Tuesday, February 18, 2014

A short History of 26 Billion Kms

Today I turned 28. Strictly speaking I took 28 rounds around the Sun (I don't see any better standard). If I were to account for lunar years, there seems no astronomical significance for 12 lunar months - 12 lunar months seems to be an arbitrarily chosen value which is close enough to estimate the  cycle of solar influenced seasons. But, I am too small to underestimate the relevance of lunar months, there is a tremendous influence of lunar gravity in a localized environment.



How many more revolutions I wish to take? It is not always the same. There were instances in my life when I felt that I am not moving at all, and when I wished that I could stop moving any further. Even though, while I am in dead still, I am moving at a speed of 107,300 km/h. That is as much as moving around the equator of earth around 2.5 times in an hour. There were instances in my life when I felt that I want to live for ever. But, the truth is sooner or later in astronomical time, the sun, the earth will be a story of past. And there is problem when I say 'past', because who know when the 'past' will be a past - when the time itself will stop.




Anyway, living in this world for 28 years or 26 Billion Kms around the sun (apart from a billion or so Kms while I was in my mother's womb) my mind is getting ripe to accept death. I was like a young Siddhartha in my early years, I was afraid of death and used to feel depressed on every birthday. I used to cry in ecstasy as the midnight approached (though I was born around 5 am). I never used to feel happy for my birthday, I felt I am getting an year closer to death. I used to think 'how I will face death', it used to give me a nightmare. Today I slept well, had a sound sleep from 11 pm to 6 am. I feel like I am no more afraid of death. It is not because of the drama created by my friends and family on each of my birthdays (perhaps the concept of birthday itself has evolved as a cure to make people forget that it is indeed a sad day), it is because of realization. If you had closely observed the agony of a deer while it is caught by a lion, you might have observed that even though the deer resists in the beginning, later on when it realizes that there is no escape, it simply accepts death, calmly and with all submission. I sometimes feel that it even enjoys the pleasure of getting killed when it is about to die. I am like that deer, in fact we all are.









Tuesday, February 11, 2014

THE CULT OF FREE AIR BREATHERS

A deep breath, at what cost? Of everything you have, is it that only air is free? We Muslims, Jews, Americans, Africans, Whites, Greys, Retards, Dwarfs - all have one cult in common. We are in the cult of free air breathers. Say, loud, let everyone hear that we are in the cult of free air breathers...!!!! Breath , O' man , O' woman, breath as much as you can. Shallow breath, deep breath, conscious breath, unconscious breath, yoga breath, evangelistic breath, stressful breath, happy breath, subtle breath, loud breath, sexual breath, sad breath, first breath, last breath... All breath, all kinds of breath.



Sign Here

THE CULT OF FREE AIR BREATHERS



Monday, February 10, 2014

Four Minutes of my Life

Please hurt me, I miss getting hurt. The loophole of this psychedelic hurt, I used to lick with the tears of my fate. Now, where hast thou gone, O' hurt?

It is such a fun to see the hurt with the eyes of a spectator, spectator of my own fallacy. Just four more minutes to go, before which I have to end this post. I will be no more doped by the end of this crazy four minutes. Astronomy domine will be no more, Floyd will be back to his business. Hurt, my damn fallacy. Hurt, it was all I desired for my own pleasure. Hurt, I love you. O' hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt (yelling literally). Hurt, I just want you to be back. Back to my conscious, do not care me , do not love me, ah.. please love this soul yearning for you, O' heart. End!

Saturday, February 8, 2014

The Emotional Marketplace

I was looking at her so closely, I felt that she didn't care for me anymore. There goes the problem, I was like having the worst time in my life. Not getting enough love, enough attention as much as I supposed to have got. And who decides how much attention should I get? Me, who else! And there goes all the menace - I try to bring her attention back, I try to play all the drama, I even try to hurt myself and then threaten her with my own self torture. All goes in vain, and I wonder why.

I looked through her eyes, and I found that she was desperate for a solution. She normally knows what the solution is - a few kind words with a little of attention. But, she is not ready after all. She too is as sick as I am. She can not take it any more. I saw it in her eyes. Thus goes the spiral of emotional bargaining. I hurt myself, she restrains herself. A marketplace where the spiral of bargaining goes on and on. There is no deal at all. Demand is so high, while supply is almost nil. Highly inelastic, even if I threaten her with the highest price the quantity of consolation does not increase. The bargaining goes on and on, and finally I write a suicidal note and voila I win! I win, because that is the highest price I could bargain for. What did she loose? Nothing but a token of appreciation. And she gained a suicidal note from me.

This mutual exchange of demand and supply created a marketplace. That emotional marketplace is the place waiting for further emotional transactions. There is no broker here, I did not want a broker. We did not want a broker, because no broker is willing to work for free. 

There goes the second bargain, similar as before. But it is so easy now, because there is a self established marketplace. I threaten her with a suicidal note and she gives the token of appreciation. It is as if she is already waiting for the suicidal note, she knows that I will do anything for a piece of appreciation. I am getting filled with appreciation, she is getting filled with suicidal notes. By time, I become more and more greedy, I become so bullish for appreciation. But she is a reluctant seller. She doesn't need a suicidal note. She is forced to have one because I am willing to pay a suicidal note. She thinks that there needs to be a broker. While for me, I do not want a broker. So, I threaten her that if she tells anyone about our secret emotional transactions, I will leave another suicidal note.

But you know there are spies everywhere. Well right next to me, even trying to pry on every single transaction. They are wolves dressed like a sheep. They need to enter the market to gain some profit. What profit they are looking for. They want a tiny portion of appreciation that she is willing to give me. And in exchange they are ready to console her. I do not want a broker because of the transaction cost involved. The brokers do not charge me, but they charge her. That causes a delay, I do not want any delay. Time is precious, I am so greedy for appreciation.

The unavoidable brokers have entered the marketplace. They need more and more suicidal notes from me, less and less appreciation for me and thus more and more transaction. They need less and less appreciation for me because appreciation is a scarce resource, and they think that if she gives all the appreciation to me they will be left with nothing. Brokers, ah those brokers! Even leeches are better than them. Because leeches are self proclaimed parasites, while brokers are self proclaimed evangelists.

The broker is sucking her up, it involves a lot of cost for me. Everyday I have to leave with a suicidal note. Brokers being so happy, come to my house to run the marketplace. Holy brokers, everyone on the streets loves them. Brokers even sell the appreciation they have got in the secondary marketplace, and they get even more appreciations. Thus all the gossips in the street starts. I feel inferior, I confine myself in my house. I do not trust anyone and I start even doubting the walls of my own house. Those brokers, they seem to have ruined my life.

She realizes that brokers are not sheep after all, the gossips reaches her, and now she decides to say goodbye to the brokers. She is looking for some other way out. But now there is a recession, I being afraid of the consequences I had to face because of my greed for appreciation, I stop writing suicidal notes. I stop demanding appreciation. The emotional marketplace is under recession. Gossips starts to gear all around. The daily headlines read something like this ''Neighbours say that the house is much peaceful now, emotional marketplace is under recession". There are stories all around, some blame the the brokers, some blame the households, some blame the whole system of marketplaces, some blame the excessive betting by brokerages, some blame the artificial demand created by her, some blame the unlimited suicidal notes written by me that put an inflationary spiral in  the system.

Nobody actually knew the answer, some have already predicted this peaceful marketplace long ago. They were called pessimists and were ridiculed by the neighbors. "This fighting, this suicidal notes will go on and on for ever", one of the neighbors said during the emotional boom. Nobody guessed that it was a marketplace created by her. She was the one who restricted the supply of appreciation. She could have appreciated quite easily, it didn't involve much cost. She could have given the appreciation for a smaller cost, like an apology from me, or anything that involved a much lesser emotional cost. The emotional spiral would not have boomed, markets would have been much stable.

So, is she the only scapegoat to be blamed? Off course she has to be blamed for the artificial demand she has created. But, what about the surplus suicidal notes I was writing? What about my greed for appreciation? It is also rational to blame that. 

But after all why should we blame anyone? Why we need such a booming marketplace? Is the marketplace absolutely necessary for our survival? I don't think so. It would have been much better to be content with what appreciation I had already got. It would have been better if I restrained myself from being greedy. If my demands were low, if I printed less suicide notes, and if she had been a bit more liberal in appreciation.

P.S. Now she is very liberal in appreciation, because I demand less.

"Wisdom comes from experience and may God save the bulls and bears."

Saturday, February 1, 2014

A Believer's Paradigm

Who is he who is not he? I think it is not him because he is not him. Perhaps he is a mirage, but in that case he is not real. If he is not real, then why do we think that he is real? So, either our thinking is a mirage or he is real. Our thinking may be a mirage of fear, hope, sorrow, frustration and what not! But if he is real, then what is the reason of the very process of our thinking? Are we real afterall! 

Who are we who are not we? I think it is not us because we are not us.  Perhaps we are a mirage, but in that case we are not real. If we are not real, then why do we think that we are real? So, either our thinking is a mirage or we are real. Our thinking may be a mirage of love, desire, pain, anxiety and what not! But if we are real, then what is the reason of the very process of our thinking? Is he real afterall!