Life, Laughter and Everything Else

"Sweeeeeet Caroline.......Ba Ba Ba", the crowd chanted in unison. I could not help in but join in the catchy chorus though it was the first ever time I had heard it and when it came to that part again, I sang even more heartily with the rest of the crowd. Thanks to that piece alone, the rather drab patriotic performance by the orchestra on the night of July 4th was saved. And as I stared into the sky in wonder as the fireworks started, I recalled that it had been half a year since I shifted residence to the 'greatest country on Earth'. I knew what to expect when I landed, for American soft power had been extremely successful in reaching every nook and corner of the globe, to the frustration of most intellectuals. Materialistic, superficial, know-nothings, paternalistic, endlessly interested either in the weather or the lives of their dogs and the list does not end (especially if you ask the French). Most of these cultural nuances, as I found out, were pretty spot...

The videographer slid open the transparent door. The air blew in, fresh and cold. The pressure in my ears continued to build up and the twin propeller plane continued to rise in a steep ascent. The instructors and the amateurs shared fist bumps and high 5's to build some courage. "We will go third", she shouted in my ears behind me and I nodded in agreement. First went the videographer. Then the first pair went up to the door and they steadied themselves. The instructor asked the girl, locked to the contraption on his chest using a series of safety locks, to put her feet at the narrow edge of the plane while he placed both his arms on the two ends of the doors to hold them inside. Then after about 4 seconds he let go and they were gone, out of sight. The second pair did the same and my instructor pushed me up to go to the door. I moved up and placed my feet unsteadily on that thin stair at the edge of the plane. The wind was stronger. Before I had any time to think,...

"My mum used to tell me. Never chase after girls. Be successful and they will chase after you" , he proclaimed with all due seriousness, something that amused me given the passion with which he chased after (and successfully seduced) them. "I am not sure if that is the type of girl I want. Because it sounds like she wants my success more than she wants me" , I retorted. He thought for a quick second. "She did not mean it in that way. She meant have the right kind of character and you will attract the right kind of woman" Wishful thinking or reality? As they say, only the mother knows...

At last Philip said:  “Well, I can’t say anything about other people.  I can only speak for myself.  The illusion of free will is so strong in my mind that I can’t get away from it, but I believe it is only an illusion.  But it is an illusion which is one of the strongest motives of my actions.  Before I do anything I feel that I have choice, and that influences what I do; but afterwards, when the thing is done, I believe that it was inevitable from all eternity.” “What do you deduce from that?” asked Hayward. “Why, merely the futility of regret.  It’s no good crying over spilt milk, because all the forces of the universe were bent on spilling it.” -Of Human Bondage, W. Somerset Maugham Once in a blue moon, life brings a quotation or epiphany to light that altogether changes one's perspective of something. Elizabeth Taylor's 'Nothing lasts. Did you notice that?', was one that reduced the exaggerated importance of the to-do list that society i...

radio: . . . garrison already decimated by the Vietcong, who lost 115 of their men . . . woman: It’s awful, isn’t it, it’s so anonymous. man: What is? woman: They say 115 guerillas, yet it doesn’t mean anything, because we don’t know anything about these men, who they are, whether they love a woman, or have children, if they prefer the cinema to the theatre. We know nothing. They just say . . . 115 dead.                                                                                              —Jean-Luc Godard, Pierrot le Fou It was like any other postcard, brief and handwritten briskly. It described something that had caught the writer's eye, something that had reminded her of her childhood, something that she wanted to share with someone who was...

Having temporarily being resettled in Houston, where pedestrian paths are either absent or empty enough to make you wonder why you are walking, I have had no choice but to hop on a car rental program. Interestingly, the program requires that the car be returned every month for a new one, a practise while seemingly troublesome, is a joy in experimentation, with every car bringing with her, her own unique character. Here are their stories... Mitsubishi Lancer The very first one. She eased me into the American life, their left handed habits and showed me the freedom of America's big highways. Rarely demanding and quietly efficient, I had no complaints, except one.  She came with a smell.  I tried what I could. Perfumes, air fresheners, all, but the smell wouldn't go. At first uncomfortable, I got used to it after a while, but every time one of my friends met her, they would ask, "Oh, whats that smell?" or "Waah! The smell still there?" and ...

Couple of days back, I was in the lift with a couple of friends, on our way to lunch. On reaching the ground floor, the doors opened and one of them remarked. "Have you ever tried to move something with your mind? Like you stared real hard at it and hoped it would move?" I had. So had the other guy. And perhaps so have everyone else.  Not that we knew that it would move.  But what if it did?