Sadly...

The chances are remote that this blog will ever grow to up to see what it was once destined to be.

The Search for a New Superhero

I know of friends who feel disoriented and depressed without keeping a crush. The harmless sort; the ones way above your league and who can hardly reciprocate the same frantic breathlessness that they experience in the chosen crush's proximity. Some of the idiots I know have managed to get hooked irreversibly to the said seemingly unreachable target - often a tragic outcome of completely misjudging (1) their own true level or (2) the desperation of the guy/girl who had been a single loser for years.

I like to invoke a similar shameful obsession, and that's to think of my idols.

My list is not unique. I am certain friends in my own circle share my favourites. And I have written about them occasionally not only on this blog but also on other media. On days when I feel down or when I really don't feel like going out or reading a book, when I don't feel like expressing my views on the latest debate on facebook (that's the state of affairs these days), I close my eyes and recall...an exquisite off-backhand from Roger, or a flick of the hand from Michael, or an on-drive from Sachin's bat or a birdie from Tiger at the US Masters, or the beauty and layered complexity of Artemis' ingenious plan or the fine strokes of genius on Leonardo's notebooks or a jugalbandi between Bhimsen Joshi and Rashid Khan or a Bach composition or some immortal lines from Byron...for that time, whether sprawled on my bed after a hard day at the office or sitting in a boring routine party, I lose track of time. I lose track of the world. I feel ecstatic and almost constantly belittled.

It's only natural that the heroes you grow up with rear their ugly imperfections sooner rather than later. In the case of sports persons, there is a power decline that is painful to watch. The older maestros retain their magic but it's difficult to extract a sense of exhilaration or addictive climax. And then, they will retire. I envy the people who support teams in the various football leagues for this reason. Even if United fans eventually face the heartbreak of becoming a mid-table team, they can live out their lives with a love that was borne out of passionate romance in the time of great success. Yeah, it actually works like that.

(As I write this piece, Roger is losing, somewhat expectedly, to Rafa Nadal. Nadal is rock solid as usual but it's Roger who's making the crucial mistakes)

Michael Jackson is long dead and Artemis Fowl has run his course on the print circuit. I need someone who can surprise and inspire me again.

The GOAT

So, who's going to be my next living idol?

Change

For far too long have I carried the insufferable burden of the past.

I have punished my senses incessantly over my transgressions. Subjugated my true nature in the name of compromise. For far too long have I concealed the evils that have beleaguered my life. Misfortunes have plagued me; I refuse to rot in the muck anymore.

Pain is a wise teacher. It is a cruel teacher. It is when you are an inch away from dementia and permanent neurosis that you receive the lesson which disengages your mind from the fiction of urgency. From the illusion of goodness.

I have found myself again.

Poocho Na Kaise Maine Rain Bitai

Life's been killing me from all sides but I think there is still enough space for a small footnote to be made in memory of Manna De.

Manna De's second on my list of favourite singers of all time and he's definitely the best mainstream voice for a semi-classical song we've ever had. Laaga chunri mein daag has been shared by many friends so I spent a good 15 minutes debating my pick from his immense discography. For a few moments I wondered if I should act smart and put in a romantic number that people know of but don't readily associate with him. Then I speculated on putting in a duet with Rafi (Manna De sang the most number of duets in his career with Rafi, by the way). I figured I shouldn't do that today and that the following song can be a worthy snapshot of his gargantuan contribution to Indian Music.

Poocho na kaise maine rain bitai, Raag Ahir Bhairav

Requiescat in Pace

A man lives in a cruel world. He lives in constant fear of failure and the even larger fear of social rejection. He wants to conform to the expectations of his peers but he cries when he's alone. The worst off are those of us who are misplaced by harsh strokes of fortune - it is impossible to set yourself right in the ocean of humanity. Some people are born to suffer. Others suffer when they take steps to come closer to the ones they love. For some, you can hardly say where they went wrong.

You may claim to need only some money, you may say you wish to study for eternity or that you have the luxury to do what you like. How many of us can say that there isn't a repressed dream buried under a mountain of denial and a fair sprinkling of "success"? How many of us have the courage to face a truly horrid reality - that we have lost almost all what we once desired?

Some people, then, are set in the right direction. The others paddle frantically to catch the right current. God bless them all.

I always wondered when I'd get to use the posh sounding Latinized version of RIP. I didn't know life could be so cruel. I wasn't intending to write an eulogy but today I found myself feeling something which Prateek told me about.

There are others far more qualified to speak of Prateek. There were his department batch mates, his quizzing partners, several boisterous personalities and surely many more outside the realms of Roorkee.

Prateek was a friend. He wore a smile on his face at all times. He had a garb of contentment and satisfaction. He was a great quizzer. That's all I know. And that's what I'll ever know.

But more than that, today I could feel that suffocation - that panic at facing an ugly maze of uncertainty and helplessness. And then, that dark and depressing reality of life - time moves on and all you can do is flail at the dreams which were most alluring. Which were lovely to contemplate and which were soothing to the senses. Those which brought a cool and calming breeze to an overloaded forehead. And then they were gone forever.

Imagine being prisoner to this damning indictment of life.

The last chat I had with Prateek was when he contacted me on Whatsapp. Here's a transcript,

19:47, 6 Dec 2012 - ‪+91 84 39 695120‬: You too frust with work ?
-Prateek
21:15, 6 Dec 2012 - *: Yeah man. A lot of times
21:38, 6 Dec 2012 - ‪+91 84 39 695120‬: I can understand . Life is short man. Do what you want yo
21:38, 6 Dec 2012 - ‪+91 84 39 695120‬: To*

Haaris' Weekly Round-up 10

I hate Sundays. They're the little fiends who make you realize you've got nothing going in your life. They're the insouciant critters who make you sleep a little more than usual and give you body pain and arrested movement in return. And Sundays are responsible for making Mondays so unbearable; lulled into a false sense of freedom you are pushed back into the workhouses.

Nothing has changed

This week's HWR has some tennis (the US Open is on) and some other random links:

1. A brooding article on the inevitable decline in Roger Federer's tennis. Great read.
2. On the more positive side, here's an attempt to mentally simulate a match between Federer and Sampras (both at their respective peaks). You may also read a very old post on Federer written by yours truly.
3. Sinkholes are rare occurrences in India because people don't recognize them for what they are. I once recall an elderly couple beaming with happiness when their puja was disrupted by a sinkhole that developed in front of their eyes. Their explanation? "Dharti maa phat gayi!" [Mother Earth has, err, blown up]. Read this great article on National Geographic explaining what conditions lead to the formation of sinkholes and do look at this mind blowing picture of a sinkhole in Guatemala.
4. Recommendations on non-mainstream sci-fi shows on TV. And, if you've missed it, my take on science fiction as art.
5. Elon Musk's transportation panacea is predated by more than a century of development on pneumatic transport. The history in a nutshell.

Sleep is a great drug. Use it well. Happy Sunday!

Ramblings of a Restless Mind

Life has slowed down since the hitherto hectic times of managerial training and manic breakdowns. There was a time when I was liaising with a German manufacturer, obeying the lords above me (Head Office), appeasing a disgruntled and increasingly volatile union and scolding some desi repair contractors. Now, all I do after a couple of hours of routine work is read manuals on different equipment, and college textbooks to strengthen my mechanical engineering. Some big ticket projects are lined up but they are almost 45 days away and the economic slowdown is creating all sorts of problems with my earlier profligate multi-crore budget. Even the consolation of getting a raise within a year of joining (crossing the psychological barrier of a monthly INR six figure salary post tax) elicited a short lived euphoria that was numbed by the fact that I have no real expenses.

Another spurt of happiness was provided by getting published in a prominent journal. The achievement brings a lot of relief - a considerable amount of time was spent in weighing minuscule quantities of salts - and a touch of triumph. Not so much of happiness though. There is a lingering sense of incompleteness. Therein lies another path in front of me, barely touched but greatly loved and it begets a series of thoughts that raises far more questions than answers. 

The pursuit of happyness brings new epiphanies and a fair bit of cognitive dissonance. It punishes procrastination and fear in the human world (a tad too severely at times) but brings a fresher perspective on life. Pain gives way to wisdom. Wisdom tempered by fierce hope and courage. Only time can tell if it has been too late to recover fully.

************

Dullness does bring out some positives. Free time can be used judiciously in getting all sentimental about Space Ghost. Man, that was one heck of a cartoon.

I have seen every cartoon that was ever aired on Cartoon Network since 1995 and I've loved most of them. It was mainly through cartoons that I learnt to speak English (Toon Tamasha was a travesty) and that combined with tonnes of books made for great friends.

It's surprising, then, that I never really saw any Sitcom in my time at college. I've seen three episodes of Friends and some seasons of BBT and HIMYM but really nothing with a lot of passion or addiction. I was trying to catch hold of some good recommended shows on Sci-Fi but I really don't foresee a change in my habits. (I have to complete a sequel to my sci-fi post though).

************

My birthday came and instead of lifting my spirits almost crushed it to inhuman proportions. It was low key and I slept through most of the day before taking some colleagues out for dinner. Thanks for the gifts, people!

Extra money isn't always a bad thing. With all that cash I was able to buy myself a remote powered helicopter. A toy Ferrari was gifted later as well. For three thousand bucks and a few heart stopping crashes I had finally conquered the skies. Not to mention the tiles too.

***********

I am working on a couple of projects in office that are sort of exciting. The biggest challenge in the factory is handling people at least 10-25 years older than you - all different but very dignified - so that no one really requires your presence in the long run. That's one thing that has interested me a lot (more in a coming post). I am also looking at introducing dynamic manufacturing in the workplace and that's a project that's going to take a while to complete. Some other work is related to chemical engineering (that's my branch FYI) and some others on creative cost cutting. I am planning to introduce a feature on my blog that talks about these projects in detail through analogies. Also included will be explorations I made in college for contests or projects or for fun that were pursued subsequently. Watch this space for more.