tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85869082713704923042024-02-18T21:12:14.575-08:00Be-comingAqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.comBlogger73125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586908271370492304.post-9620858145166067392015-03-27T11:59:00.003-07:002015-03-28T01:02:47.001-07:00Yoda-Air-Ninjas | Breathe. Be. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I learnt anapana and vipassana meditation at the ten day Vipassana course (Sohna road, other locations as well) as S.N. Goenka ji taught it. Please register <a href="http://www.dhamma.org/" style="-webkit-transition: all 0.2s ease-in-out; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #1abc9c; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; transition: all 0.2s ease-in-out; vertical-align: baseline;">here</a> and attend their course asap. </strong></em></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> —</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">You are not your thoughts</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">You are not even the feeling preceding them</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">You are</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">-</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I am.</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I am not…</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I am not not…</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I am.</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">-</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Be. </strong><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Breathe, be.</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Be, breathe be breathe be breathe be.</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Be.</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">When in pain. Breathe. Be</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">When angry. Breathe. Be.</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">When happy. Breathe. Be</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">When blocked when sick when happy when waiting when tired when cranky when furious when overwhelmed underwhelmed alone transcendental</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Breathe. Be.</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">How to be?</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Sit cross legged. Lace your fingers, or place the cup of one hand in the cup of the other. (Presumably, you have at most two)</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Close your eyes.</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">-</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Notice your nose. Observe its component parts. Observe the upper lip, the entrance to the nasal passages, the said nasal passages, the flare of your nostrils as the air rushes out.</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Place <em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">yoda-air-ninjas</em> at the entrance to your nasal passageways. The <em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">yoda-air ninjas</em>love watching air go in and out of your nostrils all day.</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Yoda-air-ninjas</em> don’t mind their minds wandering. They always come back to watch air going in and out. They observe its changing temperature, whether it goes in and out of both nostrils together, or just one, or what.</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">They observe what the breath feels like on the upper lip and on the pink fleshy inside of <em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">yoda-air-ninja-spaceship-human-nose.</em></strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">–</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Do this everywhere. Do this all the time. When you want to smoke/bite your nails/rock back and forth. Focus on your breath.</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Don’t regulate it, just observe it. Activate your <em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">yoda-air-ninjas</em>. Anything eluding you will come back – that forgotten password, lost errand, fogged over inspiration, the right words. Everything.</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Ten minutes in the morning. Group meditation every Sunday for one hour.</strong></span><br />
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Use something like <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2HNYr0ALbm8">this</a> as background music. Breathe hard if you start falling asleep. Feel free to move, stretch in between. With time, try to stay still for as long as you can, eventually leading up to an hour. </strong></span><br />
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></strong></span>
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Stayed tuned <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/MirrorWorks/1618190535084320">here</a></strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Namaskara.</strong></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><b>Aqseer</b></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1.7em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">mirrorworkss@gmail.com, mirrorworkss.wordpress.com</strong></em></span><br />
<span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: green; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">sodhiaqseer@gmail.com, aqseersodhi.blogspot.com</strong></em></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<h2 style="text-align: left;">
</h2>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="color: #244061; font-size: 26.0pt; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 128;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
</div>
Aqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586908271370492304.post-1198688648152090032014-06-16T12:37:00.001-07:002014-06-16T12:37:47.031-07:00Clicks<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
Sometimes there's so much joy<br />It becomes hard to breathe</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<br />Because</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
Because will it last?<br />What if you don't remember how it feels?</div>
</div>
Aqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586908271370492304.post-3555165726502685862014-06-16T10:57:00.001-07:002014-06-16T10:57:20.593-07:00Come home<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Dear child<br />
<br />
It comes, as fast as it goes.<br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
Enjoy it while it lasts<br />
<br />
Come back to yoursel(ves) once its dust</div>
Aqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586908271370492304.post-84393430146220260122014-06-16T10:47:00.003-07:002014-06-16T10:47:45.433-07:00Musical dopamine #1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few years ago, I wouldn't be caught dead listening to something with
the unabashed pop feel of this track. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The<a href="https://soundcloud.com/charlixcx/charli-xcx-you-ha-ha-ha"> original</a> is poppier and busier, with a strangely Indian sounding sample by Gold Panda opening it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Goldroom takes <a href="https://soundcloud.com/goldroom/charli-xcx-you-ha-ha-ha-1">"You (Hahaha)"</a> and
elevates it to a whole other level by stripping away the Gold Panda sample,
adding punchy basslines, tricky grooves, and a signature aural firework sound
marking the chorus. So that when you hit 3:08 and the cannons go off, you know you're
in nu disco land. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And what a wonderful world it is.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The song is about learning to walk away,
a lesson we could all could use. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My favourite line is "choke when you
see love grow" and “you were meant to be alone” which she says a thousand
times as the song fades out. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The chorus is what will hook you, with
the very unusual “hahahaha” preceding the matter of fact “I was right” and (too bad) “you
fucked it up.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gentle, groovy beratement amplified by
classic Goldroom. It couldn’t get any better. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Aqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586908271370492304.post-63189113081530399482014-01-26T23:44:00.002-08:002014-01-26T23:44:22.162-08:00Phoenix<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
I'm sharing my story because I know it will resonate with a fair few people. What I have experienced over the past few months seems to be happening to people I know and love dearly - souls travel together, so I guess that makes sense. </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
I went to law school because my career counsellor in class 10 said my power motivation and desire to help would be best served by doing law. Of course, once you get into the best law school in the country, you go. I went and fell in love, and made the most of this crazy, strangely blessed institution with its whacky inhabitants and high ideals. A lot of the time, I wanted to be studying just the liberal arts, like my sister in the States. Law school seemed worth it because of the people and the strength of the qualification. There was little dancing, and little-r introspection. There was a lot of living, exploring, pushing boundaries, forming an identity, trying to break it down, escapism in action, blind thrashing around. I love that I did what I did, no regrets. But I'm glad to have got past that stage. </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
Law school was followed by a short stint at Google HK, the BEST place to work for sharp, driven and fun people. HK was very good for me, I spent quality time with myself, flaneuring, thinking, being. But that being was somewhat unconscious. And then I went to my dream NGO, the Centre for Social Justice, Ahmedabad where Gagan boss gave me the kind of project I always wanted to work on - moving towards the rule of law in 15 villages of Rajasthan and Gujarat. It was to be an intervention that would marry legal empowerment and socio-cultural change - perfect perfect perfect. My NGO was fantastic, I was travelling a LOT, met lovely people in Ahmedabad - everything was fine and yet something wasn't right. I had that feeling for a few months before shit really started hitting the fan. </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
I wasn't eating or sleeping properly, my heart was sore, I felt alienated from my creative side, lonely (not alone), somewhat bored in a wonderful but somewhat limited city.. Going to the field (Lambadiya) with my wonderful colleagues was an unforgettable experience. I met the funnest, most grounded, motivated, brave and committed people - I could see the stars, we all had daal batti three times a day and laughed about our madness in working in such far flung areas.. we joked about the police and the rule of law (or its lack), how rule of law was suddenly a phrase that our colleagues had latched onto and were using in everyday life. I met a sarpanch with Bhagat Singh posters in his home; we rode long distances to conduct FGDs - engaging, among others, with tipsy and enraged villagers, garrulous old men, nubile young wives and excited children. </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
I should have been so happy, doing what I thought I always wanted to do. </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
I wasn't sad. I just wasn't happy. I wasn't feeling, when feeling was all I ever knew I had. The ability to feel, relate, get angry, empathize. </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
When I could no longer concentrate on anything (at all), when I had to ask my junior colleague to help me out with tasks because the smallest thing had the potential to trigger a panic attack, when my self esteem had hit the kind of low I had last experienced as a confused teenager in school, when all I could think of during a training program was about jumping off the terrace - that's when my parents stepped in and I came back to Delhi.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
We went to: a shrink, a healer, met some of my closest friends. My nani came over and stayed for a long time. There were good days and bad days. Most days were just days to get through. I tried going to court, working with a judge - wonderful office but I was just in no state to work, much less on something I didn't really want to do. I avoided my friends, treated myself and people around me like shit, stayed in bed for days, rejecting myself and my family. I had three false epiphanies, thinking I was over the hill and would stay strong. They turned into disappointment. </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
I had all these questions (I'd always had them, but this time they were genuinely existential) about the purpose of life, social injustice, realizing your potential, your own true purpose etc. Life didn't seem worth living. I decided not to get out of bed until I was inspired to do something. </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
And then one day I jumped out at the thought of taking pictures. All the time. And then suddenly I had a reason to live that was just about me. Not about my family or friends, but me, Aqseer. </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
Slowly I started getting answers. Some from the healer, some from these incredible books that my aunt suggested (A New Earth, Journey of Souls, Many Lives Many Masters - full list below). Things started falling into place. I went to my guruji and danced after ages - and I felt so alive. And happy. And alive. I applied to Global Music Institute for vocal lessons on an impulse - just allowing my gut to guide me. The application process involved composing a song - and thus I got to fulfill an old dream - of singing and recording at least one song. I loved that process. Reading A New Earth and learning about karma helped me come to peace with my role in social justice - I accepted that wanting to work in the development sector was not a process based interest, but an ends based one - my concern with the greatest possible impact I could achieve - all ego. (Read A New Earth to understand what I mean by ego here.) </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
And so I decided to focus on the PROCESS that I loved engaging in for its own sake. I started paying close attention to what I genuinely enjoyed doing. And that slow process of self discovery has lead me to - dance, vocal lessons, photography and healing practices. </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
Love, and light to you. If you're not happy, do something about it. Create your reality, don't wait for life to happen to you. </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
Read all of the below. And text if you want to talk. </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
Aqseer</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
1) A New Earth – Eckhart Tolle</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
2) The Secret – Rhonda Byrne</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
3) Let the Power be with You – Shivi Dua</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
4) Journey of Souls – Michael Newton</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
5) Autobiography of a Yogi – Padmahansa Yogananda</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
6) Many Lives Many Masters, Miracles Happen – Brian Weiss</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
7) Waiting for Autumn – Scott Blum</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
8) The Celestine Prophecy, The Twelfth Insight – James Redfield</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
9) Commentaries on Living - J.D. Krishnamurti</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
10) The Grand Design - Stephen Hawking</div>
</div>
Aqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586908271370492304.post-25926266745541931732013-04-29T04:35:00.001-07:002013-04-29T05:27:30.339-07:00What I have learnt since graduation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->1.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->The
only way to live is to be present. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 72.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level2 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";">o<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->This is hard for me to do, so I got a tattoo to
remind myself to embrace the here and now</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 72.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level2 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";">o<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->By extension, FOMO is your biggest enemy</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->2.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->The
quality of longing (nostalgia) is bittersweet. It is a light and deep ache that
dives in and out of your aura, touching recesses of your memory just enough to
madden you, but not enough for the picture to become clear in your head, not
enough to relive the memory. All our experience is ephemeral, there is nothing
but this very moment, and look, there it goes, whizzing past your bemused face.
</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 72.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level2 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";">o<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->If you were happy in your now, you wouldn’t
bother with memories of college. Save it.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->3.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Your
job should enable you to learn, create, maintain yourself, socialize and follow
your passion, fulfil your purpose</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->4.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->The
way to find this job is to stop being a risk averse coward, to trust yourself,
figure out your talents, skill set and marry it with your career goals, what
you would like to be remembered for</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->5.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Don’t
let your routine trick you. You might have a schedule and things you do at a
set time on most days, but no two moments are alike and most of them are worth
paying attention to. Or would be if you paid attention to them. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->6.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Life
is a step in the evolution of your soul. There is no ultimate purpose to life,
because there is no way to answer the why of existence. If you say life is an
elaborate test designed to identify super souls that resemble god, well, you
still don’t know why these super souls need to exist at all</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->7.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Kids
haven’t understood mortality and aren’t jaded enough to question the meaning of
existence. They are good people to learn from </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->8.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Boredom (no internet helps),
alone-ness and deadlines are the biggest drivers of creativity. Humans will do
anything to give direction to the voices in our heads</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->9.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Moments
of unity, oblivion, mindlessness are rare, and worth pursuing. You might chance
upon them dancing a club, sitting on a rock facing the ocean, in the arms of a
partner, on the back of a bike. When they come, they’re worth holding onto. But
the hunt for oblivion shouldn’t turn into escapism </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->10.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Most
intelligent beings suffer from existential angst. Not enough recognize or
acknowledge this. It’s easier to blindly live from day to day, consuming but
not creating, smoking cigarettes to mark the passage of time. We do not know
how to be idle, and its killing us.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->11.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->The
way to be idle is to calm down and meditate (four deep breaths or a look around
with a real sense of wonder is all it takes), then do something productive with
your time and energy. There is no excuse to be bored – there’s too much to
learn, do, see, observe, eat, experience</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->12.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Alone
is okay </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->13.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->And
the only way to be happy is to be self sufficient. Test yourself. Can you handle being alone in
a distant village without Facebook and dinner plans? Will you find yourself
running around like a headless chicken, looking for stimuli and someone to
share every stray thought with, or will you take the time to look at the stars
and breathe in the cleaner air?</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->14.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->This
is not to say that loving or needing another person makes you weak. It takes
strength to allow another person in and give them the chance to break your
heart to smithereens. But making another person the centre of your universe and
being dependent on them is a recipe for disaster. Ditto trying to fix someone
else or their problems. Co-dependence is a nightmare and the biggest cause of
insane phone bills. You are not worthy because you are great at helping people.
You are worthy. Full stop. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->15.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Being
in love and loving someone is a decision and continuous work </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->16.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Everything
that life throws you is a lesson in disguise. You could look at it that way and
try to learn the lesson, or you could feel sorry for yourself and blame
everyone and everything but yourself. Act like things will work out, and they
will </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->17.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->You
are extraordinarily powerful in shaping the course of your life. Think
something, manifest it, and it will happen. If it doesn’t, it is for a good
reason. It’s up to you to figure out what that is. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 72.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level2 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";">o<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->The universe sends all the answers, stay on the
ride. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->18.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->There
is no way to prove any of this. Belief systems, like M-theory, are ways of
understanding the world and making the most of it. Believing that I am in
control of my life, that it has a purpose and that sometimes it’s okay to
surrender to what the universe is trying to do for me keeps me sane, even happy</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->19.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->When
you abuse your body in any way, you’re abusing yourself. Your body is not
under-nourished or overfed, you are. Look in the mirror and say sorry, not to
your body, to yourself. Why are you disrespecting yourself? How do you expect
to be respected and loved when you can’t do the same for yourself? How do you
expect to respect and love someone else when you can’t respect and love yourself?</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->20.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Sometimes,
it’s good to let conflict happen. There would be very little if we could find
some way to contain alterity or conflate identities, or make them irrelevant</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->21.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->In
the end, what matters is what you experienced, what you created, and the
relationships you growed </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOMBJ8aXn1-cKjyWPbQbKw-pUvA-itR9nSSTGcGJcXgOg3xRPN7-yb5gm7l2fpAQqqJ7XS6eSJvaXp_W2ZGIW30jg5qMSYUDhVBQ7addOwtY9K3KG6BruKECWhd9ucUZlGRFTs7vqVgHZi/s1600/DSC_0231.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOMBJ8aXn1-cKjyWPbQbKw-pUvA-itR9nSSTGcGJcXgOg3xRPN7-yb5gm7l2fpAQqqJ7XS6eSJvaXp_W2ZGIW30jg5qMSYUDhVBQ7addOwtY9K3KG6BruKECWhd9ucUZlGRFTs7vqVgHZi/s320/DSC_0231.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Aqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586908271370492304.post-16035664969109252372013-01-30T01:47:00.000-08:002013-01-30T02:19:07.612-08:00Rage<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We’re ridiculous, honestly.<br />
<br />
We expect people in power to do what is best for the people who aren’t.<br />
<br />
Men, upper castes, the government, the rich, the educated, the liberals.
Some of them will, most of them won’t.<br />
<br />
Why would maulvis want women entering the sanctum sanctorum of their prized masjids, mucking up the interiors, lessening the pride, privilege and power associated with the restricted access?<br />
<br />
Why would half naked priests want to let us into their temples and risk feeling as ordinary as us?<br />
<br />
Why would the government want the population to be educated, strident and questioning? A resigned janta expecting no more than TV and a few annas thrown their way before elections is far more manageable.<br />
<br />
If the government undertook community building initiatives, or tried to do anything long term about the Naxals, they would actually have to earn their votes instead of dividing them up; and isn’t that too much to expect them to sign up for voluntarily?
<br />
<br />
EVERYONE takes shortcuts. People in power are no exception.<br />
<br />
We, are to blame.<br />
<br />
For being naive. For thinking that people in power will check themselves. For expecting them to do what’s best for us. For helping sustain the status quo.<br />
<br />
Family halls at Muslim restaurants, “aurat masjids”, sit at home when you’re bleeding from your vagina because you are impure, never mind that YOU WOULD NOT EXIST IF I DID NOT HAVE THE ABILITY TO MENSTRUATE YOU TURD, separate coaches for women, separate temples for dalits; we let them disenfranchise us, deprive us and then ghettoize us.<br />
<br />
We then thank them properly for carving out reservations in a system so wracked with inequality and lack of opportunity that really, they should thank us for being the placid cattle that we have emulated this entire time.
<br />
<br />
I have been to upwards of fifty BPL Muslim households in three states these past few months. A few things are the same. The interiors are clean, the exterior usually filthy, the woman is home, sometimes educated, capable of working, but not allowed to by her husband, who obviously would rather his children starve than allow his wife to do everyone the favour of making a little extra on the side. They know NOTHING, and I mean NOTHING about government schemes that are allegedly used as the carrots to buy their votes. They have given up on the public education system. They have no expectations of the government. They make do. They smile. THEY SMILE. THEY ARE NOT ANGRY.<br />
<br />
And this gets me, every single time.
Actually no, that’s a lie. It got to me today. I wasn’t angry this entire time.<br />
<br />
Today, in the one room house of a young woman who supports her family of five by cleaning homes in far away “Mumbai”, TODAY, I felt anger. So far, not having encountered anything like what you see in Slumdog or read about in Shantaram, I was not convinced I was seeing the reality of living below the poverty line. I wanted to see desperate, undignified poverty. I was met with families that like buying clothes, and shoes, and dressing up, and cable, and jewellery, that like food and drink and a good time; but do all of this on infinitesimal budgets and live day to day.<br />
<br />
Today, my twentieth day doing this work, today I felt anger. Felt something. Anger at their condition, anger that her father nearly reached his deathbed trying to get his house constructed under the great Awas Yojna named, obviously named, after Dear Departed Mrs. Gandhi, after whom the antarashtriya hawaiadda of the home of the 84 riots is also, oh so appropriately named.<br />
<br />
And through the telling of this tale of her father’s debilitation, she smiles, checks her phone, talks to her nieces and nephews and despite repeated requests not to, gets up and makes five cups of tea. They cannot afford five cups of tea. They cannot afford one extra packet of milk a day; she was telling me that five minutes into the interview and making me the most amazing chai at the end of it. There is resignation, and bravery; courage and fortitude and generosity, but there is no anger that can be translated into action.<br />
<br />
Why?<br />
<br />
Because decades of incompetence and a <a href="http://www.indianexpress.com/news/rage-and-helplessness/1050086/">uniquely patronizing</a> attitude has, in a masterstroke, got us to expect nothing of the government. As long as there is a semblance of law and order, hell, a government, and some platitudes, some show of governance and better things to come, we are content.<br />
<br />
As long as men buy us flowers and pretend to give a shit when we’re menstruating, pregnant or weeping, we are content.<br />
<br />
Do not grope or rape us, kind masters, that is all we can ask of your uncontrollable sexual appetites and wild, wilful natures; we will gladly make ourselves scarce in public, and speak softly, remain invisible so as not to cause any strain to your sensory organs or sensibilities. Thank you ever so kindly for allowing us to breathe and get through a lifetime without our vaginas being torn asunder by your ever mighty penii that we dare not question, literally or figuratively lest you beat our brains out of our skulls. Thank you again for allowing me to go to school and giving me some milk when I was young so I could push your inheritor out of my body after producing five undesirable young girls that you can ill afford. In return for being allowed to live without being raped, and for the privilege of being yours, I will wear forty five marks of ownership, change my last name, give up my rights to property, sweep, dust, clean after you, cook for you, whatever you like master, whatever we can afford, stroke your ego, absorb your anger, tell myself you love me when you slap me so hard it leaves marks on my face, kill myself looking after the five girls and one, crown jewel of a son, collapse my family and friends with yours, forget my life before you were kind enough to take me off of my father’s hands and never, ever, threaten your virile and treacherous masculinity. Is that good enough sire? Or shall I throw some marital rape and all of my parent’s earnings in? Oh and vaginal douches and tightening creams, yes, of course, I will maintain my figure, vaginal elasticity and sweet breath for you. Of course, sire, of course.<br />
<br />
I cannot speak for dalits, adivasis and minorities.<br />
<br />
In our childish belief that those in power will do right by us, we have surrendered everything we had, our rage included.<br />
<br />
Let’s get real.
We’ve got to fight. Nothing is coming our way on a silver platter. Nor can we expect it to. </div>
Aqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586908271370492304.post-90079017289950827282013-01-30T01:44:00.000-08:002013-01-30T02:58:13.572-08:00Silence<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Addicted to stimuli, we stumble from thing to thing.<br />
<br />
Get up, check phone, read on pot, listen to music while bathing, don’t leave yourself alone for one, solitary, second.<br />
<br />
Because its terrifying.<br />
<br />
Silence means facing the yawning chasms bursting with doubt,<br />
abandoned dreams threatening to show their faces,<br />
thorny insecurities,<br />
shards of our shattered hearts, adrift on seas of self pity, sloshing around in the parts of our mind not inundated by hysterically pursued funnn, caffeine, nicotine, alcohol, hormones, MSG, visuals, graphics, text, pixels, backlight.<br />
<br />
**<br />
Stimuli, stimuli, stimuli.<br />
<br />
Escape;<br />
<br />
escape;<br />
<br />
escape.<br />
<br />
*<br />
Take a deep breath.<br />
<br />
Close your eyes.<br />
/<br />
Get your thumbs off your smartphone.<br />
<br />
Switch off the music.<br />
<br />
Listen to your heart beating.<br />
<br />
Don't be terrified.
.
You are all you have, and that's okay. You are imperfect and scared and lonely, and; enough.
.<br />
<br />
Look around. Its good to be alive - the world is a many splendoured, beautiful place and you are blessed.<br />
-<br />
Get some perspective. Stop chasing what you think you’re missing out on.<br />
<br />
Live.<br />
<br />
Feel.<br />
<br />
Create.<br />
<br />
Stop running.</div>
Aqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586908271370492304.post-29700875749692559732013-01-30T01:43:00.002-08:002013-01-30T02:23:11.393-08:00Aging<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
After a while,<br />
The fat starts depositing around your neck<br />
The mirror shows lines and marks, all over your face<br />
There is scant hesitation in expressing need;<br />
Or greed.<br />
You have learnt to deal with rejection, it matters not.<br />
You, my friend<br />
Are now old,<br />
Indifferent,<br />
And ready to grow fat in peace.
</div>
Aqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586908271370492304.post-2380206050370756162011-11-24T11:41:00.000-08:002011-11-24T11:43:25.529-08:00Men are the answerI was raised to be a feminist. It wasn't a conscious effort on my mother's part; in fact, when she sees me blustering with anger and frustration and going on about feminism today, she can't understand where those feelings come from. But that's how it is. <br /><br />For the longest time, there was the silly refusal to wear pink clothes and act like a girl. There was the tough as nails I never cry act, there was the constant refusal to admit weakness or defeat around a guy. Then I grew up.<br /><br />Then I read a little of the feminist theory I had grown up putting in practice. Then I looked around and found, to my amazement, that a lot of people were actually feminists or had feminist beliefs, but refused outright to associate with the school of thought. <br /><br />Women seemed to have got what they wanted out of the movement, and were unwilling to risk being considered man-haters. They had the vote, and chivalry to boot. They had the right to call a man out on abuse, but also get to be bought flowers. What more could they ask for?<br /><br />The men that weren't feminists tended to be confused, annoyed, furious or indifferent. Feminists were man hating crazy bitches who wanted female dominance at the cost of men's rights. We were the people pushing s. 498A, putting husbands and their entire families in jail on false counts, squeezing spouses for obscene amounts of money, manipulative women who refused to let husbands see their children. <br /><br />Men's Rights Activists (MRAs) sprung up in the US. Websites and organizations like Save the Indian Family Foundation mushroomed in India. There was talk of abuse of the laws in favour of women in India and the destruction of the family system in the US. <br /><br />The result? We have feminismS and feministS of various stripes, agreeing on little but the goal of fairness in gender relations. We have the MRAs in the US and their counterparts in India, some of whom think that their interests and those of feminists are mutually exclusive. We have the women who want nothing to do with the feminist question, and men who think that the cost of being a man is outweighed by its benefits. We have the Good Men Project and its kin. <br /><br />What do these developments tell us?<br /><br />A lot of men have ceased to think of themselves as un-gendered and have come to realise that their gender comes with its own baggage. A lot of men are trying to grapple with what some call a “post feminist” world, understanding how to negotiate unfamiliar terrain where usual gender cues no longer hold good.<br /><br />The SlutWalk Bengaluru page has, of late, been inundated with angry comments by masculinists who want freedom from the role of a protector, who seethe at feminism and the great injustice of today’s world.<br /><br />It is, therefore, now more important than ever for feminists to make a conscious effort to “ask the man question.” It is vital that feminists think about the repercussions of a particular legislative or policy demand on men as well as women. This is for a few reasons.<br /><br />One is that any benefit to women that comes at the cost of unfairness to anyone else is undesirable and unethical. Moreover, in the long run, this unfairness will lead to greater hostility against women and feminists and a blanket refusal to be supportive of our agenda: something we are already seeing. <br /><br />The other is motivated by self interest: feminism will not work if there are no men to adhere to it. bell hooks has said this in a more eloquent fashion than I can manage:<br /><br />“Separatist ideology encourages us to believe that women alone can make feminist revolution - we cannot. Since men are the primary agents maintaining and supporting sexism and sexist oppression, they can be successfully eradicated only if men are compelled to assume responsibility for transforming their consciousness and the consciousness of society as a whole...”<br /><br />My amendment to that quote would be that everyone is an agent in maintaining and supporting sexism; even if men at present have ostensibly more to lose from a drastic restructuring of our society along the lines of gender. <br /><br />The last reason is that freeing men from mandated gender roles is already a rightful part of the feminist goal, as I see it. When sex became gender, feminism automatically became about more than just women. And so, in my view, feminism that is not concerned about men is not feminism. <br /><br />And so feminism must proactively be concerned with men. To a large extent, it has been for quite a while. But the perception of feminism and men’s interests being mutually exclusive persists, and must gradually be eroded. <br /><br />**<br /><br />This post is titled “men are the answer.” I came to this conclusion when I first bumped into the Good Men Project and realised that while most women had had enough of and from feminism, it was men who were starting to wake up to their gendered existence and asking questions that could catalyze meaningful social evolution. <br /><br />This opened up room for a lot of discussion and debate, of the realisation that societal mores hurt everyone, not just women; and that everyone had to gain from questioning these mores. With men questioning their own binds and seeing themselves as participants in this societal evolution, I figured things would move faster; and so far that belief seems to be well placed. There is also the obvious fact that in order to stop domestic violence or rape, you need to reach out to its perpetrators/silent supporters; thus making men “the answer” in the context of assault on women.<br /><br />**<br /><br />We need men to work with us, not only for us, but also for themselves, and a freer society in turn.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">This Blog is part of the Men Say No Blogathon,* encouraging men to take up action against the violence faced by women. <br />More entries to the Blogathon can be read at www.mustbol.in/blogathon. Join further conversation on facebook.com/delhiyouth & twitter.com/mustbol</span><br /><br />*I don’t agree with the name “Men Say No” because it plays on what it means to be a “real man,” which in turn buys straight into the kind of accepted stereotyping I try so hard to subvert. <br />However, I agree with the aim of this campaign, and this is a small step in furthering its goals.Aqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586908271370492304.post-70630357137418561742011-06-30T11:55:00.001-07:002011-06-30T11:55:54.066-07:00Backpacks and PurisI see myself linking the GMP a lot, and here’s another piece that resonated with me. http://goodmenproject.com/featured-content/stillness/ I know I have the I-need-to-do-something-exciting-or-I-will-go-crazy syndrome, and it can be a huge drain on finances, productivity and the patience of those around me.<br /><br />But I digress. I meant to write about the beauty of travelling. Apart from the usual getting to meet new people, eating strange food, seeing the sights jamboree; there is the absolutely liberating realisation that all you really need to negotiate the big bad world can be stuffed into one 20 litre backpack. <br /><br />I mean, yeah, the clothes might surface with a bit of yesterday’s hurriedly eaten chocolate croissant on them, but meh. <br /><br />Anyhow, you start to get far less finicky about trivialities like bathing everyday and having every hair on your head pinned neatly down. You don’t have to dress to impress anyone, you’re a strange person from a strange land who will attract strange looks no matter what you wear- so you might as well wear banana print boxers and kaftans with skulls hanging off of them.<br /><br />You can make a fool of yourself and get away with it; as long as you’re not an obnoxious, disrespecting fool, you can get away with quite a bit. Everything is new and exciting, and even better- when you get back, you suddenly start to appreciate the quirks of your own people. Take for instance the strange way in which Indians will refuse a tenth helping of puris while simultaneously stuffing one in their mouths. <br /><br />Finally, you realise that though the foreign is shiny and we need to learn so very much from them, as clichéd as it sounds, there’s nothing quite like home.Aqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586908271370492304.post-66307503111305400822011-06-28T12:14:00.000-07:002011-06-28T12:30:20.819-07:00"Ready" to be scarred?This post is not about the cinematic merit of the movie “Ready.” Suffice to say that “Ready” is a hysterical assault on all human senses, including those we as a species haven’t developed yet.<br /><br />But not only is this movie absolutely god awful, it is also profoundly disturbing. Unfortunately, I have yet to come across a review that criticizes the movie for being sexist and even racist in parts.<br /><br />Some gems:<br />1) Paresh Rawal encounters a security guard of African origin. Ends the exchange with: “tujhe to dekhke desh ki nazar uttar jaye” (Looking at you is enough to ward off the evil eye for the entire nation)<br /><br />2) Salman Khan responds to one of Asin’s infrequent dialogues with: “Pehli baar aurat ko kuch samajhdar kehte hue suna hai” (This is the first time I’ve ever heard a woman say something sensible)<br /><br />3) During a drinking session with the gundas, Mr. Modi asks his wife to go ahead and eat without him. The gundas chuckle and inform him that as real men, they refuse to let their wives touch even a morsel of food before they’re done imbibing ethanol for the night.<br /><br />4) Mr. Modi responds: “Auraton ki duniya bahut chotti hoti hai. Humse hi shuru aur khatam hoti hai. Isiliye unke saath acha bartav karna chahiye” (The lives of women revolve around us men. Their universe is very small; it begins with us and ends with us. That is why we must treat them well.)<br /><br />5) Subsequently, the gundas rush off to their respective wives and very magnanimously inform them that they are free to eat the meals that they cook before the men drag their drunken selves to the table. (Note- this is a prime example of homosocial behaviour as discussed here- http://goodmenproject.com/featured-content/bros-before-promises/)<br /><br />There’s still more, but I think this is sample enough to prove that the scriptwriter(s) are off their rockers and more importantly, Salman Khan ought to have thought ten times before agreeing to the script.<br /><br />The man is well aware of the influence he has over India’s millions, he knows that his sporting a stud in each ear will soon spark a nation-wide trend; and his latest offering is reinforcing the idea that belittling women is a legitimate sport. One of the few sports Indians naturally excel at.<br /><br />Bravo, Salman. Way to exploit your influence.<br /><br />(Note- the quotes from the movie haven't been reproduced verbatim, I had the misfortune of watching the movie on a bus ride and refuse to pay good money to be insulted all over again. However, I am ninety nine percent certain I've reproduced the content accurately, if not the exact words.)Aqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586908271370492304.post-18048543382676681802011-04-03T05:01:00.000-07:002011-04-03T05:03:51.764-07:00Idiot, insecure Indian menA man is expected to be powerful and so is belittled for being unable to lift a bag or bolt a door. A woman isn’t, and so does not expect herself to be powerful. The rare specimen that does is met with astonishment or ridiculous behaviour.<br />Not many men can handle powerful women. I see no other explanation for the way my friend and I are met when we take our bikes out on Nagarbhavi roads. Yesterday, we had the pleasure of encountering two fat, ill behaved a#$#^&*(% on a Dio, if you please, coming within two centimetres of us, trailing, gesturing, even turning around and coming at us head on (in the wrong lane), hoping for... I don’t know, it is a mystery.<br /><br />Realising that in customary style, I had gotten angry and sped off in the wrong direction after aforementioned buffoons, my friend frantically signalled and got me to turn around. We headed towards the mythical Enamor sale, this time on the right track, and were met, in addition to the usual bevy of stares and calls; by an idiot on a pulsar who felt he had to do one better. So not only did he tail us for a bit, he also came within two inches of us, and pulled a wheelie, right behind a big fat bus that could’ve slammed on its breaks at any second. <br />He then moved to one side of the road, stopped, looked at us expectantly, again, hoping for what? Perhaps some acknowledgment of his manliness or superiority, search me.<br /><br />It doesn’t stop here. On this same day (that India won the World Cup, no less), this friend and I went to grab burgers at KFC and were met by a fool, OPENLY STARING at me with an expression of utter entitlement, like I was put there by the forces of the universe for his viewing pleasure. I turned and stared at him, and this only spurred him to make sneering faces at the other fool sitting across him. We ate our burgers and feeling his stare again, I turned to find him looking at me with that same infuriating mix of expressions on his face. So I said to him “Could you stop staring at me you **)#R$@)##? And of course, like the typical cowardly, lecherous Indian man, he immediately cowered, feigned utter and absolute ignorance and looked away.<br /><br />UGH. My hatred of this variety of the Indian man deepens by the day, this man who is never in short supply, always goggle eyed, unabashed and deeply depraved.Aqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586908271370492304.post-5752344808711986832011-02-16T20:34:00.001-08:002011-02-16T21:05:00.079-08:00Flamenco at Siri FortJose Porcel, two lovely ladies whose names I'm not acquainted with (go figure) and lets see.... two vocalists, one male, one female; a flute/harmonica player, a percussionist of some description received a standing ovation yesterday (16 Feb, 2011) for an endearing, enthralling, energetic Flamenco performance. Oh excuse me, Ballet Flamenco.<br /><br />To be honest, I'm not very clear on where the Ballet came in. Perhaps Flamenco does not traditionally tell stories, and some the broad themes of the "items" (I'd so much rather they be called pieces) performed yesterday can be attributed to a Ballet influence.<br /><br />I couldn't say.<br /><br />What I can say though, is this. Jose Porcel is an incredible, incredible, incredible performer. He is cocky, cock sure, flamboyant, fiery and you can see he's giving you everything he's got. But I'm not a fan of the technique. I could very easily be very wrong, but the contrast between the clean, flowing lines of the female performers and the dervish like frenzy of Porcelo's act left me bewildered. It does not make sense to me that female Flamenco could be so beautiful and refined, and the male part so very undefined and composed of merely energy and footwork.<br /><br />Oh, but the ladies. The synchronization was a bit off in places, which is a pity, because when they got that right, it was such a mesmerizing treat to watch. I love the arrogance and anger that underlies Flamenco. The bold lines, the graceful twirls, the lovely full skirts that these ladies breathe life into, making them rise with their pirouettes. The sleek, low bun that gives every turn of the neck greater definition and renders it clean and elegant. I could go on and on. <br /><br />And good lord, the music. I have to say this- we could really learn something from the way that Porcel interacted with the musicians. For one, they were up front and centre, which, though it made focusing on the dancers a wee bit difficult, really enabled them to create a <span style="font-style:italic;">mehfil </span>type atmosphere, and gave them equal respect.<br /><br />Secondly, you could tell there was a lot of <span style="font-style:italic;">jugalbandi</span> going on, a lot of interaction between the dancers and the musicians and that was just beautiful, because you saw an art form in a conversation with another art form. <br /><br />Then there were the hoots and the exclamations from the musicians themselves. These came out of nowhere, and made the whole performance come alive and seem very accessible.<br /><br />I have never witnessed a more relaxed and more audience friendly performance. The spectators were involved throughout, a bunch of emotive, gasping, clapping Indians responding to an equally emotive bunch of flamboyant Spaniards. <br /><br />And the vocals. What power. I could feel tingles going up my spine and I thought, wow, this is what we share, two cultures going back centuries, with our unique and raw music that touches our souls directly. What amount of digital technology and tweaked vocals can give you that? That direct link to the emotions that are equally pure and raw? <br /><br />Jose Porcel kissed Ambika Soni on each cheek, which elicited titters, giggling and gasps from the audience. Then the female vocalist stepped up and sang for about two minutes. She has this gorgeous, slightly husky, deepp deeepp deeep voice that she can hold for tens of seconds at impossible pitches. <br /><br />There was clapping, there were cat calls, there was sweat flying off of the dancers, there were sharp head turns, and spotting, glares and gentle caresses, laughter and sighs, and good old Indian bureaucracy. Coming up for an encore, two of the musicians showed that they too can dance the Flamenco, and what more does an Indian audience appreciate than an unexpected shuffling of inexperienced feet, rendered with a touch of shyness and equally, a try this on for size attitude? <br /><br /><br />Lovely. Just lovely.Aqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586908271370492304.post-27437896555366124452011-02-14T21:04:00.000-08:002011-02-14T21:17:37.590-08:00Desi music and Dilli's MenI've been hearing Menwhopause and TAAQ on Delhi Radio and though I'm not sure whether Menwhopause every played at SF, TAAQ sure did (and won) and its a good feeling to be a part of an event that promotes excellent Indian music. (Woot!)<br /><br />Also, Delhi's junta is full of contradictions. On the road, people have their fangs bared, their ears blocked, their eyes blinded; they're a hair's breadth from sending you spinning across the road and yet, and YET these same people are warm and largely friendly when on their own two feet.<br /><br />Now, I can only talk about the men; because for some reason, it is men who cut your hair, men who help you park, men who give you directions, men who sell you food and water, but these guys are really quite chivalrous is their own way. There's the odd exception but in their own, earthy way, they try to make you laugh and help you park and treat you like a granddaughter or didi.<br /><br />I know this is not what one usually hears about Delhi's men, but I have to say this; I've hard my share of oglers and gropers and exhibitionists and goggle eyed fools, but there are also courteous chaps who discretely steer clear of any shady business. Its quite charming really. And very Indian.Aqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586908271370492304.post-19116645203249387772011-02-02T23:50:00.001-08:002011-02-02T23:59:26.155-08:00This is lifeA meal of cold chicken and left over pulao on a sunny gardened terrace, muddy, damp pants from sitting in the grass, a panting dog laying next to you with her paw on your thigh; tired from having begged for the chicken, licked the tiffin box, your hands and your feet and getting only some belly scratching and indistinct noises in return. <br /><br />A little cotton fluff of a Maltese eyeing you, and your managing to lure him with pathetic attempts at gaining his interest. Trying to get this interest to remain steadfast even in the face of your stupidity and boring-ness, your silly grinning face, the pointless cooing, the inexplicable happiness at being around something so cute and content. <br /><br />Seeing the Lab and the Maltese run around, in the sun, following their mistress and occasionally darting glances at you. Hugging the big lab around her neck and thinking of days spent with Fluffy, my 5 year birthday present and faithful companion till she was rechristened Gudia and left for my grandmother's house.<br /><br /><br />This is what I want. A sunny winter day, a good file to read and work on, and two dogs to follow me around and keep me company.Aqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586908271370492304.post-11149748254698665292011-01-28T21:49:00.001-08:002011-01-28T21:54:25.282-08:00On blaming the victims and feminism being an f wordMuch has been said about these two fascinating phenomena and I am no closer to understanding either than I was a year ago. Lets start with the first-<br /><br />We shifted to Dhaula Kuan recently and a lovely mother daughter couple made a house call to welcome us into the cold draughty fold of DK Is houses. They were both great fun to talk to and at one point, the ‘sation turned to the need for mace in these here parts. I made the appropriate gasping noises and asked why they said I should venture out only with a knife and a ready punch. The answer- recent rapes in the neighbourhood. The shocker- the lovely aunty wondering aloud “who asked that girl to come back late in a bus, usse call centre cab leni chahiye thi na”<br />I hate having to ask my guy friends to drop me home or having my parents waiting anxiously outside till I meet them; I hate having to live in fear and inconveniencing people because the men in this city are depraved and under policed. And I know that if I step out of these boundaries, the way I’d like to, I’ll be blamed if I am raped. <br />How is it that a woman who is brutalized is blamed for taking a bus instead of a cab? THAT is what you have to say to the RAPE of a young, innocent woman? That is the first thing that comes to your head? Not that that man was crazy and sick, but that this woman shouldn’t have tried to use a cheap and environmentally friendly means of mass transport to get home? Look at me, trying to glorify her choice. She could’ve been a hooker, high on cocaine, and even then, the first thing that ought to have been said was that that man was off his mind, not that this woman was asking for it.<br /><br /><br />This city, this country, we’re all crazy for letting this attitude prevail.<br /><br />And what is with educated, privileged, low cut blouse wearing women trying their best to distance themselves from feminism? Yes, there are crazy feminists, yes I used to hate pink, yes some of us hate men, yes some of us are off our rockers. But this is an inclusive, vague, massively varied movement. You get to decide what feminism means for you. You get to make it sane, you get to make it inclusive and non prescriptive. Be a part of the movement that has given you the options you cherish and wouldn’t dream of living without. Stop free loading.Aqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586908271370492304.post-2157134731255733432011-01-07T23:05:00.001-08:002011-01-07T23:05:39.071-08:00Alone, Alive....... .Aqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586908271370492304.post-806245730212368372011-01-07T22:26:00.000-08:002011-01-07T22:36:00.202-08:00This is KarnatakaYes, its been a while. Perhaps because I tend to make the monumental effort of logging in to blogger and writing only when I'm monumentally pissed off, which I am right now.<br /><br />The incident, for your benefit-<br />Aqseer is cruising down the road on Juno at a leisurely 30 km an hour. Flicks on the indicator to take turn into hostel gate. Sees small maroon car in rear view mirror, within touching distance. Slows down so crazed man who is blind to indicators can overtake. Man starts honking LIKE A MANIAC. (Aqseer)Stops completely (Punjabi blood, plus it would have been dangerous to turn), drops jacket. Turns around and yells at the man, tells him to pick it up since he's blind to indicators and such. Says this in ENGLISH. Man replies in Kannada. Several people around start honking. Turns, parks, picks up jacket and man is mysteriously still there, blocking the road, yelling in Kannada. Yells- I DON'T SPEAK KANNADA.<br />Man yells- THIS IS KARNATAKA. I says- (I'm feeling a bit sheepish about this, but I guess thats what happens when you study THREE courses in constitutional law) What do you mean this is Karnataka, haven't you read the Constitution? Man says- (hehe) Laaiiars (lawyers). I say- just go away *@#@$##$#%^^^#$@. And he does.<br /><br />I have now resolved never to learn Kannada. Good going, language chauvinists.<br /><br />How much nicer it would be if you could put across the beauty of your language and that it would make you happy if we showed some love for the state in which we currently have the pleasure of residing. Maybe if you gently taught us some swear words (which is all anyone learning a new language wants to know), followed by some handy words like bega, jasti bega, kodi, madi etc. BUT NO. Fine. Yell at me. <br /><br />I'd rather chop off each individual digit on my hands and fry em in a pan than learn your language.<br /><br />:)Aqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586908271370492304.post-49884603856880882392010-12-02T02:01:00.000-08:002010-12-02T02:10:27.922-08:00All hail JunoNot for the first time, I'm thanking my stars I have super cool parentals and grandparentals who let me get Juno. I read this interview of Gul Panag, and it struck me that she said riding a bike isn't so much about being cool, but much more about the independence and freedom that comes with.<br /><br />I now know exactly what she means. Juno doesn't yell at me for ten more rupees. Juno doesn't play terrible songs very very loudly, or smoke stinky bidis. Juno doesn't guzzle more fuel early in the morning, or around siesta time, or late at night. Juno isn't fussy. Juno will not try to kill/kidnap/rape me.<br /><br />Of course riding a bike comes with its own share of miseries. But at least you're in control.<br /><br />So many women in college are coming and asking me little questions about Juno. Its awesome. I really do think that your height is the only thing that can come in the way of being 100% comfortable on a bike. Not your weight or your strength. Men ride bikes because they think they can, they're cocky about it. <br /><br />They're not necessarily always stronger, they don't necessarily have fighter pilot reflexes. They're just cocky, they think they belong on a bike. And their feet reach the ground. That is all you are needing, I say.Aqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586908271370492304.post-28285566295085933852010-11-28T06:35:00.000-08:002010-11-28T06:42:43.068-08:00The ItchGAHHH. I have NEVER hated Sundays. Except this one. I'm itching. Physically and metaphorically. (Sari mummy :P, its not my fault the best law school in the country can't provide 24 hr hot water)<br /><br />I'm itching to be off somewhere, doing something, riding, eating, coffee drinking, even just sitting anywhere but in this tiny room with the tiny bed that I've spent too many hours lolling in.<br /><br />Which is why I think I'm either a busyness junkie, or a workaholic. I don't think the latter is too likely, I'm not crazy, I have a life that isn't my work. But nothing beats that weird buzz when you're doing something you care about and you want desperately to make it happen; for it to turn out well. <br /><br />Which, in turn tells me two things- 1) I've got to do what I like and 2) I've got to do a lot of it and 3) I've got to also be able to chill, eat out and ride my bike.<br /><br />Monotony + having nothing to do- cannot be taken. This is why I'm such a bad candidate for a nose piercing. I got bored of my little stud and pulled it out, (intending to replace it with something else) and now I might have to get it re-pierced for the sixth time. Ouch.Aqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586908271370492304.post-38455640439712287012010-10-18T02:01:00.000-07:002010-10-18T02:04:37.196-07:00Where is the Rock?Driving back from Chandigarh yesterday, I was super excited to have the player belting tunes from my pod and so on and so forth, till the paternal figure posed a relevant question. (Something Mr. Roy from Brunch often comments on) “This is music from our generation, what do you guys listen to?”<br /><br />So then I explained how these days it is <br />1) either ear wormy-but-not-much-else-pop, or <br />2) heavy, heavy metal, or <br />3) emo/alt rock, or <br />4) indie stuff, or <br />5) techno/house/what have you, or<br />6) all of them slammed together.<br /><br />And my dear chaps, where IS the rock? Almost nowhere, and hence the obsession with the songs of yore. <br /><br />I think. <br /><br />Do tell if I’m missing out on the great rock experience of the new millennium, I implore you.Aqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586908271370492304.post-804772010942555882010-10-18T00:02:00.000-07:002010-10-18T00:06:41.069-07:00A reponse to "Kannadigas, stand up for Karnataka"Maybe I’m mental, but there is something very odd and disturbing about Arvind Adiga’s recent piece in the Times. (http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/home/sunday-toi/all-that-matters/Kannadigas-stand-up-for-Karnataka/articleshow/6762547.com)<br /><br /><em>“<strong>Your</strong> Delhiwallah might associate virtues like modesty, thrift, and hard work with the Madrasi, but <strong>in the south </strong>we have always thought of Karnataka as the ultimate locus of these values.”</em><br />How much more clearly could you demarcate boundaries between us, and them? YOUR, and but IN THE SOUTH. I mean, Jesus Christ.<br /><br /><em>“Film stars did not rule Karnataka (as they did Tamil Nadu); Naxalites did not over-run parts of the state (as they did in Andhra Pradesh); and strikes did not cripple its economy (as they did in Kerala).”</em><br />Oh hey, wait. Here he is, doing it more clearly. <br /><br />Now he’s talking about the political crisis, there he is, trying to pin the blame on the money flooding the state from IT and other sectors, but particularly from mining interests in the North. <br /><br />At this point, I’m thinking, ok, the man is going to talk about the need for accountability, for the proper exercise of democratic rights, about governance, transparency and all of those seemingly relevant measures.<br /><br />But oh NOO! Lookee here <em>“Culture, in the south of India, has always been a bulwark against money”</em><br />A bulwark against money? You want to bulwark-ize your money? What did money do to you, man? It doesn’t force itself down your throat and make you lose sight of what is important. It doesn’t magically acquire propelling powers and push you towards a Louis Vuitton bag when you think the money would be better off growing fat in a bank account. <br /><br />Mr. Adiga, I wish you’d thought out your argument, for I feel unable to respond appropriately, being unable to see ANY logic underling ANY of your assumptions. <br />So tell me two things- 1) what is it about money coming in that is so very dangerous, and how is it responsible for the recent debacle in the legislative assembly? 2) how does culture, dancing, costume, food, language etc, how does all of this protect you from these evils? How would my knowledge of Kannada prevent said debacle, or even stabilize the situation?<br /><br /><em>“…the Kannadiga sees his language and culture being eroded everywhere”- </em>it’s called being a cosmopolitan city, sir. And yeah, that “erosion” accompanies the money. For heaven’s sake, do you know that this country’s Constitution celebrates diversity? Change your vocabulary, get a little less resentful. Call it “multilingualism” instead of “erosion”. Call it a wonderful amalgamation instead of dilution. Or stay there, in your little houses with your steady, stagnant, income, we’ll take our business elsewhere.<br /><br /><em>“There is money, but there is no pride in Karnataka any longer.” </em>Oh no honey, you got pride alright. It’s actually starting to resemble jingoism. You might soon start giving Maharashtra serious competition, if you keep on like this. Won’t that be a day worth celebrating?<br /><br /><em>“New malls are being built, but serious issues lie untackled: deteriorating infrastructure, environmental pollution, and tense Hindu-Muslim relations in places like South Canara.” </em>Ah, yes, and my knowledge of Kannada and the great Kannada poets is going to fix all of that. <br /><br /><em>“Part of the problem is that many of us have divided loyalties.” </em>DIVIDED LOYALTIES? Are you hearing yourself, man? You don’t have to tell me about pride in one’s history, language, culture. But to put that down in this manner, to say that if a person speaks Telugu and another speaks Tamil, their LOYALTIES are divided, why, you might as well set our pretty Preamble on fire right there. Call me crazy, but a writer with a following should really watch his words more closely than that.<br /><br /><em>“If you live in Karnataka, you are a Kannadiga; and your children are the inheritors of Krishna Deva Raya and Professor UR Ananthamurthy.”</em> So I am to lose my sense of identity as a mongrel with blood from ten corners of the Earth and say that I’m ethnically a Kannadiga? Call myself a proud resident of beautiful Bangalore with all the pubs and the great, sweet people, I’ll do gladly. But call myself a Kannadiga, I won’t, and I’m not so sure Kannadigas would appreciate it if I did either. THAT might be seen as dilution too, ye know.<br /><br /><em><br />“Please develop some sense of ownership and belonging in Karnataka — for the sake of your own children.”</em><br /><br />Now this might be the first sensible thing he’s said in this piece. Yes, a sense of ownership and belonging helps make better citizens, people who care about the city and its advancement. But does knowing the language necessarily contribute; or put differently, is that the ONLY way in which to develop a sense of ownership and belonging? <br /><br />A person feels like she belongs if she is made to feel welcome. If you’re going to wrinkle up your nose at me and say ohhh chee north Indian, look she doesn’t know ANY Kannada and her family throws huge parties and wears their gold where it’s visible, hell no, I won’t feel like I belong. <br /><br />Now, don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against promoting vernacular languages, and preserving our dances, culture and costume. I’ve studied Kathak for six years and I understand why my Tamil friends get angry if they’re expected to know Hindi. Hell, my mother tongue isn’t Hindi either. <br /><br />However, what I do not appreciate is being told that if I am to live in a particular state, PAY for my food and board and actually help said State’s economy by consuming its services and what-have-you, I must learn the local language and culture. <br />Let us come to you.<br /><br />The more you raise a hullabaloo, repeating learn-my-language-learn-my-language over and over till our ears are bleeding and we feel like clubbing your varied and beautiful languages into one big bracket that we call the jalebi languages; the less respect for said language and culture you are going to see. <br /><br />And if you were truly confident about your culture and identity, you would be feeling too damn superior to ask us to learn Kannada. You would be thinking- his loss, this is my language, it is beautiful and I feel privileged that I am of a select group of people that speak it. Yes, Adiga says that the Kannadiga is in the middle of an identity and culture crisis. Dear sir, its not just Kannadigas, its everyone from anywhere in this country. And that’s for y’all to figure out. And not by counting on us to speak broken Kannada with awful Punjabi twangs, eh?<br /><br />Trust me, I came to Bangalore and loved it- for the trees, for the weather, for what I was told was a city full of nice people and yes, for the filter coffee. Yet more and more, I am irritated at being told repeatedly to learn the language. If you’d just let me be, I’d pick it up myself, I’d even come to you all excited and want to know how to say “I hate you, you thieving autowallah!” in Kannada. But now, I’d rather eat you first.<br /><br />PS- as for the economy, the infrastructure, the state of the government, look elsewhere for more concrete solutions, “m’kay, pumpkin?” Maybe my broken Kannada ain’t gonna fix that, maybe you’d have better luck with proper planning, accountability initiatives, citizen involvement et al. And I promise you, as a RESIDENT of Bangalore, I’ll be there.Aqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586908271370492304.post-16442851765927562222010-10-14T01:50:00.000-07:002010-10-14T02:49:40.560-07:00LIfe decision, MADE!This question has been haunting me for months now, and ironically, it has been resolved at the weirdest, most unlikely forum in the company of the most unlikely people.<br /> <br />I went into my boss's office to ask the simplest of questions, and as the discussion veered toward's intellectual property rights, the boss started telling me about his experiences as a litigation lawyer. At the time, I was reflecting on how chatty he is, and thus how very different from my other bosses. But as I took the elevator down some hundred floors, I started getting excited. I realised that litigation makes most sense, and the decision has me euphoric, surely a good sign. Here's my pros list<br /><br />1) I. do. not. have. to. think. about. what to wear. Its penguin suits all the way, and though that would be depressing for some, for me its a god send. <br /><br />2) Its like LSC on speed. I might've mentioned this earlier, but I get a monumental kick when I find something to help an LSC client, and imagine doing that for a living! <br /><br />3) Arguing. Muahaha. Shredding arguments to shreds. Favourite pastime, turned profession.<br /><br />4) Barely any money, so no tension about where, how to spend, how much I earn in comparison with peers (I know I can afford chai biskoot, thats good enough)<br /><br />5) Since its supposed to be difficult for women to litigate, OBVIOUSLY I want to :D<br /><br />6) I won't have to sit at a desk all day, I'll be going to court, standing in lines, getting frustrated, driving long distances and THEN sitting at a desk<br /><br />7) High pressure, totally exhilarating.<br /><br />8) Caffeine addiction, and I will prize a day's vacation. Perfect.<br /><br />9) Nice blend of dull, unthinking work and really intense work involving lots of creative thinking. Again, perfecto.<br /><br />PS<br /><br />10) I know that after having gone through law school, I will want to actually apply the stuff I learnt, and the image of the black robe billowing behind me as I stalk corridors with my head whirring and arms full of books and papers is aaaa so exciting.<br /><br />11) I can't stand central air conditioning. So no office job for me until I get my immunity nicely built up.<br /><br />12) This feels nice and desi, you know. Sweaty, hard work, dhaka muki, this is the kind of work that will make me feel like I made my place in the world, so I can look back and say, boss, bahut dhakhe khaye the. Whats the point of entering the adult world with a nice cushy job and all possible comforts? How will that help you prize what you make for yourself? <br /><br />And boss tells me the career graph for people who take regular corp jobs is something like this- start HIGH, plateau, keep plateauing, and then enjoy gradual growth. He says even if you choose to go corporate firmy later, you'll make a better lawyer, know more and seem like you know more, so you'll do better faster than your contemporaries. Which means that when I'm a little older and wanting to rest my behind and have had my share of excitement and sleepless nights, I can do a firm job (if I decide to stick with law) and get meatier work AND a nice chair and awesome view. THIS IS SO PERFECT. <br /><br />13) And if I decide I've had enough of pure law and want to do some policy type work-my experience as a litigating lawyer will expose me to a wide enough range of issues, government policies, degree of implementation, manner of implementation etc, which will help me be a better analyst. Sooo perfect.<br /><br />14) I really like IPR and tax. So I had it listed as one option, to work with an IPR or tax firm. But I was listening to boss talk about how TM is fun, but "kitna karoge" and it got me thinking, it might be true, you know, much as I like IPR, too much of it would probably make it run of the mill and mechanical as opposed to being a breath of fresh air to enliven my days of drugdery, bail applications and miscellaneous petitions. I mean, litigation will be like the first year at grad school abroad, you dabble in a range of things and discover what you're truly passionate about, then you specialize. <br /><br />Yesa. Versatility, a degree of independence, a feeling of impacting someone's life, being responsible blah blah. Yessir. <br /><br />Cons<br /><br />1) No money. Meh, big deal. If after two years, I find that I'm not a good litigator, I'll go abroad, study, come back and turn to my other love, policy and make enough to be comfortable. If I'm good, I'll eventually earn enough.<br /><br />2) Er... Long work hours, lots of pressure blah blah. All pluses for me. Heehaw.<br /><br />Can't think of other cons.<br /><br />This feels right. :D<br /><br />PS- I have to say that the great Mr. Mohan has always been an advocate of my litigating, but like the decision to quit smoking, something like this needs to be figured out for oneself. Non, Ayush?Aqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8586908271370492304.post-66295961454504679022010-09-18T13:30:00.000-07:002010-09-18T13:33:49.464-07:00Thoughts on riding Juno (my Pulsar 135)1) She’s beautiful. Lovely flank (fuel tank), nice cuts like on the Apache<br />2) Prettier face than the Apache’s, which was my problem with said bike<br />3) Sounds GREAT<br />4) Makes me huppy when I ride, feel weird if haven’t ridden in a while <br />5) Taking helmet off is always fun, in a melodramatic-wait-till-I-shake-out-my-hair kinda way (J. k. Not really.)<br />6) Only the tip of my big toe reaches the ground when I’m trying to manoeuvre. Trick- to get off and wheel her around, or risk severe discomfort in the crotch area from trying to produce momentum from... nothing.<br />7) Can get her on centre stand, woot! Absolutely not about brute strength or anything, all about the right angles and little tricks, or physics, for the less romantic<br />8) Sponge stuffed shiny blue horse keychain- nice statement, but stinky. Sponge doesn’t dry post rain. In Bangalore, always rain.<br />9) Weird noise when riding fast-ish with visor up. MAJOR whistling in ears. (not from bike, from wind) <br />10) Shifts to the first gear not always crotch friendly. Especially for the guy sitting behind you<br />11) As with most other things, a lot about being confident<br />12) Earrings will poke, hair will escape and get in nose and mouth. Will get cold, must carry jacket at all times<br />13) Full tank for 300 bucks. :D Great mileage, tis awesome.<br />14) No up when going up, no down when going down. (Err, gears. Moving on)<br />15)Excellent for learning how to- stop caring if you’re embarrassing self, learning self control and crisis management. :P :P<br /><br />---------<br />Why is it that when its 1:35 in the morning and there’s nothing left to do but sleep, I feel the need for a book to read, a movie to watch, someone to text? Are we, as a generation, unable to occupy our time with our own thoughts, and with doing 'nothing?' Why the need for constant distraction? Woe the inability to focus on one person/thing for any length of time, because of the constant pinging in the background.Aqseerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14862243226023578295noreply@blogger.com0