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Small Wonder

It’s easy to question where I’ve been all this while but let’s subject ourselves to a challenge and save that question for some other time.

 

I had the Tata Nano for a month. For those of you who don’t know, this would be the world’s cheapest car, a product of Indian ingenuity, India’s pride and all the other fancy superlatives that come with it.

 

I was not too thrilled, to be honest.

 

Why? Here’s the first reaction I had from a friend – “You look like those bears in the circus that drive those toy cars with party hats!”

 

Now, I may have put on a little weight but that was just mean.

 

No, but seriously, I’ll come clean. It wasn’t the kind of car I was used to driving and was naturally out of my comfort zone. I remember saying something along the lines of “It doesn’t have Bluetooth hands-free?! OUTRAGEOUS.”

 

But see, that was where I was wrong. This car isn’t meant to be a premium vehicle. It isn’t meant to be as spacious as an SUV either. It’s meant to get you and your family (unless you have a ridiculously large joint family, in which case, buy a bus) from Point A to Point B. Which it does. Remarkably well.

 

Somehow, stupid now that I think back, that’s the perception I took with me when I went to see the Nano for the first time. I expected so much more than what was logical to expect at that price point. Whether that was a failure on my part or on the team that convinced everybody from the get-go that this was every bit a full-fledged car, I’m not qualified enough to say. They weren’t wrong, though. It is every bit a fully-fledged car. Just…smaller.

 

Smaller? Well, yeah. The Tata Nano kind of reminded me of a bumblebee. There’s no denying it had the design aesthetics but the first few days were a torrent of ‘it isn’t as fast as my main car!’ or ‘the boot space isn’t as much as my old car!’ or even just ‘I miss my old car!’

 

Was it my fault that I was comparing cars belonging to two completely separate segments and feeling jaded? ABSOLUTELY. That’s the perception I took in with me and that was my biggest ‘complaint’ with the car, which really isn’t a valid one, to begin with.

 

Over the next few days, I slowly found myself turning to the Nano for short distances and my main car for longer distances. And slowly, that balance kept shifting to the Nano, up until a point where I drove to Thane with a few friends and back, exclusively in the Nano.

 

I hear the car isn’t selling as well as the company had hoped which comes across as a major disappointment to me. Having used it for just a month, I already feel a sense of ownership, needing to defend it when it comes up in conversations. Oddly, every person I spoke to – and I was stopped on the roads and asked about the car! How often does that happen in my regular car?! – seemed to have the same misconceptions that I started off with.

 

Driving through the city traffic? It’s zippy and weaves through narrow spaces brilliantly. Driving on the highway? It holds its own quite impressively against the barrage of large car owners thundering past. Own a bike and want to upgrade to a four wheeler for the first time? Buying a car for the first time and are just learning your way around cars? Seriously, this is what your target should be. Heck, it’s worth the price just to be able to park in that narrow space between two cars and grin smugly at all the other luxury car owners mutter and look elsewhere for parking.

 

I guess that’s what I’m trying to say. Give it a chance, clear of any misconceptions or bias that you may carry with you and you may find yourself pleasantly surprised. It’s so convenient, so perfectly, well, ’Made for India’ that you wouldn’t look any further.

Carry a towel.

 

I love the picture above and everything it conveys. That’s us, right there. Tiny, little, insignificant, just…nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Now I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m talking about the universe and its mysteries when there are far more important things to worry about like where Angelina Jolie’s right leg is and what it must be doing right now but pretend like you’re interested in what I have to say, for a bit, yes?

As luck would have it, this week, barely started, has involved a number of universe/space/time related events, including the landing of the Curiosity on Mars, my finally getting past the halfway mark of Stephen Hawking’s “A Brief History of Time” or just my near-ritualistic staring at the sun when I sit to study. Most significantly, the Curiosity landed on Mars on Monday morning, India and for virtually everyone, it being a Monday morning, it was something they were less than curious about.

But if you consider the pace at which we’re moving, this is exciting stuff. Scientists predict that we’re less than a decade away from setting foot on Mars. Isn’t that exciting? I mean, hey, one more spanking new planet for us to fuck up! Hallelujah! Bring on the pollution, corruption, raping, killing and Justin Bieber’s music bitches, us humans are here to stay!

Seriously though, that picture above makes you realise just how irrelevant we are as a species, heck, as a planet in the grand universal scheme of things. And yet, we all fight over the little things. We obsess about what we want and how others should treat us when, truth is, we should be working on making this tiny blue-green speck of dust a little more welcoming should aliens from the dark side of Betelgeuse come a-callin’ (or just for fellow mankind but whatevs). And think up a plausible explanation should they demand to know how Lara Dutta once became the most beautiful woman in the entire universe without equal cross-planetary representation.

Of course, being as puny as we are, the things we worry about on a daily basis are completely insignificant in the cosmic sense. Heck, things as inconsequential as exams and a career really shouldn’t matter, right? Right? Guys? Sigh…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PS – I’ve got exams coming up (major, life-changing and all that jazz) so apologies in advance to my minuscule readership if I delay the next post.

 

I get told that I’m a ‘good kid’ quite often.

Obviously, to my parents, this makes me no less than the spawn of Satan (see what I did there?)

Of course, my parents, who raised me with all the sweetness of Nazi concentration camps for Jews  giant, cuddly teddy-bears will attest to the fact that I still have a ‘lot to learn’. What really sucks about being back at Auschwitz home after so long is the realisation that, no matter how hard I try to deny it, they’re right.

They’re usually right.

I’m usually wrong.

They’re just sorted, you know. You don’t expect to go to them for advice (or money) and come back thinking ‘Huh. What was the point of that?’ They’re the ones that never fail you. They’re just…there. Need life advice? Parents. Need somebody to yell at you once in a while (too often)? Parents. Need to unscrew a jar? Parents.

And then you start to realize, when do you cut the umbilical cord? When you start screwing up and starting to fix it yourself? Or when you start to think that you know more than they do? Truth is, you never really cut that cord. And that’s what really scares me. One day, someday, that cord will be cut. It’s really beyond anyone’s control but that day will come when I mess up in life and I turn around and they aren’t there. For the first time ever. And that’s fucking frightening. It’s like being stranded at sea without a ship, without a float, heck, without a clue.

I’ll learn to swim though, I know I will. And you know why? It’s because they taught me how. Maybe someday I’ll be the float for another monster-in-waiting, even. But that’s a blog post and panic attack reserved for some other day.

Circle of Life

 

Challenge accepted.

I really need to study.

Just pass this exam, they said. Then you’re set, they said. Hearsay is a bitch.

I’ve never had it tougher. Yet.

YET.

I passed my first year of medicine thinking ‘holy crap, they weren’t shitting when they said this is difficult! But hey, couldn’t get tougher than this, right? Right?”

Yeah. Right.

Basically, in retrospective, everything seems easier because what you’re doing right now, is always tougher than what you’ve done before. If you can look back at a time and find yourself thinking, “hey, this is MUCH easier than that!”, you’re doing it wrong.

Challenge yourself. Not because it jolts you out of complacency. Hell, I’d give anything to vegetate in front of the television for a bit without having to worry about trivialities like a career. Or my metabolism.

No.

Challenge yourself because you know you won’t rest until you do. Challenge yourself because you know you can. Challenge yourself because until you do, say hello to that swampy little rut you’re planning to make home.

We’re a weird bunch of people. We grow up thinking we can achieve anything. For my part, ‘anything’ equated with ‘truck driver’ but coming back, reality hit, right  in our unsuspecting faces like pubescent acne and we left our determination to get what we really wanted behind with most of our baby fat. The problem is that we equate ‘hitting a roadblock’ to ‘can’t be done’. The truth is, giving up is a lot easier than sucking it up and taking a few punches to the solar plexus. Sure, it knocks the wind out of you and sure, it brings you to your knees but have you ever noticed, the next time, it doesn’t seem to hurt that bad?

This is me, right now. Doing subjects which, done over 5 years seem impossible, in under a year. It’s like scalingMount Everest. No, actually it’s like scalingMount Everestbuck naked, blindfolded and with a pack of rabid hyenas at your back.

I LOVE IT.

Never Give Up!

It’s so easy to lose sight of something you were doing. Heck, I was studying five minutes ago and now I’m hammering this out on the laptop. Focusing can be quite a bitch (That’s what Nikon said HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Okay, I’m sorry).

In any case, I’d have self diagnosed myself with ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperac-look, sparrow!) a long time back if years of medical school training hadn’t already taught me never to self-diagnose. God knows that damn Merck Manual meant being sure I had leukemia one day to saying my farewells because of my advanced ovarian cancer the other.

And I’m a guy.

That damn Merck Manual can make you believe in all sorts of crazy shit.

Like the Bible.

Okay, I’ll see you in hell.

It’s kind of fitting that I intended this blog post to be a rant on how I couldn’t focus and somewhere along the way I’ve ended up taking potshots at the Holy Book of Christianity.

Back to the discussion at hand – this mental nomadicity kind of blows. Yet, it’s all sorts of awesome. Because I can be studying my ass off one minute to writing posts like this another. Of course, this really sucks too. Primarily because my textbooks end up getting the kind of attention Kim Kardashian’s under-boob area does. And anyone who’s told you that the key to success in life isn’t in a textbook lied to you (and is probably very succesful but fuck that shit).

Typically, I’ve lost track of what I was really trying to say here. Which, all in all, makes this a rather pointless waste of space.

Much like KimK herself.

Nonetheless, I must say something terribly profound in my closing so that you don’t feel entirely cheated out of this blog and here it is -

“Focus not on what you t

Guys! Two sparrows are doing it right outside my window! Be right back.

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Life is like a granola bar.

So, basically – crap.

Of course, not to diss granola bars. They have a few sweet bits here and there but the overall after taste makes you feel like you’re chewing dung.

Like life.

We might be going in a circle here.

The question is not how life ended up in this dung-chewing phase but how I let it go there? Letting important issues rest on the back burner, much like this blog (look, subtle acknowledgement of my late return to blogging!) or wasting my time on trivialities (hahahahaDIE GREEN PIGS DIEhahahahahaWHAT DO YOU MEAN I’M OUT OF ANGRY BIRDS?), I’d bet.

Life wasn’t supposed to be like this while growing up, was it? It seemed so simple on paper, you know. The friends we had back then, the friends we would make in the future, they were all for life. Because, you know, that’s just how it was. Nobody made friends with you just to use you or to bitch about you to your other ‘friend’, right? RIGHT? Blech.

Of course, we were all destined for great success. Failure? Pfftt. That couldn’t touch us. Yeah, well, that needs no further explanation other than – bullshit.

Basically, I could go on and on but the main point I’m trying to make here is that maturity sucks.

Donkeyballs.

And angry birds are amazeballs.

Appending -balls is the new way to make things sound cool.

But I digress.

What sucks even more about maturity is maybe the fact that while I was sitting here, whining my ass off about maturity (ass-donkeyballs. See what I’m doing here?), the swine that I have for friends went right ahead and grew the fuck up.

When the hell did Harry, that asshole who cried when his mother didn’t buy him popcorn, start talking to me about fund investments? When the hell did Ali, that nitwit who couldn’t tie her shoelaces get married? Why is the earth still rotating?

A million such profound questions later, I realised that like it or not, life was dragging me kicking and screaming into this maturity world. But I’ll be damned if I let it get to me. I’ll be damned if I don’t laugh like I didn’t give a care and I’ll be damned if I don’t behave like a mischievious brat every single chance I got. Soon, expect me to run around the house screaming in my underwear. A little after that, expect me getting thrown out of the house.

Now. Enough said and I’m hungry.

If you’ll excuse me, I’m off to finish that granola bar.

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T.G.I. Sunday!

Lazy Sunday!!!
Need I say anything more?
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