What follows is a real conversation the likes of which I have had many times, with various friends, in various flavours, and it never ceases to delight me :)
All you socially successful, girlfriend toting, well dressed, well adjusted soon to be rich non and ex techies out there ! You might think you have it all, but you cant match our innocent Wodehousian humor and good natured angst :)
anyway, here goes ! :)
me: why cliff ? taken up rock climbing ?
Comet: no..i want to jump off one
me: why ?
Comet: i screwed up the one chance i got after
(i cant even remember how long)
me: chance at what ?
Comet: a girl (with a tattoo on her arm) walks up to me
and chats me up...
me: WHAT :)
wow
how ?
where ?
Comet: and all i ask her in the end is "are u on facebook"
and she says 'no'
which i take as 'I'm not interested'
and buzz off
but it turns out, she really isn't on facebook
can u believe that
me: ohho
so big deal
talk to her again na
Comet: i need to get out into the real world beyond the Internet
me: :)
yes
but who is she ?
where did you meet her ?
Comet: we had a family/friends get-together and
she was the cousin of a friend..
me: vah :)
so you can easily meet her again na
Comet: i suck man...now i cant even focus on work...
i have no contact of her, unless i ask her cousin..
who will understand I'm hitting on her
me: oh gawd
we are all from the big bang theory man.
we're all from inside the sitcom.
easily we will fit in.
Comet: haha..yeah...
me: what deep and profound problems we have !
what lives and what conversations :)
Comet: i hope i get over her quickly
me: oh god...Im laughing and everyone
in office is looking at me :)
Comet: :D
me too but nobody's looking..most have gone home
to the real world
me: we have to get over girls simply
because they spoke to us :)
Comet: what else are they supposed to do to express interest?
me: Ive got to meet all of you again quickly da..
before you get gfs and wives and settle down
and the magic is gone....
no no....you got me wrong.
we're not supposed to be so desperate
that we have to "get over" a simple
expression of interest :)
Comet: haha..yeah, but my CV on these matters does not
afford me that luxury
I'm desperate by design of nature
me: :D what does that even mean !
Comet: how the f**k can i hold a conversation with
a arts graduate (she was one)
i think I'll sign off gtalk, and bury myself
in work now.
work is worship .. work is worship
bye..
me: oh god :)
and I know what you mean.
I cant talk to them myself..mostly,
they talk rubbish :P
"..Yes I am a Nerd, and when the ancestors of the right honourable gentleman were hoodwinking people with preposterous pomposities in the temples of tomfoolery, mine were erecting the pillars of rationality and empiricism upon which our civilization stands....."
-Something I might have said in the Union Debating Society of St Andrews, but dint.
And please, my friends, No Names in the Comments please !
Thursday, 23 April 2009
Monday, 20 April 2009
"..and oh, The difference to me !"
There is a blogger in my mind. She has been a part of many of my dreams and in each one I come to know her a little better - through her blog, a common friend, a news flash or an internet message board. Ive never interacted with her personally but I seem to have grown quite fond of her. In my last dream however, she died. And turned what was otherwise a slightly strange but intriguing and pleasant dream into a nightmare that woke me up - not with fear (which is common) but with mind numbing sadness (which is not). This is about her. In trying to capture her in words I will try and put down only what I seem to remember and not embellish or do violence to the delicate impression of her I hold in my mind. But putting her in words is necessary, lest I forget.
I seem to think - but Im not sure - that she was from Chennai. English speaking and sophisticated without being less South Indian because of it. I always imagined her in embroidered long kurtas and jeans, unremarkable but pleasant. She must have been 26-27 perhaps, single and living apart from her parents and family. At least, the impression I got was of a comfortable urban loneliness born out of an interesting but independent life. Im not sure what her occupation was, or even what her interests were. I did know however, that she was HIV positive. And her story seemed to start there.
It appeared that she was involved with activism of some kind a few years ago, and that led to some sort of enmity with the local police. Or was it some form moral policing that got her into trouble with the authorities ? It seems possible but Im not sure. But something dark and traumatic happened and in her blogs it always seems to have remained nebulous. In other sources many different stories were talked about, but my mind never seems to have settled on one. Seeing the darkness of her past that seemed to hang over her always, I was more melancholy than curious. The upshot of it was that she ended up HIV positive and the police were somehow, unprovably, murkily - perhaps indirectly - to blame for it.
Her blogs were about her day to day life which was quite pleasant and independent it seems. I associate no bitterness and anger with her, so she must have spoken about her battle with HIV and other daemons without any angst. Nor is it pity that comes to mind when I think of her so she must have come across as an independent self sufficient person. I respect her immensely for these things. There is little else, save that I felt very tender towards her and wanted her to be happy.
In my last dream, I was walking around with a motley cast from various phases of my life in a dark and cold hill station, looking for something but Im not sure what. I was offered roasted corn at a lonely stall by an acquaintance from college (who was in rough outdoor clothes, he had apparently joined some kind of communist insurgency) who said the tattered 5 rupee note he held came from a stash that a recently departed acquaintance of ours had been giving to him for years, to "finance the next revolution". But he did not really care, "Lets have butta" he said. I politely refused. Later, we were having ice cream which I did not like at a open air restaurant which was full but still eerily quiet while a pretty girl I had known years ago at school was flirting across me with some half drunk friend of a friend who had just joined us. Thats when I received a call from a person who I did not really know. He was some gay student I had never met, and he was crying on the phone. He told me that she had died.
I hung up the call, sank to my knees feeling intense sadness, numb, heavy and dark.
And then I woke up.
Disturbed and lonely at 4.54 in the morning.
All very strange and vivid . . .
Who is she ? Is she inspired by some real person ? Why is she in my mind ? but most of all, Why did she die ?
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A Maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love:
A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
--Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.
She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!
I seem to think - but Im not sure - that she was from Chennai. English speaking and sophisticated without being less South Indian because of it. I always imagined her in embroidered long kurtas and jeans, unremarkable but pleasant. She must have been 26-27 perhaps, single and living apart from her parents and family. At least, the impression I got was of a comfortable urban loneliness born out of an interesting but independent life. Im not sure what her occupation was, or even what her interests were. I did know however, that she was HIV positive. And her story seemed to start there.
It appeared that she was involved with activism of some kind a few years ago, and that led to some sort of enmity with the local police. Or was it some form moral policing that got her into trouble with the authorities ? It seems possible but Im not sure. But something dark and traumatic happened and in her blogs it always seems to have remained nebulous. In other sources many different stories were talked about, but my mind never seems to have settled on one. Seeing the darkness of her past that seemed to hang over her always, I was more melancholy than curious. The upshot of it was that she ended up HIV positive and the police were somehow, unprovably, murkily - perhaps indirectly - to blame for it.
Her blogs were about her day to day life which was quite pleasant and independent it seems. I associate no bitterness and anger with her, so she must have spoken about her battle with HIV and other daemons without any angst. Nor is it pity that comes to mind when I think of her so she must have come across as an independent self sufficient person. I respect her immensely for these things. There is little else, save that I felt very tender towards her and wanted her to be happy.
In my last dream, I was walking around with a motley cast from various phases of my life in a dark and cold hill station, looking for something but Im not sure what. I was offered roasted corn at a lonely stall by an acquaintance from college (who was in rough outdoor clothes, he had apparently joined some kind of communist insurgency) who said the tattered 5 rupee note he held came from a stash that a recently departed acquaintance of ours had been giving to him for years, to "finance the next revolution". But he did not really care, "Lets have butta" he said. I politely refused. Later, we were having ice cream which I did not like at a open air restaurant which was full but still eerily quiet while a pretty girl I had known years ago at school was flirting across me with some half drunk friend of a friend who had just joined us. Thats when I received a call from a person who I did not really know. He was some gay student I had never met, and he was crying on the phone. He told me that she had died.
I hung up the call, sank to my knees feeling intense sadness, numb, heavy and dark.
And then I woke up.
Disturbed and lonely at 4.54 in the morning.
All very strange and vivid . . .
Who is she ? Is she inspired by some real person ? Why is she in my mind ? but most of all, Why did she die ?
She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways
- William Wordsworth
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A Maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love:
A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
--Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.
She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!
Wednesday, 8 April 2009
Our Place in the Cosmos by David Deutsch
A TED talk by David Deutsch - brilliant and inspiring. It sort of reinforces and enlarges the point I tried to make in the post below. The guy is obviously a genius.
http://theclarkeorbit.blogspot.com/
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