Stepping on an escalator

I’ve built a staircase of validation and I am flying up one step at a time. Only I can see where it leads the only weight it can carry is mine. I ain’t going anywhere but it is. There’s no need for belief or faith, that’s for those unsure of themselves, words speak for themselves I’ve no desire to speak them. All I do is gently touch them lift them in the palm of my hand like a bird learning to fly and set them on their way. They’ll go where they have to reach with or without me, they don’t need my staircase but I’ll build it anyway. I’ll nudge them out of their nest, I’ll prod them till they figure out they can fly.

How can I sleep possibly this moonlit night? Come, my friends, let’s sing and dance all night long. Let’s get drunk, on impending flight!


Ideas for resolutions 2018 – 1

Could I choose consciously a life where everything doesn’t seem to happen all the time at once? But when I look back, nothing seems to have happened at all?

Could I choose slow deliberation instead of action?

Could I choose a bit of mundaneness and finding meaning in what there is instead of constantly looking out for what there could be?

Could I choose wandering instead of reaching?

Could I choose not to choose at all, not to take any decision which sets me on a path and shuts all others?

Could I choose to stop being pushed from behind by this inexplicable chase of success and love and lust and ambition and just relentless pleasure, and instead, go by the pull instead of the push?

Could I, just, stop for a year?

A friendly note to the unsuspecting chap out there to meet her – part 2

Listen to me, my friend. Before you go meet her, there are things you must know.

  1. You will meet her, and her beauty will confuse you. It will derail you. You will sit across the table from her and she will move the furniture in your head and push the dusty windows open and you will let her.
  2. Her beauty, at times, may appear like thunder. The sound of it will cause forks and spoons to slip from your hand and clatter on the floor. It will be like that eye of the storm shown in hollywood movies which sucks everything in, and it will start with all the things you thought you will say to appear normal. It will continue and take in all your emotions, lust included, leaving you a shell for the moment, a deep container which can only be filled up by her laughter. You will get desperate and she will not laugh you will get even more desperate and you will lunge with words and she will deftly sidestep you and it will be then she will laugh. Fill it up. You will never know when you will get it again. It will feel as if you were dismantled and put together again, but you’ll be just the same once you step out of the time warp.
  3. Go with your chest out and your heart open. Keep a needle holder and some suture in your bag in case it bursts. Wear good shoes and a good wristwatch. Shave. Or have a beard worth showing off. She hates half measures. Her voice will not be what you thought it will be, it will be so low you will need all your attention focused on it. She does that so that you dont focus on her. Carry a stethoscope to listen.
  4. Take care your hands aren’t wet or cold when she offers to shake them and she will. They should be warm. Thrust every bit of warmth you are carrying inside you into the tip of your fingertips. You don’t need it after the handshake, her touch will send it soaring back inside every pore. Carry a thermometer to verify.
  5. When she looks at you, look away. This is very important. Look away. Don’t look at her. It will cause the foot of the stool you are sitting on to melt away and you will suddenly sense vertigo coming. You will need, no your nose will demand fresh air. Look only when you are sure she isn’t looking. Maybe you will escape unscathed.
  6. You are a lucky son-of-a-bitch. Do you hear me? You are a lucky bastard. You are the luckiest idiot who stepped out of bed today, but if you make it a big deal, you won’t know what hit you. Pretend you are casual. Pretend you aren’t flying. Hide that magic carpet. Stowaway that shifty hangdog puppy look. Practice in the bathroom, prepare for the worst.
  7. She will take nothing and rob you blind. She never wants anything. Resist the urge to give anything, because you will go empty handed anyway. There’s a room in her house where she stores all the nothings collected out of all the meetings piled up to the ceiling. Once in a few months, she starts trashing the nothings one by one to make space for new ones. You will never know when all you had was thrown away, but it will be. Don’t worry. You dont need all you got to the table. You are taking the meeting back.
  8. One day you will get old. She will forget. You will remember. You will always remember, you lucky motherfucker. Then you will jump off your wheelchair and start singing of today, and your grandchildren will say – look ma, grandpa suddenly looks alive. Carry a totem to spin it.
  9. Write about it and tell me about it. I like to collect things that happen to her. I like to collect people that happen to her.
  10. Why are you wasting time reading you dunce? Go and practice. Today’s the day.

Reclaiming your happiness – 1

There’s one art which is absolutely imperative to master as soon as you start getting older and start coming across unbreachable road blocks or some potholes you stumble across or a patch of barren road in your life where nothing grows and there’s no view whether you look left or right or ahead and you know that looking behind is a recipe for a crash.

It is the art of self-deception.

I do not call it an art lightly. It really is an art. Because one of the biggest sleight of hands in acquiring this art is to do with without being aware of it but at the same time being aware of it out of the corner of your eye like you would observe a house long past outside the window of a rushing train and it gets smaller and smaller and smaller and you cannot see it anymore so now which colour was it was it yellow no let’s say it was green from now on what do you say yes yes it was green it was never yellow are you crazy oh but it was yellow yes it was when did I ever say it was green?

Have you ever wondered why a few people are able to get away with anything and everything, cheating, incompetence, malice, let alone large real crimes? And why some people can’t get away with a single sleight of hand in their behaviour, an incompetence hidden behind busy-ness a love hidden behind loneliness, whatever their weakness, it always comes to bite them in the ass? How could the universe be unfair when we know that the universe is a perfect bookkeeper par excellence, never missing an entry of credit or debit?

I think that’s because the universe prizes authenticity above all else. Is the person living according to what he or she truly is? Or are they not following the recipe, are they trying to subterfuge it, hoodwink it and are trying to camouflage themselves?

So authenticity over morals. Authenticity over ethics. Authenticity over competence. Authenticity over love. Authenticity over loyalty. That’s the only rule of the universe. You can be an authentic serial killer but if you totally indulge in your roles, the universe has your back until that moment of self doubt creeps in, and when it does, you are finished. Look at Donald Trump – he has done everything one ‘should’ not do he makes brazen lies but look at where he is – the single reason he is there where he is is because that’s who he is. To his bones.

But the thing about the universe is that it doesn’t have receivers installed and big brothers watching your every action to decide whether you are being authentic or not. Whether you actually love the woman you say you love or whether the shoddy unforgivable work you did yesterday night in your job is what you are or is it a one-off or a learning curve or a sign of things to come or when you keep quiet hearing yet another slight are you seething inside or are you indifferent or when you hear a compliment do you let it go deep believing that’s what you are or let it just brush your skin knowing better. Every outcome of the above is acceptable to the universe if it is acceptable to you. The only receiver connected to the universe is you. It has no other source of information or analysis. The thing the universe hates and remorselessly punishes is where the outcome is NOT acceptable to you as per your internal conversation and yet, you keep at the same thing. You hate being fucked a certain way, yet, you stick to it. You hate doing something at work, yet you make no discernable attempt to not have to do it, you make noises as to how things arent right, but you do nothing to silence those noises. EITHER WAY. This is Duplicitous and the universe hates it and thats when it punishes you.

And that’s where the art of self deception comes in. And those who master it are better off in every conceivable scenario. They are happier (and our modern culture lays such a store on happiness), they have less stress and peaceful sleep and glowing skin, they do not face recriminations of their actions simply because their actions have not yet been accounted for by the universe because they simply haven’t acknowledged them. In an ideal world, you would not do things which you do not want to do. In a next to ideal world, you would say, as a woman once told me, It is what it is and accept it wholeheartedly, thereby eliminating the conflict. But there is a third option which most people take and which apparently seems to work as well! You pretend with all your being that everything you are, everything you are doing, is perfect. That’s it. As simple as that. The first two methods of gaining authenticity are inwards, this third one is outwards. You simply eliminate the source of duplicity by refusing to acknowledge that there is ANY imperfection in whatever you are doing. And once you do that, even the people around you stop noticing that there is something grossly improper in your behaviour. They just shrug, feed off your confidence, and simply let you get away with your crime.

I’ll give you three examples.

  1. Harvey Weinstein: I recently read about an A-Lister hollywood actress, who, 15 years ago complained in a conversation that Weinstein made a sexual overture at her, grabbed her ass by calling her in a hotel room for a script talk, stripped himself into a towel and proceeded to lay down and asked her to join him. When she tried to leave, and threatened, he just laughed. When she proceeded to tell the others in the company, men AND women, they just shrugged and joked saying “THAT’S WHO HARVEY IS”. That’s it. Nothing else. You can get away with a load of things, no pun intended if you use this – thats who i am. But it has to be deep, you have to tell yourself too this so often that there’s no other way of being. Then you can be whatever the fuck you want to and no one will bat an eyelid because thats who you are. The universe – will bestow all success – because – authentic!!
  2. My mom and my dad are fond of singing songs on karaoke. My father is a decent singer, but if you hear my mom sing, it sounds as if a hyena stepped on something incredibly sharp and let out a yell and her friends found it too funny and all the hyenas started laughing together and all these sounds together turned into a song which she was singing. My wife, if you hear her voice, the way she holds a high note, the way she never sounds breathless, the way her voice actually rings like a tuning fork on steel, you will be left with zero doubt as to her singing ability. And yet – my mother has never even entertained the possibility she doesn’t sing well – and she’s called to karaoke parties and whenever we have something where they both are present, my wife will sing 1 reluctant song and my mother 4. Its just the way universe has worked – one has deceived oneself she is good and so the universe and the people in it have accepted unquestioningly. The other let doubt come in the way of enthusiasm and has simply been ignored. As they say, i pretended i was the type of man who could carry a tuxedo, and lo, in a minute, i was the man who could carry a tuxedo.
  3. I go to do surgeries everyday and so often, the need for the surgery IN ITSELF is because of something done to the patient by the doctor in the first place. If the patient had not met the doctor, if he would have just lived along merrily, he would never have needed the surgery in this lifetime. I know it, i see it and being not able to tell this to the patient in front of the doctor eats me up from inside, one bit at a time, slowly, over 10 years, that at times i have been left as a cynical underconfident bitter wreck unsure of how to approach any patient at all. But so far i have NEVER seen it bother the doctor or the maddening list of doctors which do this. It never has happened that he realised it was due to his mistake. Scarcely believable, no? The only rational explanation is that the doctor, to keep his money and his sanity and his balance in the universe, refuses to entertain that possibility at all in his head, and so always finds an outward justification for the problem while deceiving himself he has the best interests of the patient at heart. So he even ends up MAKING MONEY out of the surgery i do, the one he caused in the first place.

So – If something goes wrong – not my fault. The weather, the circumstances, the time, a bad day, the luck, the money, someone else, something else. ALWAYS. Self deception is a dazzling game of bookkeeping which you play with the universe to match the credit and the debit ledgers every day. It is a subtle skill, which if you can master, will let you sleep peacefully – because you are NEVER thinking – why am i doing this, why am i like this, what can i do to change (because all of us know change is impossible). You are always playing a game of juggling, with words and justifications where you never allow the ball to come to your half of the pitch. If you learn to play it, whether the universe catches up with you or not, you will always sleep at peace.

Isnt that something to aspire to?

The hidden life of unspoken gibberish – 1

So how’s the sex life?

Of? Bees? Trees?

You. Who else would I be interested in?

Oh. You’d be interested in the sex life of the 83 year old grandma crossing the road right now, I know you.

Nooo. Eeeks. Ok. You know me. I would. That would be academic interest though. Of whether it’s the grandma that initiates or the grandpa. Or when did they last have sex. Or did they know this was the last time they were at sex when they were having it? Imagine. One day will come when it will be the very last. What a miserable life it shall be after that. But we won’t know it was the last, that’s some consolation. Maybe for last 25 years of our life we won’t have sex, can you imagine that?

I don’t think so far ahead.

Who is asking you to. Ok so how far have you to look behind to be able to answer my question. Minutes, hours, days?

I don’t remember and i am not going to count.

So it’s not minutes or hours.

My memory doesn’t extend beyond minutes.

So it could be? One hour or two since you got laid? I don’t like that phrase though. Got laid.

Could be. Could be not. What’s not to like about it?

It belies the joy one gives and gets. It’s cold. Almost cynical. I shall use the phrase heaven trip.

Who said it was heaven? Might be a fun trip to hell!!

Hahaha wow I love it when you are sassy and bold.

I always am. Just not with you.

Yeah. Forget that. Karma. I am used to denial of earthly pleasures in thought and action and conversation. So what was it? Heaven or hell?

Heaven the way hell should be. You think about these things too much. How was it, was it good how would you describe it. Most normal people just enjoy themselves for a while and get on with the business of living.

But we already established you aren’t normal people. So it makes sense to ask. I may be intrusive but I am not irrational.

That you are. Very intrusive.

I am not. But I often wonder since I am already tagged why shouldn’t I ask you intrusive questions everyday?

That’s because you are a coward. I know in your head you ask me questions everyday.

Yes. I do. So I should ask them to your face. Everyday. Three questions. A. Did you make a heaven trip? B. What route did you catch? You ain’t going to answer anyway but asking them would be so filling, i’d be walking on air just by asking them. Everyday. Without fail. Without boredom or monotony. You would pretend they were never asked and both of us would be so happy.

So whats stopping you? And C?

No. I said two.

You said three.

Third question comes from that awful part of me which I hate and can’t kill. I will one day.


No. Kill.

One day. Then I will love myself much better.