Straw Dogs

"Heaven and Earth are ruthless, and treat the myriad of creatures as
straw dogs: the sage is ruthless, and treat the myriad of creatures as
straw dogs...Is not the space between Heaven and Earth like a bellows?"

Fish in a larger Pond

Here's a business analogy I ran across recently. You are a fisherman in a small pond with lots of other fishermen. Everyone is making their bait the best looking, the best tasting, and most appealing to the fish. Some guy is selling "how to's" to make your bait the best. Over in the distance, you see a large pond with very few fishermen. Why is no one over there? The water looks just a good and so are the fish. Why not pick up your pole and fish in a larger, less fished pond instead of trying to change your bait a little in a saturated pond? The best part is, you don't even have to be a good fisherman in the other pond if you're the only fisherman over there.

Moral: Fish in a less saturated market and you don't have to be that good to really bring home the big fish.

Sometimes the answer to catching bigger fish isn't changing your bait or getting a bigger net. In an oversaturated market, you can spend loads of money on marketing and endless hours of frustration only to get a trickle of business, or you can pick up your pole, find your own unsaturated niche or marketing strategy, be the first in that market, and really clean house.

No real Context

(This was something that popped into my head one night at work. No real context, just.. this. )

It was filled with a wonderous sound that flowed over me and through me until I thought surely I would be swept away by it. It was as though I was going to die and find before me the Elysium Fields. I stood there transfixed, seeing colors bloom behind my closed eyes in time with the music and I knew I would have this played at my passing over. The music faded finally, and slowly I opened my eyes, letting the real world take shape around me once more. I drew in a long, heart felt sigh of peacefulness before setting off.

You are Me

You're hot,

when I'm cool.

You're bold,

when I'm subtle.

You're brash,

when I'm tactful.

You're rough,

when I'm smooth.

You're uncouth,

when I'm suave.

You are everything I'm not

when I need you to be.

You are all that I am

when I'm not myself.

You are the sun and the moon and the stars

when I am Darkness and Nothing and Void.

You are my worst nemesis,

you are my dearest lover,

my harshest critic,

my tragic seer.

You are me, when I look in

the mirror,

and see my reflection...

from your eyes.

The Pursuit of Happyness

Oh yeah, I have seen that movie! I nearly cried at the end. ~ your thoughts exactly.

I am sorry for being a plagiarist for the title... I couldn't come up with a better name for my latest musings.

Ever since I was a little kid, so I saw in the numerous photo albums of my childhood, I have had the urgency to smile and laugh, like all the time. Even as a one year old, my broad smile and the set of baby white teeth is evident in all of them. The only thing I remember from my childhood was going to see my little sister lying in the incubator, crying the moment she laid her eyes on me.

My very first happy memory.

To make others laugh is the best service one can do in a lifetime. I am an agnostic by faith and an engineer by profession, so best I put it this way: "Every action has an equal and opposite reaction" ~ if you get the gist.

There were times in my schooldays when I used to feel low: I would whip out the keys of my motorcycle and go on a little ride; just to gather my thoughts. As the wind swept my head clear of all anxieties, I felt happy. This is the closest, I thought, that I would ever get to be a Superman.

Though I wouldn't say that music always makes me feel happy, it does elucidate: I can very well snuggle up in the depths of my music, while it is busy carving it's everlasting effects on my brain. In this lifetime, I am sure; I won't be able to live without it.

Spending time with a dear friend of mine, who is now working his life off himself. We sometimes used to be off our rocker, getting to the point that we both skipped a final exam of our graduation, just because we didn't feel like sitting and studying. Even though those days will never come back, brother, the memories will always live on.

And then I found love. Or rather, it found me. This was a new feeling for me, being provided by my better-half. For the first time in my life, I felt happy without asking myself the question - 'whatsinit4me?' I was not making others happy, someone else was doing that to me. I felt elated, overjoyed, on-top-of-the-world and all other adjectives you can think about. To this day, I am in doubt, whether I was ever able to reciprocate the same.

Even though you may say I have many happy memories to live by, if someone asks me to conjure up a Patronus, I would fail miserably at it.

I will eventually find myself in the form of a little girl. I would see my smile and her eyes in a third being, purest of both.

In her, I will find peace and contentment. In her, my Pursuit of Happyness will have a new beginning.

~Void~

Ever felt lonely standing in the middle of the crowd? Ever felt like you are surrounded but no one is listening... or worse, that no one cares, no one knows who you are, how you feel, how you think? The deep void of loneliness smothers you. I have a large number of teens in mind as I write, who are going through this phase of their lives... looking for attention, affection, love n care; be it Real or Virtual. The longing of being someone 'special', being looked after and pampered arises in everybody's heart, mind and soul. The generation of this era is facing this quite often who join social networking sites to find people. The problem is that now they find themselves lonely not only in their actual world but in their virtual world too.

Void of human contact. Void of interaction...

I've been there. I've been in a place in my life when the yearning for a hug can be so overwhelming that your breath catches.

Real... intimate... something... anything...

It is during this hour when one needs the strength, the strength to face the storm with your feet firm on ground and the strength of character to overcome the tides of passion.

First Impressions

I remember the day when i first met you,
in a room fulla strangers narrating who's who.
There was something about you, something in the air,
that blotted out everyone's presence there.
What kept me occupied was how to be the best,
to make you see ME among the rest.
Tho' I cudn't see your point of view,
girl, how was i supposed to have a clue.

I just knew what I felt like, sailing on a high tide;
wanted to ask you so bad if you'd come along for the ride.
I didn't want to be a poser, nor a despo too;
I'd only wished that you'd see me for what I really am;
A simple guy, who wants to
Impress YOU.



And the reply to the above was:

"Totally smitten with your actions,
i had no idea what were ur intentions,
what ever it was, was totally awesome,
Forever last these First Impressions...."

The Power of Hair

"Fellow compatriots, from the hallowed circles of the underground, we have gathered to give birth to a new iconoclasm. Our goal is single-minded: we will seek to put to the sword those who are misled to disregard the fundamental principles of Hair Power. But, before we set about our quest, we must understand the dynamic implication of those sprouting bulbs of fibrous protein that wave, one hundred thousand strong(or less, in some case) upon our heads. Contrary to popular thought, they are not there to make us appear attractive, but are indications both of the moral state and scientific exploration of our society.

History is littered with differing social conformities. In the earlier days, freedom was the new ‘IN’ - and so of course hair paid a telling contribution to this new looks for freedom. If you remember your father or maybe your forefathers, with their long manes and thick sideburns, this kind of rebellion is still celebrated.

We know that the mushroom craze descended upon our youth a few years ago. A massive chunk of hair was ceremoniously removed from the sides and backs of their scalps, to leave a thriving growth of swirling tresses on their crowns. We may also notice a steady pattern of hair groomers at school level. On the one hand, we have our stock and muscular individuals, who have opted for the crew-cut style: short back and sides. Tough and Ready. On the other side of affairs, we have those believed to be a bit more metro sexual (unmanly) and have carefully cultivated their protein extensions to abnormal lengths.

But even though luscious, silky smooth hair abounds in the prime of youth, the time comes in males when they become victims to testosterone. This fiery hormone combines with chemicals, causing admired curls to thin out and result in baldness. The key role of male hormones has been grasped through history. Eunuchs, it was noted by Aristotle and Hippocrates did not lose their hair. In fact, castration is still recommended by the leaders of our auspicious movement as the most effective, if rather unappealing, method of preventing baldness.

Consequently, over the centuries, men desiring to retain both their gonads and their hair, have tried every imaginable treatment. They have shampooed their scalps with tar, petroleum, goose droppings and cow urine. But they eventually understood the principles of science, as we do now, and realized their efforts were futile. Tar, after all, causes the existing hair to decay into a lump of hard, black rock, while urine, being acidic in nature, causes the protruding hair to shrivel up with its pungent smell. So our scientists advanced and stuck their heads into rubber caps connected to massive vacuum pumps to suck recalcitrant hairs to the surface. The
problem with this rather adventurous method was that it resulted in those hairs locked deep under the scalp being removed completely.
The final prognosis, as one chap glumly concluded, is that "some are born bald, some achieve baldness, while others have baldness thrust upon them". So great leaders - Mahatma Gandhi, Julius Caesar, Nelson Mandela - had to resign their hairlessness to fate. This doesn't necessarily mean that those without hair are those with a sense of patriotism. However, moving on.

The power of hair cannot be underestimated. It has en wrapped its meandering locks through religion, politics, schools and families. That is why this article has been procured selflessly, with a thought to unite and form a dominant force. The time has arisen and now all those who follow Hair Power must take the initiative and promote the truth to those with misconception.

Viva, Hair Power, Viva!

Man's Best Friend: An ode to M...

I want to be your best friend -

Don't treat me with such hate
Don't allow cruelty to be my fate

My legs are strong
My tail ready to wag
Talk to me - I can hear you,
I will serve you with my life.

Her Eyes

It was those eyes that made that connection, even from across the packed room. They talked. They told me what she wanted. When I asked her if I could buy her a drink, her words may have lacked enthusiasm, but here eyes told a different story.
The second time I met those eyes, over a pizza, they took my breath away. The longer we talked, the more they seemed to sparkle, and the more I made her laugh, the warmer they seemed. Her eyes emitted a radiant light and yet glowed a serene beauty - all the time giving the impression that, if you looked hard enough, you could look straight through them and right into the mind of the majestic person that controlled them.
The first time we became one, her eyes never left mine - they swept past all the walls and barriers and dug into my mind, they churned up emotions that I never thought possible. I was emotionally drained and I slipped into a satisfied sleep, her eyes being the last and the first things I saw.
The celebration of matrimony was inevitable, but the question still had to be asked. As I slipped the thin gold band with a single stone onto her slender finger, I began to shake - so much at stake, I thought. The answer came, but it was too far way to be heard, so I raised my head and searched for the answer. A tear made it's way down her cheek, and all the joy and happiness in the world flowed out.
How could there be evil in the world, when those eyes looked upon it; how could any man or beast do wrong after staring into the eyes of my loved one? I do not know, but it happened.
On the day of the Awful Horror, her eyes were used as knives which tore my heart in two. While words flowed out of her mouth with the ferocity of a raging torrent, her eyes betrayed her anger and displayed her wounded emotions. While obscenities were hurled at me, her eyes did their own damage - "WHY?" they asked.
More remorse was triggered by those eyes than any form of punishment imaginable. While I stood at the top of the highest point during the storms, not caring if I slipped, got blown over, or was overcome by the menacing clouds, her eyes turned into forgiveness and granted mercy from those empty stares.
The nine months were the happiest of my life. We visited the country regularly and did everything with each other. Her eyes hinted naughtiness as we stripped down and skinny-dipped together, unashamed of the new life growing in her womb; they showed compassion for an injured animal; they portrayed innocence at the violent crimes of modern society, they radiated her love solely for me.
When the water broke, excitement shone forth, which was soon overshadowed by a cloud of doubt. Her voice was numbed by the anesthetist's needle, but her eyes pleaded with me. I was guided by the surly nurse and my fate lay lingering on another man's announcement.
I was too shaken up to listen properly - I picked out key words: "complications during birth"... "regret"..."wife didn't make it"...
The final words echoed through my head, and the walls of the hospital came crashing down as the realization hit me. "What about the baby?" I heard myself say.
My emotions were torn as I made my way towards the incubator. Could I ever forgive this stranger for taking my loved one's soul, let alone love it as my child.
As I stood in the doorway, tears streaming down my face, my answer arrived. Everything would eventually come right.

She had her mother's eyes.