Make Sense

Darkness envelops the universe.

Light is scattered, sources few and far in between.

Lifeless.

Then there’s the earth…

There was a time when life couldn't see, evolutionarily speaking.

Supported by a sun, it harnessed this energy and propelled itself into more complex beings- one tentative DNA strand at a time.

But it couldn’t see.

Until enough tentative dna strands got together- probably high on an excess of this life business- decided to try something inconceivable. Form organs that could experience this light, in a way no one else bothered to try.

The first eyes- imagine how they saw the world.

It was ugly.

You see, life wasn't dressed for the occasion.

It was busy smelling nice and tasting nice it didn't know it had to look nice too. Eventually though, perhaps through natural selection, the world became prettier. Flowers blushed, birds began shaking their tail feathers etc.

And we reach where we are today, in evolutionary terms.

Life has spread its roots through quite a few mediums, sight, smells, taste, touch and hearing, some combine these senses to get their unique experience of the world, bats and dolphins with echolocation, rattlesnakes with their smelling tongues and sharks with their ability to translate electricity.

But what if life isn't done yet?

What if there is another sense as plausible as sight, as painstakingly obvious and as surprisingly inconceivable as it too.

Life is connected to the universe in a way intelligence cannot fathom.

Imagine. If enough tentative DNA strands got together- probably high on an excess of this life business again- decided to try something inconceivable once more.

Imagine. If they tapped into another medium altogether.

Imagine us opening our proverbial eyes of that new sense for the first time.

To witness again, life in all its ugly, naked glory.

Starry Eyed Legacy.

It is innate in humanity to build a legacy for itself.

Well, it isn't a purely human proclivity; after all, every living being tends towards leaving a biological legacy.

Rabbits do it much better than Pandas do.

But since the human animal (also driven by pelvic thrusts) has an ability to question its existence, it also feels the need to leave a mark on the rest of humanity.

Most are content with being remembered by their family, some by their community, fewer still want the world.

After we cover those pesky lower echelons that Maslow so conveniently stacked for us, we try building something that will be remembered.

Well, what if I said each one of us leaves a lasting legacy, and all that is required of us is our mere existence?

Yes, no need to try to rule the world with your Chaplin-esque moustache, or use your grey-haired genius to discover relativity.

All you need to do is to be born, crying your lungs out after being pushed out of your living quarters like a bum who hasn't paid his rent.

At least that’s what the stars say...

Some of those you see twinkling away in on a moonless night have actually been extinguished millions of years ago.

They still twinkle because the light they had emitted a million years ago reaches us now- a benefit of being situated a million light years away from us.

Now what if we stood on that star, a million light years away?

(Aside from being rotisserated) We would see the earth like that star, as it was a million years ago, T-rexes bullying the other dinosaurs, overcompensating for their small hands.

So that means somewhere in the universe, those dinosaurs are still alive, their lives chronicled in light.

If we were to move away from the earth faster than the speed of light (pesky grey haired genius said we can’t) and reach, say 130 light years away, we could see Hitler being born. 

130 light years and 9 months away, we could see Hitler’s parents conceiving their abomination.

Even if you were to move your age’s worth of light years away from the earth, you could see your inglorious self being born.

Our every action, from our birth to our death is chronicled by light and witnessed by the universe.

Now if that isn't a legacy, I don’t know what is.

Her Seduction

It started when I was a kid- her strange fascination with me. Being the prude that I am, I resisted her attentions. Not that I didn't look at her, or maybe even sniff her every once in a while, but I didn't want to be tied down, not sure if I even liked her.

Then came those awkward teenage years, when hormones were literally oozing out. I confess I flirted with her every once in a while, but I still didn't go all the way. There was bound to be someone hotter out there.

My friends thought I was stupid, I obviously had something she liked, what harm could come from it? And the way she threw herself on me, I could even get lucky... But I resisted(#goodyboy).

Then came college.

The last vestiges of teen age still clung onto me, I grew faster than my clothes could catch up. but she... she had blossomed into a goddess.

One day I saw her sexy, dark form lying naked on a bed of white.

I said damn, I've got to get me some of that!

That's how writing finally got what she wanted.

You've been KLPD'd. :P

Go on, have a cold shower.

Lights Out

It had been a long time since I watched the sunset.

What better use of my extended vacation than to gather inspiration from watching the sun strip-off its bright clothing, and go skinny-dipping in the deep blu...err...greyish sea.

I intended to wax lyrical about each wave emptying itself on the shore, the sun melting into the horizon, while pretty little plastic bags scuttled to and fro ... you know ... deep meaningful stuff.

However, a sudden rise in the tide drove out a few creatures hitherto hidden from view.

A Casanova; wiry and with an upturned collar, helped his blushing belle scamper out of their love nest. Now that the water had reclaimed the path they had taken to the love nest, there was only one way out.

They had to make the climb of shame. Slowly negotiating tetrapods, in plain sight of the general boulevard population.

My fellow onlookers included sari-clad behemoths who clucked disapprovingly while their linen held their bellies hostage. A few meters away from them, sat penis pinchers- self-pleasuring men who kept count of the women passers-by, by pinching themselves when they passed.

Everyone turned their attention to the climbers. I watched them struggling- hopping onto one tetrapod, ambling past the next one. Everyone hoped in unison that they would slip and land on their backsides

Steadily they climbed, before I realised it, they were in front of me, all that stood between them and me was a tiny chasm. Casanova reached out his hand. Everyone stared at me now. I wondered where his hand had been.

As I pulled him to safety, I felt the stares on me. I had robbed from my fellow viewers the sadistic pleasure of watching Casanova falling into the water.

He pulled his girl to the boulevard, they walked away, and everything returned back to normal. Penis pinchers maintained an impressive pace, aunties belched, while the sea quietly extinguished the light.

It still has been a long time since I watched the sunset.

Elbows and Apologies

Trains. More specifically the Mumbai local.

Nothing quite epitomizes Mumbai as much as these overflowing, clanking, smelly and loud personifications of its residents. Unfortunately for me, I love the trains, the different characters one comes across, the tiny fibs you overhear, the eunuchs scaring the b'jesus out of Mumbai-noobs...the little things

I especially enjoy the irony at play, when one minute people elbow each in the nose to get into the train, snarling and frothing at the mouth, and a few minutes later they are touching the arm of the same person in a bizarrely holy apology for just brushing against them.

Such is the power of the Mumbai local, fanatics turn into sages, then back into fanatics as they struggle to get out at their stop.

"Hey you! yes you the person I almost gave a concussion to while getting into the train. 

My arm just grazed yours a second ago, accept my sincerest apology for it, as I touch your arm then touch my chest as a penance for my sin. " 

Owing to the inordinate time I spend among my 'local' companions, be prepared for frequent helpings of the same.

The Measure of Money

Indians have a reputation for being cheap, at least that's what I gather from my endless hours of watching Russell Peters hilariously rip apart my most variegated of civilizations.

My limited knowledge about outsider's views about my culture is limited to a few film and stand-up comedy stereotypes. Be it the sing-song accent, the hairiness, the malodour and the fact that we're all either doctors or engineers, all our idiosyncrasies have been covered, yet for the life of me, I never could identify with them.

I probably laughed harder, than the American Joe who was watching the same show half a globe away, but I never connected to it, I never thought we were cheap until it hit me like a frozen venky's broiler.

I realized that my parents, like a lot of other goans, used meat as a measure of expense!

Showing off my new pair of over-priced headphones, I expected a reprimanding "why did you spend so much money on these?", instead I got a matter-of -fact "Shaa...we could have bought 12 kilos of chicken, with that much of money men"... as though the sudden comparison of my headphones to fowl would make me see the error of my ways.

Every goan child knows what I'm talking about, if not chicken, maybe venison, beef, or pork our expenditure is assessed by the current retail rate of the meat of the season

If I took it a little further, just a teensie bit, imagine what the conversation between messrs X and Y would be like...

X: "Nice phone men. How much?" 

Y: "40 kilos of chicken re!"
X: "40 kilos?! What a rip off! I could've got it for 39 kilos men...that too boneless!"
Y: "Arre I bought it when bird flu was there re...no one was wanting to buy it that time"
X: "Ah, smart fellow men!"


Gotta love our faithfulness to the barter system men!

First Words

So here I am, in the 'blogosphere' about 500 hundred years after blogging stopped being cool.

Why you ask? well, because I have to- apparently a copywriter has to have a blog, somewhere to spew his words and elucidate his propensity.
And somewhere to use words like elucidate and propensity.

If I had a penny for every time someone asked me if I had a blog, I'd have four pennies
But those four pennies aren't to be taken lightly, especially since their donors were my interviewers.

I have no idea what monster this blog will grow up to be, but ugly as it will turn out, it's mine and it will bite.

So just stroke it gently, just like you would your boss' ego, and everything will be just fine.

Oh look, I think he likes you!