The Rage of Reason

Why do I expect everything to fall within the dictates of reason? Why this fetish for a reasonable explanation for everything? You are awake because you drank coffee, dear. Two and two must equal four, right?

The result of reading too much Sherlock Holmes and possessing un-artistic eyes...

Respect

Respect is what we think we need most. Actually it is adulation we mean.

Tete-a-late

“You’re late!’ she said.
“I lost my way” he countered.
The coffee-shop was crowded and there were only a few chairs unoccupied. Damon took his seat. It was Pythias’s idea they rendezvous here, as she had been too pressed for time and could only spare an hour at the most.
“If only you could have some trust in modern aids such as GPS! It is not a sin, you know, to depend on technology”
“I do have some rather uncool habits which I can’t help, Pythias. It is not to say I don’t trust technology, only I wish to stay unfettered. But here I am. It’s a round world”
“It further strengthens my view that I would rather trust inanimate things than a person. It sure takes the emotional aspect out of the equation.”
“Sorry for tampering with your emotions. I didn’t think I possessed such wondrous traits. And so, nothing personal”
“You over-estimate yourself. It was a general observation. And I hate that phrase. Nothing personal. It seems to exonerate the person who says that, no matter how grave the situation was. You never get to know whether it is the truth.”
“And why do you have to know the truth? Can’t you believe a person as such? Ever heard of benefit of the doubt?”
“Yes. But I think it prudent to always hold the benefit of the doubt, so that there is no cause for alarm later. It is expectation of good news that betrays you. Expecting disappointments always stays faithful. People always shock you and not when you least expect it.”
“If you are shocked by someone’s actions, it shows you take an interest in that person and believe your happiness has something to do with them. Which is a ridiculous thing to assume. You can’t control how others behave. You cannot write their lives. The problem arises when you invest importance to things. You have got to think that it is not happening to your body.”
“But it is happening to my body. It is well and good if everyone were a monk like you. You know, I can tolerate fake swamis but I cannot tolerate sincere ones. They seem way too escapist to me.”
“I am flattered by your bestowing me monk status. This seems to be the age of talk. All I have done is telling you something that may better your situation and already I have earned some laurel. I don’t lack passion if you think that. We tend to generalize fair too much. The man who doesn’t smile, we assume, is one who lacks humor. The man who doesn’t talk is one who lacks substance. Well, to make it short, I am just saying taking things too seriously is not a pragmatic way to live your life.”
“Yeah, Life is short and all that.”
“Not as short as you, but you get the gist.”
“Why don’t tall people grow up? They seem to have achieved some great feat just by being tall.”
“We are not to blame for it. But one thing is worth giving a thought. We talk about equality in everything. We can pass a law forbidding people to grow beyond a certain height. Your tax will increase with respect to how much above the limit you are. Or better still, give up your height to others. Socialism in practice.”
“Do you expect me to laugh or cry?”
“It’s not hard to make a girl cry. It is harder to make her laugh. But women do not take a guy who makes them laugh seriously. They want nothing to do with frivolity. So they fall for someone who stimulates their lachrymals. It would seem they hold a habitual and perpetual copyright to pain and suffering.”
“That is utter garbage. It stands to reason why you are a single man, Mr. Damon.”
“I am single because I am afraid of anyone who can love me more than I do myself. I will be seething with jealousy. But since you don’t love me at all, I can consider you for the vacant spot.”
“What an uncharming suggestion! I am not that practical, dude!”
“Broken is the state of the heart. Would you pick up the check as a penalty for damages caused?”
“How silly men are! They come late and want the woman to pay the bill. God save me!”

The Unrebel

She smiled and straightaway he knew there was something wrong. He avoided her eye as if it were a letter he suspected of alarm and which he didn’t want to be aware of. Why is that, he thought, we avoid someone’s eye when they are lying? Then, he thought it was because he was too proud to care. Years later, arriving at man’s estate (more of a honorary position, you see, as he didn’t have any land to show off), he realized he was mistaken. It was fear. Of facing the truth. He was hopeful this year might be different. He had done well in his studies, behaved well, and had looked forward to being with his friends at the picnic. The waters filled him with a sense of romance and in his nights, he had already stood under the gushing falls and swam till his legs ached. He had also picked out who he would be with when the photo was clicked.
“Though it is not a good day, Ashtami in fact, I am not one to keep you from going. Your dad thinks you shouldn’t go. Perhaps next year, when you are bigger, he will relent. Now wash your hands and do your homework. I will bring you coffee.”

Ice-creams

Ice-creams are man’s answer to life’s tests. So whether you sulk in self-doubt, indulge in the easy idealism of the dark, sigh at the cold reality of the day, loathe surface smiles and its 15 minutes, are guilty of swimming in the shallowness, are done with God and his escapism, have faced the impersonal truths and the felt lies, have persisted with the speculating, have sampled the spectating, have suffered the arrows of a preposterous Fate, have yelled at pain to go to Spain, or waited for everything to be swept up and dissolved in the future currents of time, don’t worry, the ice-cream is your pal.

Suspicion..

...in the Oriental is a sort of malignant tumor, a mental malady, that makes him self-conscious and unfriendly suddenly; he trusts and mistrusts at the same time in a way a Westerner cannot comprehend. It is his demon, as the Westerner’s is hypocrisy.”

Very well put, Mr. Forster. I don't think you are a racist but I think what you said is true of any human being.

Fantasy Life

They were the sort of men who held that passion was the central thing in one’s life. Indifference was an eyesore. They branded realists as pessimists. They were writers of textbooks, screenwriters, good bad poets, or songwriters, those tireless torchbearers of the human experience. Obviously, of life they didn’t know a thing.