Complex

Homo Sapiens Sapiens abbr. Humanity likes keeping things simple. Can't handle complexities, these primeval apes. Bum scratching monkeys, who can hardly differentiate Madonna from Nuclear Fusion, now desire to differentiate the 'Real World' from the 'Imaginary World'. (Morpheus mama would've been prouuud. Extremely!)

Real World Imaginary World, what's the fucking difference, one might ask.

Well waddaya know, there's none.

(The Wachowski Brothers, for god knows what reason, didn't seem to share my views and as a consequence gave the world 'The Matrix Trilogy' which amongst others did wonders at the box office. Guess you can indeed mint money by disagreeing with me. Now there's a revelation!)

On a more serious note, mankind has fallen prey to a reductionist approach to life wherein objects, concepts and even philosophies themselves are understood by breaking them down into constituent parts. The drawback is that one cannot understand, or for that matter even see the way these constituent units interact with each other to make the whole (of the universe or world or whatever) that we exist in.

Similarly, the concept of differentiating the real world from the imaginary world is an exercise to understand two aspects of human existence without considering them as a tightly integrated unit. The real world and the imaginary world are the two constituents of a better world, a more meaningful existence. Two sides of the same coin... One can believe it possible to view everything as something maybe not that simple, but as something seamlessly integrated. A greater concept.

Just the way two numbers - one real, one imaginary, make a complex number.

caged.
like a tiger
in a zoo.
waiting
impatiently.
waiting
to escape.

wisdom
of the ancestors
lost.
buried
'neath the dust.

tiger.
pride
infected.
courage
decapacitated.
spirit
killed.

a longing.
a home forgotten.
wisdom of
ancestors
in their riddle.

"How would you capture a wild animal without killing it's spirit?"
"By being the Earth."

I'm coming.
I'm coming
home.

Benz.
Hate in your eyes.
The indifference.
Friend - an old man.
I remember.
He sells.

Twas' a cloudy evening. The same, the same, very different, far too different. A drop no bigger than an ant fell, from the heavens, almost gracefully into a puddle nearby shooting out tiny droplets as crystal white merged into brown. Gloom was in the air. A street dog two lanes away howled.

Storm?
Hope. Believe. Relieve.
Smile.
Stretch.
Reach out.
Too late.
You're gone.
So are we.
Too late.
Too late.

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Sigh... Joblessness

Jai Crapper Baba: yaaaawn
Jai Crapper Baba: bloggers are dead
Muleshwari Devi: ess maga?
Jai Crapper Baba: blog meets are history
Jai Crapper Baba: and i died today
Muleshwari Devi: ess maga.
Jai Crapper Baba: my spirit is chatting with you
Jai Crapper Baba: in case you didn't know, spirits can hack into yahoo and use messenger
Muleshwari Devi: yayy =D
Jai Crapper Baba: and spirits will have the audacity to ask you if you're still alive
Muleshwari Devi: im not friend
Jai Crapper Baba: really?
Jai Crapper Baba: i did a spirit search in the realm of spirits
Jai Crapper Baba: and it turned up with no results
Jai Crapper Baba: i guess it's the fault of this goddamn windows search application
Jai Crapper Baba: never gives results when needed
Muleshwari Devi: =P
Jai Crapper Baba: sigh
Jai Crapper Baba: i'm going to put this up on my blog
Jai Crapper Baba: nothing else to post

The pleasures are all mine.

If Yeats Was Drunk

He'd have written -

"I being poor have only my beers
And I have spread my beers under your feet
Tread softly
Because you tread on my beers..."

PS : Pronounce beers as "Bee-rs" and not as the regular "Bee-yers"

One fine winter solstice, he met his bittersweet end.

Motorcycle Diaries 2: Coorg

Wake alone in the hills
With the wind in your face
It feels good to be proud
And be free and be a race

That is part of a clan
And to live on highlands
And the air that you breathe
So pure and so clean

Six years ago, two carbon-based human life-forms stumbled across an album by a not-so-obscure British rock band. The album, widely believed to be quite mediocre, held a special place in the hearts and the minds of these then high-school kids. There was something about the song. Something that one could not explain. Something. Something special. But how would they know that what they felt was in fact longing? Too young, too immature, too easily influenced. Time stands testimony. Come 2001, Rio de Janeiro would rock to the tune of this song and 250,000 bodies would sway. That's a different story altogether. But these words are a tale of Medieval Scotland.

When alone on the hills
With the wind in your hair
With a longing to feel
Just to be free

Not alone with a dream
Just a want to be free
With a need to belong
I am a clansman...

Soon, the words were forgotten. The Shadows cast their veil and hid these dreams of belonging, of highlands under cobwebs of time. But little do the shadows know that, at times, they can be denied purpose. All it takes is a vacuum cleaner, sometimes even a broom in the loving hands of a housekeeper will suffice.

Freedom... [x4]

As the lead singer said - "This song is about freedom. It should be something familiar to you all, but which sometimes is not."

The sheer genius of this epoch-making statement just inundates the mind when least expected. The time was ripe, like a mango waiting to be plucked from a tree which had all to offer and wanted nothing in return. Then, exactly one week back, fate played a strange game.

And I know what I want
When the timing is right
And I'll take what is mine
I am the clansman

The words and the dream sprung alive!

Freedom... [x4]

Wonder and mountain air are synonymous. Very. Our protagonists, the two carbon-based human life-forms set out on a lone bike on even lonelier roads. Tea at 0530 hours coupled, inexorably, with a king between the index and the middle.

There are those who live.
There are those who love.
And there are also those who drive stakes through their own hearts, not knowing what else to do.