From sure to shore

We often read about a startup getting funded by a bigshot investment group. For some reason, we tend to assume that it’s a recent fad. Companies like Google and Facebook, with their roots in Silicon Valley, make us believe that entrepreneurship needs to have a technological touch. This might not be the case always but the glowing stars in the Internet Era are often the ones who accepted technology wholeheartedly. And they continue to inspire budding entrepreneurs to take risk. Most often, the road to success gets cockblocked by the lack of capital. Which is where the investment groups enter the picture. Convincing the financiers that their investment would be worth it (read: profitable) is not a child’s play. Serial funding lies in the future. In most cases, the young entrepreneurs fail to even bag a discussion room with the moneybags. Nowadays, we read about companies that are based in XYZ country but is funded by people who are based in MNO country while the market for the final product is in ABC country. We call it globalization. However, wasn’t this the case, say, 500 years ago? When the European powers were rising mainly because of their curiosity to know what lies on the other side of the sea (a curiosity that the Asian powers didn’t harbour; no pun intended), a lot of navigators came forward with their business proposals. They were sure about the riches that laid bare open on foreign shores but the tough part was to get someone to fund their exploration. They went from the kings to the merchants to the banks—whoever was willing to listen to their ideas—so as to fund their naval trips. In this scheme of things, the explorers weren’t any different from the entrepreneurs of today. They too vied for a dream that could result in a nightmare while firmly hoping it didn’t. They too wanted sugar daddies to help them put up the hull. Which might explain why an Italian guy named Christopher Columbus got funded by the Spanish monarch for an idea that had more to do with India than anywhere else.

Show me the money!

Maybe it's a good time to talk about money. Black, white, colored, all sorts. There are some lessons i learnt after moving to Gurgaon. Back in Bombay, i didn't care much for money mainly because i didn't have expenses. When you're living with your family, you don't care about raashan. I barely went out or had any habits to support. There were magazines to buy, Internet bills to pay, film festivals/cultural events to attend, occasional weekend Chinese with Tushar and Anu. That's it. Maybe that's why i could take a 50% salary cut to try myself at journalism. I was touching 25 then and was offered 13K a month. Not a huge amount when you consider i didn't get any conveyance from the publication, not for the travels required, nope for the calls dialled. After the deductions, less than 10K reached my pocket. But then, i got myself some proud bylines. Lots of them, actually, for someone who never went to an esteemed J-school. Also, experience. Loads of that too. By the time i gave up journalism, after spending close to 3.5 years, i was back at the very salary i quit my previous job!

That was then. I'm a bit wiser now.

The thing about money is it requires understanding. Not very different from the way we deal with kids. They are unpredictable. My friend, Rudra, once told me that one of the reasons i'll remain gareeb is because i'm afraid of money. I didn't gauge the depth of that statement. He was right. When you have remarkably low income, you somehow find comfort in that zone. You look at people with higher income and the troubles they've added to their list by buying a house or a car on loan. You see that they have willingly become a slave to the bank. You begin to see those aspects (at least i did) as avoidable headaches. Irrevocably, you get stuck in your zone. And before you acknowledge it, you are getting old and starting to feel sorry for yourself because not a week goes by you don't compare your fate with the kids you grew up with. They are doing great—not merely going by their FB pics—while you are nearing 30 and neither have a career nor savings.

Savings. That's the word.

How does one save money? If you ask an expert, they'll drain out the difference between save and invest. Since i'm not an expert, i feel saving can be done better when you set your priorities right. Where is your money going? If i find myself in an accident tomorrow, will i be able to get through without disrupting others' lives? Which hill station am i visiting next? Do you want to retire in a mansion? Maintaining a diary about expenses (daily/weekly/monthly) helps. I don't earn a lot (more on that later) so whatever i get gets divided equally into brackets. Precisely how i want things to be for now. Let's put it this way: I neither feel bad about shelling out ₹20 extra to an autowallah/sabziwallah nor do i get robbed by malls. I'm at ease. I do my bits here and there from time to time for people and the environment. I miss participating in sapling projects though but i'm sure my current state of health won't permit it either.

Money happens to be a psychological trick and it's interesting how much imagination it captures. What's more in store is the endless pursuit of it. There's no such a thing as enough when it comes to income. Precisely why we should have a second income flow. It could be anything from freelancing to baking to anything else that you're good at and won't need more than a few hours a day/week. That amount fortifies your future. I've been planning to write a book since my late-teens. At this rate, it seems like a distant dream. However, if i manage to get something going for myself in the field of writing, then i might be able to sustain better. Buy insurances, maybe? Fixed deposits, too? Who knows? A steadier flow of income makes you imaginative. 

Until a month ago, i was the only earning member from my family back in Bombay. When you are in a position like i was, you are constantly reminded of your responsibilities. You can't randomly leave your job and pursue your distant dream. You try to settle with as much caution as possible. I look at some of my colleagues who can't do without parties and excessive spending. So much so their online retail therapy doesn't pause. They can afford that because their families don't look forward to their month-end deposits. Things are different for different people. Also, you decide your value in the market and the sooner you realize this, the better. If not, chances are you'll feel lost in the rat race to be financially secure because that's a bloody oxymoron.

PS. No matter what, pay your taxes because a pyre made of black money is a fucking disgrace.

Missus on point

I don't like going out much. In fact, i never show up at a party lest i'll have engage with people in hollow small talks. On the other hand, i love talking to my wife. That's something that hasn't changed in over three years now. It's a delight to converse with her about random things. Our conversations belie our romantic shortcomings as we are both tad boring in departments most couples otherwise boast. At the end of the day, we talk about things that are mostly based on what we read or watched recently. 

One such episode from the recent past is quite noteworthy, if not hilarious by all means.

Me: "If you were given a chance, would you accept the role of the POTUS?"

She: "Of course!"

Me: "You won't be nervous or something?"

She: "Hmm... nope."

Me: "Wow. What would be the first thing that you'd do or change on becoming the POTUS?"

She: "I'll appoint Obama as my official advisor."

Me: "Well, as a rule, you can't do that as an ex-prez isn't supposed to hold official titles."

She: "In that case, I'd like to change that rule."

Paranoia, please don't scare me

Democracy is funny but the joke is lost on those who believe in it.

Americans have elected Donald Trump as their president. It’s official. Understandably, there is a massive wave of despair among the people (both from the USA as well as the rest of the world) about an uncertain future. Given his repertoire for loose words, it’s going to be interesting how his tenure as the POTUS will be. But let’s stick to now, shall we? He hasn’t even taken the oath as the president yet and there is already more than enough panic in the world, especially on social media. It’s almost as if the world is going to end. Here’s the worst part: It’s not going to. I wish it did. I wish if somebody just pushed the Restart button. But that’s not happening. So, we need to deal with it practically. This is what is going to happen: Trump is going to assume the office in mid-January and we’ll have to wait and see if anything drastic takes place. On a political level, there will be presumably a lot of (attempted) changes to the set narrative by the previous government. Whatever ensues, it’s only going to highlight the fact that our species are connected like never before. The world, as the ancient wise people from India suggested, is indeed one big family. What happens in doesn’t stay there anymore. Everything affects everything. This is our new digital reality. And when a man-child like Trump assumes the highest office of the world’s strongest democracy, worries are natural. However, they shouldn’t be the cause of irrational fear or untenable paranoia. In a democracy, one party loses and another wins. That’s the rule of game. Instead of wasting time on spreading panic, maybe it’s time to understand the factors that made us believe that Trump didn’t stand a chance. The greater question should be, how disconnected are we with the realities of this world where we form our opinions based on the enlightened views of the few?

We need to talk about Caste

There’s a famous quote vis-a-vis Indian politics and election: “Indians don’t cast their votes; they vote their castes.”

The only problem with the above statement is nothing’s going to change unless we address the core issue of our society. Caste, whether you like it or not, is incredibly strong. It's beyond religion. In fact, much stickier than that. Cluelessness only makes it stronger. Especially if you grew up in urban India and never bothered to know why the labourers in the city generally belong to the downtrodden caste or for that matter, where your maid/help comes from, then you—and not the institutions in place—are partly to be blamed for your ignorance. The burden of privilege ensures that you stay away from the C-word. So much so you don’t even want to talk about it. Your excuse could be anything from “It’s irrelevant!” (Yes, it’s irrelevant because the generations that preceded you made sure of that but if you’re going to discuss the conditions in our country, you better do your homework) to “It makes me uncomfortable!” (Well, that proves the extent of your comfort more than anything else, sweetheart). The point being, not talking about something by calling it regressive is giving too much power to the regressiveness of the subject. Caste is all around us. It’s so prevalent that if you can notice the pattern, it’s almost there all around you be it urban or rural India. So why talk about it? And what difference would it make? Words are a powerful tool, if backed by facts and data. It can be a weapon of mass destruction too, if backed by falsehood and propaganda. That said, if we—the ones who have the voice to make a gradual difference—don’t try to understand the correlation between a person’s caste and his profession (or the lack of it), then who is going to? The politicians? Well, they are busy exploiting our ignorance for close to seven decades now. If we don’t sit up and see how caste affects the entire subcontinent—yes, it’s not limited to only India as Pakistan, Nepal, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka also have a steady caste system in order—that’s a major chunk of 1.68 billion people on the planet—then we are only fooling ourselves. If we’re going to stay aloof instead of digging deeper (like we do with the trends/memes that catch our imagination on the Internet) into the surface of a disease that has been making our society hollow for ages, then what’s the point in criticizing caste politics?

That loud F-word

This happened in 1999. I was 13 and went to a friend’s place for dinner. Maybe it was lunch. I don’t remember. What i can recollect though is the event that took place while we were eating. Amid a discussion, my friend’s dad let out a loud fart. Absolute silence followed the act. Grain drop silence, if you may. Nobody said anything. But at the same time, we couldn’t pretend as if nothing happened. My friend’s mom and sister were visibly aghast while i was highly amused. Within the next 60 seconds, my friend revealed his embarrassment. After all, his best friend was there and he didn’t ask for this private/public humiliation. With hardly anything left to blurt, he could only manage a “Papa!” in his I-am-disappointed-in-you tone. His father responded immediately. His words, expressed with absolutely clarity, still ring in my head. “What? I didn’t do anything. Besides, this is my house and I can fart whenever and wherever I want. If I come to YOUR house someday and fart, do let me know.”

We went back to our plates.

What happens in 20s stays forever

Newton proposed the Binomial Theorem at 22. That was also the age at which Charles Darwin gave up on his religious dreams by embarking on a ship to Galapagos Island, ultimately paving the path for modern science with his Theory of Evolution. Bhagat Singh kissed the noose at the age of 23, thus patenting the title Shaheed (martyr) for himself. Einstein proposed his groundbreaking Theory of Relativity at 26. John Keats was gone even before he turned 26 while leaving behind a body of fabulous poetry. Hawking proposed Black Hole theory at 28. Ramanujan's greatest work occurred in his mid-20s. There are a lot of people from the world of entertainment too who left a mark in their 20s. Be it Tupac who was killed at the age of 25 or James Dean who crashed at 24. Or the whole members of the esteemed Club 27. Heath Ledger drew his finest portrayal as The Joker before bidding adieu at 28. Of course, not everybody had to die in their 20s but the few names that are mentioned above (and the thousands of names that aren't) achieved the most in their 20s. Siddhartha (before turning into Buddha) left his palace at the age of 29. Schubert might have died at 31 but the reason why we still remember him is because of his work from his last decade. It's mostly true nowadays for a sportsperson to mature in their 20s and dusk away in the 30s. But shouldn't that be true for everyone else too?

The point is, if you are 30, like i am, you don't have the luxury of the thriving 20s anymore. And you should be asking yourself a very tough question: If you die today while walking on the footpath (crossing the road can be fatal), what will you be remembered for? Or for that matter, forgotten for? What has been your potential? Did you manage to convert to kinetic? Even if you don't care about legacy, there are things that go beyond you. It could be anything from a design of a building that you came up with to a programming code you wrote for an app to an anthology nobody seems to decipher yet. Since i haven't stayed true to my original before-30 plan of earning a PhD in linguistics/anthropology or writing at least one fine book, i can only hope i'm not remembered as that guy who wrote THAT chai-biskoot tweet.

From school to streets

The boy had escaped the boarding school. He was 14, barely interested in studies, chased butterflies, low on attention, high on daydreaming and a huge Rajesh Khanna fan. Not sure how but he ended up in Bombay. When a group of people questioned the seemingly lost kid, he revealed he was hungry. They took him to their neighbourhood. He hadn't seen a chawl before. Coming from a background of plenty, he was evidently taken back by the warmth of those strangers. People he saw growing up work for people like him. The only difference being he didn't know he was kidnapped by the time he entered a stranger's house. They fed him and treated him nicely. Over the course of a day, they even dug out information about his parents. The next thing we know: they called his worried dad to tell him that the boy is OK provided they get some reward in return. No harm in getting paid for kindness, right? Charity begins at home. The father took the next possible flight and landed in the neighbourhood. He was distinct in the crowd—obviously—with his sunglasses and jacket. They shepherded him to a hut-like place. And therein, he saw his son about to strike. Nope, no guns involved. He was engrossed in a carrom game with some boys wearing creamy baniyans. After the settlement, the father waited till they reached the airport to ask the pertinent question. "Why did you run away from school?" Pat came the reply, "I thought it'd be easier to become a film star."

Change is a lingual constant too

I called English a mythical language some days ago. 

And all hell broke loose.

Apparently, mythical is something which doesn't exist. Like God. Or Atlantis. Their arguments preened toward establishing that if i call English mythical, then so are Sanskrit or Malayalam or any Germanic languages. Which is a fair point because language evolve exactly the way we do. Words change. Tones change. Pronunciations change. The whole vocabulary changes with time. But that's the thing about a majority of languages that undergo this process. They die. Unlike English. Hence, here are some questions worth pondering over: does English really exist anymore in its essence? Or is it a fiction that is wholeheartedly accepted across the world be it the Nordic nations or the Francophone ones? Doesn't this acceptance validate the greatest empire—British—of all time? If no, would you claim to understand the "English" Chaucer wrote in? Or for that matter, Shakespeare (or Marlowe, whoever that was!)? English, as we know today, is not what it was barely 400 years ago. Can you say the same for languages like Arabic or Tulu? From what we know, if you are to time travel to England a few centuries back, you won't understand a word on the street. No, no, not because of the accent (which is true for the present day as well; you can't understand shite when Cockneys are speaking) but because of the syntax. The very structure of the words used were enormously different back then. If you called someone nice, they'll trash you because there was a point in history when that word meant an idiot. And if you called that person a bully for trashing you, he'll trash you again because bully was once the equivalent of today's bae. People would blankly blink at your "What's up?" expression. A different language altogether perhaps. Too many influences perhaps. Recently, a Tamil word 'aiyoh' made it to the Oxford Dictionary. It's certainly not the first south Indian to have the honour, nor would it be the last. That's how integral the English language is—or should we assume, has always been. There are myriad words with Latin and Greek roots. So much so, more than 80% of the English words today have something to do with French; either in its formation or its pronunciation. At the same time, then are lots of words with non-European roots as well. What does that tell you? I believe it shows us (more than just telling us) the immense power of a language. A tongue that refuses to stagnate or wither away. It's growing like a myth that keeps changing its mythology every passing generation. Which is why you pick up the phone and say 'hello' without bothering to know its origin or say OK without bothering to know that it doesn't really have an origin.

Leopard print

We were regaled by several stories about leopards. The hills were known for tigers once upon a time. The British did a pretty good job in ensuring that that ain't the case anymore. Today, you'll only hear tales of leopards spotted—no pun intended—every now and then. The Kumaoni hills are enticing for different reasons. Its legends about the four-legged predator is one of them. The leopards don't generally attack two-legged ones the way tigers used to, mainly because they get their fill from stealing cattle, poultry and dogs (in some some cases). If you're lucky, you'll see them sitting on the side of the curvy road not giving a fly about your presence. If you're REALLY lucky, you'll get to click a picture. In my case, my (bad) luck remained consistent. But to my credit, i woke up to the view on the right side. My slipper had a print that would make you wonder whether a leopard was sitting outside our tent but you know it didn't.

Ride and prejudice

PR is everything nowadays. Hardly anybody cares about the truth anymore. You neither have the time nor the patience required for it. Which is why you rely on labels. You jump to conclusions. You don't want to read fat books but would call someone fat without even knowing the person. Labels. We've come a long way from Stone Age (which was actually Wood Age because our ancestors did more kaarigari with wooden objects compared to stone) to Label Age. We throw words at others without giving them the benefit of doubt. The same benefit of doubt that we easily give ourselves or the ones we like. For instance, there has always been a growing resentment against Dilliwallahs for being too flashy about their wealth. This is a perfect case of blanket banality because we don't know for sure whether a majority of the residents are like that. Yet, we tend to smear the entire city with one stroke of prejudice. When i was in Mumbai, i used to hear a lot of incidents where young women don't offer their seats to the elder ones; which isn't the case in the general (there's no gents compartment) dabba. More often than not, you'll see young men giving up their seats for the older guys. Again, how are we supposed to declare a broadband judgement without an empirical data to support our bias?

PS. On our way to Anand Vihar (Delhi), my wife offered her seat to an older lady. She gracefully declined the offer before inquisitively commenting to her husband standing next to her: "She can't be from here?"

Three days, two nights

Terrible roads. Steep trails. Dangerous curves. Awesome topview. Foggy mornings. Gentle people. Shy personalities. Good souls. Bulbuls everywhere. Long-tailed beauties. Exotic birds. Breathless moments. Strong tea. Stronger coffee. Comfy tent. Less privacy. Sturdy bed. Warm quilt (daytime). Damp quilt (nighttime). Butterfly museum. Enlightening af. Huge spiders. Overfriendly dogs. Bushy tails. Leopard stories. Legendary tales. 90s songs. Firecrackers galore. Echoing hills. Crowded market. Fresh produce. Sattal lake. Freezing water. Kayaking stunt. Finger injury. Anthropological spiel. Understanding wife. Authentic food. Upward climb. Downward walk. Plastic alert. Grapefruit trees. Cucumber plants. Short day. Long night. Clear sky. Shooting stars. Bright constellations. Guitar guy. Singing lady. Bonfire throughout.

Birding

Have you noticed the decline in crows and sparrows around you? If you haven't, don't read any further. They used to make so much noise not so long ago. Not anymore. Most of them seem to be on their way out of the city. This place of ours that we take pride in calling urban is getting unlivable for a reason. Yes, we can blame the pollution for this trend but we shouldn't forget that the real pollution begins with our mind. We overlook the basic tenets of life and end up endangering the nature as we've been doing for ages now. There is hardly anything out of the textbook here. We harm our surrounding by taking it for granted but in truth, we are taking our grandchildren for granted. They are going to inhabit this planet and the question is, do we want them to wake up to chirpy noise made by birds arguing who has better feathers? I used to wake up to these birds every single morning when i stayed in Bombay (followed by New-Bombay) mainly because my amma would feed them at the window. Yes, both the crows as well as the sparrows. But as of today, their frequency of visits has gone down drastically. They seldom show up in the morning. At this rate, we'll be left with those assholes called pigeons who shit on us for being like them.

Right people

It doesn't matter how talented you are if you don't know the right people. There is not a soul out there that could, at any given point of time, claim that they made it on their own. It's humanly impossible. By birth, we depend on others for everything. We only manage to do one thing for ourselves: stay hungry for more. And as time passes by, we learn how to depend on the right people. If you are a brilliant writer but don't have access to an equally brilliant editor/publisher, then your work won't reach the pedestal it merited. More often than not, the greatness of an individual can be measured by what s/he managed to achieve despite the obstacles. But what's usually overlooked is the pattern that these achievements are often goaded by people we never get to see, let alone admired. These are the hawkeyes who spot things before others do. They are the stepping stones of progress. For instance, in the world of entertainment, they are the agents who help make an actor a star and a footballer an asset. These are the "right people" i'm talking about here. Their greatness lies in having the vision to see through a talent. They make you what others call promising. Without them, there'd be no Brad Pitt or Cristiano Ronaldo. Without them, you wouldn't know the difference between the right place and the right time and how to miss neither. Without them, you wouldn't even know your real worth. Without them, you wouldn't know where to expect a nod or a wink from. Without them, you'd miss out on important handshakes, air kisses, hugs, fake laughs and selfies.

The birth of homesickness

If you're asked which is the greatest revolution of all time and you don't reply "That's an easy one. Agricultural Revolution," i'll judge you. Not for your answer—whatever that is, from Industrial Revolution to French Revolution to Russian Revolution to Digital Revolution—but for the grave injustice of misinformation. It'd be like missing the field for a grain. Agricultural Revolution (that happened 12000 years ago) is the reason we are where we are today as a world. Before our ancestors found out the reason to settle down, they were hunters who constantly moved from one place to another. It was the charm of agriculture that sowed the seeds of civilization. If not, we'd still be moving around like a lot of non-agriculturist tribes still do. Although i don't see anything wrong with that, it's worth imagining how our planet would have looked like if our foremothers refused to reside by the rivers. Movement was always there but still, agriculture helped us multiply faster in one particular location bestowing on us a sense of identity and belonging. The hunters were the restless souls who discovered the dark/cold unknown (read: Americas and Australia) so everything took place for a bigger plan—well? Those who wanted to settle settled while those who desired to travel traveled. Whatever be the end result, i strongly feel that we weren't meant to have a monogamous relationship with a place. But then, Agricultural Revolution ensured that we stick to one place for the sake of food and security. Maybe that's why we find it so hard to move on.

To err is error

I get a lot of flak for not pronouncing some Hindi words properly. My h-sound sucks—literally and figuratively. I can't take a stand between khoon and koon or todha or thoda, just like a girl named Alka might get called Halka by me. It's terrible but i'm working on it. To make matters worse, this disorder has seeped into my English as well. I've noticed, on several occasions, my h-sound goes out of the whindow. These are the reasons i prefer to stay quiet when humans gather around me. It's a mental block and forces me to stick to talking to people in private. Which is strange when i openly nurse my ambition of becoming a professor someday soon!

Anyway, i went to hospital this afternoon to get my flat-mate diagnosed. He's not feeling well. I noticed three posters there and couldn't help clicking them. All three of them had copy errors. For someone who writes for a living, it's a given to point out mistakes in others' work, particularly when there's no need to say it out loud! (If that wasn't the case, i'd humbly shut up and look somewhere else.)

OK, let's start from the left. The first poster's first word itself is flawed. It should be INHEN/INHEIN instead of INHE and ZARURAT/ZAROORAT instead of JARURAT. The second poster's first word is flawed again. It should be FOREN/FAURAN instead of PHOREN. Phoren is a corrupted derivative of foreign and means the same in the Indian subcontinent. This is actually ironic when you consider the fact that the poster is inadvertently suggesting the idea of a treatment in a foreign country! The third poster is a masterpiece in bad copywriting. It should be HAIN instead of HAI and the subtext is full of syntax errors. There's an apostrophe after YES instead of a comma and the sentence ends with two full stops. 

I'll stop here at once.

Orange

I must admit (given the rising number of baby pics i've posted on Instagram recently) that i'm kind of obsessed with my niece. She is like the most adorable thing out there. I think we can say that for any lil' kid as long as they aren't yelling at you. Ahalya is a bit different in the sense that she is immensely curious and very prone to breaking into magnetic smiles. She turned 8 months last week and i can only wish health—happiness can arrive on its own terms—to this tiny bundle of joy. Lastly, doesn't she look like an orangutan in the above picture? 

 

PS. I wrote the entire paragraph so that i can get away with that last sentence. Also, imagine a song called Orange by Coldplay.

Touched by shame?

We need to talk more about masturbation. It needs to be brought out of the darkness it currently resides in, all thanks to lousy jokes we crack and warm ignorance we carry. There is no denial that we need to be more open about the facts of life but one of the main reasons why dispensation of knowledge continues to hit the roadblock is we STILL aren't comfortable talking about masturbation. Even those who advocate the significance of sex education somehow cringe when it comes to this touchy topic—no fun intended. Until and unless we don't reach a consensus on the basic facts of life which dictates that you are going to feel things in the netherworld with your hands sooner or later, we are not getting anywhere close to wrapping our heads around decency. What separates us from other living beings is our garment; nothing more, nothing less. That's all. They feel hungry. We do too. They conserve fear. We do too. They are all about survival. So are we. They touch themselves (yup, there are recorded instances of several species that wank off). We do too. They fuck. We fuck around the subject. And that's the problem. But not everything is gloomy to be fair. It's 2016 and we are finally coming to terms with  loads of issues we used to sweep under the rug. Stuff like mental health, climate change, etc. Honest words can do wonder. They come out of you but make you embrace yourself. The more we push them back, the longer we bask in unnecessary guilt. The very purpose of being human is seeking the truth, isn't it? If we only choose to remain in the closet of shame, aren't we fingering evolution by hiding from ourselves? Just asking.

Why give up on love?

Dogs and humans have been together for over 15000 years now. It's been a long, heartwarming, symbiotic and enriching alliance. It's also something that will continue for aeons. If one goes through the nitpicking, there is no denying that we got a better deal out of this relationship. They teach us a lot of things about ourselves more than anything else but to me, the one aspect that stands out is their undying faith. They simply refuse to give up on you. You might be the sanest person in the world. You might be the cruelest person in the world. You might be the funniest person in the world. You might be the ugliest person in the world. You might be the nicest person in the world. You might be the most gorgeous person in the world. You might be anything anywhere anyhow. Your dog doesn't give a shit about that bit. To them, what matters is you and your presence. How or what you are with the world outside doesn't come under their purview. They love you unconditionally and thanks to which, they don't abandon you no matter what happens. However, you might do the same to them someday, like so many people continue to do by leaving their aged dogs in their street to fend for themselves. And if that doesn't shock you, you should listen to the excuses humans come up with: "Oh, he was little and cute in the beginning but then he started to grow..." Yes, as if they were supposed to stay puppies throughout their lives? Morons! There's no compulsion on adopting (yes, adopting is the word, breeding does unimaginably serious damage to their kind) a dog simply because you assume it to be a matter of status symbol. Believe it or not, it's not. If you can't raise another living being, don't get involved. Plain and simple. I sincerely wish this wretched world goes to the dogs—finally. Humans, for the most part, are painfully hopeless.

PS. Continuing with the tradition of unsolicited movie reccos, do watch The Rover (2014)—if you haven't already—to understand a bit more about selfless love.

Drivel

As the days are passing by and i’m getting older and not necessarily wiser, i’m becoming more and more convinced that i was born with a purpose to find a purpose that would make my life a bit more fruitful than originally intended because if i don’t believe in such utter nonsense, there is not much to look forward to in this embarrassingly stupid world of ours where humans assume that nothing would function without them and the planet needs to be saved by us while conveniently overlooking that we are the ones who are in danger of committing mass suicide that will set the clock back on all our collective worldly accomplishments that force us to believe in our superiority on things that don’t know how to escape us—be it the pigs or the cows or the poultry or the thousands of other beings that we’ve enslaved for our selfish sustenance—who, in all honesty, can’t wait for us to get rid of ourselves by doing something remarkably foolish like we were supposed to, in 2012, according to the Mayans.

Sad, isn't it?