To search within is the real search, the real journey and the real achievement.
Finding oneself is equivalent to what many call finding “God” – however you want to define that concept. I say concept cos no one has seem him/her, whats the use of speculation.
Because the journey starts with the realization that concept called God is within and I am omnipotent.
I dont say” By God” I say “By myself” cos i know I am the ONE. When I pray, I pray that I can use my life energy to achieve something I can be proud of, something which benefits my fellow beings – the condition here is not being selfless because in every activity, even if you just get a little joy out of it, it does not remain selfless... of course, the concept is to self-actualise, find the greatest powers within the self – so by nature the activity of doing good, praying, loving – is a selfish activity.

This is EGO in the real sense. Ego, if non-existent, leads a person to be lost (identity crisis).
When one does not know who he is, how does he expect to find that concept called God.
However, the problem of looking inward may also be spiritual myopia.
One looks too closely towards oneself, rather than seeing the Big picture and find the world within himself!

So I believe – find yourself, and you are enlightened. This is the road to where you - want / need / deserve / desire / are going - to go!

Frankly, I don't know what many kiwis are cribbing about!!??

Open your eyes, read news, update oneself and smell the coffee beans... etc etc... The recession has in macro sense barely thrown this nice country off. I am frankly tired of people saying its bad, its gonna be worse - look at the many nations around the world that are struggling - and the put it in perspective!

Personally, we were facing tough times with one income some time back - but we have made a conscious choice to keep our heads high, work harder (if thats possible) and make a better life, not because of recession etc but in spite of it! We should stop whining and put the energy in to buckling down and rising to the challenge...

Apologies if I have offended some one but in the words of Forrest Gump's ma - "Life is a box of chocolates, you never know what you gonna get" I would like to add - Deal with it!!!

Most amazing technology... developed by young genius - Pranav Mistry

New to the country
The weather’s vagrant
Winter has set in
It’s tough being a migrant

Mentally I am lost
Down and out and struggling
When I hear some music
Floating, soothing and swaying

Luke's on his guitar
Playing God knows what?
The strings he plucks on it
Tug at my heart's chord

Blues turn to orange
Darkness turns to light
There’s more to life than this survival
Take strength, you must fight!

Days, months, a year
Sets my little nest of joy
This winter I feel the warmth
Which was once sparked by this guy

Thank You Luke

Cross Continent - Father Son Conversation

From Dad:
Papa Feelings (My Dad wrote from US - His words)
25 September 2007

America- a land of opportunities and opportunistic people-selfish;
Clean cities; dirty habits; clean every thing with paper from mouth to arse;
Tall skyscrapers dwarfed spiritually;
Honest to the core but news of gangsters, rape, killings, sexual abuse of innocent children All the time u hear sirens of police and ambulances;
Nobody cares no one knows what is happening next door
There are no noises as we have in Mumbai
There is silence deafening; we are not able to hear our own conscience.

Son Speak (I reply from New Zealand)
25 September 2007

That’s the reason I never really tried to go there, but though collectively they may suck, for an individual there seem to be maximum opportunities.
In India it is opposite, collectively we are land of culture, knowledge, tradition but individually all feel smothered with quotas, reservations and what not!

Even in our own country we are 2nd grade citizens because we don’t know any ministers, VIPs etc, whose sons can get away even with murder! but we can be beaten up without anyone answering for it...
Wonder where is the middle ground, there is none...either you choose individual freedom or collective bondage!

And as all our saints say, the choice is yours, I laugh at this... with such choices I would rather have no choice at all...but then that’s also a choice..
Funny, unless you are living the pain.

Evolution

Evolution came to my mind due to a series on TV which talked about how the world was formed, how massive changes happened to make the present happen. It seemed fascinating though it was old knowledge.

Kind of gave me new perspective on the recent past. How have I evolved? Is it possible to evolve in such a short time? Can life be changed so drastically that whatever you learn from it and what ever you change about yourself can be called as evolution? Don’t know and no one would answer this question.

From the corner of the world, it really feels all at sea! Can’t explain my own decisions so it’s virtually impossible to know what others were thinking when they acted the way they did.

Some how here all seem to have lost the depth, the philosophical aspect of man. Most locals act like dimwits and the migrants behave as if disillusioned and confused. The ones that enjoy are partying too hard and losing their dignity every weekend. And those who are slogging are losing their souls every week just for that paycheck.

Those who have found the security are careless about what they do, how they spend, and more importantly how they help the seekers. They immediately join the faceless, emotionless swathes of settled people with useless advice to distribute freely. They forget how hard it was except when trying to frighten the FOBs (Fresh Of the Boat).

All this has led me to believe in the power of knowledge and information to a large extent. The real evolution will be when no information or knowledge will be hidden from anyone. Would love to be in such a world where all people make choice with absolute knowledge. And absolute knowledge like, the absolute truth only exists in utopia.

So cheers to utopia, drink on, you are evolving!

This is the nick name taken by one of my friends from college on a community website. i asked him what does he mean, because firstly the words by themselves can give a different meaning? Encephalitis is the inflammation of the brain. Penitentiary is a prison for criminals.

He said it means, " Man is the prisoner of his own mind" or "You are what you think" So I had the following questions for him, to which I am still awaiting a response!


If man is prisoner of his own mind then i have these questions -
Is the mind different from the man?
If not whose the prisoner and whose the imprisoned?
Or is it that all men are split personalities to some extent?
Does this split personality / constant dichotomy make us externalise our own actions, when convenient rather than take the responsibility or own up?
Also, is it not that man has achieved what he has only through flight of imagination? Then why call it a prison?
If its a prison, its also a white canvas - a world of endless, infinite potential and possibilities. So why the negative thought process of making it a thing which restricts only?

Is there a choice?

A small yet significant question is continuosly occupying a small part of my RAM.

Do we have free will, OR, is everything on destiny and no matter what we have to accept it?

If we do have choice, then what is it? and in case we dont have a choice, then why are we here? to learn what ? tht god is omnipotent?

no answer coming forth, so blogging it down...may be some day will know.

All along my life I kept hankering after company. Call this fellow, call that friend. Little did I know how much a handicap that can be. Why do we need people around? They say man is a social animal. I can’t agree more, but does it mean one is not comfortable with himself? Does it mean that one needs some one else to appreciate, applaud or even criticize?

All my life, I kept asking for approval. How do I look? How do you like my bike? What do you think of my grades?

I was a child actor, having acted in many plays, tv serials and 2 films that were never that famous. But the acting happened to me at 5. I was too small to realize and at that time I did not, that all I was doing was asking for approval, applause and judgements. When in a more mature state, which I think I entered a bit earlier than usual, it was a way of life.

Here I was – a confident, bold, out spoken fellow. Speak only the truth and speak a lot. That was my mission – to make everyone aware of the reality, my reality, as I think of it now, cause there is really no “truth.” No black or white, just plain gray. Everything’s gray.

But there was a side of me which was diffident, confused, unsure of everything. My career, my academic choices. All were based on hearing a few people and jumping head long thinking it was my passion! It wasn’t mine it was theirs. They saw me as an actor, a performer, a film editor or a marketing guy. And I was left just that – a performer. He performs for whom? An audience.

What is a performer without an audience? Whom will he appeal to? Who will pat his back? Who will give a feedback, a criticism?

I kept living as if I am performing on stage. Living a loud life, everyone should know what I am thinking and should also react. I called it honesty, a virtue, I thought.

It took me 25 years, a quarter of my life, if I live a hundred, to realize that the audience was façade, it was a mirage. And what it meant really that I was a mask, a plain mask, a different mask each day, playing to the gallery, the empty gallery. In my self righteous behaviour I believed I was the victim. A victim of this bad world, the cunning wolf, the scheming witch! It took me long to accept that I was a rip off, of a person I interact with. I imitate him / her. Just to get that single nod of approval. I was literally begging for my existence which was but an expression or a little smile of the other.

I don’t know what has changed, is it the age, the wisdom or enlightenment? Suddenly, I was detached, like a bonded labourer set free. Un-believing at first, circumspect. Would I be able to pull it off? Could I stand by my self?

I am alone but not lonely. I am as lonely as I can be in a crowd, full of people who are just like me, struggling for approval. I thank my life, which has been my guru. She gave me the experience I hated her for, but soon was full of gratitude for it. The one lesson that she was teaching me was being comfortable with myself, with my solitude.

Can’t even say with my solitude ‘cause it means company of some thing. I am the solitude, I am the emptiness, I am the vacuum. Fill it with anything it always sucks it in, like a black hole. It doesn’t accept any gift, any offering, any help, any emotion, any shame, any guilt, any remorse, any applause, any approval. It is what it is by NOT being.

I am soaking in the solitude. I am enjoying myself. I am ecstatic but how does one show the ecstasy when no ones around to see it. But once I am here, I really don’t care. I don’t care if anyone reads this.

Posting it here some how says that all the words above are empty. It’s a vacuum, stay away or get sucked in!!

Our little Cupid is very busy these days. Usually I have noticed that December is a busy month, followed by February - you can guess why! But December is really special, the weather, the not-at-all cold for others but oh-so-cold for Mumbaikars, temperature does bring out the Cupid, shooting his Love-arrows all round.
So as is my style I went to interview him, on a cold December morning (Delhites say - "ha ha ha"). We met on the steps of Temple of Venus. Got to say, looks more like the rocks at Bandstand, than a temple but there we were. I got funny looks from some of the couples canoodling on the rocky terrain, which felt like a water bed to them I am sure. Well love is blind and also cushions the derriere, I must say. Obviously they were intrigued why I was there with a half naked small man with wings!! Well, to clear all doubts I walked a good five feet away from him. (Having heard some hair raising experiences in mental trauma especially to hostel guys after seeing Brokeback Mountain, which gives a whole new meaning to Male Bonding)

He was dressed in his customary, small, revealing white fluffy pants, and pink all over with small white wings, very inadequate to lift his fat podgy body with a beer belly - which by the way he calls love-potion belly! I was as always in my best pink suit. With a small device in hand (well it was my new cell ...just to clear any suspicions.), I walked to some-what smoother rock and decided the setting could not be better for a tete-a-tete with the puny "setting expert" himself!

What follows are excerpts from my interview with him.
(Disclaimer: Certain portions may be distorted, imagined or manipulated to make me look like a proud, intelligent bunny which is my mask for the audience i.e. everyone else!!)

Bugs: Well then lets start before this gets embarrassing. From when did you start this alleged activity of bringing people closer, which by the way our local trains are doing since 1853?

Cupid: As far as I can remember I am doing this thing for a few hundred centuries now! At least thats what I have put on my resume. Can back check that far?? (with a light sweat on his brow!)

Bugs: Of course my sources go way back...but I shall refrain from any such abominableactivity. So sticking to the point, why did you choose this profession, I mean, you could have easily afforded your beer and cheese by doing those Johnsons' Baby or Ponds commercials!!

Cupid (a bit perturbed): Excuse me!! I do not need to expose my buttocks to earn a living ok! By the blessing of Venus, I do quite well selling my love-potions and I also have a side contract with a greeting card company..psst...please do not sena I mean, say this to anyone, cos last time they managed to grab my designer dhoti (by Rohit Bal of course) but just-in-time came the...no ...not the Japanese...the Women Against Child Abuse (WACA) and they whacked the hell out of the hooligans thinking I was a child. Well at least the looks helped somehwhere!

To answer your question I shall say that Goddess Venus herself came in my dreams and said I have to do a 5 min presentation on this topic " Porter's 5 Forces Model of 3rd Party induced Love." At the time I cursed, but realizing that I would not clear my archery course without her grace...and I mean grace marks...hahaha..you know I had to.. (laughs till pink turns to magenta..personally mine are better but I joined in cos had to humour him, pun intended.)

On doing the research I found out that Love can be induced between 2 souls by a 3rd party using 5 forces - humour, caring, friendship, optimism and chemistry. In order to serve humanity I made it my life's work!

Bugs (lost at 5 min something but with an incredible look as if seeing Mallika in full clothes): Wow! So can you elaborate on this. (Usually jounalists do this when they haven't a clue as to what the respondent just said cos they are listening to the sounds in their ear-piece saying - "Ask him this after 5 mins....go to camera 2...pan across the slum...ok..ok...break...break ...commercial" etc..heard this from a TV News reporter friend!)

Cupid (proud at the fact that his research made me curious): See, always I act through agents. I do not and can not afford to reach such a wide audience by myself. So what these agents do, is use these 5 forces to bring 2 common friends together.
Humour: Use of humour soothes the nerves of the boy and girl.
Caring: If he/she doesnt care for both, he/she can not give a neutral judgement as to whether they should continue or drift apart for their own good.
Friendship: Ideally friendship with both is an ideal environment, but some agents have gone really out on a limb and cheek to get the girl who doesnt know him to like his friend.
Optimism: This is an eternal force multiplier as Zeus says which keeps the yield curve always sloping upwards showing some progress.
Chemistry: This is when the agent acts as a catalyst to hasten the process because of a villian entering the scene.

Bugs: OK cool.For me this is fine, but can you give an example so that the lay man can understand this thing? (Read the disclaimer...)

Cupid: Theres this unusual case (well all cases are unusual), the agent is a quirky, mad, fellow but somehow fulfills the 5 forces conditions to become an agent.The boy is a well mannered, sober(when not drunk!) fellow with a stiff upper lip like the snooty British.The girl is again a whacky female with mood swings greater than deliveries of Irfan Pathan or Waqar.

Due to complexity of the characters' personal anomalies, the case has been escalated to me. The girl is intelligent, self-aware but a bit selfish. Not entirely in a bad sense but shes too proud to even let close ones know her sorrow. Independent, smart and has piercing eyes!The boy is handsome, well brought up, but a bit given to romantic delusions. Also described to be a bit too proud by some section of society. The process was started by him.The Agent is as mentioned earlier mad, quirky, thinks he can help people but ends up speaking the truth and antagonising a many. Some surveys described him to be a loner, reserved and focussed where as others described him to be fun-loving, friendly, outgoing and confused person. That speaks for his schizo...well...multi-faceted personality.

The situation is that though the agent wants them together because they make a good pair, he's somewhat more concerned about the boy as the girl seems a fortress. Also the agent often has issues with the girl and vice versa thus violating the friendship condition. To be fair the girl can get a bit irritating at times. The boy meanwhile thinks everything is under control according to a strategy on the battlefield but is as confused as a baby in a topless bar!

Lets see how this turns out! Even I can not intervene in free will, you know. Can just keep aiming my arrows at their hearts or bottoms as the case may be and leave it to free will.

Bugs (now snoring...zzzzzzz...wakes up thinking of his carrots): Excellent! With this I take your leave, thank you for your time (and the lullaby), do keep me posted of this particular case.

With that I begin to walk back as the Cupid hovers precariously on the tiny wings in mid-air trying to aim at a couple far away. Half way towards the road, I suddenly felt a short metal prick on my butts. For a minute felt a tingling sensation and then the feeling vanished. Right then, bang in front, I saw the fat Opera singer I always run away from. Before I could realise what was about to happen, a thought came to my mind!!

Did the damned Cupid clear his archery course?

The Wound

Dec. 4, 2005.

Some wounds are deep,
Deep within your being,
They fester away relentlessly,
Corroding your soul.

These are special wounds,
Inflicted by those you love,
An enemy could stab and stab,
Still these hurt more.

The agony and trauma they cause,
Never, never do they heal,
You try but can’t forgive,
They haunt you till your death.

It’s like Gold and Iron talking,
Gold says, “We are beaten the same”
“But you shout and I bear.
“Why is that my dear?”

Iron says with a heavy voice:
“The difference is my friend,
You are beaten by iron,
But me by my own!”
- Neil

Not so long ago, there was a bunny who ran helter-skelter for his carrots in a nearby town called Villa Parlon. Since a tender age, he was taught to be caring, honest and hard-working. Problem was he took it to heart about the first two things and ignored the third. He grew up wishing for a beautiful life with Reddington Carrots, Reddington Palace, Reddington Car and with the red-blooded princess of Reddington as his lady. (Reddington being a brand name associated with the best there is.) As long as he works a little, remains honest, is nice with people and enjoys his life, he would be fine, he thought. How naïve was he?
When all of sixteen he first encountered serious competition, not for intelligence or honesty or academics, but for being cunning and street smart! He floundered, held on to his values and moved ahead one step at a time, slightly annoyed, that others were leaping two steps at a time though cheating. Always wishing that he would meet the real friend, a real soul mate and the world would stop spinning so viciously. He found many friends claiming to be from Reddington town itself, only to be stabbed later in the back, with his own carrots. Thankfully for him, they were only carrots and his heart recuperated, the agony in his soul subsided but not without some parts dying within him, with his bushy tail shedding or ears feeling the gravity and drooping. In the graduation year from Reddington High, God did reward his perseverance with his values by crossing his path with the princess of Reddington but warned him that all good things is life henceforth, shall not be so easy to come by. This was an exception because she’s going to be instrumental in your further progress and help you succeed.
Couple of years went by with now young Bugs taking on the real world, the real wolves the likes of whom he had seen earlier at Reddington High. But those seemed cubs in front of these big bullies. Poor Bugs had to grow up and fast. His stubbornness didn’t help much. Finally he decided it was time he applied to a Castle to be trained as a knight. Simba City Castle , King J. Somerset Castle, Micannelly Castle, Wellington Castle, all had their long drawn application procedures and hordes of wannabe knights would apply for these coveted programmes. It was not an easy choice nor was it down his line, he thought. But if he has to go to war, he better be trained for it at Simba City or Wellington than go solo and risk becoming a martyr for values which are getting outdated, he pondered. As the princess put it succinctly, “With all the training you will get as a knight intern, wouldn’t it be easier to defend your values? Your carrots are no good when it comes to such brave deeds. You better invest these next two years to get that coveted Simba City or Wellington Sword” (which by the way are the real world names for a prestigious brand like Reddington, Bugs found out.) She knew how to make him understand these real world philosophies, in his language.
So off he went to his burrow and toiled hard cause it was no mean task to get selected as an intern at these castles. Hard work had struck back with vengeance for being neglected so long and had Bugs completely helpless and frustrated at times but he knew by now that this is just the beginning. At the castle there was more to come, lots more, so he flogged himself harder.
Among the tasks, one was to bell a big, wild, ferocious cat. Another one had Bugs running for cover where he had to speak clearly and make his point, with screaming witches from Dellisbury beside him and some frogs croaking ever so loudly. The three judges could barely hear their own thoughts, he reasoned, how can they analyze his performance. Then came the ultimate hoop to jump, three sorcerers were to cross-examine him on his life, his deeds and how many and how deep the burrows he created were. Why did he particularly burrow at Reddington Garden for three years after graduation and what did he achieve by it and so on.
After all this he grew so tired that given the Wellington Sword directly, he would collapse under it. Further bad news from Simba City, Micanelly etc demoralized him. Various stories of the internships being sold, the kings’ relatives ushered in etc., further aggravated his situation. Finally, news came through from Wellington that he had been selected as knight intern and his joy knew no bounds! He played his carrot flute all day and pranced around like a ballet bunny. His efforts did pay off, he smiled. His smile turning into a sigh of relief and a sigh of further hard work down the line to become the most precious knight he could be in Wellington. Then he would challenge all his foes to duals and have the confidence that he can win them defending his values.
The Reddington Carrots and the Reddington Palace were not so far away after all. Only that now they would be the REAL Wellington Carrots and Wellington Palace. This is the story of how the dreamy eyed, lofty headed, high flying Bugs saw the light and found his feet on the ground, only realize that leaping is his real strength.

I know why God keeps us busy.

I finally found out why man is engrossed in so many endeavours like science, arts, astrology, tarot, occult, religion etc etc.
This is my theory:
Basically man is a thinking animal. (By man I mean mankind, women think two times more than an average man, I feel). If left to himself, he will ferret out the cause of life on earth, the beginning, the end, the past and the future. He will think and think and go on with research and a linear process will lead to the inevitable i.e. the solution. THE FINAL SOLUTION. Where did we come from? Why are we on this earth? Who am I? Why does life behave in such a way with me? Why is life so unfair? What, if any, is the ideal character – honest or dishonest? / Practical or idealistic? Then again what is idealistic? etc

So in order to confuse and prolong the process of finding the Final Solution, GOD, or who ever we find responsible for this mess called life, has put in what I call – Random Variable/ Element. This is the one where luck, destiny, stars, chance, coincidence or bad karma comes in. These elements are put in just to distract and distort the real situation. As soon as some one comes close to the real solution or the right track, he dies or something happens which changes his mind or people condemn him for being a mad man. This is so because he was too close for comfort.

These Random Elements behave as the name suggests. No one can predict or presage such events. One thing I believe to be true is that only time these variables show up is when some one is doing an excellent work, beyond a certain level of mediocrity – generally accepted as geniality. If man thought out his way, then to whom will he surrender? In front of whom will he bow? Can any one stop him from being ego-centric?
It will be a curious world to live in; curious, as I don’t want to label it as unethical, dangerous or ideal, without experiencing it. This poem would throw some light on our world today and the one who tries to get out. Either that or suck you into a dark abyss of confusion.

A Curious World
No one can know it unless it comes true,
And no one wants it but a few,
For the rest it’s all the same,
They have resigned to being lame.

Here a spark flies,
To start a wild fire of passion,
Before it kindles, it pours,
To river of ashes turns our hope.

The one who stands tall to it,
Has to crumble under pressure,
Has to kneel down to some one,
Feel the need to surrender.

Such is the maya of this world,
To search and defend the truth he dies,
After his death it’s forgotten,
For whom his body lies.

All in wane and wasted,
Nothing worth fighting for,
Live each day in your dazed numbness,
And die one day, careless and faceless!
- Neil

9th March, 2005

Bang at 9.24 am when I had hardly finished brushing my buck-teeth, a call came through. My cell phone was nowhere to be found in my shabby burrow. After searching high and low , rather low and lower in the burrow, I pacified it by picking it up, like a crying baby. Remembering the etiquette class, I "smiled" into the cell,"Whats up, Doc?" Imagine my plight when Doctor Dolittle, who actually does quite a lot for his name, announced," Congrats!, you babbling hare, you gonna be an uncle,bro! You got a nephew..." "NO!," I exclaimed,"you must be kidding.Like that day when you fooled Mr. Foster ' The Aussie Kangaroo', into believing that the poodle in his pouch was his Joey!" "Aam serious maan, your bro, Viny , the beaver, has become a father", he said in his most nasal 'brotherly' accent. I couldn't believe him. My eyes welled up, I had the sniffles. Then tears started started down my huge cheeks. Suddenly I remembered the chopped onions in the kitchen. " Thats awesome,catch you later, doc!" Click! (You see I slept through the last part of the class when they taught about 'closing gracefully')
After breakfast while searching for my helmet, I thought of how a young beaver, one year younger to me, who barely had a moustache, who shaved till it hurt to complete his French beard, that fellow biker, was a Father now!! I wondered when he would mature and asked him once, " A year after you , Bugs, simple logic!" he used to say. "High hopes," I chuckled " even at 70 my grand children would be shouting at me, ' Grow up grand pa, this is serious stuff. Please dont play with your respirator switch!!' " And we both laughed till we couldn't see the road ahead ahead due to watery eyes. Finally it took a cop and a fine for speeding, to control our emotions. Though by then the cop was laughing away with his share.
Then I thought of the baby, will he be like his father, gregarious, adventurous, a born fighter with strong will power, a hard working fellow or like his mother - calm, unperturbed, happy-go-lucky, afraid of the lizards? Just then Princess Una, the beautiful angel whom I adore telepathically called to say that he was 'the cutest bundle of joy'.
I rushed along to visit my nephew...

Poem for the Hopefuls

Pursue all your goals,

Satisfy your thirsty souls,

Get up when u fall down,

What (luck) goes around comes around!



Then it will be your day,

You will be there and say,

I thank him and i thank her,

Dont forget lady luck, cos shes very dear!