Hey Now…

Well, the monstrosity of life bares its ugly teeth and shows me well the most monstrous face that I have seen ever. I hate being a cynic, and attribute a lot of it to how I lead my life now. No one in my family is like that! I mean, they are generally cynics, they can’t take life to be FUN and cannot frolic and all. They aren’t that BAD as the previous line might make you interpret, but well, they aren’t the hep hip Life’s all Bubbly fun either. I knew this completely! I was like that – I used to think that relatives, blood connections and blah was just that – blah. You will have to live life obeying the rules of responsibility and obligations. I used to beleive in these –

[] You gotta obey your parents, as they are raising you
[] You owe people who have done something for you

and so on… I wasn’t what I would call well “close” to either my mom, dad, or my grandparents and well even my sister.

But, I realised that such a selfish life wasn’t that I enjoyed. I used to see people who actually LIVED their life enjoying what they do for people when they did it. It was well revealing, an eye opener for all its splendor. I gave it a shot, and well it might sound corny, but hell it really was satisfying. I started doing things for helping out the person who had asked me to? I am not saying that I am completely changed, no, it will take some time. But, I am definitely going to give it a good shot. I am NOT selfish and I DON’T want to be. I realised that pretty late I guess. I remember having a discussion with Vivek and Vishnu about this selfishness aspect of it. I remember strongly supporting Vishnu and his view of a statement – “Selfishness is a virtue”. Although I don’t hold the same views that Vivek took on that day about selflessness, I don’t now completely support Vishnu’s views either.

Another thing is what Dad told me today. I can’t help but thinking about it and I am still unsure as to exactly where I stand on that statement. He said, “Finally, it boils down to nothing – blood relations, family, etc. But, there is a shell in our life that we have to wear, and like it or not, people judge you by that shell.”

Well, I do agree on some of the facts presented there – especially about the shell. Not that I don’t have distressing questions there as well. But, I agree on the outside look that people have of you. They only converse with that shell. Well, if it’s so, then these are the questions that I have –

[] If you do have a shell, can’t you change that shell with different people? Is it RIGHT to do so? What abt the ethos that you have to be the same person to all the people? Is THAT true and right?
[] How much ingrained and related and integrated is this shell to your inner self? Hehe, i know it sounds like the Unix OS talking about shell and the kernel [inner self] but it really irritates me not to have a corroborative answer to that? Well, I guess I gotta live it to make it part of life now don’t I?

Coming to the first aspect of the sentence, I completely, undoubtedly, transparently DENY it. I have proof. As I said, I used to be aloof from Appa and Amma! I mean I used to sometimes detest them. But, then I and Amma had a talk about it and since then I have been completely transparent about my life with Amma, and well it has radically changed my life. Shez my partner in crime for whatever I do, and that support – moral, mental and what not? I have to admit, life has indeed been a LOT better since then.

Trouble at home is something I am NOT unaware of. Ask my pals, they would completely agree. I probably led the most complicated life during that time. I mean I had different shells for pals, amma, appa, thatha, ammamma, ro! It was definitely one of the more hard times of my life, now that i think about it. I mean, every action that I did had to calculated through all the “shells” and approved by that and then only done. Seriously, I don’t ever wanna do that again. I guess that answers one of my own questions? Is it ok to have more than one shell? Well, honestly even though I am confused, I guess it’s ok, provided they aren’t as different as the ones that I used to have. They shouldn’t contradict and their morals shouldn’t be contradicting is what I feel.

But, hell the easiest way is to be you. Should you, must you care for relations? Well, tougher to answer, but honestly, I think – YES!! It can be really tough especially when the other side is more cynical and not so reciprocative, but it’s well worth a GOOD try. And, well I am damned if I don’t seriously give it a good shot. =)! I think that was probably the most sentimental rambling ever! Bad boy bad.. I guess I will drop in some humor now.

This is the story that I started on abt 3 blogs back and I did. Well, as luck may have it, my cousin dropped in that day and literally hacked my creativity spurt into pulling his leg :D. I managed to forget as to where I was going with the damned story. So, in order no to do that, what I thought was I will make a sort of versioning and well time by time story blogging thing. I am working on the code behind it and it should hopefully come out before I go to SISL, else well you will have to wait, until I get some time there and finish the coding there. Anyhoo, here’s what I crapped till now

It was one of those rainy days. Those rainy days as they come on in the monsoon season of the place where monsoon seasons have one of those rainy days. White Asem West was under this influence, when the gentleman of our story enters into the hall, panting, as if he had just made a dash for the one of those Olympic marathons that we so often see now in TV. As we notice him more clearly, we also notice that he had something on his mind, something that put him on low ebb. It was as if he had a particular distaste that he wanted out of his tongue. Something, like what we feel after having seen “Matrix Revolutions? after about 4 months of white hope anticipation.

Mr. Littlelongfellow Shortpants – the head of the ninth generation of the Shortpants clan came in and held steadfast as his gaze seemed to straighten out and his tunnel vision cleared. He echoed, “I say that was a swell of a ride?. I have got to get me one of those. He was looking at a red gleaming Maruti Swift, the new car on the block whose pictures were sprinkled about in the very many papers that he saw about him. The Euro Indian design had left quite a good impression on the gentleman, especially as the car’s “curves? reminded him of the movie – The Italian Auto and more importantly the part that the car played in the hands of the heroine – Charlize Therone.

Mr. Shortpants was the head of the Shortpants Counter Strike clan. The clan had earned its reputation albeit a reputationless history. It was one of those clans that just seemed to win, not with so much gusto or chaos as often seen by the clans who win today. They were quite the quiet lot. Not much indulgence into the practices they considered nefarious associated with the winning of a “virtual shooting? competition. They were what we call gentlemen among the commoners in the world of gaming. They come; shoot, score and then they walk off with the quiet dignity accompanying gentlemen after collecting the award. They had no hoots, or calls or whatsoever. Even their avatars in this massively popular online gaming had the aura of a man of proper manners. Mr. Shortpants, as we refer to him was indeed referred by the community as just that Shortpants. You would have to excuse the commoners for not referring him with the mister prefix, as they considered the little prefix a superfix.

Mr. Shortpants wasn’t essentially from a rich family. He got indulged into the gaming world in his early days of online gaming, when he was doing his studies of Computer Science and Engineering, at an abstruse college in a land, where online gaming was probably the only source of entertainment and enlightenment for a young man of his age. So, it wasn’t surprising that Mr. Shortpants shortly began to master the nuances of the game – Counter Strike Source, which seemed to be the rage amongst the netizens at the time.

It wasn’t hard for Mr. Shortpants to get good at the game, for it involved shooting and moving about. No, it wasn’t something that Mr. Shortpants was used to in his daily appointments. But, he had always had a secret desire to be a man of the land, an adventurer if need be. With his days spent by the fire in a cave, or a ready pump action, self pressurizing, air conditioned, built in humidifier, with a machine gun turret, bear trapped tent, in his sophisticated world. Grabbing a potato by its roots from the attached potato sack, cleaning it by the side of the river, as the Saint Gobain glass like water clears up the dirt on the potato and the likes, was right up his dream street.

Drop in your views on my writing, if it’s good [hehe]!!

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