Month: April 2017

Fix You

Fix You by Chris Martin of Coldplay is one of the few best songs written in this century. I am fortunate to be born in an era in which Sitar isn’t dead and the Indian rendition will give goosebumps.

Advertisements

The Impulse

Sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night, I feel that I can almost reach out and touch the littleness of my being. In those moments I ask myself what is the meaning of being alive, what it means to breathe, to touch, and to see? In those moments I believe that there is a greater purpose for everyone on his planet. It sometimes reminds me of my time to Zion last year. Out there the modern world turns to begin hazy. The rulebook of the society with money, religion, and human identity starts to become irrelevant. For once in your life you embrace the happiness of not knowing what lies ahead and you realize that all those notions from the world belong to the shelves and you are you and life is right there, right in the open in front of your eyes. So, pack your bags and hit the road. You might not come back with the answers but you may come back with the questions that would lead you to self discovery. Our time on this planet is limited for us but the quest of our brain is not.

While you can, make the leap!

The Conversation

Gene Hackman was the actor of this classic but the conversation I had the other day didn’t feature him. So, without further adieu I would tell you about the conversation I had few days ago. I was on a business trip to southern part of USA, where people are quite different from the east coast. They take food, religion, matrimony, spending time with each other quite seriously. Oh, I couldn’t have lived in Manhattan is a frequent expression and the reason that’s cited is – it is too fast paced for me. Fair point.

I work in multiple geography system, so I have my calls in the morning and there is a lot of email exchange in early part of the day. That day was any ordinary day until the house keeping lady knocked on my door. I was speaking over the call, so couldn’t have shouted – come back later and I hadn’t put no room service today tag on the door handle. So I got up to let the person know that come back later, there was an old woman at the door and I signaled the same to her and turned back. By the time I went back to my laptop, I could hear someone walking behind me and as it turned out the old woman didn’t get my signal and walked right in to clean. I was still talking to the team on the other side of the line and that lady started to make a lot of noise around the room. I had to apologize to the team for the background noise. The talking resumed and I kept on hearing the feeble background noises with things falling and being rearranged. Once my part got finished, other people on the call resumed their discussion on other topics and I stole a moment to see how the old lady is doing. I craned my neck to look at her surreptitiously and found her putting the stuff that had fallen down back on the shelves and slabs. I went ahead and tried to help her, and she Thanked me with a smile. I resumed my call and contributed sporadically wherever it was needed. On finishing work, she came to me and asked me whether I needed anything else. I immediately put my hand over speaker and mouthed No and mouthed Thank you to her. I think she was really bad at catching signals, no wonder she isn’t in traffic police and it would be a mystery if she still had her driving license with her. She started talking to me and I told her that I am on a call, I can’t talk to her, Thank You, Ciao, Goodbye, Dasvidanya. But she wasn’t ready to listen and resumed talking. I put my phone on mute and before I could say anything to her, she interrupted “For how long are you here?” I said ” I will go back tomorrow, umm..I actually am on a call. You have a good day and Thanks for coming in”. She turned a deaf ear to it and said ” Has your significant other gone for breakfast?”. I said “WHO? What significant other?” She sensed and said out twice ” Oh, so you are here alone!!” Once to herself and second time to maker herself believe that what she heard was true. The inner Manhattanite woke up and I replied curtly ” Thank you, I am busy”. She started towards the door and just before going out she said ” I feel so sorry for you son! You came to this romantic city alone. I came to this city on my honeymoon from my village”. At this point I thought ” Yeah, why not!! Arkansas is the most ‘romantic’ place on earth. How can Paris, Prague, Hawaii etc would ever measure up to it. ” I told her  that not everyone has to marry or be with someone necessarily, it is not some law. Our lives aren’t scripted by story writer of The Lobster movie. She was completely oblivious to what I was saying and reached out in her pockets and fished out a card and gave it to me while saying ” You should go here, it is the best tavern, with country music, friendly people, you can meet girls there”. I said ” I am on work here not for meeting arbit girls”. She asked what is arbit. I said it is short for arbitrary. She repeated arbit and arbitrary a couple of times and then said ” No, they aren’t arbitrary at all. They are very nice girls. Best of the lot. One woman can handle 10 cows by herself, very disciplined” The old lady kept on extolling the girls of her ‘city’ and I kept on sifting through my emails in my mailbox. After her rant was over and she moved herself out of my room graciously ( not united airlines style), I resumed call over phone and the person on the other end asked me ” So, will you be going to that tavern tonight?”. I was startled and found that even though I did put my phone on mute, it never was on mute and everyone on the other side of the phone line heard the entire thing. It became interesting conversation for them to listen to.

No title

You know, as we come to the end of this phase of our life, we find ourselves trying to remember the good times and trying to forget the bad times, and we find ourselves thinking about the future. We start to worry , thinking, “What am I gonna do? Where am I gonna be in ten years?” But I say to you, “Hey, look at me!” Please, don’t worry so much. Because in the end, none of us have very long on this Earth. Life is fleeting. And if you’re ever distressed, cast your eyes to the summer sky when the stars are strung across the velvety night. And when a shooting star streaks through the blackness, turning night into day… make a wish and think of me. Make your life spectacular.

Loneliness is a construct that binds the people. I used to think the worst thing in life is to end up all alone. It’s not. The worst thing in life is to end up with people who make you feel all alone. The loneliest and the saddest people in life try their hardest to make people happy because they know what it’s like to feel absolutely worthless and they don’t want anyone else to feel like that.

These are not my words but of a man who lived and made his life spectacular.

Bukowski 9 to 5

 

Few days ago I watched an old movie named Barfly starring Micky Rourke. The movie was based on the formative years of Bukowski when he was drinking himself to death and was on verge of destitution. He wrote the screenplay himself and portrayed the lead who finds solace in writing poetry.

One dialog from the movie is remarkable. Wanda asks Henry “Do you trust me”?, Henry replies “Yes, why not! It is easier that way”.

I am pasting one a letter here that goes hand in hand with what we feel today. How insecurity, the comfort, the society influences our actions and make us do things which we might not have done if free abstractly.

 

December 8, 1986

Hello John:

Thanks for the good letter. I don’t think it hurts, sometimes, to remember where you came from. You know the places where I came from. Even the people who try to write about that or make films about it, they don’t get it right.

They call it “9 to 5.” It’s never 9 to 5, there’s no free lunch break at those places, in fact, at many of them in order to keep your job you don’t take lunch. Then there’s OVERTIME and the books never seem to get the overtime right and if you complain about that, there’s another sucker to take your place. You know my old saying, “Slavery was never abolished, it was only extended to include all the colors.”

And what hurts is the steadily diminishing humanity of those fighting to hold jobs they don’t want but fear the alternative worse. People simply empty out. They are bodies with fearful and obedient minds. The color leaves the eye. The voice becomes ugly. And the body. The hair. The fingernails. The shoes. Everything does.

As a young man I could not believe that people could give their lives over to those conditions. As an old man, I still can’t believe it. What do they do it for? Sex? TV? An automobile on monthly payments? Or children? Children who are just going to do the same things that they did?

Early on, when I was quite young and going from job to job I was foolish enough to sometimes speak to my fellow workers: “Hey, the boss can come in here at any moment and lay all of us off, just like that, don’t you realize that?”

They would just look at me. I was posing something that they didn’t want to enter their minds.

Now in industry, there are vast layoffs (steel mills dead, technical changes in other factors of the work place). They are layed off by the hundreds of thousands and their faces are stunned:

“I put in 35 years…”

“It ain’t right…”

“I don’t know what to do…”

They never pay the slaves enough so they can get free, just enough so they can stay alive and come back to work. I could see all this. Why couldn’t they? I figured the park bench was just as good or being a barfly was just as good. Why not get there first before they put me there? Why wait?

I just wrote in disgust against it all, it was a relief to get the shit out of my system. And now that I’m here, a so-called professional writer, after giving the first 50 years away, I’ve found out that there are other disgusts beyond the system.

I remember once, working as a packer in this lighting fixture company, one of the packers suddenly said: “I’ll never be free!”

One of the bosses was walking by (his name was Morrie) and he let out this delicious cackle of a laugh, enjoying the fact that this fellow was trapped for life.

So, the luck I finally had in getting out of those places, no matter how long it took, has given me a kind of joy, the jolly joy of the miracle. I now write from an old mind and an old body, long beyond the time when most men would ever think of continuing such a thing, but since I started so late I owe it to myself to continue, and when the words begin to falter and I must be helped up stairways and I can no longer tell a bluebird from a paperclip, I still feel that something in me is going to remember (no matter how far I’m gone) how I’ve come through the murder and the mess and the moil, to at least a generous way to die.

To not to have entirely wasted one’s life seems to be a worthy accomplishment, if only for myself.

Your boy,

Hank