Oozing yeastly benevolence

This spring morn
As I sprang anon
Outta the bed
The roses were red
and thorns very few,
beaming at all
bemused at it all,
Had to do the world some good 
broke into a song : Norwegian Wood
for the chin was dripping a familiar substance,
it was another attack of yeastly benevolence.

Knowing not the awaiting hiccup
my life was an aromatic tea-cup

ready for work, leapt into the motor car
started it rowdily, singing "I am the Czar"
outta my mind with this beastly joy
called the boss just to say 'howdy, boy"
in the mirthfull madness
winked at an old governess
her steely stare was of no avail
I forgot every tale of my travail

A beggar I gave a  huge currency
he secretly thought it sheer lunacy
I kissed my old peon's hand
made him happy without a wand

my joy knew no bounds
I was a playful greyhound
I sang many a song
all ending in ding dong
twas fine till I saw my wife glare
my benevolence turned to despair. 

Moral : 
Whenever a man turns mundane
A woman  keeps him sane.

Why do women make such lousy drivers

Women make rotten drivers.

The reasons are not difficult to find. Basically, every woman has has a fascination for mirrors and she adores adoring her adorable self   in every mirror, be it at home, in a car, or even in a train. Its every self-respecting woman's habit peer into the rear view mirror at regular intervals and reassure herself that she is simply too beautiful. Who says Rear-view mirrors are meant to be used only for busy road traffic ?

Mouse-click now to a reality-check. Given their obsession with mirrors, and the delicate sensitive dispositions, besides the harsh requirements of driving, women are not, one feels, really suited to the difficult task of driving. Driving on the roads, these days, is not an easy job, be it in Delhi, Los Angeles, Milan or Colombo. Car driving requires a lot of dexterity, patience, physical stamina, power, mental agility, correct estimation, practice and to an extent a 'devil-may-care' attitude. Ruthlessness is the name of the game here. It is clearly a man's domain into which women have, to a large extent, intruded. Women drivers, being the same breed everywhere, need to be viewed with care, caution and extra precaution.

Talking about caution, being an over-cautious driver is not good too. What would you think about an over-careful lady driver who is highly strung, over-sensitive and prone to jitters ? Her foot would always be on the brake, which she would stomp on, way too often. With soft beautiful trembling hands behind the wheel, she is too self conscious as a driver. One needs to be rough and confident (to the point of being arrogant) as a driver. Having good knowledge of traffic rules is one thing, but being a petrified driver is quite another.

Whenever I see a woman driver behind the wheels, I mutter to myself.."Careful, buddy, here comes trouble." I go into the emergency-mode, become alert, back off, and try to stay as far from her as possible, for you never know when she may swerve, hit my car and start blaming me for it while crying her pretty head off. She has many interests while driving, like the mobile phone, her purse, her lipstick and the FM radio, the top priority being the rear-view mirror which she coyly uses as a self-view-mirror.

Women are sympathy-driven, emotional, moody, "feeling" souls who are possibly best suited to brainy professions like medicine, psychiatry, research, teaching, training, accounting, media and office HR jobs, among others.  They are not really suited (generally speaking) to tough masculine jobs as in factories, the armed forces, security, police, investigation, field-marketing, manual labour, construction work or lorry driving. Or even simply driving.

Women are very sensitive, and would go to any extent to save a stray dog or cat on a busy road, even if it means hitting another car, or even causing a multi-car pile-up! She believes in being kind to animals. Full stop.

Then there is another major danger with woman-drivers. Any man-driver into whose focus, a lady-driver's car enters, instinctively tucks in his tummy, raises his stooping shoulders, sits erect, and even starts nodding his head like a Dev Anand or Shahrukh, while pretending to stare nonchalantly on the road ahead, whereas actually his beady eyes are riveted on her. This lapse in concentration on his part can be deadly on the roads. It can even kill poor by-standers. Therefore, ladies should understand the intricacies and surrender the job of driving to Men. Besides they should know better than to sully their fair hands in lowly tasks like driving, when they can easily queen it on the rear seats, and let the men do the dirty work.......They are certainly meant for higher roles.....

One may go so far as to suggest amending the Motor Vehicle Rules to mandate that a woman driver must be accompanied by a licensed man-driver. No offence meant to anybody, it may just help save scores of lives......

Falling in love

Falling in love is actually a disease of the mind. A much over-rated over-glorified phenomenon which is, in reality, a powerful malady that afflicts many, it strikes in devious, stealthy and unethical ways, somewhat like a dacoity. In fact it may not be erroneous to call it a dacoity of the mind, since it numbs the senses, smashes the intellect and makes one a dithering idiot. Its medical side-effects include nervousness, paranoia, depression, dizziness and sluggishness. Other psychosomatic illnesses associated with love would include insomnia, hallucinations and irritable-bowel-syndrome (IBS). Continued for long it can lead to High blood pressure and heart disease besides general debility. It is most harmful for mankind since it weakens the spirit and leads to millions of lost man-hours. Youngsters go about the whole day day-dreaming, romanticising, writing nauseating poetry, mobile messaging or simply idling away their time. All wasters of potentially productive hours, of the golden youthful days when the young ones should be building their health, discipline and character.  Its not for nothing that the phrase goes ‘falling in love” not “rising in love.” How can then, it be elevating, nourishing, useful or beneficial. In fact Love saps one's strength, leaving one confused and jittery, wondering whether “She loves me, she loves me not.” 

A mental ailment, Love's physical side-effects are deplorable too. Love is an unhealthy practice that sullies both the pureness of the mind and the body. Meditation, chanting Aum, or simply exercising are infinitely better. Romantic love even downgrades one's thinking ability and logical rationalising process. A besotted lover becomes impervious to the world, and in that sense, becomes reclusive, unsocial and blind to anything beyond his love. Since love blurs the mind-vision, it shows mirages where there are pit-falls and rainbows where there are mud-puddles. Not able to think clearly or take good decisions, the person "in love" cavorts hither and thither like a deranged animal. He can beat many a swine at being asinine. His focus shifts to wasteful and undesirable activities. He becomes a whiner, and is willing to be a meek slave or a dog; to the "love of his life" for the rest of his life. Needless to add, he loses all self-respect, and courts misery, for human love is the cause of much pain. One should also not forget the countless misguided couples, who run away from home, or commit joint-suicide, all in the name of Love. To cap it all, a break-up after a love-marriage is all the more saddening. Love is many times the creator of discord ill-will and rifts. In fact violent wars have been fought over a "loved one." What good, is then, such love ? Perhaps the only good of Romantic love is that it sells in movies.

When a love-struck man finally musters the courage to tell a woman he truly "loves her" and awaits her response like a wretched expectant dog, it is not really her that he loves or likes. It is his liking for her body (mainly), her intellect (partially) or her camaraderie (fully). Take away these three and see if he truly loves her soul. Or her innate personality. Or her-self for what she stands for. The man would probably yawn and look like this :-

What men regard as love is nothing but anatomical desire, fond-companionship, respect for the way the woman treats his old parents or family, or simply empathy and sympathy..

In fact Falling in love, being a heinous crime, should be made a cognizable offence, punishable by parents or elders. After marriage the “love” of most love-birds goes down the drain within the first year, leading to unimaginable woe and pain, therefore love should not be considered as a pre-requisite for marriage. In fact in most arranged marriages the couples have been found to be more adjusting, and more content. 

Come lets all us rational people beware of 'Falling in Love' and throw the concept of mushy romantic deep sentimental love out of the window. 

Lets concentrate on loving one's parents, life, friends, neighbours, the world, and the Creator.........

WHO AM I

I am what remains when One minuses from Oneself, the body, the attributes, the worldly manifestations, the looks, the ego, the self-awareness, the perceptions, the vanity, the thoughts,  the brain and the mind......Mind you, the mind or body or clothes alone do not represent one (me). It is the lack of such inherent and manifested facades that determines whether what is ultimately left of One me is truly worthy and benefecial. 

"Visualize what may remain, after deducting all the attributes from one's persona,"  thus asked the wise old owl from the sagacious sage.

The sage owlishly replied :  "Perhaps auras, memories and desires and innermost feelings do remain, once nothing is left, as they have been percolated into our worldly world, at the deepest levels, i.e. in the minds of people. That can provide an answer to what really constitutes one.

Accumulated memories, a pot-full of desires, an Aura and some feelings are about all that really constitutes me. Not flesh and blood, which is just a facade, and which gets converted into mere ash upon dying...But again pops up a question, is the facade a real facade or just plain reality, for we all live by facades ..... but live real lives too, and living is a reality! Or so it seems to be. The illusionary nature of reality borders on reality itself. For some of the illusions are very real.  To me, my blood and bones are real and not just an illusion. Physical pain is also very real, and it really hurts. mentally I cant say, for I dont don that Mantle. Life is thus a beautiful matrix of illusions and realities. But life becomes truly meaningful only when value is added to What We Inherited.  Doing tough tasks and becoming something, with hard-work, struggle, grit, perseverance sweat and skill results in Getting over the pain and hurt and it can be a rewarding cycle. It makes a man a Man, and the rewards are real, not an illusion."

Coming round to myself, I can owlishly say that if I could nurture just One talent or ability of mine, say if I could start playing the banjo or harmonium or flute professionally, or teach Differently-abled children to play any of these, then I would have added value to what the Creator gave me at birth, i.e. an ear for music.  That talent would then live on and on after my death, and be the source of Memories, mirth, moods and magical auras.......afresh... so that the cycles can continue and people can recall who I was.

I AM PERFECT. MADE PERFECT.

This is no egoistic utterance or an idiots delusion. The All or the Is has, in his/their/her/its Unique wisdom and all-encompassing justice, made me a perfect human no doubt having many lacunae, but ,ALONGWITH those lacunae, a Perfect Human, for my circumstances. Or it may be said that For my circumstances I have been made perfectly suitable to live in those conditions. Call it conditional perfection, for absolute perfection can only be in the All.

I, a chronic stammerer, a wastrel, a short-tempered split personality with depression disorder, a lazy bum and a moody unhealthy idiot, am nevertheless perfect in my imperfection, for on the positives, I can play instrumental music, am reasonably qualified, think good of all, and moreover retain a sense of humour (lack of which, produces, hence a tumour). So why crib, about myself.


I'm perfectly human, inspite of my frailties , frivolities faults, foolishness and failures. And its only human that I gravitate towards further mis-deeds like lying compulsively,  eating wrong foods, thinking wrong thoughts, oversleeping, stealing, ogling women, having binge-drinking bouts, doing selfish acts, and generally behaving in rotten cheap stupid and evil ways....not bothering about the All in All...at all. Then am I really Perfect ?

The answer seems to be that in my (conditional) perfection, I seek Imperfection, as a classic case of Perfection seeking Imperfection, for opposites do attract, like magnets.

But somewhere inside, it is the realization of being imperfect and the calm acceptance of the state of permanent imperfection, that itself is a pointer that one is on the right track, and aware of the Perfection one, the All.

So each one of us, Animal Kingdom, Plant Kingdom or Humankind, is a perfect being, just like a deer, a radish, a cockroach or a man. Lets realize IMPERFECT = I'M  PERFECT.   So one should never compare oneself with others. Comparisons are not required since they can create havoc and imperfections.

A tale of two cities : Mumbai and Delhi

Born and brought up in Delhi I, would not leave it for anything in the world.

Mumbai seems much better than Delhi, because here people have not yet become apathetic and insensitive to others. Some semblance of empathy and considerateness still exists here. No doubt it is a difficult city to survive in, considering the travelling time involved, the mixed hues of varying cultures and religions coexisting in this mad city, the chawls amidst the mansions, it is only mad, not insane like Delhi. Mumbai is definitely more beautiful, more cosmopolitan and better mannered than Delhi. Businessmen do business like business, not the wheeling-dealing which Delhi businessmen often resort to. Delhi businessmen are known to be unreliable, wily and prone to cheating. In fact they wouldnt even trust themselves! No Gujarati or Maharashtrian likes to do business with a Delhi businessman for these reasons. In the "capital" Delhi, the Guardians of law (including the police) are not free from this all-pervasive system of manipulation cheating and corruption and we, Delhi-ites are the hapless stoic observers of this state of affairs!

On the one hand Delhi-ites profess to worship the female deity-Devi Mata, and simultaneously top the world in constituting the Rape capital of the world. Leave aside girls and women, even children, both boys and girls, are not spared here. No one feels safe in Delhi, after 7 PM. One is saddened to live in Delhi, but it is unavoidable. Comparatively Mumbai is safer for women and there they get the respect and privacy they rightfully deserve! Sex-starved people of Delhi consider it their right to ogle any woman from 16 to 60, apart from their own kith and kin. When their own kith and kin gets eve-teased, then they go mad with anger. What horrible hypocrites, Delhi-ites have become. Conscience is sadly, a dead duck in Delhi and Delhi has become a city of "living corpses", who go through the motions without feeling anything. It is only during elections that Delhi comes alive to the beat of lying politicians, only to return to its state of  living corpses again. Delhi is a curious mix of Punjabis, South Indians, immigrants and a host of other categories, but all have become equally de-sensitised to any human and humane feelings.

Traffic snarls of Delhi are something to be seen to be believed. While driving in Delhi Traffic, its a crazy impetuous race, and let the other person be damned. Or even killed ! Better killed ! Thats how inhuman we have become. While marrying in Delhi, one has to show off what one is not, and gift at least a good high-end car  in a daughter's marriage. The marriage must be hugely opulent, expensive and maharaja-style, since Show-Value is valued more than intrinsic value. Lavish should be the description. Even after all this financial strain, pain and effort in the marriage, the newly wed bride is liable to be burnt alive by greedy in-laws who are hungry for much more !  The only language respected here is the language of money. Even Black Money is enormously respected here. The only people who feel safe are the police, politicians, and the property-dealers in sparkling white shirts and white pants. Alarmingly toxic pollution levels, highly corrupt governmental machinery, impure water and air, disrespect towards one-and-all, and generally poor living conditions mark the Delhi of today.

The Life-line of Delhi, the Yamuna river is now just a smelly drain, polluted by ashes of the cremated, garlands and other religious stuff. Delhi's dirty drinking water leaves everyone, especially tourists with gastro-enteritis. Early risers and morning-walkers are greeted with mosquitoes, flies and polluted air as they step out at 6 AM for some "healthy" morning exercise. First-time visitors to the grand historic city of Delhi are greeted with mountains of stinking garbage on all entry points whether they arrive by road or rail. Preserved monuments like Humayun's Tomb and Qutub Minar too are regularly littered with plastic, bottles, bags, and  garbage. Earlier invaders ravished and ravaged Delhi nine times, now we Delhi-ites are doing the same to its environment, culture and ethos. Rich pompous pests from Punjab, Hooligans from Haryana and Goons from Ghaziabad have entered Delhi and made it their home..In Parliament sessions, the MPs make a mockery of the established legislative system by behaving like illiterate goons. Goondas and gun-men rule the city, today.  Lutyen's Delhi is sadly a Luti-Hui Delhi now, probably no longer fit to represent India as its capital.

Mumbai on the other hand is relatively honest, and a taxi-wallah still gets satisfied with twenty two rupees only, without haggling for two hundred like Delhi. In Delhi the Taxiwallahs and Autowallahs fleece the visitors with no limit to their greed. That is if they spare the female customers from their unbridled lust. Mumbai is already the financial and business capital of the country, and considering it is more educated emancipated and erudite it can easily represent as the capital of Emerging India.

Born and brought up in Dirty Deplorable Dangerous Decadent Delhi, I am however still under its hypnotic spell, and would not leave it for anything in the world.