EDM and phrases
There are two kinds of people in this world: those who get to see the world and those who don’t. Both are fortunate as well as unfortunate in a lot of ways. Fortunate because some of us are aware of the places that are out there waiting for us to visit. Unfortunate because a lot of us know for a fact that we’ll never be able to end up where we want to be. Amid this crude mix of plans and uncertainties, life drags on. Personally, I am attached to some places — rather the idea of some places; like the treelessness of Iceland, the historic validity of Cambodia, the sharp edges of Ireland, the sacred aloofness of Tierra del Fuego, the presumed hospitality of Pakistan, the senseless joy associated with Scotland and a few other geographies— but I am quite sure I’ll never visit any of them. In fact, there are times when I wonder why I am more comfortable with reading about faraway land and people than actually stepping out of home. Maybe this world exists specifically for those who appreciate it and are physically endowed to subsume the foreign challenges thrown at them, be it extreme sun or excessive snow or an upset stomach. Some of these people are my close friends and when they share their adventures with me, I top it up with random nuggets of information. At that moment, we both feel better about ourselves. Somebody once told me that it’s never too late to travel and I remember responding that it’s never too late to return home either. I hope I edit my outlook soon.
Gurgaon inculcated a long stream of changes in me. A better taste in music being one of them. Earlier, I used to look down upon hip hop artists (too fake) and believed EDM (too mechanical) must do the exact opposite of what Classical does to music. That was in 2015. Nowadays, my list populates everybody from every corner of the globe from every genre. This is what I’ve learnt about music: it’s indescribable because it appeals to our senses directly. How am I supposed to explain what the colour blue is like? Similarly, if I give it a try, I might like it. Once you get such realizations about certain aspects of art, it’s impossible to discriminate any longer. You will give every second tune a try and see if it appeals to your mood. If yes, great. If no, there is so much more to check out.
People, especially men, throw pearls of wisdom on love as if we can ever know what we are talking about. Obviously, attraction plays an important role in the so-called process of ‘falling in love’ but it’s indeed overrated. With age dawns the golden acknowledgment: Being visual creatures, men tend to follow a fixed manual instruction in this regard. Under the crushing crown of youth, we see too much and feel too little.
Chess is indeed an atrocious sport. Irrespective of the outcome, it drains you physically as well as mentally. Not very different from a whirlpool which makes you forget where you are (you’ll end up reaching basement although the elevator stopped at ground floor) or who you are (your friends won’t appreciate you constantly obsessing about owning the c- and h-file) or how you are (you’ve never felt lonelier than while waiting for your online opponent to make his move). Chess is solely responsible for this sedulous ruin. And yet, there are fools who demarcate its destructive power between a win and a loss. For instance, over the last two years, Georgian GM Baadur Jobava — does his first name have anything to do with Bahadur, which has its roots in Farsi? — interestingly, the first three PMs of India had Perso-Arabic monikers: Jawahar, Gulzarilal and Bahadur — saw his rating slip from 2712 to 2584 and is finally climbing up with a streak of wins over higher rated players. Does his upswing say anything about what he feels about chess? When he was losing, did he hate the sport more than he hated himself for failing to squeeze out a draw at least? These are (some of) the questions I wrestle with given my continued affair with the black-and-white squares. I would be lying if my feckless blunders don’t bother me but miracles do happen when you choose not to resign. Take this game for example, my 38th move was a terrible error as I unnecessarily gave up my queen.
However, 10 moves later, I somehow won with a checkmate.
Moral of the story: Don’t give up on your opponent.
As you grow older, everybody you meet reminds you of somebody you knew from your younger days. The mirror doesn’t lie and neither do your balding patches nor your tired dark circles. Time carries out justice in a unique style. Just because we don’t say it out loud doesn’t mean we aren’t suffering. You and I can’t comprehend the design although we might doubt its machinery for fun. Whenever you leaf through an old album and cherish the innocence of your childhood, you are falling right into an immaculate trap set out by whoever is running this universe. And as time passes by, you’ll look further back to find a coherent explanation for what really happened to your body. Nostalgia, they call it. But in practicality, it’s an endless chase. Your beauty is trying (and failing) to keep up with you.
India lost a great leader in Sushma Swaraj. It’s not everyday, given the divisive air we breathe, that people from across the spectrum mourn the loss of a politician. I emphasize on the P-word because our vast country has faced a dire shortage of exemplary leaders since independence. Which is what makes Swaraj’s journey exceptional: hailing from a non-political background, she made remarkable strides with her back straight, and even came wee close to becoming the prime minister. In her case, her conviction (in her ideology) and care (for the masses) showed, not only in her speeches and interviews but also in her actions. From reaching out to stranded Indians in foreign countries to increasing the number of medical visas for Pakistanis, she did what she believed was right. And maybe that’s why when the news of her departure started rupturing on social media, even the harshest critics flowered up their words.
At what point are we to abandon old, redundant and hollow phrases?
“I am fine.”
“Same old, same old.”
“Mandir wahin banega.”
“Sure thing, bro.”
“Cool.”
“Very urgent!”
“Best of regards.”
“Good luck.”
“Simply hate it.”
“Jaa gand mara!”
