A letter
Dear Chairman of Phillip Morris,
I am writing to thank you for all the years of pleasure that your products have given me. I do not regret for a single moment the fact that I started smoking and look back with relief on all those social occasions where I would have no doubt stammered, if not for my faithful (and then not very expensive) pleasure crutch.
But as I get older I regret to inform you that I begin to find this entire exercise of buying, unwrapping and inhaling rather tiresome. So I have not been furthering acquaintance with your products for quite some time.
But I have always had a fear at the back of my mind that I would get reintroduced to Messrs. Stokes and Blunts. Indulge me for a moment and allow me to elaborate. I know that some day in my life I will be on the top of a beautiful mountain in Japan. The meadows will be green and the tops will be white. The ascent of a pagoda will be visible in the distance. I shall have a one-way ticket from Tokyo somewhere in my pocket. There shall be a hint of some strolling, benevolent cows. Clouds will caress me and a beautiful Japanese girl shall be by my side, playing a flute. She will say, “Honey, would you like some sake and a cigarette?”
Till today, I knew I would not be able to refuse her offer. Ah, I would surely need a cigarette in such beautiful contentment to complete my sense of fulfillment.
However, this morning I thought of myself smoking on that very same mountaintop. I shuddered with disgust. Hence, My Dear Chairman, I regretfully announce my resignation from your family and encourage you to disown your loyal child as soon as possible.
Sincerely,
Dear Chairman of Phillip Morris,
I am writing to thank you for all the years of pleasure that your products have given me. I do not regret for a single moment the fact that I started smoking and look back with relief on all those social occasions where I would have no doubt stammered, if not for my faithful (and then not very expensive) pleasure crutch.
But as I get older I regret to inform you that I begin to find this entire exercise of buying, unwrapping and inhaling rather tiresome. So I have not been furthering acquaintance with your products for quite some time.
But I have always had a fear at the back of my mind that I would get reintroduced to Messrs. Stokes and Blunts. Indulge me for a moment and allow me to elaborate. I know that some day in my life I will be on the top of a beautiful mountain in Japan. The meadows will be green and the tops will be white. The ascent of a pagoda will be visible in the distance. I shall have a one-way ticket from Tokyo somewhere in my pocket. There shall be a hint of some strolling, benevolent cows. Clouds will caress me and a beautiful Japanese girl shall be by my side, playing a flute. She will say, “Honey, would you like some sake and a cigarette?”
Till today, I knew I would not be able to refuse her offer. Ah, I would surely need a cigarette in such beautiful contentment to complete my sense of fulfillment.
However, this morning I thought of myself smoking on that very same mountaintop. I shuddered with disgust. Hence, My Dear Chairman, I regretfully announce my resignation from your family and encourage you to disown your loyal child as soon as possible.
Sincerely,
Fly vs. fly?
Sometimes, science is spirituality. Consider this. It is possible to build an entire fruit fly by utilizing the genetic code blueprint. Did you know that 60% of the genes found in the fruit fly are found in human beings? If humans and flies have this much in common, then how different can we people be from each other?
So what this means is that a human race made entirely of compound eyes is not implausible. This might be a useful sentencing method to drive people who seek to divide on all things intangible, to some introspection.
Sometimes, science is spirituality. Consider this. It is possible to build an entire fruit fly by utilizing the genetic code blueprint. Did you know that 60% of the genes found in the fruit fly are found in human beings? If humans and flies have this much in common, then how different can we people be from each other?
So what this means is that a human race made entirely of compound eyes is not implausible. This might be a useful sentencing method to drive people who seek to divide on all things intangible, to some introspection.
Tricks
I am suspicious. Is Bush claiming that Osama is alive only to lend urgency to his argument to step up the war on terror?
On another note...
I am a Hindu. I can say this confidently, not merely because I was born a Hindu, but because I believe completely in the Hindu way of thought. Birth, smhmirth. In the same manner you cannot be born a brahmin or an untouchable. Why then were 4 dalits ("untouchables") skinned alive just because they killed a cow? Gandhi used to call the so called untouchables "Harijans" or "Children of God" in an attempt to elevate their social status.
If Hindus in India today cannot appreciate the inherent truth in Gandhi's views on Harijans then the "untouchables" have every right to convert to Islam or Buddhism. This would also be some positive publicity for Islam, to which Osama and his band of crack smoking, some other world living Wahabians have given a bad name all over the world.
Else, they have the option of converting to Buddhism. This is simple and all one has to do to be Buddhist is be alive in every moment. If society needs a label, as it so often does then rituals can also be performed shamelessly in public.
They must do what they have to. So that they can roam and mingle freely with human beings and cows alike.
I am suspicious. Is Bush claiming that Osama is alive only to lend urgency to his argument to step up the war on terror?
On another note...
I am a Hindu. I can say this confidently, not merely because I was born a Hindu, but because I believe completely in the Hindu way of thought. Birth, smhmirth. In the same manner you cannot be born a brahmin or an untouchable. Why then were 4 dalits ("untouchables") skinned alive just because they killed a cow? Gandhi used to call the so called untouchables "Harijans" or "Children of God" in an attempt to elevate their social status.
If Hindus in India today cannot appreciate the inherent truth in Gandhi's views on Harijans then the "untouchables" have every right to convert to Islam or Buddhism. This would also be some positive publicity for Islam, to which Osama and his band of crack smoking, some other world living Wahabians have given a bad name all over the world.
Else, they have the option of converting to Buddhism. This is simple and all one has to do to be Buddhist is be alive in every moment. If society needs a label, as it so often does then rituals can also be performed shamelessly in public.
They must do what they have to. So that they can roam and mingle freely with human beings and cows alike.
A dropped catch
The cricket match between India and the West Indies was abandoned today because of crowd trouble. This is the third time in as many matches that such an incident has occured. All the therapists jumped off their couches and to the newspapers. The problem, according to them is that India has very little else going for it in the world of sport (sorry Vishwanathan Anand, world no. 1 in chess won't do). They point out that the majority of spectators are below the lower middle class line and have very little going on for themselves. This cocktail of national and individual sourness make for an explosive mixture. Jeers take the form of mud cakes and glass bottles thrown on hapless players.
We can easily judge the spectators who indulged in this behavior and call them a disgrace to the nation. At every instance looking towards the world for approval, we feel hurt when such incidents are reported on the BBC, Channel 9, etc. We exercise such sentiments of disgust towards these "undesirable crowd elements". This is not India, we say. But as incidents such a today proved, it is the India of today. Maybe it is time to stop protesting our innocence and indulge in some introspection. We can ask our thinkers and elected officials for some tangible answers.
Most of us are passionate about some form of sport. Why then do some of us cross the line? Is it because our ego, frustrated by society and lack of opportunity in every regard, suddenly needs to a few cricket matches to bolster itself?
Or is there more to this?
I don't know.
The cricket match between India and the West Indies was abandoned today because of crowd trouble. This is the third time in as many matches that such an incident has occured. All the therapists jumped off their couches and to the newspapers. The problem, according to them is that India has very little else going for it in the world of sport (sorry Vishwanathan Anand, world no. 1 in chess won't do). They point out that the majority of spectators are below the lower middle class line and have very little going on for themselves. This cocktail of national and individual sourness make for an explosive mixture. Jeers take the form of mud cakes and glass bottles thrown on hapless players.
We can easily judge the spectators who indulged in this behavior and call them a disgrace to the nation. At every instance looking towards the world for approval, we feel hurt when such incidents are reported on the BBC, Channel 9, etc. We exercise such sentiments of disgust towards these "undesirable crowd elements". This is not India, we say. But as incidents such a today proved, it is the India of today. Maybe it is time to stop protesting our innocence and indulge in some introspection. We can ask our thinkers and elected officials for some tangible answers.
Most of us are passionate about some form of sport. Why then do some of us cross the line? Is it because our ego, frustrated by society and lack of opportunity in every regard, suddenly needs to a few cricket matches to bolster itself?
Or is there more to this?
I don't know.
Chain of thought
As a young boy Gregory took most things seriously. These included flossing, studying hard, being considerate towards his parents and dating the right girls. He liked three lamps that resided in his drawing room and got particularly nervous when the bulbs blew out. He wanted to study hard, get into brilliant colleges, get a great job-maybe even travel the world- and marry the most beautiful woman. On November 10, 2002 went to see a movie. It was the only theater in his town of Mossy Grove. A tornado hit the cinema hall. Gregory died. Just like that. The headlines could have very well screamed, "Young Man with hopes, aspirations, fears and desires dies out of circumstances totally out of his making".
This goes to show how fickle life is. Yet, we tend to take it too seriously as if we can make it any different. I am not making an argument for fatalism, just one for against expectation of fruits borne out of conscious actions. Why then do we give ourselves so much importance when there is safety in numbers and there is a case for the perpindicular pronoun "I" to be substituted with the more rounded "We". Even Gandhi felt that the primary reason for existance was to serve the less fortunate. The point that is being made is that such as scenario is not how we should be, but how we only possibly can be.
The spirit of community is fraught with frailties in poorer countries, In the developing world there are classic cases of looking at evrything in a compartmentalized manner. On one end there are NGO workers who tend to view everything as hopeless, worthy of sympathy or even- I heard this a couple of months ago- "hysterical". They are well meaning, caring people but at the back of their mind know that they come from lands filled with opportunity, to which they can always return. Hence, they can never be true agents of change.
At the other end of the spectrum are elitist local people who see the five star hotels but never the slums lying adjacent to them. The agenda of such people is to see their country a part of the G8, widely covered in the news of Western media or having a permanent seat in the security council. Such people would much rather read this article than this one.
So if one looks at Shanti in the article above and Gregory, it is clear that "the best laid plans of mice and men oft gang agley." There is little point in planning and then brooding about personal failures. We must spend more time celebrating. Since we have to exist in a community why then do we not celebrate with our neighbors, tailors, teachers and cobblers?
What can we celebrate? The UN has made a list of days brimming with noble thoughts and aspirations. If we stop thinking of these as purely global events and observe them on a purely local basis, then on a community by community-rich or poor- level, we can truly find some truth in life, which is after all a little bit of this and a little bit of that.
As a young boy Gregory took most things seriously. These included flossing, studying hard, being considerate towards his parents and dating the right girls. He liked three lamps that resided in his drawing room and got particularly nervous when the bulbs blew out. He wanted to study hard, get into brilliant colleges, get a great job-maybe even travel the world- and marry the most beautiful woman. On November 10, 2002 went to see a movie. It was the only theater in his town of Mossy Grove. A tornado hit the cinema hall. Gregory died. Just like that. The headlines could have very well screamed, "Young Man with hopes, aspirations, fears and desires dies out of circumstances totally out of his making".
This goes to show how fickle life is. Yet, we tend to take it too seriously as if we can make it any different. I am not making an argument for fatalism, just one for against expectation of fruits borne out of conscious actions. Why then do we give ourselves so much importance when there is safety in numbers and there is a case for the perpindicular pronoun "I" to be substituted with the more rounded "We". Even Gandhi felt that the primary reason for existance was to serve the less fortunate. The point that is being made is that such as scenario is not how we should be, but how we only possibly can be.
The spirit of community is fraught with frailties in poorer countries, In the developing world there are classic cases of looking at evrything in a compartmentalized manner. On one end there are NGO workers who tend to view everything as hopeless, worthy of sympathy or even- I heard this a couple of months ago- "hysterical". They are well meaning, caring people but at the back of their mind know that they come from lands filled with opportunity, to which they can always return. Hence, they can never be true agents of change.
At the other end of the spectrum are elitist local people who see the five star hotels but never the slums lying adjacent to them. The agenda of such people is to see their country a part of the G8, widely covered in the news of Western media or having a permanent seat in the security council. Such people would much rather read this article than this one.
So if one looks at Shanti in the article above and Gregory, it is clear that "the best laid plans of mice and men oft gang agley." There is little point in planning and then brooding about personal failures. We must spend more time celebrating. Since we have to exist in a community why then do we not celebrate with our neighbors, tailors, teachers and cobblers?
What can we celebrate? The UN has made a list of days brimming with noble thoughts and aspirations. If we stop thinking of these as purely global events and observe them on a purely local basis, then on a community by community-rich or poor- level, we can truly find some truth in life, which is after all a little bit of this and a little bit of that.
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