not. I hate people who thinks making passes at women is fine as long as she is not related to them. Also, I hate people who doesn't give up the seat to a lady passenger, even though he may be sitting right under the sign 'Ladies'. I hate people who are materialistic. I hate travelling alone. I hate waking up early. I hate working late. I hate remix videos. I hate surviving on Maggie every night. I hate the fact that I am poor. I hate the fact that I am not goodlooking. I hate people who hates people for some reason or the other. Thankfully! Am not one of them.