Sunday, September 28, 2008

Please don't make the sun run. Not you at least!

People need to stop taking themselves so seriously. And imagery about running into the sun only sounds good in well written poetry, as opposed to facebook statuses. Statii would be a cool way of saying statuses, like cacti, or octopi, or loci, or sushi. So put me on a plane and fly me to anywhere. Oh, that was me singing out loud. I’m not big on flying. Especially not in planes. Wings would be a different story though. Of late, I think I’ve become partial towards staying grounded though. Why soar in the sky, when you can sink in the sand? And sinking doesn’t necessarily have to be a heart sinking Pirate Ship induced dip, but just a reality check – dirt under toenails kind of reality. Which is fine, and great. Unrealistic expectations don’t usually get us places. The overactive imagination theory probably only works when you’re a kid.

In class 5, we had to take a true or false test which had the most bizarre of questions on it:

“It is good to have an over active imagination”

Instinctively, I marked True, thinking how my imagination had made my childhood what it was (so much more amazing than your dull one, I’m sure :D), at the same time wondering why anyone would make such a ridiculous and self evident MCQ in the first place! Marking my answer sheet, I sat with a know-it-all grin on my face. At discussion time however, the teacher said, the answer was False, and went on a spiel of how if we imagined a UFO invasion in the class room, our learning ability would be hindered and thus, an over active imagination was a bad thing. I rolled my eyes in my head.

When I grew up, I realized what Teacher Shaheen had meant that day. An overactive imagination may give you unrealistic expectations about life. Make you believe things you wouldn’t have otherwise believed in. Make false true and true false.

However, the power of one’s mind mustn’t be underestimated. At the end of the day, you decide. To believe or unbeleive. To take control or lose control. Now that I’m coming back into academic mode, I got thinking about the summer, and the Evil 6.


Mind over Matter, she told me, as we were wading in the murky pool, on a post-monsoon morning. Most illnesses, bodily conditions, even madness - are a state of mind. And we have full control over ourselves if we can control our minds. I wrote a paper on madness for my psychology course, and studied the anti-psychiatry movement which basically argued for ‘natural’ ways of healing madness, which was a social condition rather than a mental one, influenced by one’s childhood, family and upbringing rather than inexplicable maladies. So rather than putting a ‘madman’ in a cage, or a muzzle, you let him be. The anti-psychiatry ward was a house, with bedrooms, a kitchen, a lounge and open doors and windows. Patients lived there, ate, slept and asked their assistants for medicine, but were never told to do anything, were never forced to go anywhere or kept in isolation. They were left to their own devices. They would go for walks and return to sleep in their own beds. They were the cure for their own madness. One patient, distressed with her life and in a ‘growing-up’ denial, could never keep a stable job due to acute depression. Once admitted in the ward, she stripped her clothes, and lay in her room in a fetal position for days, like a baby. When she got up, she was a changed person and went back to work as a professor. She had cured herself.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Cracking up.

On BBC news:

Mr Zardari told her (Sarah Palin) she was "gorgeous", adding that he understood why many Americans "are crazy about you".


You should've seen the Cheshire cat grin on his face while he was shaking her hand.


Monday, September 15, 2008

Written on a Blues-y Monday.

I seem to remember.
Triangular paper

Not a hat, nor a ship,
A crane or a swan
Tear a strip off; taper
The game must go on

Of little scraps of paper folded 8 times over.
Not a hint, nor a peek
Draw an arrow
Don’t dare speak.

A perfect rectangle
A smooth glossy cover
Faded ink spells out
A message to discover.

Actions speak louder,
But may be forgot
Words last forever;
Like a deep paper cut.

Although flames fascinate
We choose to blot
out, these meaningless sentences
This proverbial rot

It may take a while,
Dragging my feet in this mire
To set it ablaze,
Extinguish all desire.

But what can I say,
I guess I’m afraid of fire.

Tuesday, September 09, 2008

I start to paint today.

This is a tribute to all those people who have the knack of invariably ordering the worst food on the menu. Who can never choose between orange and apple juice and end up with guava. Who are masochists when it comes to mouth ulcers, in-growns and scabs. Whose hair always smells nice, who bathe daily (or more than once a day at times) and still love talcum powder. Who dare to wear red on their toes and tips in spite of not having the fairest skin on the block. Who have never misspelled a word except for rhythm/rythm and friend/freind. Who banish tasty, befreind crazy. Drink the water/brine that comes in the can of tinned corn. Are not ashamed of choosing ninja turtles over barbies, but could never become tomboys, for reasons beyond their control. But are proud of being the best toe pinchers ever!