Life, Laughter and Everything Else

“Dude. He was a total hypocrite….” “He slept with naked young women to test his sexuality…” “He was racist against Africans. He served to protect the interest of high caste Indians and Whites…” “The Indian Independence movement was slowed down by years because of him…” The accusations came like wildfire. I sat there stunned. I had heard some before, but now it was negative after negative. A man who had inspired peaceful, non-violent uprising throughout the world was lambasted as the biggest, most overhyped hypocrite in human history. What made it more interesting was that it came from an Indian. I asked him for sources and he was happy to give me plenty. Some were dubious self-made videos, others were more credible, acknowledging the failings of the man. Though in one such (presumably dubious) videos in a Youtube channel by a guy called Stefan Molyneux, I saw on the right other recommended videos, all stating ‘The Truth” about every other great men in history. Mand...

It would happen in a moment. A conversation that was going fluently would come to an abrupt end and be replaced by another that was familiar yet foreign. I would feel totally lost, unsure how to reinsert myself into the conversation, how to pick it up again. Meanwhile they would continue blabbering away in their mother tongue, effectively excommunicating me from the liveliness. The sense of loss would turn towards anger against the newcomer. Though I should have been used to it by now. In Singapore, experiences like this was quite common. Being a minority, one tended to be forgotten as colleagues and friends would switch to Chinese and I would sit there at a loss for words. Some friends would sympathise and ‘switch to Channel 5’ (an English speaking television channel and the term used to refer to a request to speak English). Sometimes it worked, sometimes it did not, for all needed to agree to this. Interestingly, it was not just Indian friends who would complain about being lost...

Every kilogram of mass equates to about 10N in gravitational pull.  That would equate to about 650N, or perhaps 600N assuming my weight has been going the other way. It always feels like a ton though, almost like Gandalf escaped the realm of magic and, of all places on Earth, chose to come to the shabby room of an impoverished Indian guy. There he placed his hand above me and exerted unimaginable force downwards and roared, “You shall not rise!” I tried my utmost best, but the old, wily magician would have none of it. I could barely lift myself an inch above it. The attraction was magnetic. As I lifted one part of my body, the other side would be inevitably pulled downwards. However, in any battle, true victory lies not in the physical but the mental vanquishing of the enemy and there he deployed his strongest weapon of all. He engulfed me in a soft, warm blanket whose whiteness reassured me of the comfort and security I was enjoying at the moment. Would I rather remain sn...

I have always been a proponent of spending time alone, far from the security and comfort provided by one’s close family and friends. This time alone was a statement of independence, that of self-sufficiency, a statement that screamed I am strong enough to survive on my own. In addition, time alone meant one was not subject to the whim of one’s companions. I did what I wanted, how I wanted and when I wanted. That was freedom. And so I often traveled alone, planning the itinerary according to my taste and changing it according to my whims. I neither had to wait for the friend who wanted to snap pictures of every other thing neither did I have to inconvenience my budget to his taste. It was great, at least at first. Then it got to the point when the loneliness caught up with me, when as I stared at the majestic monument or scenery in awe, I looked to my right and left and realized there was none to share it with. When I had to use the loo, there was no one to watch over my bag, nei...

"I am sorry, but are you good at IT?", she inquired with the most apologetic of expression. I gave her an incredulous look. Seriously? This was the second time I was being asked that question in one month and I took offense. It was almost as if the world judged that the only reason my race would be allowed to venture overseas was to fix other people's computers. "No. I am a production engineer", I replied, half wondering if I should clarify it had nothing to do with human production, which my people are also well known for. "Oh. That is a pity. Our printer broke down and we were wondering how to fix it", she said pointing to a piece of contraption that lay on the table nearby. Men being men, I offered to help. On walking over and looking into the inside of the contraption, I saw what most millennials see if they were to ever see the inside of the multiple devices they are perpetually holding onto; abyss. I doubted she would give me a discount f...

At the heyday of xenophobia in Singapore, foreigners who neither spoke English or spoke it not very fluently were often the target of snide remarks and jokes among the local population. As the service industry occupations started being filled more and more by foreigners, one could frequently hear complaints about the difficulty in communication with the foreigners. One common scenario was for example me buying some mixed rice at the food court and the China born sever would state the cost in Chinese. It would irk me. "Do I look Chinese to you". Or if he caught me on a bad day, "Don't know English, why come here?" Of course I would not say it out, but that would be the chain of thoughts in my head, something I would follow up with my friends when I joined them later at the canteen. Now that I am in Germany, the role has been reversed. My German is elementary at best and my efforts at speaking it out has been hindered by almost total incomprehension of w...

Change is hard, all the more when one is very comfortable with the present. Family, friends, job, security and the time to pursue my hobbies, I had everything here with me. But I felt discomfort in the comfort, for comfort rarely taught a man anything. Going through 2 years in the army, spending extended time away from loved ones in Houston, the phases of my life I experienced the most pain, those were the experiences that shaped me and made me better. So I decided to uproot myself, thousands of miles away for a couple of years, where I would be by myself and less protected, for the sake of putting myself through that discomfort. Something about it did not make much sense, Why volunteer to go through pain when you have happiness at your doorstep? Besides, what about the opportunity costs? 2 years of lost incomes, savings withdrawn to the point of exhaustion, a Masters that might not amount to anything. And so on and so forth. Though it somehow occurred to me that my concerns w...