Category: Random Philosophy (Page 2 of 12)

Musings at Londa Junction

Musings at Londa Junction

Waiting for a train in a non-crowded station has a calming effect on you. Or maybe coz, you don’t have much to do.

Londa junction is that station today. I know, for the hinterland folks, this might sound colloquially ‘funny’ (for the lack of a better word). A 3-platform station almost at the border of Karnataka-Maharashtra-Goa. 

A group of army men, with their military hair cuts, donning their trademark polo t-shirts with a slew of luggages, await close-by. 

A mother teaches reading to her daughter by asking ‘what’s written over there’. I so remember playing this with my sister and then trying the same with my brother. Yes, trying is the word. 

Across the other side of the platform, few dogs are lazying around for an extended sleeping session. It’s a national holiday, after all. Few dogs on this side are trying to become the alpha. By fighting it out, of course. Contrastingly, there are less folks fighting over recharge points than there are slots available. 

Aah! The life in a place like this. 

Heading outside, a slew of small shops and eateries serve food and tea. Both equally bad. The tea, a tad bit more. I’ve not had coffee since Friday. One more reason to head home at the earliest, only if the Indian Railways were on time. A few minutes back checked, to my amusement, the average speed of the Pudducherry ‘Express’ I’ll be traveling in, is 48km/hr! Looks like we’ll need a bullet train here as well. 

Coming back to the platform, the rush of the humans increases, as the dogs head over to another corner. The alpha-male debate seems to have been resolved, much to the discomfort of the passengers. 

I’ve strolled around the platform enough for now and probably head over to platform no. 3 where the train is supposed to arrive. But, probably a last Sprint to catch the train would be more habitual. 

I hope you, the reader, wasn’t looking for a connection to the myriad sets of descriptions above. Because, there isn’t any. 

Just my musings.  

To the ‘Yaar, hamara time kab ayega’ folks

I’m slowly growing tired (present continuous) of the ‘Yaar, hamara time kab ayega’ tone thrown casually in conversations reeking of ungratefulness. This can be heard while sipping an overtly expensive coffee, sitting at a pub by paying an exorbitant bill for a ‘good weekend’, from the windows of an Uber or from the seats of an aircraft flying miles above, popcorn stuffed mouths in a movie theatre and probably from every nook & corner in a typical Urban landscape.

There’s always a level-up we look towards. Nothing wrong in that. But why with an ungrateful attitude?

Just stop for a good 5 minute. Time it, if you like. Look at your life now. Look back to what it was before. Has it become better?

‘Yeahh.. could have…”

Think of the good things. You know what they are! Think hard. 
In an earlier post, I wrote about ‘What should be our life’s metrics?’ The most appropriate answer for it that I think of it is, ‘Happiness’. Just this. Define that happiness at each stage of your life and then look back to see, have you achieved it? 
No, this isn’t the ‘Have I made it large’ moment. You don’t and you might not always be able to make it. But don’t define your life with just the achievements. Leave it for your annual appraisals. Not for your happiness.

It is tough not to crib when it is the fashion. Cribbing about everything is increasingly becoming the norm of our generation. Downplaying our own achievements is what keeps us pre-occupied and supposedly keeps us grounded. It’ll ‘supposedly’ help us achieve our goals and being pompous about it might derail that process. It’ll boost that hunger driving one towards their goals. Feeling content might create problems. Fair enough, if you think being content about what you HAVE now might not push you.

But, how is cribbing and being ungrateful for what you have now, going to help?

Your basic necessities might have shifted from the ‘Roti, Kapda, Makaan’ to fancier versions of it and much more, but more than haHamaralf of the world is still struggling. Hell, your own neighborhoods can give you a picture of the stark contrast. 

My Ammi always, Always says this, to look at people who don’t have what you have, be thankful to God. This isn’t an original thought but is something to be passed around. Empathy for people living at a lower standard of life should always be higher than sighing over the fancy car that got past you. 

To answer the question, ‘Yaar, hamara time kab ayega’. 
Maybe it is already here and you don’t even know it.

Peeping over to the other side

Peeping over the other side

Anticipation. Anxiety. Over-thinking. We always throw ourselves into the circle of it with a certain hopelessness, which is only characteristic of us, the humans. Not faulty characteristics, just a methodical process we’ve kept ourselves believe that is the way of life. It is arguable, whether we’ve made ourselves believe it or the society has. At our expense.

Already happened. Decided. Done and dusted.

It is with them all. Without a sense of partiality. Uniformly spread.

But some crossover, too. Over to the other side where life is lived without the anticipation. The side with the absence of the thought called ‘What’s next’. Not that everyone is consciously trying to head to that side. In an aptly described clichéd sense it can be the ‘living like there’s no tomorrow.

But there is. For us. Not for them.

Our present swindle between the regrets of the past and the uncertainty of the future. Making us feel guilt and fear, respectively. Romanticize and glorify the past; Sky-high expectations-driven optimism for the future. While they remain constantly in bed with the present. Enjoying the view.

What is the secret? Is it the wiring or a transition from one side to the other a possibility?

We stand at the junction of the present with a leg in the past while deciding where to put our other leg on the map of future. Every decision from our careers to relationships is with our eyes diverging into the above-mentioned directions.

Agreed, that sensible decision making has to take stock of past learnings and an analysis of what can be expected from the future. But is it just an excuse to justify our approach. Or, is it ?

The Crazy Old Adult Me

The age when you just start to realize that you’re becoming an adult, the thought worries you. Not about getting old but realizing, ‘So, this is how it feels’. I’m an adult now!

Before this point of realization, college still seems to be just a yesterday’ thing and a work-life appears to be fresh as the day. And then at this juncture, where we allow ourselves to become aware of it, life stands still. Not confused, just still. Trying to gather thoughts in a motionless equilibrium where everything moves, but you. You, with your head, sided against the wall, while observing your blinking glances in a slo-mo. Thinking.

Quantifying bits of achievements to justify this moment slowly dawn on you. Justification for everything is so critical, right?
Scaling the road ahead towards vaguely sketched dreams in that very instant. A progress report ab tak ka. Analysis. Lacking Actions. Playing the devil’s advocate, like always.

All of it is maybe for nothing. These thoughts, the plans, the supposed actions. All for nothing. Just the struggle to remain relevant in distinctive sets of spheres, all in the hope of forming an intersection spot when those spheres meet when we end our life. The perfect Venn Diagram for each of us.
Heaving a sigh of breath being held with patience, and twitching the unibrow (Yes!).

A voice echoed. I need to write about this. But no one will get it! At least, the crazies would!

And then again stood there glancing over the coffee-maker in the kitchen. I need that.

Choosing Writing over sleep? You’ll waste your weekend morning again! Weekend Tradition, after all.

Of work and taking a leap (Not)

On the first of September, I completed 2 years at my current job. And I was like woah! Time Flies fast. To be precise, 51+ months in two different companies. Ironically, I had to take a day off from work because of a cold. 

Maybe it was life’s way of telling me to press a reset button, at least try to, by taking rest. 

The job has been pretty good. The people, work and the off-work life hasn’t been bad. Few draggy whining sessions notwithstanding. That’s part of the package called work, right ?

There are very few movies which I watch over often. Today I happened to watch one of them. Devil wears Prada. I know. Not everyone likes it. But I do. It doesn’t have much meat in it. And yet it is so relevant. About work. And the life around it. One can never know at what point your work overtakes your life. 

I love the narration-less subtelty of the climax. It speaks. Or maybe I want it to speak. Don’t we do that with all slice-of-life movies?

When do we get out of the nest? How do we fly or just dive? Where does our true calling lie? Will that even lead us somewhere? What of we are just not meant to become what we aspire for? Do we even have what it takes? Are we even willing to put in the effort required?

Aah! The questions that a caffeinated mind throws up! Add to that, the tablets that I’ve had to take to get rid of this cold. Yes, this cold, which persists. A long lost friend who isn’t ready to bid adieu. 

I think it is pointless to come up with these thoughts unless I’m going to act on it. Maybe for once I won’t play it safe and take a big leap. These leaps look so good in my stories. The stories I want to tell (Aah, my plans!). 
But the what-ifs scare me back to the drawing board. To the theory of it. Nestled inside. Reluctant to dive. Impractical aspirations. Overtaken by laziness. 

How does one change it? 

What goes in my head when a trip ends-

What goes in my head when a trip ends?

“….it ain’t me..” with its strummings and beats fill my ears as the bus whooshes towards Bangalore. Selena Gomez is good. I never realized before that she sings this well. For me, she reminds me of  ‘The Wizards of Waverly Prince’. Aah! Disney Channel back in the day.


“….who’s gonna walk you through the dark side of the morning…”

I’m left to think of what I’m taking back from this trip. When you’re traveling alone, a lot of these thoughts come dropping by. Of course, the extra kilos and pictures, are a given. But, what else do we take back from a trip?

What do I take back from a trip?

The feeling of this place?

A sense of exploring something new?

Another place ticked off from the checklist?

Content for my blog?

Meeting people? And friends?

What is it that I’m taking back with me?

The bus stops to pick a few more passengers. As I notice other vehicles go past ours, I try my best to form an answer.

I’ve hated the feeling of getting stuck. Of not moving. This miniature depiction of my emotion is apt. Is this the answer?

Travel helps in knowing, if I intend to, I won’t get stuck. From decisions. From questions that life throws. I might end up choosing the wrong direction. Catching the wrong bus. Missing my bus. Getting delayed. Been there, done that. Fashionably.

I can try to not confine my boundaries. And even break the ones that I’ve set. Others haven’t.

What else do I take back?

The randomness of conversations. Ones you would remember as long as you’re part of it. You’ll remember the laughter. The faces. The sadness behind those eyes that they hide. The excitement of capturing something new. The people. Yes, them. I take parts of them with me. Imagine how they’d deal with situations. Making them part of my stories. The ones I write, the ones my reveries write on their own.

What does travel teach me?

A lot. And nothing.
I’m not being vague. This is how it is.

I’ve realized people, wherever you go, end up being a lot alike than we picture them in our stereotype. Travel helps break those very stereotypes. Language never seems to be the ultimate barrier. Communication isn’t limited by the language when you want to talk, get help or help others.

Travel teaches adjustment. Type of food with varying spice levels, adjusting to ways of answering the nature’s call, sleeping in different places, talking, listening or just learning more about cultures.

Sometimes traveling sucks too. Just like life does. The edited pictures might not tell the stories of those places. And they should not. It is a different experience for each of us and is so subjective. No one can live our lives. And no one can travel for us, but we.


The Cycle of Trials

For close to 2 minutes, roughly, I stared at my keyboard, instead of the blank screen like the usual. I could see the stains of my fingers on almost all the Twenty-Six alphabets of this QWERTY keyboard. And yet, some of these had been troubled more than others. While some looked ignored.

Q J Z X V B  

Yes, my non-magnifying eyes, managed to separate the most-used versus the less-used Keys. Quite a Job! Zealously Xeroxing Various Brain imprints of Scrabble words! Doesn’t makes sense, huh! Well, that’s what forcing myself to use these letters makes it look.

I will admit that being hard on myself comes naturally. Forcing myself to even accept a compliment with a ‘Thank you’ is like pushing too far. Gradually, becoming better at it, with practice, of course.

The natural way is easy. Just as downstream is easy. Like heading downhill is effortless.

Changing the course isn’t. Pushing against the current isn’t. It’ll never be.

People preach about getting out of their comfort zones to learn. Learn new things. Challenge yourself. Preaching comes easily to all of us.

I’ve gone in search of challenges, took them head on, and failed. A lot. Crushed. Scared. Reattempted. Failed again. Left the cycle many-a-times. Got back on the saddle again few-of-the-times.

Realization? The Challenge isn’t in the achievement. Or even the aspiration to achieve. It is that cycle. The challenge is the process and that process’ refinement to get back into that cycle.

Maybe I’ll get better at it someday. The hope shines the pathway. And if not? Well, I still love Cycling!

And irrespective of whether you like or not, the cycle will run its due course. Why not enjoy the ride?

peristence vs talent

Why is Persistence more important than Talent?

What is that common quality that all successful people definitely have?

Of all, the one which truly stands out is that of persistence. The determination to keep pushing. Pushing hard in the quest for their goals. May what come, they are always there, going hard as ever, striving towards their goal. For them, it doesn’t matter where they are now. What matters is, where they want to be. The end goal.

I’ve seen people grow. Strength to strength. All of their starts were all about following their passion. A passion for excelling in what they love.

Indeed, the knack of truly finding what you love is in itself remarkable. It isn’t based on what the society tells you is ‘the thing’ to go after but what your heart truly wants.

Some are lucky enough to find what they are after. Sorry, not ‘lucky’, strike that. They possess the clarity to see themselves become what they want to. A ‘clear’ picture.

Others spend ages trying just to find their true calling and along the way pick up excuses to remain just there.

Coming back to persistence. The differentiated quality that propels and separates the ones who succeed and us. Us, the ones still running the race to find out, whether we are worthy or not.

I know of people whom the world laughed at when they started. And in the general parlance, they were not good at what they were doing. You can say the world was justified in making fun of them. Only, that they persisted in continuing to follow what they aimed for. Becoming better day by day. And then, they were able to convert those very people who hated them to be their fans. This isn’t a one-off story. Neither I’m making this up to prove anything.

And I’m not even talking about guys who rose to fame on the back of bad publicity. The Dhinchak Poojas of the world. For the sake of not going wayward on what I want to convey, let’s exclude this kind as well.

The point I’m trying to make is, that if you find that one thing you truly want. Go after it. Don’t worry whether the world is going to laugh at it or not. Don’t worry whether you’re good right now or not. Focus on working hard to get where you want to. The end goal should be the one you have to be after.

And it’s going to take a lot out of you. You have to put your best foot forward. Every day. Every hour. And every minute to get there. It’s not going to be easy. Not all of us are born with an already polished talent. Talent, IMHO, itself is just a spark and it all depends on us to give it shape it into a fire and light up the world.

People surprisingly negate the hard work and persistence and attribute success solely on someone’s talent. That brings us back to the drawing board of putting all our hopes on whether ‘we have it or not’. It doesn’t matter whether at this point we have it or not. What matters is, whether we are ready to put that extra effort into making it happen.

I’m not writing this to preach and tell YOU on what you have to do. This is a #NoteToSelf on not stopping the hard work.

The idea of conferring the reason for success to ‘talent’ is bogus. You either work hard to get there or you don’t. Talent means nothing without persistence to work towards achieving your goals.

Of not having a singular thought

A rather troubling and yet not overbearing thought of not having a singular thought in my head itches the good part of my brain. The division of focus-from whatever that was present- into multitudes of vague directions appears pointless. And yet, there’s no other alternative I’d rather choose.

My to-do list of chores auto-expands and virtually snoozes while I keep myself engrossed into indulgences that tick my lazy self at peace. Delays. And more delays.

From a post-a-day run-rate of writing down thoughts that a few good people read and liked to piling on drafts that don’t see the click of the published button. To those who write would empathize how a stale thought that passes the expiration of the moment it has been written for is meant to be brushed under. My WordPress dashboard is that carpet.

The emotional mix is a collection of more colors than a packet of gems. Compartmentalized and yet overflowing among themselves. Seeping out in the front, occasionally. The art of a fake laughter and the forced calm behind the rage. I’m mixin-it-all-up.

From the hypothetical questions to a trip in the alleys of the past. All of it, just a few phone numbers away. Few kilometers away. Still standing, at the crease of a confused adulthood, ducking bouncers, learning to leave and missing out on a picturesque cover drive. Cannot risk getting back to the pavilion. Of course, that stopped me. As if.

At the diversion of the ‘what-if’ and ‘it-all-happens-for-good’, the choice of the road always comes back to the same point. Shifting balances when it suits my selfishness.

Everyone’s part of the story. The ones they know. The ones they don’t.

I don’t want to write all the stories, though.

The Morning Welcome

The ‘kaw kaws’ and the ‘cuhooos’, coupled with the bristling leaves play an imperfect symphony for the morning to arrive. The Azaan ended a few minutes back to just confirm the same. And if there was any doubt, the surkh color ensured that all of them were right. 

The weekdays don’t let us enjoy the morning. The arrival of a brand new day of work, looks over our heads. Bereft of any concern of ‘how-many-more-hours-can-I-sleep’, the weekend night adds this present along with other things it makes us look forward to. 

I know they say, ‘Weekends are over-rated’ and even I’d agree to it. But, perhaps these little moments are missed from being counted when making those statements. 

You can say that this CAN be enjoyed everyday. CAN, yes. Indeed. 

There’s no photograph that can truly capture this moment. My camera definitely cannot. My description of this, I hope, might. 

This transports me to moments before sunrise on beaches which I’ve had the privilege to be on. That sound of waves and the color changing horizon at the end of it. 

To one of the hill station where you view the early lights with clouds for company. That whiteness. Unmatched.

To even the Scenery we all used to draw as kids. The zig-zag mountains with the sun rising in between. 

I don’t have any of those views now. The vrooms of all the engines are already encroaching the silence. The cloudy, and yet beautiful, Bangalore sky isn’t helping in the welcome of the sun either. 

Maybe the moment is gone. Like how it always does.

My body clock is pulling me in on to the bed. The winds are giving mixed signals. Should I wait for the sun or sleep with you sweeping through the window ?

The Bangalore Sky

You’ve got to love the post-dusk magnificance of the sky in Bangalore. That view. The clarity. 

Blessed. We. Are.

I don’t know exactly what but there’s an intriguingly calming influence whenever I twist my head towards it. The flowing cotton clouds remind me of school projects where rolls of cotton was glued to the blue cardboard sheet. The things we did back then! For some reason we referred to it as KG cardboard and I still don’t know why. I was never that curious as a kid, anyway. 

I do feel that when I write posts like these , I’m updating the weather report. But here’s the thing, a lot of thoughts, mine and yours hopefully, are interwined with the vaatavaran. Try hearing vatavaran in Lisa Haydon’s voice. Just the voice, okay. Ramzan in progress, folks. 

Coming back to the sky. Yes, you beauty. What changed ? Like was the sky always like this or I’ve suddenly become the beholder to its beauty? 

Either way, you seem to be one good thing to end the day with. Considering how few other things are left, of course. Jugaad.

Listening to the gibberish while I type about you to the world. Or just a tiny fraction who seem to read it. 

You, the blue and the white. Stay awesome. 

The Mango Memories

Mangoes. As far as I remember, has been the favorite. More so because of its exclusivity to Summer and the nostalgia it brings when eaten.


Even as kids, the anticipation of the fruit was one of the highlights of Summer. I can still recall Dada reminding us of its price per kilo at the dinner. And of course, the rotatory policy of, “Who’ll get the Tenkaa today?” Tenkaa is the ghutli or seed of the mango and being the biggest slice of it, was usually in demand.

And eating the sweet mangoes, was not the only good thing about it. The variety of chutneys and murrabbas that Dadi made and the elaborate achaar preparation out of raw mangoes is still fresh in my memory. 

Guess, I’m still not old enough. 

Ammi usually had to struggle in ensuring that I eat lunch. But with these, her job was easier. At least till the stocks lasted.

When our month-long summer vacations ensued at Nanijans’, we-the VVIPs, had those small mangoes at plenty and Nanijans’  Gudamma was quite a big deal!

If you’re getting confused with the names. Apologies. I’m pretty sure, you must have eaten these dishes at home but with some other names. 


Aah! Don’t you miss that time when  the Dadis and Nanis of the world pampered you? And your siblings. Although, I’d like to think, I was pampered more. 

My Frooty-stories are the stuff of legends. 

Childhood was amazing because of grandparents. Even these memories attached to Mango is characteristic of that emotion. 

It was a simpler time! 

While mangoes might last a few more days, the memories will last longer! 

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