Monthly Archives: March 2015

The simple things in life of a Marwari.

A very random and offbeat take on happiness.

The simple things in life are the most extraordinary,
like the first of those, seeing mummy around
sleeping beside her, hiding behind her,
Her protection was the first happiness found.
And when the sound of footsteps drew near,
of someone climbing the stairs;
I ran to the door with glee
with few plastic bags papa has come
Happiness was peaking into those bags,
if there was something for me.

Read the rest of this entry

The Speaking Bra.

inspire 2

So, here’s a conversation I came up with, after taking some cue from KC Vlaine’s The Speaking Bra.

Employees night out. Smirnoff, Jack Daniels and Kingfisher. Two shots each. All by myself, I got out of Privy struggling to walk two steps in a row. The drunk walk led me towards Forum Courtyard where the hangover continued. Lights were out. Mannequins still lit. I was swinging by the escalator, when a voice called me out. I was beginning to get into the guilt stage from the hangover stage.

drunk

A voice called me out again. The mannequin is speaking?
“I have not drunk so much that mannequins will call me out!”, I thought aloud.

“It isnt the mannequin, it is what is on it.”
I looked at the mannequin again. I giggled. I laughed.
“The bra is speaking? Hahaha. I will love to stay here then.”

“It is funny, right? An inanimate object is speaking to you. And that too a bra.”
I kept laughing.

“Regardless of whether I speak or not, I am still found funny. I have been reduced to a humour”, the bra said.

Ignoring whatever it spoke, I continued, “If we are actually having this conversation, then please tell me why are you so difficult to take off?”.

“Of course. Difficult to take off. I am a hindrance to your power, to your mardaani. I delay your hormonal imbalance. My purpose is only to be unbuttoned, right?”, it said in a raised volume.

“What do you mean by that? Do I look like a rapist to you?”, I spoke with a stammer.

“Do not talk about rapists. Because I am difficult to take off, I have been tore off. I have been bitten. I have been lashed. I have been thrown away.”, the bra continued after a pause. “But you are no rapist. Of course you’re not. But you belong to a flock whose motto is ‘we won’t rape but we won’t respect either.’ A very few males do not belong to that flock. A very few. Young boys do not belong to that until they come to terms with the ‘utilities’ of the internet. You do not care about all this, do you? Because you are no rapist.”

“I have been a part of several feminine campaigns. I do respect women. It is very wrong on your part to say such a thing.”, the hangover had gone. I stood there, baffled.

“That’s impressing. Participating in feminine campaigns means a lot. Women actually need that. They need support in these campaigns. Because you men can never correct what brings about such campaigns. And what do you do after participating in such campaigns? You go home. Try pulling me off. Curse on how difficult I am to put off? Gentleman, the eye contact we are having right now is the sight you smile at, the most in a day. Any fraction of what is beneath me turns you on. You do not rape. You, collectively, cause rape. Ten of you will get turned on. One of you will lose his mind.”

I replied, “You’re saying anything because I am drunk and I cannot reply much. You…”, the bra cut me in between.

“It will all sound rubbish to you. Whenever a man wraps his arm around her, my button at the back feels her insecurity. Whenever she travels on road alone, my straps on her shoulder sense her burden. Whenever she is in a bus, in a cab, in an environment with all men. her heartbeats run beneath me. Whenever she decides to dress up well, she is reminded of her restrictions when she looks at me in the mirror. Talk about restrictions, what are you doing at 12:25 in a drunk state, 9 kms away from your home? You are not feeling scared? It will all sound rubbish to you. But I do mean a lot to all those 40-50 girls who left early because you men were getting drunk.”

“B.. but.. but..”, I sighed, “I am sorry. What can I do now?”

“You men demand a lot of respect. Reciprocate some. We could all have been white in colour and not be put on display but we are designed in many colours. She buys it. She dresses up for you. Not because she is needy of something, but because she trusts you and loves you. Reciprocate some respect.”

“Sir, you’re not allowed here. Please take the stairs and leave.”, the security guard called out.

“Do you talk to all people who come here?”, I asked the bra.

despair

“Sir, there is no one. Who are you talking to?”, the security guard stood near. I left for home.

The next day was a Sunday and she wanted to come shopping to Forum Courtyard. I willingly agreed. We came to the top floor and got into the same shop just when I saw the same bra being purchased.

“Thank you and sorry. Stay safe. Stay brave.”, I said, looking at the shopping bag the bra was in.

“Yes? Did you say something?, she asked.
“Yes! We’ll go for a drive and a movie tonight? And then a long walk maybe?”, I manipulated.
“Great! Don’t you have office tomorrow?”
“I do. It will be fine!”

She hugged me while I saw the shopping bag being carried out of the store.
I wasn’t drunk this time but I am sure the bra winked at me from inside the shopping bag. That night she felt so happy.

Biryani and Existence.

topic 1God narrates in The Egg by Andy Weir.

“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”

“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”

“Just me? What about everyone else?”

“There is no one else,” I (God) said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”

You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”

“All you. Different incarnations of you.”

“Wait. I’m everyone!?”

“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.

“I’m every human being who ever lived?”

“Or who will ever live, yes.”

“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”

“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.

“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.

“And you’re the millions he killed.”

“I’m Jesus?”

“And you’re everyone who followed him.”

 

I am the person who I sit next to in college everyday. I am Banwari Chacha who lives in Bihar. I am Abhinav Bindra who brought pride to the nation, and I am Ram Singh, who hurt the India’s daughter and let the country down. God told me I am everyone, and everyone is me. How? Why? I cannot be called ‘Everyone’, who am I?

I am an avatar. Everyone is an incarnation. They are all my incarnations, and I am theirs.
A biryani at Yellow Chilli. There’s one taste throughout the pot containing biryani. Each small rice is an incarnation of the one supreme taste. The taste is the soul of that rice. Thus, soul is one. It just has many avatars.

How? All of us are incarnations, which means descent of some supreme being, but descents of which supreme being?

We are incarnations of a seed. Seed from the tree/plant, we know as God. Are we god then? No. We still have to grow through all the seasons, with all the water, sunshine and nutrients.

Seasons, water, sunshine and nutrients are all analogies to experiences which make us grow and each experience is a step towards being Him, being God.

Ask me if this is true or not, and I will ask you what is the purpose of our living then? Ask me what is the use of this, and I will give you a Google search with 41,90,00,000 results all explaining the ‘Meaning of Life.’
When the top managers are busy, they delegate tasks. That is just what God has done. The task of experiencing life has been delegated to us, the avatars. [You teach me science, I will teach you commerce. That way, I cannot convince you but I can confuse you for sure]

Bhagwad Gita says God is the life of all that lives, the seed of all existences and in one sense, everything. Quran says the world is an illusion. For us, it is an illusion. We think the world to be ours. It isnt.

But, I am not convinced myself. If the purpose of our living was only to get back with experiences, then has the human race not lived enough? Is the purpose not fulfilled? Why have the avatars not perished?
If I could answer this, then probably I would have run around my locality saying that I had a telepathy with God. [Many do claim that on India TV!} Obviously! Come to the biryani again. Only I know how much of that will be a good experience for me. And still, sometimes, with that kind of biryani, it is never enough.

But, if we are Avatars of something good, why some of us are bad? Justify the existence of evil.
There are less bad people in the world than we think. BIRYANI. I drool over that dish, But my cousin refuses to even taste it. When he tastes it eventually, he spits it out saying, “How bad does it taste!” I believe you are beginning to get my biryani analogies. [when the blog post is ending]
For the bad people who are really bad, it is what these avatars have chosen to be. Kali Maa killed many before her reckoning came. She chose to be ruthless and then her latter choices make us worship her today.
And if we do not experience bad, I won’t know how much important is good. I won’t drool over the biryani. I would just like it.

So, you are everyone. You are your enemy. You are every Muslim and Hindu and Christian. You are every North-East Indian you call Chinese and hurt them. When you hurt them, you hurt yourself. When you fight them, you fight yourself. I was asked how true this theory is. I believe it to be true because it talks about oneness. The purpose of each of us as incarnations is to just live and experience. Are we doing that enough?
Biryani’s purpose is just to serve us. Our purpose is to serve God. Are we doing that enough?

Hope I justified the idea for this blog post.
Too much gyaan. Too much hunger.

%d bloggers like this: