GoT PuRPosE... ?!?!?!??

tDaYs SonG: Th3 doOrs - aMeRIcAn PrAYer.
Time: 2:00 AM.

The fan is making wierd noises. The TV is showing the rerun of a lame 'K' soap: thankfully at a low volume. The lights are down low. Im going through 'Midnights Children' by Salman Rushdie. Its phenomenal. I start reading the first line of a page, and as if on cue, my back starts scratching with a vengeance. So much, that I almost throw the book down and position my body wierdly, in order to reach the irritated area of the epidermis. As the itch dies, I pick up the book. I start thinking: Stuff generally interpreted as soul searching, and the process of self discovery. *BliNk*....*BliNk*...and a million blinks later, I decide... I need a plan.

Now since I am a student of a pretty reknowned college of engineering, I have one simple laid out plan, and other many not so simple ones. and still others that I've chosen not to consider due to a mismatch of well, raw materials, if you like, that I have to work with: for example, I have chosen not to become a Rap artist, since I do not have access to a dozen girls in various stages of undress, willing to dance around me, while I err.. sing. Another technicality, is the fact that I cannot afford the Bling-bling Diamond necklaces, diamond studs... rings on all fingers, diamond braces...(Yea... my reaction exactly... WTF?) and diamond studded cellphones... and the obvious fact that I'm not black. Sometimes I wonder... These guys have the girls, the money, the cars, the tattoos, and the guns... Why in hells name do they sing? Not for the money they dont...

To solve this problem, that is taking quite a while, by anyone's standards - I mean, who takes more than five minutes, to make the biggest decision of their lives... ridiculous.

I sought help from a - err... an acquaintance. I related to him my problem...


'Dude... I need to know... I need to know my purpose in life...'

'Ive just the thing you need!!!...'
(Funny, how everyone has the answer to that one. The world sells Nirvana in bits and pieces.)

'When I was your age...'
(At 20, he's about 8 months older...huh!?! my age was like a decade ago innit?)

'Someone told me to read this book.... this book called the Alchemist...'
(I'm doing engineering bro...)

'Its by this guy called Paulo Cohelo... it changed my life...'
(Yeah... when I first read Playboy... it changed my life too...)

So well... I took the book... reached home... and almost immediately started reading. As I read, I realised, The Alchemist is really, not about the alchemist. Fleetingly I thought of this Jeffry Archer novel, 'As the crow flies'... and pondered over possible mentions of the crow?. None that I could think of. Strange. So now, the Alchemist speaks of a certain treasure... and obviously too of a person who wishes to seek it, encountering the what nots of the journey, and the truths of life, in a rather strange fashion, to finally realise, the treasure was where he lived all his life. My take: After much hardship and torture, and a few hundred pages of reading, everything is back where it began. A classic example of inconsequential writing.

Words that my friend were ringing in my head. Listen to the book he said. After much deliberation, I realised- The solution of my problem is within myself- my mind to be exact. Darn, I thought... If I could read minds, I'd have better business than to read books, much less this one. Anyway, the first step... I know where it is... I just dont know how to get there. Evolution of a person, it says, is the key... Paulo Cohelo, it seems, has the uncanny ability to sound like a certain charachter named NEO from the MATRIX TRILOGY, though I do agree, that at times, he does also sound like another charachter from the err... much loved movie series, namely Morpheus.

'What... is the meaning of this?'

'It is but what you choose to interpret... The question is: What is interpretation?'

'What...?'

'I exist in this film, solely for the purpose of confusing the audience into reading more into the
dialogues, hence slyly dragging an overtly loose story along. Ahem. So which pill was it'

'Huh?'

"Ah... The red pill eh?. You are the one. You choose your destiny... and ours. Theyre all interconnected..."

"uh huh..."

Conspiracy Theory #1: I think the movie was a twisted version of The Alchemist... Hey... the lines are copied.

So... I half decided and then decided not to become a rapper, and read a book, that was in itself inconsequential, and was still where I started. The question now troubled me. What was my purpose in life? In order to get things into focus, I visit another acquaintance of mine(notice, I'm not mentioning names... DO NOT want to get sued.). They say, there are many ways to get to the truth. Its true ( I think); I am begining to find out.

'You need to meditate.'
(And find what... Inner peace??)

'You need to find Inner peace.'
(GoTchA!)

'All doubts that you carry are manifestations of your restless spirit.'
(What is she talking about?)

'Do you even understand what I'm talking about?'
(No...)

'So all you have to do... is close your eyes... and think of what you want to do most of all in life.'
(Boy... that would be some R rated movie..;))

So well... I took her advice... had a bath(No... not that advice)... wore my whitest white pajamas, locked my room (Yeah right I'd let anyone catch me like this), closed my eyes and began to meditate. At first, I could see nothing. Then I could see something black. Then infinite blackness. Then I entered nothingness. I felt like I was blind. ( Yeah OK... I realise now my eyes were closed.). Then I remembered I was supposed to think.

After 5 minutes: Nothing.

After 10 minutes: Its too hot, I need to switch on the Airconditioner.

After 15 minutes: I need to pee.

This was getting nowhere. Ok, so I wasnt an avid believer of searching for enlightenment, in black nothingness. It was too ironic for me to believe. I was getting nowhere, and this was frustrating me. I needed to know what my purpose was. Thus, I had no other choice. I went to the single source of everything, and anything in life. Millions sought it everyday, for any kind of enlightenment. The InTernEt...(I'm living in 2006, theres got to be a yourpurposeinlife.com!). So I google in My purpose in life.

'The words my and in are too common and were excluded from the search'
(Ok... I do not want some one elses purpose)

'Did you mean my purpose in live?'
(Life... Life... Arghhh)

So, theres a site on '201 ideas for desert using beef and bacon', and '501 different ways to make a paper plane' but there is not one page, on my purpose in life. GrEaT...

Finally, like many others, who have tried to interpret their lives, and failed, I too lay in wait of my moment. I was tired, and had no will to go on. If the answer existed, it would come to me on its own accord. Maybe understanding it would mean my purpose, fulfilled. The process of understanding it, my calling, as is everyone elses. Its already begun. I think...

BrIdGe OfF Da riVEr...

tDayS sOng: AC-DC: BuRnIn AliVe

Mood: Angry.

Im feeling fucked up right now. I had a fight with dad, bro, bro, mom, and anyone who means anything to me. Why? Questions. Answers. Counter questions. Arguments. Leadless, endless, arguments without result. Calculating fault is not one of my strong points; whenever I sit down to do such a thing, I can come up with no begining, no end, no point, no right and no wrong with names to check across it. I dont know what my point was... aw heck... even thinking about it is useless excersise.

I'm half contemplating punching the walls in frustration. This is really not the reason I came back to Dubai. Its not a failed endeavour, the attempt at feeling empty on reaching here, sometimes called fulfillment. But somehow, theres always a black lining in the silver cloud of hope that hangs pretty ominously[tRanSitIon: uP-dOwNwArDs]. The proverbial lull before the storm. Moods are temporary; bad ones follow good ones, and the cycle continues.

So today, I fought. I fought hard. I havent slept all night... and I have little recollection of what I'm writing, even right now. Im drowsy now: theres random music playing on the player. I cant understand the words, and theres a struggle to comprehend the beat somewhere in my mind, I dont know where...my eyelids are heavy.

Stat3m3nT: Good NiTe... ToO SlEePy tO gO oN.

Nic3 TrY miSter....

Tdays song: Th3 DooRs: RoAdhouSe BluEs.

I've been reading. Theres this book, called Holy Cow!. Some Sarah Mcdonald woman wrote it. My first time with such writing. It starts slow. It reads slow. It ends slow. Its one of the best books I've ever read. Its so readable, you hate to put it down. Even in the loo. It talks about well... nothing really; its got a nice feel to it... Mcdonald makes a good job of placing you inside her head. She travels through India, and well... thinks. India in a nutshell, as viewed by a thinking person: I'm suggesting an alternate title. NICE!


Its been some time since I came to Dubai. Its hot. I dont get out much. I've been spending a lot of time with my brother. Its different now. We hog the nicotine together. Dads bearing it. He doesnt bother with the whole 'you-must-stop-or-else' bit. The way he's giving us space, is, well, strange, but amazing all the same. Dubai... has changed. The last time I was here for this long, I was right out of high school, brash, cocky (As much as you'd like to convince me otherwise - I've changed.), and horny as hell. Now, I look at brash, cocky, and hyper horny kids, on the streets of Dubai, and go "What is the world coming to??" Maybe I'm old already. Maybe, I think different now. I dont know... I think I can see a grey hair.

StAt3m3nT: Those who give all their life... get their ass kicked in the end... so dont.

ArOuND the OceAn in ... Ummm .... 24 hOUrs....

tDaYs SonG: DiRe StraiTs: BroThers iN ArMs

'Please present you left eye into the scanner', drawled the official at the airport in that typical half bored half dead manner, which really could also be interpreted as the accent that these guys have. It was more than 24 hours since I actually had a wink of sleep and as I completed formalities and let the escalator carry me down and outside the airport to my waiting parents... the blur of the last 24 hours came back to me...

Zero Minus 17 hours- around about 5 in the evening:

Climbing down the stairs... it was impossible to keep the grin off my face. I havent cheated on a test so much, since, err... forever. I'm clearing this one for sure. Or am I? My theory is fate kicks you in the balls when you least expect it. Its true. The results are a less than a worry as I run back, while takin in on the nicotine. I have to shift, take a shower, pack, leave, and get some rest in the bus... its a long journey. I reach hostel and my phone rings, as if on cue:

'Ajwad?'

'Dad?'

'Your ticket isnt confirmed on the PNR you gave me. The airlines say its done for the day after...' his voice trailed off.

'What the fuck... call me back in a while.'

My turn to get hysterical. I use this a lot. I scream my lungs out at the person on the other end of the phone, and most of the time... they cough up the goods. It works with customer service anyways. I call. I scream. Big relief. My PNR is different. A PNR, is supposed to be this tag, with details on where and when I'm supposed to be travelling, and other random details, such as my last name. Like I even need to know that. One problem solved. Im happy again. I see a book lying somewhere in the corner of the room. Murphy's Law. There is a problem to every solution: touche.

Zero Minus 14 hours- somewhere between 7 and 8:

Im still hogging the nicotine. I'm not counting the number of cigarettes I'm smoking: Mua going home baby... Im having a bath, and am on the phone simultaneously. Can't find the soap. It dont matter. Somehow, I scramble into the shit I'm wearing for the flight ( Im doing the whole sleeveless bit complete with the cargoes that are 3 sizes too big... ). So finally... as the clock finally makes its way to the eighth hour, Im off to the city.

Zero Minus 12 hours- Duh around 10:

Someone suddenly reminds me that I'm supposed to keep a copy of my visa. I run to the internet Cafe's that I'm sure will have a printer on them. My luck: Theres no electricity in the whole building. Its as if something/someone is stopping me from going. I shout out to anyone who cares to listen: "Fuck yourself... Im gOIn... Nuddin you Cn Do Bout it". I run to this shady place and it takes me another half an hour tryin to explain how my flight is in another uhh 2 hours ( Ok so I lied... big shit), and if his printer doesnt work... Ima kick his ass so hard, he'd suspect ass rape. Somehow, I get this done, have a quick dinner (Samosa Pau, works every time...) and rush into the bus. The Sarah Mcdonald keeps me entertained till the lights go off. Its like saying goodnight, but being rude about it. Bastards.


Zero minus 5 hours - Around 9:30 in the morning:

I wake up. Its 9.30. I was supposed to be at the airport three hours back. Im supressing a scream, and as soon as the bus stops, I have my fill of the good morning Navy Cut( Yeah I opened the pack I bought for dad). I talk to the guy, and somehow using a combination of sign language and broken hindi, with a good measure of desperate looking expressions, urge him to drive faster. We cross a milestone: Chennai - 36 kms.

Zero minus 2 hours - Around 11:30.... FUCKKKK:

I run into the airport, like theres a bomb scare, and I'm the last action hero. My eyes are wandering towards flight information. I freeze. My heart starts pounding. Here I am, freaked that I almost certainly missed my flight. I half drop my bag in disgust. IC967: Delayed by 2 hours. I'm so not relieved. Im jumping over my own ass to reach this place before noon, and the one thing called luck screws me over. Again. I check in... and wait. Bastards. Dont know who... Just: Bastards.


Zero plus 5 hours - Around 5:30... DxB time:

Im still in the flight, feeling like the next economy class syndrome victim. My legs are numb. So is my tongue, with the third lunch that they gave me. Let me explain how this flight works. The pilots are so jobless, they stop over at three cities, before finally landing in Sharjah. I, being the luckiest person on earth, choose to be on the first leg of the journey, enduring random people all the way to my homeland (Made in UAE babY....). These guys are so explicitly shameless. The sexy air hostessess are in the Business Class area. I get the fat aunties, who are part of the Indian Airlines staff since independence. No respect for raging hormones. Bastards.

Zero plus... fuck it:

'Please present you left eye into the scanner', drawled the official at the airport in that typical half bored half dead manner, which really could also be interpreted as the accent that these guys have. It was more than 24 hours since I actually had a wink of sleep and as I completed formalities and let the escalator carry me down and outside the airport to my waiting parents... the blur of the last 24 hours came back to me...

reFlecting In My MIrrOR...

I wrote this somewhere in November 2005... I thought I lost it... just found it yesterday:

The last of my roomies packed his bags, left for home with a perfunctionary goodbye, and a lazy best of luck, and the next minute I was alone, and the electricity was having a hard time deciding if it wanted to stay or not... and in between those give and take aways of electricity I lay in a corner in one room of the many undistinguishable in Diamond. The rain stayed; at least someone stuck out.So now I was sitting there, with half my stuff in a room filled with bags of god knows who filled with god knows what. I had to leave Diamond today and go some place, any place as long as it wasnt here; They had to 'FIX' the hostel. I was homeless, in the dark, and now thanks to the rain gods, wet....

I woke up with a start, it was late in the afternoon, the only thing common from yesterday: it was still raining. What day was it? I dont remember...

I woke up, checking my cell phone for missed calls, half hoping something interesting might turn up. I turn on a comp that one of my friends gave me for safe keeping; And started another episode of 'FRIENDS'. Joey wore the same shirt he did a week back... a week was it? It had been seven days now since they had left. Something wierd was going on and I vaguely realised: I was hungry. I devoured the half empty biscuit pack that I did'nt remember buying, and sighed. When I started blinking without assistance, I staggered to the washroom; twist the tap: no result. Why does this happen to me? I dont know... Oh wait...

There was no water in the hostel because there was a flood in the city - ironic.
Then, as if bad luck needs to improve upon itself, my cell phone lost network coverage. I checked the calendar to realise that the paper im waiting for was in 2 days. Gotta hit the books. Somehow I felt enthusiastic, and spent the rest of my day arranging my work desk.

In between long breaks and short spans of which I used to study, the exam came and went and I didnt know what was worse, the wait, or the paper itself. The wait, definetely, I decided, finally. I had a few days more to spend till college reopened, I could'nt go back home and my bank did'nt allow me to go on a trip. I was bored. I felt cheated in some odd way. That it wasn't fair that everyone gets to go home, talk to their mum, sit on their favourite couch, and have a hot shower, eat food at home and miss college... I cried out to the gods, and sat looking at the west face of a non-descript building. For hours.


I woke up to a racket, and pacing outside my room were more humans than I had seen in the past 2 weeks. It was over. And when people started pouring in, and voices tired by a long travel carried the enthusiasm of little children, it struck me again how much I miss home. By then I had come to peace with it. I had no other choice. Its not always fair, but thats life. I looked up into the sky, and saw the sun glaring into my eyes. Good Morning.

Aj

WeT to De sOul....

'Its so Fkin hot...'

I was cursing the weather of the Rock City... it was driving me nuts. Just when you think this is the hottest it can get, the sun god always plays a fast one on you. I just wanted to pass out with the heat, and before I blew up, I ran into the OCTA[When are these people changing the name of the damn building?!?!!]. At some point, time flew... and in the midst of a pretty interesting conversation with a certain someone, I left the place, and started walking towards Pearl...

it started raining....

I looked at my watch, disbelievingly... it was the middle of summer... it was supposed to be really hot, like, right now. Someone sure heard me swearing. I just stood there looking, as the huge drops of water slapped the face of the earth all around me... and a minute later... it was mindblowing. I like the rains.

'I've lived in a rain starved country all my life... so when it rains... I watch with my mouth open...'

The whole world was wet now... somehow, with mischief somewhere... I liked the feeling. I walked out. The scent of wet earth: breathtaking. As I walked... I could feel the last bit of heat from the earth, almost oozing through... subtly hinting at warmth... I had a stupid smile on my face... Today was awesome... the rain just made my day. Just one thing though....

'Ek aur romantic shaam barbaad...'

Ciao.

Aj

PS: I have no clue why... but I'm really happy right now...:)

PerRfeCt: ThE FinAL reButTal...

I woke up and realised I had a question remaining to be done on the paper. It was easy to see, since I had made ugly gashes over the questions that I had already attempted... the RA stared at me... but was too psyched to say anything. The paper was irritating, but at least it was doable, unlike some other subjects of mine that were a huge pain in the WrONg place. I rubbed my eyes open and finished it off... with all the satisfaction of a man, who is free. I leave the hall an hour early and suddenly, the world is heaven... the heat didnt matter anymore... finally.... I inch towards my bed, and suddenly, I get a text message:

"The measurement papers
have been evaluated. Please
go to Vasuki Madam and
verify your grades. - Nalin"

Suddenly and without warning, I felt the strongest urge to kill myself. NO... it was'nt just about not being able to sleep... it was my grade... I put on 'my' shirt, and left hostel, with only one thing in my mind... I need at least 42 on 70 to pass this paper. I started to pray... I'm wondering why situations like this get the best behaviour out of me... It was super hot.... I buttoned up my shirt... the war was on....

42 was a big deal... 42 aint easy for how bad the measurements paper was...:


FlaShBack:
My fingers were sweating... I was thirsty and my finger hurt... I was hungry, I was sleepy, I was irritated... I was trying to find one good reason why I fucked the paper up. I looked at the drawing at the back of a question paper... I was getting good at this. Walking out on a prof's paper is the worst mistake you can ever do in your life... If you plan to clear it someday... So I stayed there... and made some productive use of my idle time...

So now, I'm standing in front of her Office with Rahul Sharma... I can hear the class topper inside... he's eating her head for every question... These class toppers are such bastards... they get the highest marks in the class, and as if it were'nt enough... cried and threw tantrums untill they increased them by so many marks... "HELLO!!! a HunDred is the MAX...". Some more noise... The door swings open with a thud on the inside... The topper, and the other non toppers walked outside... She asks me to SIT doWn......... (heartbeat... heartbeat).... Whats my roll no.?

"ic10422 madam..."

"You have very low internals... 8 on 30..."

I can do the math... 42 on 70... 42 on 70...

"Ye-YeASs... madam"

She hands me the paper... I blink... it shook in my hand... and I saw the total... 49... There was god somewhere.... I rushed through the pages, to see if there were some extra marks added somewhere... NO WAY.... 49... I stopped checking.... a D baby.... I returned her the answer sheet, and flashed a smile...

"So... any corrections...??"

"No, madam... everything is fine... thank you."

I walked towards the door and opened it... wanting to run for joy... She called out in the background just before I left...

"49... you did well....(pause).... this time..."

The smile evaporated from my face.

--
Ajwad