On Blogging (Part 2)

Among friends, it is well known that a certain Mr SatyaVrat insists on reasons and purposes before doing anything (even before thinking or taking a dump). As chance will have it, I have had 'reasons' to believe that being reasonable may not be reasonable after all and so purpose and direction and reason seem not that important to me.

So why is it that I keep blogging and don't let go of it just as I have done with so many things that I have begun doing and enjoying? What reasons are there for this behaviour (if any)? Let's just analyse and see for ourselves.

A trivial sort of explanation is that ever since I stopped chatting or social networking (about ten months back), I have been out of touch with people and that blogging is a far more creative way to keep in touch with friends than Orkutting.

However, this is not the most important reason.

I have found that reading older posts gives a glimpse of what one used to be. It is like looking over old family albums and discovering what you used to be when you ran naked around the house. Such re-reads are often accompanied with contempt, annoyance, bafflement, pleasure and even a tinge of nostalgia. It's like having your mugshots taken every other day and shown in rapid succession to you after a considerable lapse of time.

"Ah!", you would have said. "I sucked...", or "I always kicked ass" or "I hate myself and I want to die" etc etc. It puts a lot of things in perspective and helps you keep track of your personal evolution over a period of time, which in my opinion, is about as important as sleeping twelve hours a day. Hence the blog title introduction is that which it is.

So the persistence of an action over a period of time leads me to think of reasons why I do that which I do. This was On Blogging, perhaps we'll post about something else some other day.

The Possessed

The feverish drum beats pulsated in her rhythmic movements. Her hands stretched, pointing skywards, as if imploring Mother to take her in Her arms.

The jungle beat took control of her as she found herself suddenly in the grips of a Force far greater than that of all shamans combined. Mother cradled the baby in her arms and she swayed gently to the inexorable hum of the Divine Rhythm.

A mere puppet...a pawn in the Great Scheme of Things she was. Euphoria rushed through her as she felt Mother speak to her in Her Voice. A sudden surge of blood to the head, a sudden flash of Wisdom.

And then, heard those who Witnessed.

Running in the family
Huh
It runs in the family...
Hey baby
Running in the family
Yeah
It runs in the famileeeeeeeeeee...eeeaaayh!

On Idioms and Idiots

Did I tell you of the time when Ghongha Basant had a girlfriend? (It's true. He did have one). No? Well then...

The girl was beautiful and smart. She used to sit quietly with her elbows hunched over her knees. Her long hair used to fall over her ears onto her shoulders as she would close her eyes and take yet another deep puff of smoke from her joint. Every non homosexual kid in the neighbourhood was, at least at one point in his life, deeply in love with her.

The onslaught of Time has caused the name of the girl to have been forgotten (Ghongha never told me her name. Maybe he was bluffing). I choose to call her Jenny for want of a better option and for the fact that it reminds me of Robin Wright in Forrest Gump.

Those who knew/were friends of Ghongha (like a certain someone called Nanga Fakir), were shell shocked when they got to know this. When together, they concurred that the girl was the most foolish they had come across. When alone, they bemoaned rampant injustice in the world. Anyway, back to the story.

Ghongha and his girl were lying on the grass on a cool night staring at the stars. Romance was in the air, thanks to the fact that Ghongha had read the last copy of the book How to Cootchie-Coo? from the library last night.

Jenny: The night's so beautiful! I remember the time when I was a kid. I used to sleep on the roof just so I could see the stars while I sang myself to sleep.

When Ghongha was a kid he used to catch frogs from the black, sludgy pond near his house and tear them to pieces for want of better things to do. But the Cootchie Coo book expressly forbade recounting of old emotional tales of battered, abused childhoods at romantic events. So Ghongha decided to play safe and stay quiet.

Jenny, probably overwhelmed by happy memories of a blissful childhood, snuggled into Ghongha and put her arms around him.

Jenny: I am so glad I found you. Love's such a beautiful thing! I love you so much!

The Animal inside Ghongha raised his head. The Book had forbidden this too. So he bit his lip hard and resisted the Animal.

Jenny: So...
Ghongha: So what?
Jenny: Let me ask you ask a question.
Ghongha: Uh huh...
Jenny: Was there any girl other than me in your life?

Ghongha remembered all the imaginary girlfriends he had had over the last five years. And he smiled a wry smile. "No...imaginary beings don't count", he remembered.


Ghongha: Nope...never.
Jenny: Is it??? No...you're lying.
Ghongha: No, it's the truth.
Jenny: Don't you feel attracted to other women? It's okay, you can tell me. I won't be mad. It's human after all. Doesn't that dirty mind of yours ever think about other girls who are soooo pretty? Ha? C'mon...

She laughed a short laugh, her pearly teeth flashing all over the place. Ghongha's heart skipped a beat and something inside him contracted sharply at the sight of such a heartbreakingly beautiful sight.

He wanted to hold her tight and scream into her ears all he had ever felt about her. He wanted to tell her that she was the only one who had ever treated him like a human. He wanted to tell her his life story, about the experiments he had performed on animals, about the many people he'd fucked over, about the twin imaginary sister-girlfriends Kiki and Boo Boo he had met when he was left to drown in the sludge pond at the age of thirteen. But he couldn't.

Damn that book. "You can win...", it said. "...if you play smart and impress the other sex".

Ghongha smiled a wicked grin.

Ghongha: No I don't think about other girls when I am with you.
Jenny: (with extreme happiness) You're kidding me! Why do you do that? Is there a reason?

Ghongha prepared for the punchline, the killer blow which would knock anybody up, kill two birds with one stone...

Ghongha: A bird in hand is worth two in the bush.

...

How did the idiom go? A slap in time saves nine...eh?

Delusions of Grandeur

Shing Tung Yau, Dennis Sullivan, Edward Witten, Isadore Singer, C.N. Yang, John Morgan, James Simons, John Milnor listened in rapt attention (with mouths agape) as Nanga Fakir explained to them the secrets of his recently acquired superpower of dividing by zero.

...

Nah...it was the other way round.

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