I lost my domain. And thats sad cos it was cheap and now, just because i missed the renewal notice(s) I can't afford it.
Well.. tough luck but so what?
It's not like this blog ever took off there and it's not like the domain was ever hot property I could have sold off to the highest bidder so I guess it's no great loss.
I can still use this mirror of my soul thanks to blogspot.
I just have to keep repeating this and avoid kicking myself.
Found out something strange yesterday and just had to share.
For those who haven't heard of it, Feni is distilled liquor from cashews. It's loved by many, hated by even more, and Goa's most famous product.
For years Goans have been telling others about the 'undrinkableness' of Feni. The way it burns its way down your throat, the fact that it's the strongest drink around. For years Goans have stood back, watched as a non-goan took his first sip of cashew feni and then had a good laugh at the expression on his face.
Many Goan children are allowed a sip or two of feni at quite a young age as it's considered a miracle cure for colds and stomach upsets alike.
Yesterday I was chatting with a friend of mine (Suspect - for those who've been here before) and feni was mentioned. And he said he loved it. I was puzzled. How did an 18 year old Noida kid get a taste for feni. I knew he'd visited Goa once and figured that he'd tasted it then. But this trip of his was more than a year previously and was a 'family' vacation. I couldn't really see his parents giving him feni to drink!
Well I asked him about it and then the whole story came out... Apparently while I thought feni was safely at home in Goa its been kicking up its heels all over the place. It reached Noida! Thats not even one of the main metros.
Apparently feni is the drink of choice for anyone who wants to get drunk. It's 'cheap, great for getting drunk and tastes good with whatever cheap additive is around' in Suspect's own words.
According to Suspect, up north everyone is creating 'bastardized feni cocktails' with red bull / tetrapack orange juice / three week old coconut milk / and even pineapple juice!!
It's like a child I once knew grew up when my back was turned. And not only that, apparently the child has become a world traveller and is sleeping around with trash!
Feni, feni... roaming so far from home...
THE GOOD
The day started of great. Was chatting with a friend till 4 am and had to be up by 5.30 to go for morning mass. [All Souls Day] So decided it didn't make sense to sleep for just an hour an half. So when the electricity went at about 5 am I wasn't really bothered. I was glad it had happened on a day when I was awake. Figured it would be back by the time I got back, just in time for me to take a nap. I enjoyed riding my bike before sunrise to the chapel. Lovely cold breeze. Saw a small crowd on the way but didn't stop cos there were cops and I don't like cops.
THE BAD
Reached the chapel and things went downhill from there. Mass was slow, then had to make polite conversation with someone I don't like and when I got home, still no electricity. My dad went to check and found that some stupid damn tourists wrapped their vehicle around the electricity pole/transformer [whatever]. The transformer actually landed on their car. [So says dad] So no electricity the full day. Maybe more. No lights, no fans, no microwave, the food in the fridge starting to complain about the heat, and worst of all... no Internet!
THE FANTASY
Having been driven out of my home by some idiotic tourists who can't control their liquor here I sit checking my mail and whining about all the work I could have done if I were home.
And as I sit here I meditate on just how vindictive I want to be. I still don't know what happened to the tourists. The saints of Goa usually protect all drunk people here. [They don't protect the innocent souls the drunk drivers run into!] The tourists are probably starting to work out how they're going to recount their adventures once they're back home. But... I can always use my imagination. Apparently the trauma caused by the passage of electric current through the body (as from contact with high voltage lines or being struck by lightning) involves burns and abnormal heart rhythm and unconsciousness. Now that's a very satisfying thought!
Something happened a week ago that made me want to rant n rave. However I practiced the self-control for which I am known n held off. I decided if I still felt like blogging about it in a week I would do so.
Well here I am. Mad as a hornet.
This post is my reaction to a conversation I overheard. I wasn't supposed to hear it but I couldn't help myself. I rattled about making a lot of noise so that the people talking would hear me n shut up but no luck. They were totally absorbed. The conversation was between my dad n another man I've known all my life.
That man has a problem. Maybe addiction would be a better word. I'm not going to get into specifics but it's a form of gambling. For the sake of clarity I'm going to call him Matka Man. Just incase you don't know - Matka is a type of illegal lottery that many people are addicted to. This guy isn't addicted to matka but the effects are the same. Right from the time my dad first knew him he used to spend his time n money gambling with some friends. At the time he'd just gotten married but that didn't stop him. Not even the arrival of 2 children over the years had any effect. Then all of sudden he cleaned up his act. He focused on building up his reputation. He's always been known for his integrity n efficiency n with a lot of hard work he retired last year as the head of his section.
And then, he started gambling again. It's causing a lot of turmoil in his family. His wife earns about half of what he used to and they depend on his pension. And yet, every day, the Matka Man will be out gambling. One night my dad n I had to go out in our car searching for him cos he hadn't come home even by 1.00 am. and his wife was terrified. He refuses to buy a cell phone. Probably because he wouldn't be able to disappear as freely as he does now.
I don't know how the conversation started that day but I was privileged to hear his reasoning. According to him he has no other way to pass his time. When my dad suggested a little part time work or consulting he was adamant that he had paid his dues n was going to 'enjoy' his retirement. According to him he gave his wife a part of his pension n since she didn't know about the part he was keeping for his gambling each month it couldn't hurt her. And this from a man who keeps saying she's spending too much on their children. I pity his wife. With her salary n the portion of his that he thinks she deserves she has to meet all the expenses as well as her kids demands n there are lots of those.
Why do men like that ever marry? Matka Man would have been much happier if he'd stayed single. A man who puts his enjoyment above his children's needs, in my opinion is a total failure as a husband and as a father. And all this from a man who keeps talking about his personal integrity and moral values. He'll defend his 'principles' till he's blue in the face. Can't he see what he's doing wrong?
He prides himself on being an intellectual. He loves to debate with people because he can use his reasoning n language skills to confuse them. And then he sits all smug convinced that he's superior to just about everyone else. I used to respect him before because when all's said n done he does have high principles in general and he's usually willing to listen to reason. But now, after being forced to listen to him defending an indefensible habit n still sounding self-righteous, I'm having a hard time even looking at his face.
Matka Man did his best to convince my dad he's in the right. That he deserves the freedom to enjoy the rest of his life. My dad did his best to convince him that gambling was just as much of an addiction as alcohol n drugs. That life can be enjoyed even without such selfish behaviour. But the conversation wound up going round n round in circles. So the Matka Man left as he'd come, still smug n convinced he'd done no wrong. Still bewailing the fact that his kids aren't as great as other people's kids. Forgetting that they had to grow up living with an absent father who never showed them they were valued. Still complaining that his wife was a nag. Forgetting that he had made her one. With his feet set firmly on the road of self-deception. Trying to convince the world to walk with him.
Many of you reading this will assume I'm just trying to be funny. I'm not.
The past few days have been one long war against the Mosquito Mafia in my house. The battle ground is the computer room though we have little skirmishes on the stairs and on occasion in the hall. Actually those skirmishes are usually one sided. I see the enemy relaxing defenceless n swoop, ruthlessly decimating all in sight. But the main battle in the computer room is another story altogether.
The mosquitoes very cleverly took possession of the room so quietly n secretly that no one noticed. The first time it came to my attention was a couple of days ago when one of them (must have been drunk) came buzzing around my head. I killed him of course. What would you have done. And yet, though the kill was only in retaliation to the attack, the mosquitoes decided it was matter of honour and declared war. I was attacked relentlessly. I'd get a few n the rest would lie low. The moment I sat down n lowered my defences another squad would be sent in to take me out.
Eventually I prevailed and the mosquitoes were forced to retreat to higher levels. I would have accepted that. I'm a peace loving person by nature and I would have been ok with sharing the room. As long as the bottom 6 feet were clear they could have had the rest. BUT... I reckoned without their thirst for revenge. The survivors got the word out and soon reinforcements from other families started pouring in. I realised I needed help too. Unfortunately in these sad days good help is hard to find. I tried and met with ridicule. My sister howled with laughter (she still giggles everytime I kill a mosquito), my mom advised Odomus. I refused. There has got to be a better way of defending oneself. I mean c'mon, it's all very well for skunks but really...I didn't ask my dad for help cos I knew he'd wade right in with flit and though personally I love the smell, I knew it might result in my mom leaving before the mosquitoes.
So as you can see I had absolutely no option but to do what I did next. I know it may seem like an unfair measure, but you know they say, 'all's fair in love and war'. And anyway, since they were the ones who brought in outside help, I figured I could take the high tech route. Using brain over brawn. Hence the shift to biological weapons. Some might say overkill. I say dead is dead. Doesn't matter how. Hence I moved the 'All Out' thingy from my room to the war zone. Now the mosquitoes brains are so addled they come and sit peacefully right next to me. At which time I take great pleasure in squishing them. Of course I've considered the fact that they may be trying to surrender. Huh! Unless they find a way of holding little white flags they'd be better off making peace with their maker.
Yesterday an old lady from my mom's village died. Everyone in the village, and even families like mine who had hardly any connection with it, knew her as 'Adu mami'. She was really old and had been bed-ridden for a long time n yet her death made more of an impact on me than any death for years.
It wasn't that I knew her well. I didn't. Maybe it was the fact that she knew me. She knew my birthday n she made sure she knew of every important development in my life. It wasn't anything personal. She was like the village memory bank. She knew everything about everyone there. In a way, though I never really felt that I belonged there, as long as she was alive, I was a part of the village.
No one else there might know that I belong. Very few people will know whose daughter I am. She knew. And she always made sure I knew too. I will miss her.
It's already 11.30 n I need to write a post n go watch some t.v. at twelve. Unfortunately the cat is sitting on the chair next to me and demanding that I scratch his head n neck. Hence my two-finger typing has now be reduced to one finger typing, since my right hand is busy petting the cat...
Now he's bending n making sure I scratch his ear. What's it with cats n their ears. I've seen him scratching his ears loads of times. When he can do it himself I think it's rude of him to make me do it. I'd rather scratch his chin. Atleast then I feel useful. I pretty sure he can't do it himself.
Ok, now while he takes a break n gives himself a good lick all over I'll try n finish this off.
I used to hate cats until I was about 14 when my mom n sis brought a tiny kitten home. She was so adorable even my dog loved her. He used to lick her whenever she was wet or hurt during her escapades. I can't really imagine anyone being able to stay aloof from a little kitten that's determined to crawl into your lap and snuggle up.
Hmmm... I think I'm going a little off track. What I started out to do was explain the basic difference between the natures of cats n dogs.
If a man takes good care of his dog, takes him for walks at the right time, gves him good food, loves him n in short is an ideal master the dog will think, "My master must be a really wonderful person. He wouldn't take such good care of me otherwise."
If a man takes care of a cat the same way, with love n devotion, the cat will think, "I must be a really wonderful creature. This human wouldn't take such good care of me otherwise."
Tagging along with my dad today I had far too much time to think. Not the good kind of time either. I don't know how many people are as fascinated with their own minds as I am. Disgusted and horrified sometimes, true, but fascinated all the same.
For instance today the dentist told me to get a full OPG x-ray. Atleast I think that's what it's called. It's an x-ray of my full jaw. And the first thought that flashed through my mind was that now my folks have a way to identify my body in case I'm burnt to death or disfigured in any way.
In books, people abroad always seem to rely on dental x-rays and old healed fractures. "John Doe's right arm and right leg were both fractured at some time. Mr. XYZ fractured his right arm and right leg in a car accident 10 years ago. Ergo, John Doe is probably Mr. XYZ."
I've never had a fracture. It used to bother me sometimes. How the hell would the authorities identify me in case I was in a huge accident and my body was burned to a crisp. I don't even have any tattoos or identifying scars even if some skin escaped the flames. Well I guess now I can relax.
Though come to think of it I don't see why I should care whether they identify me or not after I'm dead.
That's the problem with most people and I seem to have walked into that trap myself. In real life what you believe becomes your reality in most cases. Most people don't understand that. As long as my folks think they've got the right body it's as good as if they actually have the right body. After all it won't make any difference to me either way.
If you think facts always matter consider this, if you believe that your boyfriend/girlfriend is cheating on you, whether you realise it or not your attitude towards the person will change and your decision to break off will be determined by your belief.
What does the truth matter in a situation like that.
In the case of Couple A. Say the boy is cheating but the girl is convinced he's loyal. They won't split up. Her belief in his loyalty will have the same effect as his actual loyalty.
In the case of Couple B. Say the boy is loyal. If the girl is convinced he's cheating on her she'll eventually break up with him. Or else she'll drive him crazy with her suspicions and he'll dump her. In either case the relationship is doomed.
Think about it. You live life according to what you believe each day. If you just knew exactly what you wanted you could choose what to believe in and structure your life around you. Nobody seems to understand that we are building the blocks of our life with our thoughts.
Despite this most people prefer knowledge to belief. Take the example above. If the girl in the case of Couple B wants a happy relationship she can choose to have faith and be happy and ignorant. But by our very nature, humans will usually not choose to live in ignorance. Someday I'll take a poll. I wonder how many girls/guys would prefer to be happy and ignorant about a cheating partner.
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And on a slightly different topic...
What are we made off? What is everything made off?
Atoms, I believe.
What are atoms made off?
Electrons and protons. Or rather positive and negative charges. Can you imagine that?
Everything you touch, everything you see, isn't really there. They're just charges. You're just a bundle of positive and negative charges.
Shit! I'm really wandering here. Time to go and gloat over my dental x-rays.
