The Infliction

Amir was an unruly kid, the kind most parents came close to resenting, but didn’t.

“Wake up already! Don’t you dare be late to school”, a commanding voice declared.

He had no alarm to help him know that the day had begun – he couldn’t afford one. Besides, his half-blind father did the job willingly. Having lost Amir’s mother at the time of his son’s birth, he had no choice but to oblige – the double role had grown to be a habit over time.

Amir and his father were some distance short of a proper place to live and breathe in – having spent most of their lives living on the streets of a bustling Baghdad. A make-shift shanty constituting of a rag and a few sticks was what they called home. His father worked as a cobbler and did his best to make ends meet. Amir never complained, but often scorned at the thought of his daily trudge to school. The journey to and from school, was the only Achilles heel to Amir’s strong resolve.

They had a few schools closer to home, but his father could only afford this one. It was more of a dilapidated building on the verge of a collapse – a facade no one was too proud of. The funds that went into maintaining the school were limited, and as a result, so was the infrastructure.

Amir left from home at 8 am every morning considering the fact that he would roughly take an hour to get to school. The journey was particularly treacherous that day. He hadn’t expected the winds to whip up a sandstorm of sorts and hand it over to him, or more precisely, his face. The grains clung to his face while occasionally finding their way into his eyes. Amir muttered a few abuses, but the sand and the winds were as insouciant as ever.

He never had anyone for company either.A few kids in his locality did attend the same school, but preferred to keep their distance when it came to Amir. Being seen as the arrogant kind had its pitfalls.And although he liked saying he was just a loner, his overly sarcastic demeanour often came across as rude. Simply put, Amir’s social life was long dead, buried and probably way past the final stages of decay. His existence was markedly devoid of hope and filled with frustration to the brim.

At a significant distance into his walk toward school, Amir felt something under his foot. A long hard look at a glossy portion of metal threatening to blind him fueled his curiosity further. He dug into the sand and unearthed a lamp – a shiny black piece, bearing every resemblance to the one Amir had read and heard about. Aladdin was Amir’s favourite protagonist. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was. He couldn’t help but imagine a life full of riches and comforts – of not having to work or glue his eyes onto a book ever again.

“Finally, a way out of this misery”, he exclaimed.

For once, Amir saw hope–and he saw truckloads of it. Recalling Aladdin’s tale, Amir rubbed the lamp expecting a fancy slave to pop out almost immediately.

About ten seconds later, a cloud of black smoke emerged. Everything that transpired in the minutes to follow, diminished any traces of hope or confidence that Amir had gathered.

“I know this is a nightmare,” he murmured in disbelief, expecting his father to splash a sudden stream of water onto his face effectively waking him up.

demon

And there stood the inhabitant of the lamp – tall, dark, with bloody eyes and horns akin to those of an ox.

“You sir, have been tricked. Your tendency to be allured is your weakness, I am afraid. And for that, you shall pay!”, the demon remarked.

“Your prize is replete with three curses:

The first –the phantom phone vibration syndrome, the second – a runny nose, and the third –a pebble in your shoe, one that accompanies you everywhere you go.”

Inflicting his curses, the demon proceeded to return into his lamp. Amir was shaken, and afraid of the consequences the curses could possibly bring.

The following morning, Amir woke up to a stain on his pillow. He had slept face-down all night and soon realised that the second curse had manifested itself.

He wore his shoes while getting ready for school, he realised there was a tiny pebble in it. As he removed his shoe and checked for a pebble, he saw nothing. But as soon as he put the shoe back on again, the pebble was there – declaring its sharp, annoying presence. Amir had expected it to happen, but it still felt terribly creepy.

On his way to school, while he went past the spot where he had last seen the lamp, he was reminded of a curse that was seemingly inconsequential.

“I don’t even have a phone. How is that curse supposed to affect me?”, he wondered.

His question was answered at lunch time. He felt an eerie tingling sensation in his pocket, only to realise there was nothing in it. This happened several times during the course of his day.

A runny nose, a pebble in his shoe and a syndrome that was totally uncalled for –Amir had a trio of problems to deal with, which in spite of the inconveniences they came with, were only mildly annoying.

Days and hours of stress later, Amir eventually got accustomed to every inconvenience bestowed upon him. The pebble in his shoe could no longer trouble him as soon as he got home and took his shoes off, the phantom syndrome was as good as non-existent when he fell asleep, and as for the runny nose – he figured it was something he could put up with, albeit with some amount of irritation from time to time.

Amir soon realised that no curse was really so significant as to affect his way of life, and that no matter how many difficulties he would have to deal with, his resolve would always ensure he wasn’t down and out. Above all, Amir learned that nothing was ever as bad as it seemed to be – and that any tribulation could only be as powerful as his perspective allowed it to be.

War

He was a man of few words and often of silence – seeking to overcome mountains of doubt.

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Climbing that mountain was a tedious task, one he saw as too much of an ask.

“I am no trekker”, he thought, imagining himself crumbling with the boulders.

“Besides, I would rather go for something suited to amateurs.”

“Someday, I’ll conquer this too. Someday.. ”, he said glancing at the tallest of them all.

“Until then, a good amount of practice on the smaller ones will help.”

Classifying his doubts as the minors and the majors, he cut out a strategy to bring them down one at a time. The minors looked easy with their innocent profiles – profiles that hid all their defiance. Five battles down the line, he realised that underestimating the minors was a mistake. And with that piece of wisdom, came more doubt. The antagonist’s army gained strength with every battle it won. More territory, more weaponry – the stakes were high.

The man’s weapons weren’t made to last –swords of pretense soon gave way. The shields his ego had so carefully built started to crack. He was fighting a losing battle.

He knew he wouldn’t win the war, so an alternative suggestion was accepted –there would be a treaty. Neither the doubt, nor the man would bother the other. That way, they wouldn’t have an opportunity to clash and there’d be no battle in sight.

The treaty went through and the man lived in peace for an entire month. That was until all the chaos in his mind came back to haunt him. He had been betrayed, the treaty violated. Peace, yet again, was a distant dream.

He consulted his cabinet of wisdom in an attempt to find a permanent solution. The ministers had an array of suggestions, but none appealed to him. The parliament lacked a sense of purpose.

So he picked up a pen and set it to paper, attacking his doubts word by word. Some perished, some stayed and a few others absconded – victory increasingly imminent with every letter he wrote.

And on the spur of the moment, a writer was born – fueled by his obsessions, relentless with a passion. This was victory, or so he thought. Doubt’s days were long gone.

Tired of the conflicts his mind so diligently conjured, he took to writing for it would set him free. Instead, it held him down with an inescapable addiction.

He was now a soul that was willingly imprisoned, yet inexplicably free.

 

 

Oh so practical!

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As someone who tends to be overly formal or courteous at times, I would’ve loved to start this post with a few words placed consecutively to form greetings for the beginning of a new calendar year. I would have.. But Cyanide and Happiness have taught me otherwise. After a few seconds of pondering, I had to admit that I agreed to this comic, albeit a tad reluctantly (the optimist in me refuses to die).

Since the start of the new year yesterday, I’ve also come across folks on all forms of social media giving away a ton of flak to other folks who harbor a sense of optimism with regard to a whole new set of months to look forward to. And I can’t help but cringe at this bunch of whiny cynics that are going out of their way to dictate how the optimists and the hopefuls should think.

We all have our ways – particularly our own patterns of thinking. And in this case I am often compelled to say, ‘To each their own.’ This is strictly in line with the revered principle of considering each person to be unique. Revered, or as the preceding paragraph seems to suggest, probably not. The real problem here is that it’s revered or dismissed at will – as per our own whimsical conveniences. We suit ourselves without ever sparing a thought for the positivity brigade – an unofficial clan responsible for everything that’s sprightly, bright and ever-so-vibrant about the world. Why pull the others down when they’ve done no wrong? Why shatter their beliefs instead of aiming to build up our own?

The answer to both of those questions is simple. It’s the burning desire to be seen as die-hard pragmatics. Because apart from making sure that you appear sane, a pragmatic approach ensures that upsets are few and far between. It ensures you always know what’s coming your way and how. There’s no guessing and consequently, there’s a truckload of security. But there’s something the pragmatics fail to realise. Or more appropriately, there’s something they’re missing out on.

It’s the power of faith. Of being okay with looking like an idiot at times. Of hope.

To try and awaken people to the fact that a change of calendar won’t significantly alter their lives, is to desperately try and deprive them of hope – which by all means is more evil than pragmatic. People might think they’ve outsmarted the world by doing so, but they haven’t helped anybody here – not the least bit themselves or their own lives.

To put it simply, I think hope should qualify as a fundamental right. We all have a right to hope, a right to look forward to new beginnings, a right to a momentary escape from despair from time to time. And no one can or should take that away from us. NO ONE.

I can’t resist quoting Andy Dufresne from The Shawshank Redemption here:

‘Remember Red, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.’ 

Here’s to hope – to another year that’s full of promises and has plenty to look forward to.

The Santa Thesis

Toward a cottage in the middle of nowhere, he walked through the snow.

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Joe had been a student of the arts, and spent a majority of his time away from home –studying in college in the middle of a city far far away; following which he had taken up a job.Of course he missed his family. But there was something he missed even more.It was the feeling of being at home –at peace, in comfort, away from all the hustle and bustle,whiling most of his time away on the couch, cocooned in the warmth of a brilliant novel.Life in college made him a busy young man, with a social presence as lifeless as a dried carcass in the middle of a desert. He craved interaction, social meetings and simply spending time with his people.

It was holiday season and Joe couldn’t resist the idea of reuniting with his family. He stood on the porch outside, and knocked twice. He could barely move. It had taken thirty minutes of trudging to get to this place – and even as he was protected by multiple layers of winter wear, he could feel the chill.

Seconds later, his father was at the door –he hadn’t been expecting Joe and a knock on the door late in the evening had taken him by surprise. Needless to say, his father was pleasantly surprised. “What a remarkable Christmas this is already!” he remarked and gave his son the tightest hug. The upcoming week held promise aplenty for Joe and he looked forward to the New Year filled with optimism to the brim.

Celebrating Christmas at home had lightened him up considerably.The holiday season was nothing short of top notch.But he dreaded returning to college – to endless assignments, to a social life that was conspicuous by its absence, to missing his people, to wishing he could experience it all again, albeit without having to wait for another year.

“How I wish Santa was for real!” he thought to himself. “If I could ask him for anything right now, it would be a life as lively, colourful and refreshing as the Christmas tree.”

A week after Christmas, Joe packed his bags with a heavy heart and set foot to return to college. Throughout his return journey, he couldn’t stop obsessing about being taken over by the mundane again.As the bus he was in raced forward – destination bound in a relentless manner, he looked up through the window at the night sky. He couldn’t help but stare and wonder about the magnificence that was the universe.He had heard about the ‘thoughts become things’ theory all too often, but he had never given it a try.A supposed lack of a few things had made him somewhat desperate.He thought it was hard work –not physical, but mental.

The following week, he made a conscious effort to discard all the pessimism in his life. From thinking patterns to behaviours –every ounce of his mind would be subject to thoughtful reforms. He didn’t bother about whether or not it would work –he just went about doing his thing, hoping for the best.

A month later, Joe opened a large case that lay idle in his apartment for years. He didn’t remember what it contained and his curiosity got the better of him. Besides, it was the weekend and it looked like a good time to clean up.As he opened the case, his eyes sparkled.It was a six-string he had bought five years ago.

“Damn this thing. I haven’t touched this in years now.”

As he strummed the first notes on his old companion,he reminisced the last time he had used it –it was a Christmas carol in a church outside the city. “Those were the days”, he recalled. He had played it everywhere he went back then, and to anyone who insisted.

As he proceeded to clean all the nasty dust off his stringed pal, he realised that Santa existed. And although he didn’t always turn up in a red suit,he was always there – waiting for the slightest hint of faith to show up on his mind so as to make its way to the soul.You didn’t always have to wait for Christmas.

 

 

The Quest

He stood by the shore all by himself, for he had figured he needed a few moments of solace. There was something magical about the sea. The waves roaring as they battered the shore, the breeze grazing against him –it made him feel alive! This self-imposed reclusion of sorts wasn’t for nothing.

This had bothered him for more than a few months now. It was something he was looking for – or was it someone?

Lost in the depths of his own misery, he struggled to come to terms with who he really was. “It’s unfortunate,” he thought.

“Mirrors can only reflect the body and never the soul. So technically, no one ever sees their true selves.”

The thought of how well the others around him seemingly knew him made him feel exceedingly lucky at one moment, and overtly vulnerable the very next. His face went from a momentary smile to an awkward grin in a matter of seconds.

“Could they really know me that well?”

“Or are they fooling around?”

“Should I trust them at all?”

“Should I trust anybody at all?”

He could recall how fond his friends and family were of him. And he could also recall how they always expected the best out of him.

Were they right to do so? Or was the voice within him that repeatedly told him otherwise unmistakably true?

His mind flip-flopped from one extreme to another. It was all too much to take. His frustration reached new highs with each passing day. Ending his life would have been too cowardly a choice. Patience wasn’t around the corner. He needed an answer, and he needed it fast.

He looked through some of his pictures: old and new, which was followed by the books he read, the notebooks he wrote in, the paintings he so artfully made, his profiles on social media – all in search of traces of himself –but all in vain. His true nature belied him, unfailingly, always!

It all made him realise he had spent days together pretending to be someone he wasn’t. For when one’s own life seems dull, another’s looks attractive.

“Pretension – so easy to pull off, yet so difficult to live with”, he realised. “If only it was easier..”

He was pining to be himself. To be accepted the way he inwardly felt he really was. But he feared the possibility of a world that failed to fathom the person he really was. Rejection, he knew, could sting more than the deepest of wounds.

He had two choices –succumb to the pressures of the world or break the shackles and live wholly.

The choice he made could make his life a livelier affair or break him into pieces, shattering him for life. The uncertainty had his heart pounding. He took a deep breath and looked up to the sky –the stars and the planets gave nothing away. The realization that he was no astrologer hit him like a meteor.

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“What was I even thinking?” he laughed.

The walk back home wasn’t the same.

Jollification (Or is it?)

The festive season is upon us again. And the fervour is here to stay.

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You can sense happy vibes all around – the accompanying cheer is what makes them all so special, after all.

Growing up has changed my perspective on festivals in more ways than one. From being an out and out dancer in idol processions, to being my laid-back self now –a brief account of what has shaped these changes:

1. The Music:

So you need a reason to sing and dance? Let’s pretend to celebrate the next festival in line.

Drums would still be okay with me. But how on earth can you justify having a DJ playing an item song in an idol procession?

God doesn’t give two hoots about a Chikni Chameli or a Mary for all I know.

Seriously brothers, we need to reconsider this.

2. Contributions:

It’s an opportunity for every local to contribute to the celebrations. But let’s try to not make it seem desperate.

I personally believe that the amount to be paid is the sole discretion of the donor. Let them decide how generous they can be for themselves.

In the end, as long as they truly feel for the cause, no amount is small.

 3. Mass Inconvenience:

This is a special characteristic as far as my current locality is concerned.

The route to my place is a network of streets that are as narrow as they come. And when you decide to block one of them so that you can play garba/dandiya on the street, you’ve clearly lost your mind.

And being asked to take a U-turn and not go home just because your car won’t be able to get through is just the beginning. Hello folks? I live there for God’s sake.

4. The Consent (or the lack of it):

Bura na maano holi hai!

If you say this and expect me to not react when you throw a water-balloon at me, you would be very disappointed. If we are friends, we would probably still get along fine post this debacle.

But what if we aren’t even acquaintances, let alone friends?

5. Bans:

It’s your festival and you have every right to celebrate it. But, to force your commandments onto others is insensitive. Last time I checked, we were still a democracy. And to curtail others’ freedoms for no good is an attempt to try and move away from being one.

6. The Commotion:

I have never been a fan of all the commotion. Multitasking isn’t my strongest suit and blaring loudspeakers trying to distract me from any task at hand have always put me off.

To limit one’s to joviality to oneself is acceptable. Trust me. No one’s going to be mad at you. Not even God.

7.Traffic Snarls:

These are times when moving from A to B in your city can be a pain. You would rather just sit at home than be outside moving at a snail’s pace.

I know and appreciate that festivals are a part of the identity of our richly-diverse nation. They aren’t just opportunities to celebrate our culture but also for people to come together.

If only we had studied enough history, we would know it was all Lokmanya Tilak had in mind when he reformed and preached the idea of a Ganesh Utsav back in 1894 – he never thought about bans and mass inconvenience. Makes you wonder why all of this happening now?

Are festivals losing their true meaning amid all the hype?

5 Things I Learned From The Japanese

It’s been a year since I set foot on the land of the rising sun with a few of my college mates. And although we might not have aced the competition we had been there for, the experience and the country at large taught us many a valuable lessons during our time there.
Let’s take a moment to travel back in time –
Just for the record, we landed at Chubu Centrair International Airport, Nagoya.
The prospect of familiarising myself with another country was pretty exciting. As an aspiring world citizen, this is something that will continue to be so for the rest of my life.

1. The Warmth:

As foreigners in Japan, the warmth and courtesy on offer at just about every nook and corner makes you feel wonderful about this place.

Considering the ever-increasing number of Indians abroad, Hindi is gaining ground around the globe and as a result, people in many countries do happen to be somewhat familiar with simple everyday greetings in the language.

We were surprised and touched when greeted with “Namaste!” at the bus stop outside the airport. Chances are, the arrival of Mr.Narendra Modi in Japan a day before we landed had fuelled all the warmth. Irrespective of the reasons for that, it’s something we’ll remember for the rest of our lives.

2. The Discipline:

The Japanese are all about impeccable discipline. We spent 10 days in the country and failed to notice –

a. People crossing the streets at random and showing no consideration to oncoming traffic.
b. Taxis being hauled around recklessly.
c. Taxi drivers fleecing customers.
d. Cars going down the wrong side of the road.
e. Vehicles changing lanes at random.

I can recall an incident that occurred on our first day. We were waiting to get across the road at a zebra crossing and had a few Japanese folk alongside us. The clock read 9:30 pm with barely a soul or vehicle on the road, and in spite of having no signs of oncoming traffic, people refused to budge. You wouldn’t see this in a similar scenario in India, which is why, anything of the sort seems ridiculous to us.

We aren’t accustomed to waiting at a pedestrian signal even in the presence of heavy traffic, let alone no traffic (Our kind of swag).

Lane discipline is a standout feature for traffic in Japan.

PS – I also appreciate their patience. I didn’t hear a single vehicle honk in 10 days. Dear fellow Mumbaikar, take note and stop abusing my ears.

3. Language isn’t necessarily a barrier:

Before our departure, we did go through a few everyday greetings in Japanese on Google Translate. Was that enough? Not really.

Clearly, if you intend to stay in Japan for a few months or even years, it is advisable that you know the language. And remember that you would be doing it for your convenience more than theirs. 

A lot of people we came across knew little or no English – now this obviously varies from place to place. (Our first stop, Hamamatsu had a very small number of locals familiar with English, this changed for the better when we arrived in Tokyo)

But even then, the Japanese went out of their ways to help us every single time – and this is unlikely to vary from place to place.

Be it with finding your way around town or looking for an item in a supermarket, you can and will always get help.

We thought we were lost somewhere in Tokyo while looking for a museum. After a while, we asked a local walking by if he knew where the place was. He didn’t understand a word, but asked for the map. We show him the map; he looks around and finds the place, asks us to follow him halfway to the place, points at it, smiles, acknowledges our thank you(s) and walks away.

Food for thought – How often do we go out of our way to help foreign tourists in our country? If behaviours shown in all the “Atithi Devo Bhava” adverts we see on TV were the norm, the adverts would never have to be made in the first place.

4. The Cleanliness:

Statistically, Tokyo is the most crowded city in the world and in spite of that; it’s also one of the cleanest.

If they can do it, I believe Mumbai can too. It’s all about the attitudes of our people. We can always make a conscious decision to not do certain things and abide by it. Problem is, most of us don’t. And when most of us don’t, it also discourages those of us who often want to. The feeling perpetuates and continues to grow. God save us!

PS – Start small. Start with yourself. You never know who’s watching and getting inspired to follow in your footsteps in the process.

5. The Timeliness:

The Japanese aren’t very fond of being late. This is evident at every place from offices to railway stations. Trains arriving on time are the norm here and I am pretty sure this rubs off on the people too.

This country has given the world all it could right from great cars to management principles that have taken a number of companies to world class over the years. It’s no surprise that they’ve made plenty of progress in little time. There’s so much you can learn from the people there, and it’s for everyone to see as they go about their daily lives.








An Obsession With Uncertainty.

Life be like.

Life be like.

Unless you are a psychic/ astrologer/ somewhere close to being a god-man/woman, chances are, your life is full of uncertainty. You can always hope things turn out a certain way, but you can never be sure. This is the story of our lives. No matter how far you’ve come or how confident you are, you are always a tad unsure about how life would turn out – “Will I get to work on time?, Will I miss the train?,  Will I pass my exams?, Will I beat those deadlines?, Will I? Won’t I?”

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It’s this sense of uncertainty that keeps us on our toes all the time. It’s responsible for keeping us focused on the task at hand while also adding a sense of urgency to it.

Imagine living a life full of certainty. Knowing everything before it happens – with no traces of suspense and no mark of the unknown. Life then would be mundaneness in all its glory. You would have nothing to look forward to, no anxiety attacks and those tinges of nervousness before any significant task would be non-existent entities.

How exciting no? And unimaginably boring too..

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Uncertainty makes our lives interesting. Admit it, losing all your nails during a game of football, cricket, tennis or whatever other sport you’re into has never left you wallowing in regret – unless of course, your team lost on the day. Even then, a close loss wouldn’t leave you feeling as bad as a comprehensive loss would. Interestingly, post a close encounter like one of those games, you would likely still be full of praises for your team because they supposedly put their best foot forward.

Recommended Read

Recommended Read

Another example of this would be a thriller movie or novel. The sequences manage to keep you hooked by not revealing an important part of the storyline until the climax – your mind tries to unravel the mystery associated with the story in spite of repeatedly failing to do so, thus making sure you stay engaged.

On the other hand, if you were asked to watch that game or a thriller movie for the second time, it wouldn’t excite you as much. The thrill of uncertainty is dead and as a result, so is your enthusiasm.

Uncertainty may not be an enjoyable experience all the time and for many of us is a major cause of stress. Uncertainty combined with a lack of the “challenge accepted” attitude spells doom more often than not. Then, to rid ourselves of any unwelcome surprises, we make our way to astrologers, numerologists and the like. Nothing against any of them here, they do their thing and they do it pretty well. I have heard and read about a number of people who find such predictions to be extremely helpful. However, I don’t seem to enjoy them as much.

Uncertainty and Me.. 

Maybe I do enjoy uncertainty a fair bit. Few people do, and I’d happily be one of the few.

I also have a couple of reasons for the same.

  1. Predictability is not my best friend, has never been and is unlikely to ever be. As a result, I don’t get along too well with the whole idea of an astrological or any other form of prediction. So yes, tell me I am supposed to do a certain thing at a certain time, in a certain manner, just because a few stars and planets eons away with no idea about who I am say so, I might not necessarily agree. (with due respect to all those who would)

                 Taking each day as it comes is something I can manage and I would                          rather stick to it.

  1. As mentioned above, a certain degree of uncertainty keeps me on my toes. I hate to admit this, but I am the kind prone to complacency when something is guaranteed, and my experience with complacency has never been favorable. In case you think your’s is likely to be otherwise, good luck!

Being complacent is akin to signing an unofficial contract asking life to make you fall flat on your face.

   So what did we learn?

1. Embrace uncertainty. You won’t have to go out looking for adventures when life itself is one.

2. Taking things for granted = Wielding the Axe onto your own foot. (Which foot? You choose)

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The Power Of Illusion!

Illusion – (noun)

1. something that deceives by producing a false or misleading impression of reality.
2. the state or condition of being deceived; misapprehension.
3. an instance of being deceived.
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You might have heard of kids having imaginary friends, been deceived by a professional magician or heard someone calling out to you only to realise there’s no one around. These are occurrences that are part of the realms of illusion, of distorted reality and to the uninitiated, a horror movie.
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Illusions can serve us – A magic show has entertainment value, having imaginary friends helps children develop socially (More about that here). And then, there are voices – some remind us of a friend or a relative we haven’t been in touch with and urge us to call or text them immediately.
Some is the keyword here. Because there are some voices that could outright freak you out.
As an example, you could consider this voice:
 

Honestly, it still gives me the creeps. 
Illusions when experienced outside a magic show, are like mind games, albeit they can help you set your priorities right unlike the usual occurrences we consider to be mind games. They give you a sense of what you really want to be, do or achieve. They introduce you to who you really are while also reminding you of your current situation. We are accustomed to treating illusions with wonderment – clueless about how they come into being. Unaware as we are, of the fact that they come into existence by way of our thoughts, actions as well as our circumstances.
Part of this approach stems from the fact that they are easier to fathom when treated with astonishment. After all, don’t we all fancy a life brimming with awe, of moments that leave us speechless, of unbounded happiness derived from an occurrence of wonder?
Some illusions are instinctive and can have life-saving consequences.
Fear, in this case, would be an unfortunate approach – for it takes away all of the fascination and replaces it with doubt, the most malignant of all living experiences. Doubt can cripple and take away any traces of inner peace. The answer? Illude yourself into believing otherwise. That positive boost of energy might just work for you. Here’s proof.
This works perfectly well when used to change one’s mood for the better and to facilitate a more joyous state of being. It does for me, and as a normal human, I can testify it could well work for anybody else. Associating a feeling a wonderment with anything makes life look like an exciting journey. So the next time you feel low on hope, excitement or hunger, bring in a bit of self-deception and soar!
Illusions can also spark creativity, making something that was never thought of a possibility. Chances are, taking a break from being real is good for you, after all.
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Flip Side Alert!
However, the other side of the coin is that illusions aren’t always hunky-dory. For some, they are signs of a psychotic problem and no matter how hard they try, ridding themselves of these harmful distortions seems impossible to them.
Intense illusion in the form of hallucinations is not a healthy sign.
In such cases, treatment is mandatory.
Go Figure!
Want to be captivated some more?
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Haila!

Head here.
And here.
Is your head spinning already?
Our brain is a fascinating little piece of flesh – processing or skipping bits and pieces of information at will. Time we took a moment to acknowledge the power of our mind.
 Watch a renowned illusionist explain how magic works.
Have more to say? Anything I missed out on? Let me know in the comments.

Aptitude versus Gut!

Aptitude (noun) – a natural ability to do something

Aptitude Test – a test designed to determine a person’s ability in a particular skill or field of knowledge.

Gut (noun) – *informal* used in reference to a feeling or reaction based on an instinctive emotional response rather than considered thought. 

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Be it as students or as professionals, we’re subjected to a number of aptitude tests throughout our lives (or at least as long as we work for someone/intend to do so).

In simple words, an aptitude test tells you if you are eligible for/capable of pursuing a career in any particular field.

I’ve had my trysts with a few, and the first one was particularly testing. There were two reasons for this:

  1. I didn’t agree with the result.
  2. I couldn’t get myself to agree with the result.

Or you could say, I just didn’t want to. I had other plans you know.. Or I thought I did.

(Just to give you a quick background, it happened one fine day in school during my SSC and lasted 8 painful hours)

A week or so after the test, it was judgment day. It was my turn to meet the counselor.

Here’s how it all unfolded, and more..

During my counseling session –

  1. You Are An IT Guy, They Said:

Would you believe that? A future Production Engineer was told he was meant to be an IT guy. Say that to me now, and it’s like hurling an abuse at me.

My first reaction: “No, thanks.”

“Trust me, you’re a software engineer.”

  1. You ARE AN IT GUY, They Said:
    They must have said that about 10 times, following which, I nodded my head so that I could walk out ASAP. I can recall how I was told that being good at Math meant I would make an excellent programmer. It took me a while to let the whole episode sink in.

 

After the session –

  1. Convincing Myself:

Some disbelief and brainwashing later, I managed to convince myself that I was meant to spend my life coding. Consequently, I chose Computer Science in junior college and the rest is history.

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Trust me, it really is. Everything I stuffed into my brain back then is history.

In Junior College –

  1. They Laughed At Me:

Visual Basic, followed by C++ and those endless microprocessor codes – I could hear them all laugh at me hysterically for every attempt I made towards answering any questions.

PS – Even getting a part of those things right was a challenge in itself.

 

  1. Misunderstandings:

I vividly remember an episode wherein my professor declared that I was a great listener and therefore, a great student. Little did she know that my silence in class was testimony to the fact that much of the CS lingo was Hebrew to me.

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  1. Pretension Aplenty:

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Those were the days when most of us were heavy on pretension. Sure, we knew nothing. But we were vocational science students, the so-called elites. Needless to say, we were exuding swag at all times.

  1. Comedy Classes:

We were lucky enough to also have a tutor in one of our college professors. He did his best to turn us into coders, but he always knew most of us were just hopeless. He was kind enough to never mention that to us directly though.

More than the CS, it was his sense of humour that kept us hooked. I can recall all of the laughter and none of the CS.

After Junior College –

My gut always said I needed to do something else. So I tried my hand at Engineering. Went along pretty well – but then, I stumbled upon something that influenced me unlike anything ever had.

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Building a vehicle from scratch and watching it run is a joy that remains unparalleled to this day.

I dream of a day when I can design and build one from scratch. (That’s a minimum. If I get to several, nothing like it.)

As a result, a Transportation Designer is now in the making.

Final Score: Gut – 1 Aptitude Test – 0

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