The 'Aryans' tirade against the Jews and their ideology that they were an inferior race was probably the most cruel excuse that they could use as an excuse for merciless killing.
Perhaps it all had to do with Hitler's stature, his oratory skills, his drilling of shitty ideas and delusions into common man. All the Germans really wanted was some kind of revolution, one that would sweep them off their feet. One that they would be proud of.
Instead all they got was a totalitarian environment, where culture and art were virtual terms, one where they were drilled with anti-Semitic ethics, one where, at the behest of Adolf Hitler, they would ultimately feel guilt. Guilt for indirectly being responsible for the death of millions. Guilt so immense that one would not speak about Nazi atrocities to his innocent children. Guilt that would finally be passed on and on till the spell of doom.
World War 2 was again an excuse for killing shit loads. What is appalling was the sheer scale of the war.The "i don't give a rats ass" attitude of those responsible for death. How death was relative and so was loss. Soldiers were forgotten warriors in this lost cause. Oppenheimer removed all the uncertainty when he made the atomic bomb. He made certain an impending doom. A doom in which, ironically, mothers would finally not have to worry if their sons were coming back home. When D-day did finally come, Robert glimpsed success, through the end of this mess. A success which actually was a parody of failures. For on that dreadful day, he signed the official papers of everything "nuclear", the papers of fear knocking on the back door, the papers of a nuclear surge and wipe out, the papers where eventually, the doomsday clock would strike 12:00. The papers that can never be burnt...
P:S- some iron maiden:)
Bombers launched with no recall
Minute warning of the missile fall
Take a look at your last day
Guessing you won't have the time to cry
Out of the the universe, a strange light was born
Unholy union, trinity reformed
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Friday, October 3, 2008
Curiosity kills the...child
The terrorists have struck... again. As blatantly as humanely possible. But they've made their point. First Bangalore- they say that was just a dry run. Then the blasts in Jaipur and Ahmedabad taking many lives.
The latest strike was one that hit mehraulli in Delhi, although it didn't take many people with it ( That's the only consolation we get). One dead and about 20 injured said the official press release.. Just one person, the government would be thinking. That's the value of Human life. They quickly announce a lakh or two as compensation for the family of the deceased. They promise jobs. They make promises.
Statements are made. - The security is being reviewed.. please maintain calm and peace. We are doing all we can to get the situation under control. The culprits will be soon apprehended.
That is all to it. We must find comfort in these statements. Statements that are just said as a matter of fact.Statements that don't mean anything.
Questions are fired at the bureaucrats... They are answered plainly and flatly. The conference is wrapped up. The media have their share of debates... The BJP blame the UPA. They ask for the resignation of the P.M and the Home minister. Blame games start. The Home minister changes his attire 3 times and addresses the media. People say He's more concerned about his looks.
They're fighting fire with fire.
All this, when in some dark corner, the little victim's parents are crying unconsoled. For only they know what they've lost and the cost of it. For only they know the real feeling of loss. No one can measure such a bereavement. The only justice that may nullify their sorrows is that the terrorists are caught and hung. But we know very well their fate.
Afzal is still living. The terrorists will live too.
This is the price an innocent child had to pay for picking what he thought was a dropped parcel.
Innocence-that's all there is to it. His genious can never be realised. His parents will mourn his loss forever... The sun rises again... The little boy is forgotten... We continue to live our lives not knowing who will go next... Living with the fear that God may take us any moment. Life is cheap...Isn't it?
The latest strike was one that hit mehraulli in Delhi, although it didn't take many people with it ( That's the only consolation we get). One dead and about 20 injured said the official press release.. Just one person, the government would be thinking. That's the value of Human life. They quickly announce a lakh or two as compensation for the family of the deceased. They promise jobs. They make promises.
Statements are made. - The security is being reviewed.. please maintain calm and peace. We are doing all we can to get the situation under control. The culprits will be soon apprehended.
That is all to it. We must find comfort in these statements. Statements that are just said as a matter of fact.Statements that don't mean anything.
Questions are fired at the bureaucrats... They are answered plainly and flatly. The conference is wrapped up. The media have their share of debates... The BJP blame the UPA. They ask for the resignation of the P.M and the Home minister. Blame games start. The Home minister changes his attire 3 times and addresses the media. People say He's more concerned about his looks.
They're fighting fire with fire.
All this, when in some dark corner, the little victim's parents are crying unconsoled. For only they know what they've lost and the cost of it. For only they know the real feeling of loss. No one can measure such a bereavement. The only justice that may nullify their sorrows is that the terrorists are caught and hung. But we know very well their fate.
Afzal is still living. The terrorists will live too.
This is the price an innocent child had to pay for picking what he thought was a dropped parcel.
Innocence-that's all there is to it. His genious can never be realised. His parents will mourn his loss forever... The sun rises again... The little boy is forgotten... We continue to live our lives not knowing who will go next... Living with the fear that God may take us any moment. Life is cheap...Isn't it?
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Being content
I've done quite a few things that I'm proud of. Yet, always, for me, happiness is something i keep deriving different meanings from. Hell i do feel good about myself sometimes, but nothing that i ever do gives me a kind of gratification that will keep me going for ever. (this is hard to put in words).
Yes i do have good memories from my past. My first PlayStation, and how i would never leave it's side. How I'd do absolutely anything to convince my dad to shell some cash for a new game. Or how I'd beg him to buy me a new board game for my birthday. And how much I'd yearn for the burger at Mc-Donalds ( i had the privilege of eating one every Friday back then:P) Then of course the stay overs. And how i would talk all night, play those silly kiddo games, scare ourselves to death with em ghost stories, have the liberty to get up late, skip those pain-staking sessions of omelet eating or oat-meal(yuck)(some i remember lasting an hour an a half:D), this of-course possible cause we threw some of it in the dustbin. How we'd ride our cycles in the evening, enjoying the cool breeze and sometimes the rain, whilst our mothers sat home and drank their teas in silence. And now, when i look back on how elated i was in the 'early days', a chilling thought dawns hard on me.... All this isn't a lasting experience. Happy experiences though they may be, and although I've been content with life sometimes, as one knows, the mind does wonder.....
My first PlayStation is at home, albeit covered in a layer of dust and cobwebs. The board games are too childish, it's just not fun anymore. A burger at mc-donalds is a rarity ( yearning i still do), stay overs we do have, although not as exciting as before. Some of my nights are spent wondering what this lesson on life really is about. Trying to define aptly the feeling of "being content" with myself, or what more should be done to come close to this...
I see lots of success around me, people who've done things that even the devil would be proud of.
I study this vtu course ( nil in the practicality department ) and often wonder where it's going to lead me. I know for sure it's not someplace I'll be "content". So then what am i doing this for?. It's that smile on my parents face when i tell them my result. ' amma result bantu-fcd and this smile with an acknowledgement'. So should i be content with myself now that i see that my parents are.? Is my being a millionaire going to be enough?.
Who's going to judge me and say- You've been a good person. You've done it all. Are these magical words contentment.
Bruce Dickinson of the iron maiden fame is a trained opera singer, a lovely writer, hell he flies planes, was selected for the British Olympic team, has his own show on BBC, and moreover has sold more than 80 million albums with maiden, has ownage when they play. Yet He says he isn't content. If all this isn't ravishing, then what is? what is?
Will the day ever come when i sit my grandchildren down for a chat and tell them---your old man did this---your old man did that, with them staring back in awe. Then I'll finally know for sure that i did what i was sent out to do. Only then will i have this solace that god can take me away. Do you agree?
P:S- How can i intimate all this to my most intimate friend.... The heart;)
Yes i do have good memories from my past. My first PlayStation, and how i would never leave it's side. How I'd do absolutely anything to convince my dad to shell some cash for a new game. Or how I'd beg him to buy me a new board game for my birthday. And how much I'd yearn for the burger at Mc-Donalds ( i had the privilege of eating one every Friday back then:P) Then of course the stay overs. And how i would talk all night, play those silly kiddo games, scare ourselves to death with em ghost stories, have the liberty to get up late, skip those pain-staking sessions of omelet eating or oat-meal(yuck)(some i remember lasting an hour an a half:D), this of-course possible cause we threw some of it in the dustbin. How we'd ride our cycles in the evening, enjoying the cool breeze and sometimes the rain, whilst our mothers sat home and drank their teas in silence. And now, when i look back on how elated i was in the 'early days', a chilling thought dawns hard on me.... All this isn't a lasting experience. Happy experiences though they may be, and although I've been content with life sometimes, as one knows, the mind does wonder.....
My first PlayStation is at home, albeit covered in a layer of dust and cobwebs. The board games are too childish, it's just not fun anymore. A burger at mc-donalds is a rarity ( yearning i still do), stay overs we do have, although not as exciting as before. Some of my nights are spent wondering what this lesson on life really is about. Trying to define aptly the feeling of "being content" with myself, or what more should be done to come close to this...
I see lots of success around me, people who've done things that even the devil would be proud of.
I study this vtu course ( nil in the practicality department ) and often wonder where it's going to lead me. I know for sure it's not someplace I'll be "content". So then what am i doing this for?. It's that smile on my parents face when i tell them my result. ' amma result bantu-fcd and this smile with an acknowledgement'. So should i be content with myself now that i see that my parents are.? Is my being a millionaire going to be enough?.
Who's going to judge me and say- You've been a good person. You've done it all. Are these magical words contentment.
Bruce Dickinson of the iron maiden fame is a trained opera singer, a lovely writer, hell he flies planes, was selected for the British Olympic team, has his own show on BBC, and moreover has sold more than 80 million albums with maiden, has ownage when they play. Yet He says he isn't content. If all this isn't ravishing, then what is? what is?
Will the day ever come when i sit my grandchildren down for a chat and tell them---your old man did this---your old man did that, with them staring back in awe. Then I'll finally know for sure that i did what i was sent out to do. Only then will i have this solace that god can take me away. Do you agree?
P:S- How can i intimate all this to my most intimate friend.... The heart;)
Friday, September 5, 2008
The burning bridge
The burning bridge that nothing can rebuild;
is positively a foundation on which to build!
The re-birth of this artery is acutely sought;
Although the building blocks always fought.
Praying to god won't keep it alive;
The bridge will surely fall, sans revive.
wavy and swelly, while it still may be;
salvage it not, and you'll pay the fee.
Water in its en masse, clearly a winner;
Find none and it will surely simmer.
shaping from scratch may be the last resort;
Fail again and it will unerringly wrought.
Pry out the water and save the bridge;
Else you'll be snared to a friggin ridge.
But where is the water in this barren land;
surely its not concealed deep in the sand...
is positively a foundation on which to build!
The re-birth of this artery is acutely sought;
Although the building blocks always fought.
Praying to god won't keep it alive;
The bridge will surely fall, sans revive.
wavy and swelly, while it still may be;
salvage it not, and you'll pay the fee.
Water in its en masse, clearly a winner;
Find none and it will surely simmer.
shaping from scratch may be the last resort;
Fail again and it will unerringly wrought.
Pry out the water and save the bridge;
Else you'll be snared to a friggin ridge.
But where is the water in this barren land;
surely its not concealed deep in the sand...
P.S- I'd like to think that this is the poetic version of my previous post-reality bites:P
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