Category: Random Philosophy (Page 1 of 12)

Letting your Youtube playlist play

Do you also just let your YouTube playlist do it’s own thing by queuing songs on it’s own ?

I do, too. 

But most of the time it’s either because it plays in one of the chrome tabs while I’m on an Excel sheet sorting/arranging some data. 

Tonight (I, of course, mean the night before) after dinner I thought of writing a post and while staring at the blank Ms-Word screen. Blink. Blink. 

Youtube, by default, becomes your TV when you don’t have one! And thank God! Otherwise, watching those awful news channels would make me rant everyday about things that I’m really trying not to get worked up about. Seriously! 

There used to be a time when my Grandfather used to tell us ‘Watch News’! Watching news was considered an intellectual indulgence and a value addition to your GK! I hope today’s grandfather’s don’t say that to their kids. Else, God save us! 

Beherhaal, YouTube popped up a favorite ‘Jaane would kaise log the’ which occasionally ends up on loop. But is something that I’ve not listened to, in a while. Click. Play. 

I get back to the blank screen. Still Blinking. 

Aargh! I wonder what’s with the whole, ‘What should I write?’ thought. Getting stuck is awful. Irritating. Questions loop in an echo. Answer? Ha ha ha! 

‘Ye Jo Des hai mera’ 

Listening to the song only takes me to that scene where Mohan Bhargav buys a kulhad of water from that boy in the station. That moment freezes in front, even when I’m not looking at the video. If I look at it, I’ll feel like watching the movie again. And it’s already past midnight. It’s the other day. 

‘Kyun’ from Barfi

‘Aazadiyan’ from Udaan

‘Tu bin bataye’ from Rang De Basanti

‘Kitni baaten’ from Lakshya

And they all play one after the other. The ads play in between because well, YouTube is the new TV. Right?

Coke Studio Season 9. Woah, I need to switch. ‘Tera Would Pyaar’. What’s the point of starting at a blank screen, anyway! And well, Momina Mustehsan. Do I have to give a reason? 

Nawazishen Karam. Indeed. Fits perfectly. Now, I can sleep. 

ठंड के वो दिन

आज बैठा था धूप तापते हुए बालकनी में। हवा साथ मे चल रही थी तो धूप की तपिश का वो मज़ा नही मिल पा रहा था। मैंने अपनी नीलकमल थोड़ी खिसकाई और आगे की तरफ बढ़ा। पर हाल फिरभी वही था। 

यूँ तो मैं सर्दियों का फैन नही हूँ। वैसे देखा जाए तो गर्मी या बारिश के extreme नेचर का भी फैन नही। हर चीज़ में मॉडरेशन पसंद कुछ ज़्यादा है हमें। लोग आजकल लिबरल भी कह डालते हैं। कुछ विषयो पे एक्सट्रेमिस्ट भी कह चुके हैं। अब लोग तो लोग ही हैं, काम हैं उनका कहना। 

खैर, अभी बस ठंड की बात करते हैं। आज घर वाली सर्दी को miss कर रहा था। धूप में भी स्वेटर पेहेनके बैठना , घंटों तक, कॉमिक बुक हाथ मे लिए। फिर जब वक़्त हुआ तो , खेलते रहना बिना थके। उस दौरान हुम बड़े चाव से टेस्ट क्रिकेट भी खेला करते थे। हालांकि में कुछ खास नही खेलता था पर उत्साह हमेशा ज़ोरो पर रहता था। आलम तो कुछ ऐसा हुआ करता था कि हम रमज़ान के महीने में भी घंटों खेल लिया करते थे। क्रेजी कह लीजिए। फज्र की नमाज़ के लिए न निकले पर बैट धरके सबको जागाते हुए गांधी मैदान में दिख ज़रूर जाते थे।

गरम पानी के इलावा कुछ चूना कहर हो मानो। लकड़ी के चूल्हे पे बारी बारो पानी गर्म हो चलता और नहाने की बारी लागतो। थोड़ा टालते पर कुछ डांट सुनते गुसलखाने की जानिब चल ही देते। नहाके सीधे दौड़ते हुए धूप में। ठिठुरते हुए। 

इस मौसम में बैर काफी मिलते थे। कभी कदर हम पास के एक कंपाउंड को फांदके बैर भी चुराया करते थे। और ये भी न किया कभी तो कमसेकम घर मे बुयाम में हल्दी लगाके रखे बैरों का चुपके सेवन तो ज़रूर किया है। 

रातों को बड़े की निहारी सुर सुर करके खाना तो याद है ही और साथ मे मोहल्ले के चौराहे पर अंडे के कूट से हाथ सेकना भी। फिर अम्मी के चिल्लाने पर घर आते ही रज़ाई में दुबक के दादी के साथ सोना, ताकि अब्बू डांटे नही। 

वो थे ठंड के दिन। और आज यहां पंखे की स्पीड को ताकते नींद को बुलाने की कोशिश जारी है। 

नींद से याद आया, कल मंडे है। 

कोई कह रहा है, ‘आज कहिये जनाब’।

A few beparwah Thoughts

Looking up, while a song plays, the zig-zags of the birds make tiny shadows on the blue afternoon sky. I had never seen those shadows, before. Probably did, but never thought of it, unlike today. Maybe it’s this song. 

Paper planes we drifted off in an era gone by. Only this time they continued the spiral for a wee bit longer, as these birds fly themselves. The open door gave me a big window to view their flight.


“Beparwah.. rang ka jaaya..

Chitt laage ne.. main uktaaya..

Haal bayaan ho na haal bayaan..

Hona fakat hai fanaa..”

 While the song continued to play on. I put on a big smile. Involuntary. The song and the birds. The directionless joy complementing the lyrics. Describing the essence of exactly that very moment.

“Ranj ke sadqe ho gayi jaan

Dhadkan jaise dhuaan…

Naa.. labeya kuch

Na hal paaya..

Naaaa hai pata.. manzar na disha… “

Few things cannot be put in words. Not only emotions but viewpoints like these. While I reminisce the afternoons where I had nothing to do. The winter afternoons. Soaking in the sun. Waiting for the clock to strike a certain time to run past the gates to play. The anticipation of doing something. Waiting for the green light.

Today, there isn’t any. Just stares. Stares out of this door, into the abyss formed in my imaginary viewing pod.

“Pyaar hai dheh sa gaya..

Hai kadar kahan..

Mann hai yaadon a ek majmaa”

Retrieving the good memories and keeping the rest closed somewhere. The assembly of thoughts are being selective for their own selfish reasons. Apt. Nothing wrong in that.

“Na hai aata

Manzar na dishaa

Khaak hua hai kadar kahan”


The birds drift out of the view. Still in the sky, just out of my view. Out in someone else’s reveries. I continue to watch out for them, while the Blue sky remains the blank canvas of thoughts. Waiting!

Shifting Focus

The pendulum-like shift in (and out) focus is quite a necessity. A bare minimum to find the stale happiness lying around in smaller packets. Lost among the bigger ones, we’re always after. 

I used to despise, still occasionally do, the non-focussed approach of doing things. So, what changed? 
For starters, a little disconnect helps pull you back from over to exerting yourself towards a well-defined end. Out of your sight but a clear picture of an after-achievement glow already painted in your damn head. The conversations already toing-froing like a tennis match making the heads move with the ball. 

But then a disappointment follows. The set breaks. The conversations vanquished out in the real world, like their existence was nothing but a conspiracy theory. The agony Aunt refuses to leave the guest room. 

Lack of focus helps shift your balance with your multi-tasking abilities (if any). It’s akin to not putting your eggs in one big basket. 

It’d suck to see even one break. But would be better to see them all go splashing down creating a modern art. 

The purists and the passionate ones would say, it’s worth it. But nothing’s worth your calm state. Finding ways to be content is (and should be) a priority. 

Sometimes, more than a Sprint, a jog would help. And sometime just a walk. Or maybe just stopping to see how far you’ve already come, appreciate that, and just chill. 

Let the goals be out of focus for a while. Just a while, and then maybe you can zoom ahead. 

Looking at 2017: The Year in Review

I started last year by forcing myself to write everyday. Remember? 

And I did stick to the resolution (more or less) for close to a little over 100 days. Finding time to write and penning down thoughts before hitting the bed, everyday, wasn’t easy. But I did. Good or bad writing, that wasn’t the goal. Writing regularly was, which was partially acheived. 

I travelled. Could have done more if the CLs and ELs were more generous. In my next job, the number of holidays will definitely be the biggest criteria. But of course, there’s time for that. It was a hectic work-year in catching up with lead targets but extremely helpful in learning. That’s the only goal for the first 5 year. A little over a year-and-a-half left to evaluate the ‘T-Marketer’ roadmap. 

My target was to complete 12 books this year at a strike rate of 1 every month. But, of course, I only started on that in the later part of the year. However, did manage to read 11 (and a few half-read ones). A long pending list awaits in my Amazon Cart.  

Tried my best to learn more of Kannada but haven’t been able to go beyond the greetings. Watched a few more of the regional movies to get a hang of the mannerisms but attempts to understand meet roadblocks unless it includes a few English words. A man’s gotta try, anyway. 

Made a few good friends. The existing ones stood by. Got in touch with old ones too. 

Was more honest than before. Was less mean to others and made conscious efforts to be nicer. 


Had plans for more cycling trips but couldn’t. Got lazier than the year before but hoping this year would be different. At least, I’ll try to. 

Plan was also to be more self-focussed (self-obsessed actually). Tried my best to take a fair share of extra selfies to prove just that. And yes, indulgences in other selfish pleasures. This helps keep one sane. 

Of the things I did (or didn’t), the biggest lesson learnt was to find avenues of being content. To be grateful for what you have and find happiness in the little indulgences. It can be the food you eat, the place you travel, the movie you watch or the person you meet. There is no BIG moment that can give you that, always. Sure, they’d be a few. But you cannot anticipate the big ones and let go the smaller ones. Indulging yourself in every possible activity helps in not straying around aimlessly. 

The year 2017 was good. And even the stupid things that happened doesn’t pop outta my Head when I look back, so I’m assuming it was all good. 

Here’s to an even better year! Cheers, folks. Be Awesome (for yourself). 

Chasing Sleep

Minutes pass by as his tired eyes try gauging the freckles of light from outside the window, while the dark gloom of the room literally overshadows it all. 

The undecided state of mind and the vacancy of a description to it, seeks out multiple answers. The effect of just one, isn’t realistic. The impracticality just doesn’t fit. Even in this dark time. 

The invite from sleep is placed just right over there at the pillow. Visible even in the dark. But who takes up easy offers. The one for the taking. Not him. 

Conflict is interesting. In the head: fighting. Fighting to inch towards the pillow and the dreams on display. Not buy but earn it. Accomplish it to end your day on a high. A tired high seems like a consolation. 

‘Ill take it!’ he is affirmative on this. 

The after-sleep is enticing. Uncertain but with possibilities. Open doorways to illogical happenings. Enticing? Un-empty? Non-scary?

Hesitant he, just argues for the gloom; romanticizing the scared reality without a leash on it. Dragging in the empty air with a slow whiff out as his ribs aches. 

As his head drops down to accept the invite, he lived to fight another night. Chasing Sleep was, after all, a ritual. 

A Weekend Evening

The unplanned weekend has a calming character. Nothingness means something. The pleasant Bengaluru weather and the beautiful sky adds to the mood. Shuffling between the pages of a book to writing down a few lines for the blog, it’s a wonderful headspace to be in. 

When the door open to a world familiar and yet open to lend itself to you; to show you something new. The invitation is open for all and yet a few show up. Few chose to accept the invite. 

Is this an exclusive or just a consolation? Open for interpretation. 

What’s new in the chirping of the birds or in the piegions finding a corner for themselves? 

The fluttering of the leaves or the kids playing hide & seek?

The weekly ritual of washed clothes clipped on plastic ropes waving in clean joy or the family leaving for their weekend-outing.

The mundane isn’t interesting. And one’s interesting can be another’s mundane. 

The slightly chilly wind is comforting along with the warm embrace of this mug of coffee. 

A perspective is just about walking a few extra steps to check from the other side. 

There’s always something new to explore if you really want to. Like re-reading a book and wondering how you never got that before. Stories, characters and plots, all right here to observe and get entertained. 

A sunset here can be a sunrise somewhere else. 

It’s all about looking at the possibilities irrespective of their bleak sounding nature. Realism is always great. But not without some optimism. 

What are you doing this weekend?

Expiry Date

There, but not there! 

Seeking perfection even in the camaflogue of the broken, twisted and peculiar settings, our innermost desire still remains – finding that perfect story. 

In the corners of the world, probing for boxes with that one perfect story hidden somewhere. They all look appealing. 

‘Maybe, I want them to’, the voices warn!

One after the other. Open. Each box is supposed to be: ‘the one’. 


‘Please try again’

And we move to the other.

‘Better luck next time’

The cycles. 

Boxes. Us. The stories. 

They all change. The us-es. And with them, the stories. Just like the changing boxes. 

You’re ired to continue opening another one of these. You’re tired of the disappointments. Of those stories that are there, but NOT there. Of yourself. Of them. And you so wish that it was in your hands to let it all stop. 

The myth of the choice. Hadhtag My Choice. Hashtag their choices. The puppets think they have free will. The strings are just accessories to walk around the life’s stage. Idiots. We’re all the Siri’s and Alexa’s in a parallel universe. 

Stories where cliffhangers are the norm just tend to miss out on cliched endings like.. ‘…ever after’. Lifelong happiness sure might be a myth. But even seeking the permansncy of a ‘they lived’ is a tall order. 

They say, there’s no correct box. The idea of that one box doesn’t exist. Unless it’s a book. A really good book. Or a movie to lend thoughts to those imaginations on 70mm. But, who listens?

‘Customize it!’ They say. ‘Weave your own story. Paint it the way you’d like the world to see. ‘ they add to their wise sayings.

‘But.. the story isn’t for the world!” I contest. 

‘No one gives a $#@*’. Their look says it all. Uncensored. 

finding passion

Finding Passion(s)

There’s only one thing in the world that one should be jealous of: People who have found their one true passion.

I know, I am.

At a blog meet, a few weeks earlier, during one of the high-tea breaks, a couple of us were straying around in the pool area. Alongside, in a bespectacled gentleman in a kurta, puffing away his cigarette, threw a smile at us. As we begin talking about respective blogs and what type of stuff we write about, his advice to us was, ‘Stick to a niche’. Of course, he isn’t the first and he won’t be the last to utter those wise words. Ironically, many-a-times Digital Marketing thought-pieces that I’ve penned down for other websites claim the same. That is the ideal way to go about. Sticking to a niche and gaining authority in the space. Easier to preach, indeed.

Finding our one true passion is like finding that niche for your blog.

One of the usual talk-points, when meeting people, are questions about ‘Why you stopped writing about *this*?’ The ‘this’ varies based on whom I meet. From Movies to Politics, the list varies. I’ve experimented, and continue doing so, about writing about a variety of topics and quite honestly have liked writing about it all. I have thought of ‘finding a niche’ too, but have come full circle as always to be at the exact place. Not that I won’t drive back to this very conundrum, but I now think there isn’t a niche I can stick to.

The thing I’ve loved, since class 3 when my essay was read in front of the entire class, is Writing.

Sure, I love traveling, but I’m not a traveler. I love eating and experimenting with food; finding ‘something new’ but I’m not a foodie. I do like taking photographs but I’m no photographer. And like this, a lot of things are what I love doing, but a bracket feels an unknown and limiting entity. I am and I’m not any of these. But I like the experience of it, and more importantly, writing about all of them.

And that is, probably, that one true thing, I’m certain of.

Of course, I’m in no position to add a superlative in front of that writer, now. But, someday. And it really doesn’t matter if it leads to a destination or not, it is all about loving what you do. For now, I’m jolted up by the excitement that I can (and I will) think of having a singularity to my many passions in life. A realization. Now onwards.

There’s nothing wrong or right about having many passions, but I’d like to have just one. Asking too much, eh?

And that reminds me to ask, have you found your passion(s)?

The end credits

Have you ever tried waiting for the end credits of a movie roll down?

The one at the end where names, after names, after names scroll up and an instrumental sound track gives company. Sometimes it is a catchy item number. Depending on the type of movie you’re watching. 

Have you?

Involuntarily, I have. Especially when watching one at home. Unlike the theatres, the rush to head out is ALWAYS high. 

A lot depends on how the movie ended, did it leave with giving an answer to something? Or asked a question? 

Answers, ease you. Questions linger. At least till the credits roll down. 

Questions uncover Questions, like how an old wound when teased becomes fresh. Hurting. 

But maybe you wanted to feel this. You allowed for it to happen. The asking of this question. A failed attempt to get answer. There was never an answer here. Even if there was, that answer isn’t the solution. It’s just an answer. 

Blame all you want. On them, on you. The answers won’t bring a stop unless it’s the correct one. But who’s to tell? You’re the judge of your own shackles. Lock it up or let it go. 

A silence brings to halt the reverie. A long list of ‘What to watch next’ emboss the screen. Choices, like always. Hard to pick. 

Next, next, next. Click. 

Twenty Seven

Twenty Seven.

Turning Twenty Seven.

I have always wanted to be an adult. More than anything else when I was a kid. More to lead a restriction-less life and *touchwood* I’ve probably come close to doing that. Barring a few high-pitched calls from my mother about traveling too much, living life exactly the way I want to, isn’t a dream but part of reality.

Sure, there are a lot of ‘good-to-haves’ and a long pending wish list that outgrows itself periodically, but I’ve learned (sort of) to find avenues for being content and getting indulged in them. I wouldn’t like to jinx things up for myself, but this phase of life- the one bereft of drama- is what I’d like to call the good life.

Let me clarify because I do end up confusing people sometime, it’s not like only good things are happening. No, no, no! What I intend to proclaim is the absence of any major bad thing and the minor skirmishes notwithstanding, life is good. You get it, right?

And there are always multiple ways of looking at life. I prefer to go with the most favorable outcome. Yes, ended up practicing a lot of Probability before my CAT preparation.

So, coming back to Twenty Seven. Sounds like a big deal to me! Adulthood finally appears to have arrived. Gradually. But this realization struck me just a month back. Of becoming old. Of turning 27!

Maybe I’m reading too much into it or maybe I’ve started adding too many maybes to my sentences. Signs of troubled confusion. Damn it!

It is that time when your relatives start telling your parents that your son I getting older. Parents, of course, believe whatever the 4 log who drop home more than their own common sense. Mine isn’t so different either. The frustration of not being able to make sense to the emo-drama coupled with examples from the khaandaan is bizarre. And, shit, this is just the start.

The peace and drama-less life that I’ve temporarily enjoyed suddenly appears to be standing on a shaky foundation. Definitely, I don’t want to lose my ground. Not right now.

The struggles of adulthood might have finally begun and maybe it is time to grow up.

…and that’s when I knew

That look of yours. Yes, the same one were you magnify your eyes. The one which makes me feel that they’ll just pop out. That. 

That’s when I knew. 

When you blurt out the same things. And when I do the same. And then we understand, but don’t laugh. The silent high-fives.

That’s when I knew. 

When you share those uninteresting stories. Oh, sorry that’s just me. You hold them back. But you listen, to mine. And remember.

That’s when I knew. 

Your start-stop act of being funny (trying to) and thoughtful. 

That’s when I knew. 

Maybe we both know. Now. And then. Or maybe it’s just me. Again. Waving at the bus, I keep missing. 

”It’s just in your head”

‘Yes, and that’s the damn problem!’

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