"Karthik, dinner's ready." My mom called out while I was listening to My Sacrifice by Creed on Radio City. She came near and in a low voice said, "I told your dad about it." I felt like a 10,000 volt stupor hit me! "What?" I was flabbergasted, "Ma, I wanted to tell him myself. I had it all planned out. You've just...god! You women kind can never keep secrets, can you? Ok, what did he say?" I asked anxiously. "He said nothing. Probably he wouldn't even talk to you about it until you start." I knew it was going to be a bad night. Heated arguments, sentimental issues, guilt pricking and unwanted tensions; we had had none of these in our house. But I saw it all coming down in one night.
At the dinner table
It took me sometime to come out of my bedroom, for the dinner table seemed like a battle ground to me! My hunger died with the very thought of talking to my dad. But I knew I couldn't escape it and I had to face this some day or the other. My dad sat next to me. I gulped the air that was stuck in my throat and with head bent down I had my eyes fixed on my plate. Even after five minutes, daddy spoke nothing! So I gathered up all my courage to break the ice, "Appa, I wanted to tell it myself. I was actually..." "What's her name?" he cut me without looking at my face. "Simi" I answered, "Simi Jacob Thomas." There was a smile on his face. "Bring her home tomorrow evening", he said. It made me smile too, for I felt glad to hear something like that while I expected a huge argument to spurt out. None of us spoke anything else that night. It turned out to be a total anti-climax of what I had imagined! I got back to my room after dinner, but couldn't sleep for most part of the night since I was dreaming with open eyes about the day that was to come the next morning!
The day did come
The day did come; probably one of the most important days of my life. I told Simi that my dad wanted to meet her and also that he wasn't fussed up or anything like that and instead smiled about it. Simi didn't know what to tell, she too was very happy I thought. A year and a half of our secret relationship, a secret known to the world but hidden to our parents, was about to pay off. So, on that day, we just didn't care about whether we had completed our work or not. We left office at 4.30 in the evening, just to make sure that we don't get stuck in that dreaded Hosur road traffic. Simi left her car parked in the office itself and we both went in my car. That wasn't the first time I had driven with Simi in my Honda City, but somehow, all along the way home, my dreaming about the car being decorated with flowers and a big "Just Married" sign on a heart shaped board, made that ride very special to me!
We reached home by quarter past five. Summer time; my dad was sitting on the swing in the lawn, reading a newspaper. He got up as he saw us coming. "Namaste Uncle", Simi said folding her hands. My dad smiled back. "Hello, nice to meet you", he greeted her, "come, let's go inside", he took us in. My mom was watching tv in the hall and as we entered she got up from the sofa and switched off the tv. "Get something", my dad said to my mom and within minutes a lot of things were ready on the tea table. "Please have it" my dad said and we both started munching. "Aunty, I really like this. Kaduburight? Karthik gives me every time you send it in his lunch box. In fact, I've eaten almost every dish that you cook. You really cook very nicely aunty." Simi said looking at my mom. My mom just smiled back as a thank youto Simi's compliments.
Setting the stage!
"Sorry child, I forgot your name." My dad said. Simi was busy eating, but she'd heard it. "Uh? Uncle? Simi. My name is Simi", she replied. "Aaah! Simi Jacob Thomas, right?" My dad asked. "Yes", Simi replied and looked at my face with her eyebrows slightly raised. I did nothing else but show my teeth. There was a wide smile on my dad's face too. "What?" I asked him. "Karthik Subramanya Shastry weds Simi Jacob Thomas, somehow sounds very funny to me", he said. The smile on my face slowly reduced in width and finally when I saw the expression on Simi's face change as she took a bite of the kadubu, my smile completely died out. My dad was quick to react. He looked at Simi and said, "Oh please don't feel offended. I don't mean to hurt you. But child, I'm going to ask you a few questions and also tell you some things over which you'll need to think calmly." Uh oh! Something's coming! I told myself. Simi seemed to have heard what I'd just said in silence. She kept the half bitten kadubu back on the plate.
The talk!
"Simi. Since how long do you know Karthik?" My dad started shooting.
"About a year and a half" Simi replied.
"Do you think that's enough to know him?"
"I guess so. Yes. That's quite enough." Simi nodded her head up and down.
"Hmm...Tell me one thing, do your parents know about this?"
"No uncle. I was about to tell them; after we took your permission."
"And how did you assume that I will say 'yes'?" My dad was still smiling. But the expression on our faces had taken a U-turn from extreme bliss to total awe by now! Although both of us knew that we would have to face our parents' opposition, the way my dad had reacted since the night before had sprung up some positive thoughts in both of us. So this was a bit of a shock indeed.
"Simi, Simi. My dear child. I know most of what I tell you will make you feel like not listening to me. I just want you both to have the best and I know very well that it will not be so if you happen to marry." Our faces now looked like the sad emoticon that we use in our Office Communicator. But my dad continued :-(
"Where do your parents stay?"
"Kozhikode, Kerala."
"What does your father do?"
"He retired as a Branch Manager in SBI last month. Now he serves as an evangelist at a church nearby".
"How many siblings do you have?"
"We are four. I have a brother and two sisters."
"You must be the youngest", my dad was bang on!
"Yes", Simi replied, a little surprised. I knew, like me, she too wanted to know how on earth he got that!
"I pity your poor dad. He seems to be a pious man. If I, being the father of the boy, feel so sad about this whole thing, I can imagine how much pain that man will go through." My dad let out a long sigh. Somehow the things he spoke started to get on my nerves and I thought I had to do some talking.
"What's wrong with this dad? I don't understand why you people should be worried. Simi and I like each other, we understand each other very well, we both have good jobs in hand, what else do we need?"
"I was waiting for you to open your mouth", my dad said in a sarcastic tone. "See. You are talking only about you both; that you like each other, that you have good jobs. Then, tell me honestly, when you have decided about everything, why do you need my permission, or even her parents' permission? You can as well marry and later just inform us, right? If you feel that you will anyways go ahead no matter what, then I see no point in discussing this anymore." My dad stood up.
"No uncle", Simi interrupted, "I want to listen to you." I looked at Simi with an evident frown on my face. "Please, let us talk about it. I too want to know what you feel about this." She requested my dad. But I wasn't keen on listening. I just sat with my face turned away, staring at the door.
My dad sat down. "Simi, marriage is not a child's play dear. At least in our society, it's not centered just around two people. If you had, for at least once, thought practically about your relationship, you wouldn't have carried it so far. You both are in love and that will make you think you can get along anything that comes your way. Child, married life in itself has thousand and one problems. You have to make sure that you don't invite more problems just by taking a hasty decision.
"The first thing is, I'm more than a hundred percent sure that your family will not whole heartedly accept my son as their son-in-law and after this marriage, believe me, your relationship with your parents and siblings will never be the same. Even if they come to accept it at a later point of time, they will just be pretending. Some relationships if broken, take a long time to patch up and if they had been very close, it takes a lifetime. Coming out of home and living a life of your own sounds very good like in movies and stories, but the truth is, you cannot stay away from your parents forever; at least not until they are alive."
Simi was listening without blinking her eyes. "After that, come your individual dogmas. You know, his mother celebrates at home, almost every festival that's listed on the almanac. She will feel uncomfortable to let you around and get you involved. Even if she and you get along after sometime, I will guarantee, it will be limited to our house alone. You will never be invited to any function that will happen in our relatives' homes. At first, you might feel ok about it. But when Karthik will feel the pinch in his heart to know the fact that his wife is not welcomed in his relatives' places and because of that he too cannot attend those so very fun filled family gatherings that he was always a part of, he too will start to repent.
"Then there are your food habits. You are a meat eater and my son is a pure vegetarian, well at least I think so. But I don't know if he has started that too."
Simi was already feeling guilty I guess. "No, he doesn't eat. But I have stopped", she said.
"See. You have lost a part of yourself. You know, for your love to carry on with the same fervor forever, you should accept the person you love as he or she is, without being directly or indirectly forced to change for the sake of love. In my opinion, that's true love and everything else is just a compromise. You have given up eating meat, good; but every time you come across that, you'll always be tempted. It's perfectly ok and it's because you have been brought up in such a culture where it is almost compulsory to eat meat, whereas my son has grown up amongst people who dislike even the sight and smell of it.
"And then, you both are connected by English, a language that's not the mother tongue of either of you. I am not telling it's a bad language, but you know, it is always the mother tongue that gives you the personal touch, the closer-to-heart feeling while you talk to your, be it husband or any other person. Don't tell me that love knows no language; it is all theory and is only good for the books. The day you see a couple in love talking in your language and having those sweet little verbal fights or name-calling, in words that you can best express only in a language that is closer to your heart, you will know what you are missing.
Simi was static. "Next thing is about your kids. My mother used to tell me a proverb in Kannada - Appa amma eradu daari aadare, makkaLu naaku daari anthe, meaning If the father and mother go in two directions, their children will go in four. I don't know if I've put it correctly in English but I hope you've understood it. Forget your kids, you yourself will not be able to tell them whether they have to go to the church or the temple, to be a vegetarian or a non-vegetarian, to speak Malayalam or Kannada and many such things. Finally they end up growing in a big confusion about their language, their God, their culture and everything about themselves. They might even someday curse you for landing them in such a situation. You might say that they will choose the best of both cultures. But that can happen only after they have matured enough to take decisions on their own. But again, I bet they will not be able to do that too since they wouldn't have gained a complete understanding of either of those.
"Deep down inside, you feel that you are doing something wrong and that's what has kept you from telling your parents or else you would have told it on day one that you like this guy and might as well marry him. But you feel your parents might be hurt if you do that because you know very well that they can never see him as the right guy for you and from my point of view too, he's not. Trust me, even your parents wouldn't deny if you can prove it to them that he is the right person, but in this case, you'll not be able to do that! I just guessed that you must be the youngest because if you had somebody younger to you, a sense of guilt which makes you feel that you might just be setting a bad example to the younger ones, would have stopped you from thinking about Karthik as your life partner. But again good and bad depends entirely on your perspective and for youngsters like you, it is mostly influenced by your friends outside rather than the people at home.
Looks like he's not gonna stop until she walks out, I thought, still looking away. I did not interrupt only because Simi had stopped me from it. You asked for it Simi. Now you have it. I wasn't anymore interested in disturbing her.
"I too feel that I've slipped somewhere. If only I had talked about all such things to my son a long time back, he would have been more careful in choosing his life partner. But I never realized that he had grown up so much and today I feel I'm paying for my mistake. You know, you should make your children do what you feel is right until they turn 16. Then on, till 30, you should just tell them what they should do and let them do what they feel is right and after 30 there's no use of telling too. So now, I'll only have to give my suggestion and heeding to it or discarding it, is left to you both.
"I know that a lot of people of your age fear arranged marriages these days and that fear is because you feel you don't know that person properly. But then, why do you think we have the concept of engagement. Get engaged before at least six months of marriage and you can get to know each other fairly during that period. If you don't think it will work out, you have lost nothing, right? Now if it doesn't work out once, it's never that you will not find someone better. You'll always do and sometimes you will realize it after you get married to someone who you then thought was the best! In case you love somebody with whom everybody around you and especially your parents will be comfortable with, engagement is just a formality.
"Anyways, I can already see from his face that he is not very happy to listen to me. So let's finish it off. But a sincere request from my side - before you listen to what your heart says, just give a chance to your brain to think about it." My dad finally finished his lecture!
Nobody spoke for a moment. Finally Simi broke her silence, "Uncle, now I realize why it is important to discuss with elders. No doubt, I had never thought about many things that you told now. Please give me some time. I will definitely think about it. Thank you very much for letting me know your point of view", she said and stood up. Oh Mistress of assertiveness skills, you forgot to paraphrase - I wanted to tell loudly but somehow controlled myself.
"Sure dear. I know it's not easy. Take your time. And thanks. I'm happy that at least you said you will think about it. God bless you", my dad blessed her as Simi touched his feet before leaving.
"Karthik", he looked at me and said, "go drop her till home and come back."
Sigh! Don't worry. I'll not run away with her.
And then, it was evident..
Simi did not speak to me for some days in the office. I had sort of understood what she wanted to convey. My dad had brainwashed her. If only I had never let her talk to my dad I thought. But Simi was anytime more mature than me. She had taken time not only to think about it but also to speak with her parents; and the story on the other side was no different. Luckily, I did not get an invitation from her father to talk to him! Finally Simi told me, what is usually told by girls, that we would be better off as friends rather than being a husband and wife. But it was really difficult for me to look at her as "just a friend". Fortunately I got an onsite assignment at that time which kept me away from her for almost 10 months. I somehow managed to get over the gloom during that period. It was only after that I realized my dad too was right in a way. True. At least sometimes in life, you got to listen to your elders.
Today, Simi and I are married; to different people of course, and the best part is that we both have found very good friends as our life partners. Instead of whining over what could not happen, we have just moved on with so many other beautiful things that actually happened and of course, we are more than satisfied with whatever we have in our lives. It's like they say, if it had been any better, it would be a sin ;-)
That's it!
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Arindham on slumdog millionaire.. how true is he OR the film ?
A phony poseur that has been made only to mock India for the viewing pleasure of the First World!!
The emperor's new clothes! That's "Slumdog Millionaire" for you… Five minutes into this celebrated patchwork of illogical clichés and you are struck by the jarring dialogues. The cumbersome delivery in a language which doesn't come naturally to most of the actors sounds like someone scratching on walls with one's finger nails; it ruins the possibility of a connection… Had this film been made by an Indian director, it would've been trashed as a rotting old hat, which literally stands out only because of its stench, but since the man making it happens to be from the West, we're all left celebrating the emperor's new clothes. The film borrows an undoubtedly interesting narrative style – from films like "City of God" – but then uses it to weave in a collection of clichés from the Third World's underbelly for the viewing pleasure of a First World audience. The real slumdog in the movie is not the main protagonist but India as a whole… The makers and those celebrating this movie's hard-to-spot brilliance are actually serving up India as the accidental millionaire, which in fact happens to be a slumdog… and like shameless fools we are gloating over its success without realising that it makes a caricature out of India.
The film does not have the sincerity and honesty of a "Salaam Bombay" or a "City of Joy" and nor does this slime covered fairy tale have the integrity or the rootedness of the above mentioned scripts, or even a "Shantaram" for that matter; the soundtrack and the performance of the child actors are the only bits in the film which live up to the hype. The real slumdogs who've hit the jackpot after wallowing in acres of human waste are the makers of this film who are now raking in millions while those court jesters who've critiqued the film and showered tributes and awards need to ask themselves why, scores of years after our independence, they still feel the need to suck up to the gora sahibs. It's not a question of xenophobia… it's definitely a well cinematographed film… but the film has no soul, especially after little Jamal has jumped off the train and become a teenager… The rest of the film is just a modern version of the West's view of India where slums, slumdogs and Bollywoodian clichés have replaced the elephants and snake charmers. It's a well made caricature of a country and a caricature can never be a Mona Lisa, for a masterpiece can't be one dimensional juxtaposition of sadistic extremes… and that's my grouse with the celebrations…
And I say all this not because I don't know what is India. I know its poverty and the real statistics around it a little better than most others – especially the Indian film critics who have given "Slumdog…" an average of 4 to 4.5 stars! But the fact is that the film's entire narration seems like the germination of a terribly sadistic and complex mind with the sole aim of satisfying the western idea of India – and its new found growth instincts at their cost - and it is done through a combination of illogical happenings in order to show everything in a disgustingly negative vein. Not that it doesn't exist, but it surely doesn't exist in this fictitious manner. While "Salaam Bombay" had realism, "Slumdog…" is just every scrap of dirt picked up from every corner and piled up together to try and hit back at the growing might of India. And the awards almost seem like a sadistic effort to show the world – look we knew that this was India, and these are the slumdogs we are outsourcing our jobs to. It stinks of racial arrogance and it's such a shame now on second thought to see the Indian faces – including that of the undoubted master, AR Rahman - celebrating its success. There is nothing positive about the film and it seems that a deranged sadist has painted his insecure negative self in each and every character of the movie. It illogically shows every negative thing about India happening in the protagonist's life... slums, open-air lavatories, riots, underworld, prostitution, brothels, child labour, begging, blinding and maiming of kids to make them into 'better beggars', petty peddlers, traffic jams, irresponsible call centre executives… everything apart from western pedophiles roaming around in Indian streets!! And its winning of so many awards and nominations only goes on to prove strongly that the paradigm of cinema and recognition of films are in the hands of a few retarded imperialistic minds. It's a crying shame that our media hasn't seen through this ruse and is touting "Slumdog's" nominations to claim that India is shining at the Oscars, while in fact it is lauding a film that mocks and ridicules the idea of 'India', pigeonholing its identity into the straitjacket of depraved poverty for a global audience.
When the West wanted Indians to embrace them and their companies to come to India and capture the lucrative markets, suddenly we had all the Indian women, some very beautiful and some not necessarily so, winning all the Miss Universe and Miss Worlds. Today, they are in a crisis and India is looking unstoppable despite its slums and poverty, and they are losing their businesses to us. Isn't it the best time to paint India as the Slumdog Millionaire?? All in all, the film is nothing but an endorsement of an erstwhile imperial mindset of the West and its blinkered vision of India. An English master has made an Indian slumdog. Don't even waste your time watching this film in the theatres. It sucks and there is nothing great in it as a film too. Amitabh Bachchan was spot on when he said that Bollywood has made far better mainstream films. Take out a DVD of one of his old films instead…
The emperor's new clothes! That's "Slumdog Millionaire" for you… Five minutes into this celebrated patchwork of illogical clichés and you are struck by the jarring dialogues. The cumbersome delivery in a language which doesn't come naturally to most of the actors sounds like someone scratching on walls with one's finger nails; it ruins the possibility of a connection… Had this film been made by an Indian director, it would've been trashed as a rotting old hat, which literally stands out only because of its stench, but since the man making it happens to be from the West, we're all left celebrating the emperor's new clothes. The film borrows an undoubtedly interesting narrative style – from films like "City of God" – but then uses it to weave in a collection of clichés from the Third World's underbelly for the viewing pleasure of a First World audience. The real slumdog in the movie is not the main protagonist but India as a whole… The makers and those celebrating this movie's hard-to-spot brilliance are actually serving up India as the accidental millionaire, which in fact happens to be a slumdog… and like shameless fools we are gloating over its success without realising that it makes a caricature out of India.
The film does not have the sincerity and honesty of a "Salaam Bombay" or a "City of Joy" and nor does this slime covered fairy tale have the integrity or the rootedness of the above mentioned scripts, or even a "Shantaram" for that matter; the soundtrack and the performance of the child actors are the only bits in the film which live up to the hype. The real slumdogs who've hit the jackpot after wallowing in acres of human waste are the makers of this film who are now raking in millions while those court jesters who've critiqued the film and showered tributes and awards need to ask themselves why, scores of years after our independence, they still feel the need to suck up to the gora sahibs. It's not a question of xenophobia… it's definitely a well cinematographed film… but the film has no soul, especially after little Jamal has jumped off the train and become a teenager… The rest of the film is just a modern version of the West's view of India where slums, slumdogs and Bollywoodian clichés have replaced the elephants and snake charmers. It's a well made caricature of a country and a caricature can never be a Mona Lisa, for a masterpiece can't be one dimensional juxtaposition of sadistic extremes… and that's my grouse with the celebrations…
And I say all this not because I don't know what is India. I know its poverty and the real statistics around it a little better than most others – especially the Indian film critics who have given "Slumdog…" an average of 4 to 4.5 stars! But the fact is that the film's entire narration seems like the germination of a terribly sadistic and complex mind with the sole aim of satisfying the western idea of India – and its new found growth instincts at their cost - and it is done through a combination of illogical happenings in order to show everything in a disgustingly negative vein. Not that it doesn't exist, but it surely doesn't exist in this fictitious manner. While "Salaam Bombay" had realism, "Slumdog…" is just every scrap of dirt picked up from every corner and piled up together to try and hit back at the growing might of India. And the awards almost seem like a sadistic effort to show the world – look we knew that this was India, and these are the slumdogs we are outsourcing our jobs to. It stinks of racial arrogance and it's such a shame now on second thought to see the Indian faces – including that of the undoubted master, AR Rahman - celebrating its success. There is nothing positive about the film and it seems that a deranged sadist has painted his insecure negative self in each and every character of the movie. It illogically shows every negative thing about India happening in the protagonist's life... slums, open-air lavatories, riots, underworld, prostitution, brothels, child labour, begging, blinding and maiming of kids to make them into 'better beggars', petty peddlers, traffic jams, irresponsible call centre executives… everything apart from western pedophiles roaming around in Indian streets!! And its winning of so many awards and nominations only goes on to prove strongly that the paradigm of cinema and recognition of films are in the hands of a few retarded imperialistic minds. It's a crying shame that our media hasn't seen through this ruse and is touting "Slumdog's" nominations to claim that India is shining at the Oscars, while in fact it is lauding a film that mocks and ridicules the idea of 'India', pigeonholing its identity into the straitjacket of depraved poverty for a global audience.
When the West wanted Indians to embrace them and their companies to come to India and capture the lucrative markets, suddenly we had all the Indian women, some very beautiful and some not necessarily so, winning all the Miss Universe and Miss Worlds. Today, they are in a crisis and India is looking unstoppable despite its slums and poverty, and they are losing their businesses to us. Isn't it the best time to paint India as the Slumdog Millionaire?? All in all, the film is nothing but an endorsement of an erstwhile imperial mindset of the West and its blinkered vision of India. An English master has made an Indian slumdog. Don't even waste your time watching this film in the theatres. It sucks and there is nothing great in it as a film too. Amitabh Bachchan was spot on when he said that Bollywood has made far better mainstream films. Take out a DVD of one of his old films instead…
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Man in the Glass !!
Source: Unknown
" When you get what you want in your struggle for self
And the world makes you king for a day,
Just go to the mirror and look at yourself
And see what that man has to say.
For it isn’t your father or mother or wife
Whose judgment upon you must pass.
The fellow whose verdict counts most in your life
Is the one staring back from the glass.
You may be like Jack Horner and chisel a plum
And think you’re a wonderful guy.
But the man in the glass says you’re only a bum
If you can’t look him straight in the eye.
He’s the fellow to please never mind the rest,
For he’s with you clear to the end.
And you’ve passed your most dangerous, difficult test
If the man in the glass is your friend.
You may fool the whole world down the pathway of years
And get pats on the back as you pass.
But your final reward will be heartache and tears
If you’ve cheated the man in the glass...... "
Friday, December 5, 2008
Its not the end, it's the beginning..
Consider this: every time a last thought is repeated, a story comes to an end. People need clarity, and that is what stories are for. Our own lives are complicated---nothing is ever resolved and nothing is ever over. But stories end, so they can be pure. The joy is pure and the suffering is pure and even the questions that can't be answered are precise and clear.
A lost dog has finally found his family, and they're shouting his name and they hold their arms out and he jumps into them...
It is the end of the argument, and they are more in love than ever...
The criminal has been caught at last, and punishment is waiting...
Here is the baby, born finally, healthy, and the mother is sweaty but she's okay too...
These are ends, but they are also beginnings, and in life they will end and begin again and again. Every time something happens a world of possible action opens up, and possible meanings. But in fiction, every story is an end, because we are only reading the end. Its last notes are sonorous and beautiful and final. They are beautiful. They are final.
Say a marriage is tragic. Say that the people close to the couple can find no words for the things they have done. Say at every point where the body of the world touches their bodies, people have bad dreams and lose their faith and turn their eyes away from things they once trusted. Even if this is true, it doesn't matter: it isn't the end."
A lost dog has finally found his family, and they're shouting his name and they hold their arms out and he jumps into them...
It is the end of the argument, and they are more in love than ever...
The criminal has been caught at last, and punishment is waiting...
Here is the baby, born finally, healthy, and the mother is sweaty but she's okay too...
These are ends, but they are also beginnings, and in life they will end and begin again and again. Every time something happens a world of possible action opens up, and possible meanings. But in fiction, every story is an end, because we are only reading the end. Its last notes are sonorous and beautiful and final. They are beautiful. They are final.
Say a marriage is tragic. Say that the people close to the couple can find no words for the things they have done. Say at every point where the body of the world touches their bodies, people have bad dreams and lose their faith and turn their eyes away from things they once trusted. Even if this is true, it doesn't matter: it isn't the end."
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Tribute to all nice guys out there.....
Ode to the Nice Guys
(This rant was written for the Wharton Undergraduate Journal)
This is a tribute to the nice guys. The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny/sexy their female friends are at the appropriate moment, because they know most girls need that litany of support. This is in honor of the guys with open minds, with laid-back attitudes, with honest concern. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl’s every facet, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style.
This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they’re at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don’t end up being boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly abandoned, this is for you.
This is for that time she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a jerk, you assured her that it was all ok and she shouldn’t worry about it. This is for that time she interrupted the best killing spree you’d ever orchestrated in GTA3 to rant about a rumor that romantically linked her and the guy she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for two hours and helped her concoct a counter-rumor to spread around the floor. This is also for that time she didn’t have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing “serious” between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: “oh, but we’re just friends!” And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you’re nice like that.
The nice guys don’t often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more disturbing, the nice guys don’t seem to get laid as often as they should. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can’t. From what I have observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative bitches. Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as “oh, he’s too nice to date” or “he would be a good boyfriend but he’s not for me” or “he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn’t possibly ask him out!” or the most frustrating of all: “no, it would ruin our friendship.” Yet, they continue to lament the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks. Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can’t figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I’m going to sleep with this complete ass now!). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn’t last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.
So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you’re sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, inane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgment, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming.
(This rant was written for the Wharton Undergraduate Journal)
This is a tribute to the nice guys. The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny/sexy their female friends are at the appropriate moment, because they know most girls need that litany of support. This is in honor of the guys with open minds, with laid-back attitudes, with honest concern. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl’s every facet, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style.
This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they’re at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don’t end up being boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly abandoned, this is for you.
This is for that time she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a jerk, you assured her that it was all ok and she shouldn’t worry about it. This is for that time she interrupted the best killing spree you’d ever orchestrated in GTA3 to rant about a rumor that romantically linked her and the guy she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for two hours and helped her concoct a counter-rumor to spread around the floor. This is also for that time she didn’t have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing “serious” between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: “oh, but we’re just friends!” And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you’re nice like that.
The nice guys don’t often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more disturbing, the nice guys don’t seem to get laid as often as they should. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can’t. From what I have observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative bitches. Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as “oh, he’s too nice to date” or “he would be a good boyfriend but he’s not for me” or “he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn’t possibly ask him out!” or the most frustrating of all: “no, it would ruin our friendship.” Yet, they continue to lament the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks. Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can’t figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I’m going to sleep with this complete ass now!). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn’t last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.
So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you’re sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, inane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgment, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
All U Guys.. Just Read....
Hey Guys,
I will recommend that this article must be read at least ones. Come on take out 2 mins and read it.
What not to do when you are desperate about having a girl friend !!
My target readers
- If you are a guy, age >=22 and still single....welcome to the club. Read this very seriously.
- If you are a guy, not single then reading this is not worth your time.
- If you are a girl there is nothing new here, I know most of you are omniscient.
On a random day, at a random place you come across a random girl and you get an instant feeling that she is the "one" for you. In the next few mins of talk, the inevitable question comes up "Are you on Orkut?"...Now that's the beginning. You take her email ID, flick her chat ID from Orkut and start loading her inbox with messages, forwards, funny mails, quotes etc etc., . You are always online for her and the moment you come online the question pops up on her window, "Hey hi, wass up?" You always go to places where there is a chance of seeing her. You try to run in to her and pretend that it was accidental. You wear nice dresses and try to look good on the days when there is a high probability of meeting her. After that you take her phone number and start calling her every day. For the first few days she picks up the phone, then slowly she starts giving the busy tone and the next stage is total avoidance. But, you always believe that she is interested in you or at least you don't want to accept the truth. For some of you the big day comes when you express your feelings to her and you don't even have to wait for her reply, it is generally, "I did not see you in that way, can we be just friends?". Some don't even reach that stage, they hide their feelings, but in either case one thing is common, the girl's name ends up being the password for the next few months.
As soon as they realize that they have reached the "age", guys start trying to impress girls. Some try to show-off that they are smart and some have this weird belief that girls consider stupid guys as cute. Intelligence to innocence, being introvert to extrovert, being classy to messy, strong to weak ...anything and everything, every guy has own strategy. I don't know who came up with this quote "Everything is fair in love and war", he (not she) must probably have been one of them. I don't know why guys fail to understand that girls are smart enough to understand all these and why would not they? Even before they realize that they are "girls", guys start hitting on them, one after the other, day and night, not allowing them even to breathe properly.
After reading till here some of you might be in dilemma whether you are really desperate or not. It's very easy to come to a conclusion. Take a paper and answer the following questions in Yes or No
1. Whenever you see a girl walking on the road ahead of you, Do you increase your walking speed, walk past her and then turn back to see her face?
2. Do you become very conscious about what you are talking, when you are around with girls?
3. Do you try to be cool or someone else in order to impress girls?
4. Do you think staying clam or moody when in a group makes the girl think about you?
5. You ask a girl to join you for lunch or coffee; do you think a YES from other side is an indication that she is interested in you?
6. Do you keep staring at girls?
7. Are you ready to date a girl even if she is around with someone else as well?
8. Is "Girls" the main topic of all your discussions with your friends?
If you find even a single "YES" in the paper then YOU ARE DESPERATE. Be a man, accept it Yaar.
Now the real question "What not to do when you are desperate about having a girl friend?"
Did you actually believe that I would come up with some solution or tips? Had I known it, would I be still single? It was just a trick to make you guys read this one. But, I have one tip though, first and foremost STOP being desperate. I know that it is difficult. At least try not to show that you are desperate. The rule is simple, "No one in this world cares for a thing that is easily gettable" and FYI girls are never worried about finding a guy and why do they have to? Did you ever come across a girl who never had a BF or never been proposed by a guy? If yes, then that's a miracle, you met a rare species or an extinct one in this world.
If you got the tip that you wanted and don't want to read any further it's fine. But, I would recommend reading further. Trust me, keep reading.
We know that we are the ones who make the girls realize that they are important, treat them as if they are precious, tell them that they are beautiful and show that they are in demand. We buy them gifts, spend all the money we have, do their work, roam around with them all the time, carry their stuff and in the end what do we get in return? a few thanks and an offer to be a good friend. Do we need all this? If 1/1000 th of the time wasted on a girl is spent on a guy you will find a friend for a lifetime. Just play some game together or watch a movie, give him a cigarette or buy him a drink and that is it. Realize that spending a night with your friends drinking till everyone pukes, having a hangover throughout the next day is more fun than spending the same night with your girl in a pub buying her drinks, talking crap, listening crap, making some crap moves..... What ever.
I know that at some point of time in your life you might have realized all this. But, there is a need to educate the rest and also pass on the message to the future generations. I dream of a day when guys are in demand and girls start worrying about finding a guy. I hope the day comes soon.
If you are still desperate, you need a second read.
P.S.: To the girls: If you think that some guy is crazy about you and trying hard to impress you, please tell him immediately if you are not interested.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Install Love !!!
Customer Service Representative: Can you install Love ?
Customer: I can do that. I'm not very technical, but I think I am ready to install. What do I do first?
CS Rep: The first step is to open your HEART. Have you located your HEART ma'am?
Customer: Yes I have, but there are several programs running right now. Is it okay to install while they are running?
CS Rep: What programs are running ma'am?
Customer: Let me see . . . I have PASTHURT.EXE, LOWESTEEM.EXE, GRUDGE.EXE, and RESENTMENT.COM running right now.
CS Rep: No problem. LOVE will automatically erase PASTHURT.EXE from your current operating system. It may remain in your permanent memory, but it will no longer disrupt other programs. LOVE will eventually overwrite LOWESTEEM.EXE with a module of its own called HIGH SELFESTEEM.EXE. However, you have to completely turn off GRUDGE.EXE and RESENTMENT.COM. Those programs prevent LOVE from being properly installed. Can you turn those off ma'am?
Customer: I don't know how to turn them off. Can you tell me how?
CS Rep: My pleasure. Go to your Start menu and invoke FORGIVENESS.EXE. Do this as many times as necessary until GRUDGE.EXE and RESENTMENT.COM been completely erased.
Customer: Okay, I'm done. LOVE has started installing itself automatically. Is that normal?
CS Rep: Yes it is. You should receive a message that says it will reinstall for the life of your HEART. Do you see that message?
Customer: Yes I do. Is it completely installed?
CS Rep: Yes, but remember that you have only the base program. You need to begin connecting to other HEARTS in order to get the upgrades.
Customer: Oops . . . I have an error message already. What should I do?
CS Rep: What does the message say?
Customer: It says "ERROR 412 - PROGRAM NOT RUN ON INTERNAL COMPONENTS." What does that mean?
CS Rep: Don't worry ma'am, that's a common problem. It means that the LOVE program is set up to run on external HEARTS but has not yet been run on your HEART. It is one of those complicated programming things, but in non-technical terms it means you have to "LOVE " your own machine before it can "LOVE" others.
Customer: So what should I do?
CS Rep: Can you find the directory called "SELF-ACCEPTANCE?"
Customer: Yes, I have it.
CS Rep: Excellent, you are getting good at this.
Customer: Thank you.
CS Rep: You're welcome. Click on the following files and then copy them to the "MYHEART" directory: FORGIVESELF.DOC, SELFESTEEM.TXT, REALIZEWORTH.TXT, and GOODNESS.DOC. The system will overwrite any conflicting files and begin patching any faulty programming. Also, you need to delete SELFCRITICISM.EXE from all directories, and then empty your recycle bin afterwards to make sure it is completely gone and never comes back.
Customer: Got it. Hey! My HEART is filling up with really neat smiles. SMILE.MPG is playing on my monitor right now and it shows that WARMTH.COM, PEACE.EXE, and CONTENTMENT.COM are copying themselves all over my HEART!
CS Rep: Then LOVE is installed and running. You should be able to handle it from here. One more thing before I go . . .
Customer: Yes?
CS Rep: LOVE is freeware. Be sure to give it and its various modules to everybody you meet. They will in turn share it with other people and they will return some really neat modules back to you.
Customer: I will. Thank you for your help.
"There are three things that remain–faith, hope, and love–and the greatest of these is love."Tuesday, October 21, 2008
truth
Like those shining corners of the lift, I and life reflect back only half the face... rest is forever hidden... have a nice day...
Like those air conditioners in my room... which are silent, small, nice and cool from inside, but once we see the on the other side of the tower we come to know how big, hot, noisy, windy the thing is... life if touched from a distance is soothing but once you get into the detail......
Like that multistory parking tower behind which engulfs never ending row of cars one after another, life engulfs humans....... cars are different, tower is same.. humans are different... end is same..
Like that big world map in the main entrance hall which has a serious mistake of displacing a country all together from its location, life as a package looks perfect, but has serious errors if noticed closely..
Either people do change with time and circumstances or I am a fool..
Like those paper cups which take several minutes to form but few second to be used and thrown, sometimes we give years in a relationship and it takes moments............
Like those air conditioners in my room... which are silent, small, nice and cool from inside, but once we see the on the other side of the tower we come to know how big, hot, noisy, windy the thing is... life if touched from a distance is soothing but once you get into the detail......
Like that multistory parking tower behind which engulfs never ending row of cars one after another, life engulfs humans....... cars are different, tower is same.. humans are different... end is same..
Like that big world map in the main entrance hall which has a serious mistake of displacing a country all together from its location, life as a package looks perfect, but has serious errors if noticed closely..
Either people do change with time and circumstances or I am a fool..
Like those paper cups which take several minutes to form but few second to be used and thrown, sometimes we give years in a relationship and it takes moments............
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Do you believe in god?
"Do you believe in god?", She asked.
He was taken aback. He never gave a thought on that. Ever.
He was made to believe in god. No "made to" is not correct. He was never forced. It was always around. He grew with it. He grew seeing his grandma doing all the fasting sincerely, even when she suffered from severe diabetes and missing a single meal meant a lot for her old used up body. He grew seeing his mother passing first drop of water or first bite of food down her throat only after she had her bath, did her prayers and paid her respect to sun god. He grew seeing his uncles remaining unshaven on "special days" of god. He chose to believe in god. He felt happy going to temple with mother, getting tilak on his head, eating prasad which the priest gave and drinking camphor water which he did even though he never liked doing (camphor taste gave strange feelings to his throat). He liked eating fruits and food specially cooked for fasting days. He loved doing pooja to his books, his bicycle, his toys on diwali and dusshera. Firing crackers on diwali, dancing during navaratri was so much fun.
But today, today though the answer he gave was yes, that yes was just to put an end to the matter. Just to answer her question. He was not in a position to say no and then being pressed to answer all the that would follow.
But once he was alone in his bed, in darkness, during night, he searched for the answer. He was sure that there was a counter question in his heart the time when he said "yes". A feeling which took birth in his heart and ran through his brain and body in a millisecond and died. That feeling made him shiver. That feeling told him he was lying, that he was wrong. He started arguing with himself.
He felt himself getting ripped into two parts.
"You don't believe in god. By now you should have understood there is no such entity. ", Said the first part.
"No, you are worng. Whatever you have is because of all strong god. There is god.", Screamed the second part. The part close to him.
"Ha, Ha, Ha, laughed the first part. What did you say? "Whatever you have." What do you have?" And that part became invisible. But his strong devilish laugh ringed in his ears for a long time.
Yes, he was right, what did he have? Once he had. He had everything. For others everything was same. For them, he was him, what he used to be. But for him, everything was different. His beliefs had died. His heart questioned for everything now.
Whether he has friends? For this moment, yes, so many! For next, no, he is not having any friend. Not even one. He is not having anyone with whom he can share everything. And everything meant everything. So, he is without any friends.
Whether he is healthy? For this moment, yes, he is. Never more healthier! For the next moment, no, he is not. How he spends those fierce nights with his eyes open, thinking nothing. How a small wound in his body, a small bulging in his neck (which he comes to know later was just a side effect of cold he had), a small change anywhere in his body - scares the hell out of him. No, he is not healthy. Not mentally, if not physically. Or the other way round. He has no answer.
Whether he is happy? This moment, yes he is. He keeps smiling, he keeps jumping, he keeps laughing. Sharing jokes, passing comments, enjoying. Yes, he is happy! No, he is not. Whether he is in the place he wanted to be? No, he is not. Is he with people he wanted to be with? No, he is not. Is he doing work he loved and and once dreamt of doing? No, he is not. Is he the reason for things, for people. No, he is not. And he looses badly if he tries. He has tried several times now trying to go near people. Trying to make friends. But nothing works. So, no, he is not happy. Is he alive? Ha, Ha, Ha. Again that devilish laugh ringing in the ears for a long time.
Ah! He is moving away from what he started with. He wanted to search answer for whether he believed in god or not. And what he ended thinking. This happens now. This happens several times at several places now. He wishes something, he tries something, he gets something else. And above all, now he takes what he gets, no questions asked, no battles fought. Yes! We hit the root. Here lies the answer. Whom to fight with? Whom to ask questions? There was a time when he prayed to god, he thanked to him for good times, he complained to him for bad times. And he felt then that his prayers are being noticed, are being anwered.
But then came a time when everything stopped. Nothing changed. He prayed, he complained, he fought, he cried, he shouted, he screamed, but no reply, no anwer, no change. Bad things kept coming, one after another, one after another, like those ants coming over a dying cockroach. Earlier he used to find it amusing. He used to think that that cockroach is alive but still he is not running away. Not reacting. How can he surrender to such small ants, particularly when he is not even dead yet? He used to laugh at the cockroach. But now, he himself was on sympathy of ants, of time, of destiny, of fate, of luck, of god. You choose the word you like. He will not speak. He will not react. He will just accept and move ahead. Nothing to do. Nothing to show. Nothing to bother about.
So did he believe in god? If someone is ready to hold responsibility of whatever happened in his life and whatever is happening, then yes, there is god. And if only he is supposed to account for, even without his being the reason for anything that happened, then no, there was no god. Why should he believe in something if not believing is not making any difference? Right?
Generally, no, not generally, always now, he will come to such conclusions and his brain will go numb, will go blank . Again a long fierce night with eyes open and nothing to think............
He was taken aback. He never gave a thought on that. Ever.
He was made to believe in god. No "made to" is not correct. He was never forced. It was always around. He grew with it. He grew seeing his grandma doing all the fasting sincerely, even when she suffered from severe diabetes and missing a single meal meant a lot for her old used up body. He grew seeing his mother passing first drop of water or first bite of food down her throat only after she had her bath, did her prayers and paid her respect to sun god. He grew seeing his uncles remaining unshaven on "special days" of god. He chose to believe in god. He felt happy going to temple with mother, getting tilak on his head, eating prasad which the priest gave and drinking camphor water which he did even though he never liked doing (camphor taste gave strange feelings to his throat). He liked eating fruits and food specially cooked for fasting days. He loved doing pooja to his books, his bicycle, his toys on diwali and dusshera. Firing crackers on diwali, dancing during navaratri was so much fun.
But today, today though the answer he gave was yes, that yes was just to put an end to the matter. Just to answer her question. He was not in a position to say no and then being pressed to answer all the that would follow.
But once he was alone in his bed, in darkness, during night, he searched for the answer. He was sure that there was a counter question in his heart the time when he said "yes". A feeling which took birth in his heart and ran through his brain and body in a millisecond and died. That feeling made him shiver. That feeling told him he was lying, that he was wrong. He started arguing with himself.
He felt himself getting ripped into two parts.
"You don't believe in god. By now you should have understood there is no such entity. ", Said the first part.
"No, you are worng. Whatever you have is because of all strong god. There is god.", Screamed the second part. The part close to him.
"Ha, Ha, Ha, laughed the first part. What did you say? "Whatever you have." What do you have?" And that part became invisible. But his strong devilish laugh ringed in his ears for a long time.
Yes, he was right, what did he have? Once he had. He had everything. For others everything was same. For them, he was him, what he used to be. But for him, everything was different. His beliefs had died. His heart questioned for everything now.
Whether he has friends? For this moment, yes, so many! For next, no, he is not having any friend. Not even one. He is not having anyone with whom he can share everything. And everything meant everything. So, he is without any friends.
Whether he is healthy? For this moment, yes, he is. Never more healthier! For the next moment, no, he is not. How he spends those fierce nights with his eyes open, thinking nothing. How a small wound in his body, a small bulging in his neck (which he comes to know later was just a side effect of cold he had), a small change anywhere in his body - scares the hell out of him. No, he is not healthy. Not mentally, if not physically. Or the other way round. He has no answer.
Whether he is happy? This moment, yes he is. He keeps smiling, he keeps jumping, he keeps laughing. Sharing jokes, passing comments, enjoying. Yes, he is happy! No, he is not. Whether he is in the place he wanted to be? No, he is not. Is he with people he wanted to be with? No, he is not. Is he doing work he loved and and once dreamt of doing? No, he is not. Is he the reason for things, for people. No, he is not. And he looses badly if he tries. He has tried several times now trying to go near people. Trying to make friends. But nothing works. So, no, he is not happy. Is he alive? Ha, Ha, Ha. Again that devilish laugh ringing in the ears for a long time.
Ah! He is moving away from what he started with. He wanted to search answer for whether he believed in god or not. And what he ended thinking. This happens now. This happens several times at several places now. He wishes something, he tries something, he gets something else. And above all, now he takes what he gets, no questions asked, no battles fought. Yes! We hit the root. Here lies the answer. Whom to fight with? Whom to ask questions? There was a time when he prayed to god, he thanked to him for good times, he complained to him for bad times. And he felt then that his prayers are being noticed, are being anwered.
But then came a time when everything stopped. Nothing changed. He prayed, he complained, he fought, he cried, he shouted, he screamed, but no reply, no anwer, no change. Bad things kept coming, one after another, one after another, like those ants coming over a dying cockroach. Earlier he used to find it amusing. He used to think that that cockroach is alive but still he is not running away. Not reacting. How can he surrender to such small ants, particularly when he is not even dead yet? He used to laugh at the cockroach. But now, he himself was on sympathy of ants, of time, of destiny, of fate, of luck, of god. You choose the word you like. He will not speak. He will not react. He will just accept and move ahead. Nothing to do. Nothing to show. Nothing to bother about.
So did he believe in god? If someone is ready to hold responsibility of whatever happened in his life and whatever is happening, then yes, there is god. And if only he is supposed to account for, even without his being the reason for anything that happened, then no, there was no god. Why should he believe in something if not believing is not making any difference? Right?
Generally, no, not generally, always now, he will come to such conclusions and his brain will go numb, will go blank . Again a long fierce night with eyes open and nothing to think............
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