Crap

this post remained on the boiler for long. never knew if i should have been warranted the audacity to write something such as this, especially since i’m very new to design. finally decided that thoughts, no matter how naive, sometimes ought to be expressed, simply so that they may be read, contemplated upon, and there-by be better suited to refinement, possibly (and seemingly) for the better.

there was big talk. and there was small talk. there were idiots who said design as a field sucked. and there were idiots who proclaimed it didn’t. and then, there was…something, called me.

in principle, any field – be it engineering, be it medicine, be it political sciences, be it accounting, or be it cobbling or rag-picking – each is equally perfect. and each of them can, in a deeper, philosophical sense, be invaluable to humanity, or earth, or the universe even. and on the face of it, each of them is just a means of keeping us occupied and a means of getting us those two square meals we crave for. to live. live – unto what? no one knows.

i am very-much inclined to go down the “whole universe will get destroyed some day, so why live” route here; then again, shall not.

people have said to me that design is all about designing for humanity, and i’ve convinced myself (or, sufficiently allowed others to convince me) that design is a (figuratively-)divine field that has no bounds. i can design something as (outwardly-)simple as a visiting card, or a website, or a chair, or a car, or a naval warship, or complicated social architecture, or an entire system that will enclose within it every person alive today. and well, it’s really quite true. i can. and design is a field that’d give me all the freedom to do so.

but then – the more i see, the more i seem to get convinced that design isn’t really that special. it’s just common sense. true, the common sense does come after practising a fair-bit, and i need to be a ‘designer’ to be permitted that practice. i’ve just spent two days (unsuccessfully) trying to come up with a visiting card design for a client at my internship. i admit, maybe i suck at it. but, as i practised, and practised some more, over the two days, i saw myself get better at it.

it’s all about taking up the cause, and trying. and failing and trying. a guy with no formal education can try to sit and make something that helps rid him of some inconvenience in life, and well, he may end up solving one of the world’s biggest issues. who knows!

all i can see for now, is that i don’t really want to be (branded) a designer. i just want to be a guy who can use his common sense. and maybe help some people along the way. if that’s what you call design, then design it is.

even so, why does design suddenly feel so constricted. why do i not enjoy making tiny posters that’ll probably change no one’s lives? why can i not just walk up to dr manmohan singh and speak with him of all my ideas that’d help change the world? why do we let kasab live while he laughs his ass off at us from the prison cell? what use is all our might when we can’t even physically force pakistan to prevent erstwhile-arrested terrorists from roaming free? why…why?!!

design won’t let me achieve that. or maybe it will. i’m dazed.

–
from: 1 am. june 5, 2009.
(hence, the connections to the news from that day, such as that day’s events from kasab’s trial)

The little girl never really sat on the rock, instead, wandered about, along the shore of the mighty Bramhaputra. She searched for shiny pebbles, or for twigs that floated ashore, or simply played about with her frock or the twirls in her hair, as she spent her days in the company of what-ever suited her best. Sometimes she came-by along-with a boy, sometimes, with a pet, and oft, by herself.

The rock – he had weathered the river for ages, and watched as the river flooded, and consumed all that came under its swell. The rock knew that he too, would soon be gone; lost in the waters of the world forever. The girl would forever remember the rock, even as she would grow into a fine young woman, go along her way, and travel the globe, unto newer shores, and greener pastures.

The girl was a dreamer. And nothing consumed her more thoroughly than planning her wedding. She was a pretty, dainty lass, one of the few that came by the shore. Naturally, she was doted upon by many; those who came upon the beautiful lands, from places afar. The lands – yes. Legend had it that a magical lore nested in these ancient lands, and blossomed along the river’s shores, for the young to wrestle success and wisdom from.

Her heart quivered, and forever did her decisions elude her. Many a boys’ offer did she accede to, only to let her emotions crumble away soon-after. Maybe she was as naive, as fickle, as those that searched the shores for wisdom-not-to-be. Maybe she was just normal, thought the rock, as he silently watched her from his bed by the waves, upon the shore that she had grown to call her own.

For long, in her solitude, or in her wallow, had the girl shared her life with the rock. And indeed, the rock had done so too. For, if there was magic in these lands, it was thus – unto those that swayed not to selfish greed, it was the rocks that, erstwhile inanimate, came to life. Not the sands, not the flowers, not the waters that the boys scavenged – the wisdom lay embedded in the rocks that none otherwise glanced upon.

Secrets that none-else knew of, or even vagaries that none would have bothered unto, flowed seamlessly between them. Sometimes, she lent an ear to his melancholy; something that the rock otherwise withheld in abundance. More oft, there were smiles, there were laughs, and there were pleasures that their conversations lent to their lives. Above all, they were friends. And, thus, the wisdom was for her to own. For, unlike her lovers, her innocence never bore want to steal the rock’s wisdom; thus-with, only she could own it.

She mused, and did so aloud at-times, as she straddled along her shore. She oft-wondered, as to why the river hadn’t flood her shore for so long. Every year the river swelled, ever to bring death and destruction, to henceforth usher in new life – her shore, however, lay unspoilt to the ravages of time. But the rock remanined silent, in-pretense unknowing, never moved by her playful queries, although he knew the of river’s ways.

One day, as the clouds rolled in, she came by with tears in her eyes. It was not unlike her, to be disraught thus. The rock prodded in-caution, urging her to share her grief, only to be shunned away as froth. She was human, after-all – her grief consumed her, and weighed down on her frailties. She felt as though the world conspired against her, and brought upon her such pain. She sought not another’s company, and forsook her friend unto solitude. Her self consumed her, making her believe that she alone, could part her from her grief.

When she came to herself, few days hence, she made her way again to her shore, in calm and composure. Alas, she saw, that the river had flood, and her shore had been lost. Whence lay her rock, whence swept the waves the gleaming sand, now turned to silt flowed within the swollen tide. The rock, in all it’s grime, was nowhere to be found. Her shore was lost, never to be her’s again.

And as she sulked, she wondered. Had the friendship she’d estranged been the very magic that her shore had once thrived upon?

Me: So, is that really your real name, or just a pet name that you publicise?

Her: Naah, that’s just it.

Her (thought): IITian! Can’t come up with a better pick-up line than that!

Me (thought): Dammit, perfect. Now she’s never gonna go out with you! Whoever let her parents name her!

Some pointless conversations ensue. And then,

Her: So, you smoke?

Her (thought): I so hopes he asks me out now. We can sneak off for a while.

Me: No. Actually, i have this weird aversion to smokers and drinkers. Just develop this instant dislike for them. Dunno.

Me (thought): Now she’s totally gone.

Her: Oh. Okay then. Cya!

–

Later, the next night, as i walked past the Admin block, i can make out two familiar figures, heading in the other direction (thus, walking toward me).

Me (thought): Why the heck is that other girl with her? Shoo girl, shoo!

Girl won’t shoo. Obviously.

Me (thought): Think of something…Quick !

Too close to not say anything.

Me (looking at the other lady): So, you ladies collected your certificates?

Other lady: Blah Blah

Me: Blah Blah

Me (thinking): Why can’t you bring yourself to look at her, nut! Look, 10 degrees to the West, turn cadet!

Me and Other lady: Blah Blah.

Me: Anyway, hope you guys had fun here. Have a nice trip back!

–

Over the phone, some days later. The visiting delegates had returned to where they’d come from.

Her: Nut, couldn’t you just ask me out?

Me: Nut, couldn’t you just ask me out?

Her: Because…(supposed to be understood)

Me: Why’s the guy always gotta do the hard stuff ?! I can’t tolerate this hypocricy! First, you say that girls and guys must be treated equally. And then this !

Her: Laugh.

Me: Laugh. (Aargh !)

–

Memories. Techniche 2008.

PS. I know better pick-up lines. But it wasn’t my fault. Her name really is silly. I so totally won’t let her name her children. No !

life. a rat-race. everyone darts ahead. whoever thought of those that can’t run. or walk? doesn’t anyone wonder.. everyone’s united. in this fabric called society. stand back. halt a bit. and lend a hand. a smile. and take them with you. let yourself leave the world a better place than what it invited you in as. let it. it’s not much. but still, it’s a lot.

The following link, crawls onto a post i’d written some time ago. I might have written it purely out of sarcasm over an enforced job, back then, yet, having seen the fillip the We Care initiative has gotten, i figure the verse i wrote on that post does seem quite apt :

[ http://arayans.wordpress.com/2008/01/14/we-care/ ]

If you can, do ignore the words i wrote below the verse [ :) ]. I think, today, i may finally have begun to believe in the verse i’d once composed.

originally a sketch i made for an assignment, it took me 8 hours making. was supposed to make a personal logo of sorts, incorporating all the aspects of my character, which each of my class-mates pointed out. They didn’t point out too many, but how many ever they did, i added them all in.

organised. cruel to my laptop [!]. thin. love my bag. and my short pants. writer. sketcher. helpful. speaker. articulate.

in the end, the prof rubbished my assignment, saying that it wasn’t enough of a ‘logo’. hehe…

p.s. yes, i’ve used only pencils to make it. and i also feel that the ‘organised’ aspect, though drawn, isn’t really what i am. dunno why my fellow-designers think so!

wanned to write sommet that deals with the above image. here goes.

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2am. Friday. [08/08/08]

Insomnia attack. Blurring eyesight. Horrid weakness. Enthusiasm to work for Techniche seems to be (at best) sagging. For a simple reason – i AM tired. Still, i continue – have a proposal i must finish. If i don’t, Techniche’d lose a sponsor i’d worked painstakingly for.

5am. Friday.

Possibly the most stunning sunrise of my life. Viewed from the balcony, room 114, kapili hostel, iit guwahati. I confess – i possess not the ability to describe it.

7pm. Friday.

Post-8-hours in DoD, practising ‘Elements of Design’ [to the uninitiated, DoD = Department of Design = Heaven]. Just emerged from the department, and stood. And watched. A live performance. The cast : A dark sky, cumulus clouds, a crescent moon, and unbelievable lighting effects.

The clouds glow from enwithin, short busts of light seem to expose the very skeletons of the ghostly spectres. This goes on for sometime – now this cloud, then the other, and then flashes from both the clouds – it’s an uncanny trick the clouds play with your mind, leading you to believe that you can guess which cloud will light up next. And just when you think you had it all figured out – a bolt of lightning darts from taop of the loftiest ball-ó-white, and pierces the sky, stabbing the cloud half-way across the horizon. Forget about skipping a heart-beat – i just experienced a life-time.

7pm. Saturday.

First rains since the semester began. Meanwhile, we designers was hanging out, making wild designs of cars and watching PinkFloyd’s concert in the conference hall of DoD. Truly happie-ferous.

3am. Sunday.

Insomnia attack again. Coupled with blurring eyesight. Added bonus – an intermittent pain in the head. Not to mention, dangerous weight loss.

Poignant.

Last night saw me on a date. Just me, and my cycle. We drank to freedom. And to sadness.

My campus is splendid; 700 acres of bliss, they’d say. Then again, disrepair is a flaw so inherent in Indian society, that degrade is a visitor who just couldn’t be kept out.

Summer is on its way. And even the sporadic showers can’t stall the inevitable. The birds have left; the Siberian migrators were here for but a few days – i didn’t even get to observe them at length. The lake surface is vacant, and the ripples seem morose. The lake-sides have been cleared under the pretext of cleanliness drives, revealing the barren earth below – for once, i long for weeds to return. As if nature’s own measures hadn’t left me depressed, humans have gone on a construction spree, and marshes have been filled. Mountains have been carved away, to provide for the death of the marshes.

Trees are condemned to a handful of hillsides, wherein scoundrels await; axes poised in hand. Each dawn brings news of yet another bereavement. Freak-fires sequentially bludgeon whatever hope i toil to gather. Even the rains seem to pose as harbingers of degradation. Of tears. My single companion, that stood by me as i compelled myself to stay on at IITG, seems on the brink of death. I witness as pretence to development invites natural decay. Yet again, a paradise blooms unto noneity. Doesn’t anyone notice? Doesn’t anyone care?

So i rode. The wind caught my hair, smuggled itself into my jacket, and conspired to lift me off. And i obeyed. Freedom beckoned; seldom can i turn down an intoxicant so strong. I cycled faster than i ever had. And within, i wept. It’s weird, when you hate forcing solitude unto yourself, and yet, confirm to remain that way… So i was free. Unto what? The roads seemed empty. The shadows blank. The lights were dim, and there was no scent to follow. I’d died, and my freedom presented unto me, sheer solitude. Complete hollow.

I was drifting away from the path i’d set out on, and i knew it. The road lay out before me, and still, there were far too many exits i’d ventured into. Laze, and short-sight. My nemeses, stood by me, as i drifted. And drifted… Slowly, i fell back onto the path i’d set out on. But my legs were heavy. And the muscles cramped. And i longed for a hand. Only to remember that i’d set out alone. And that’s the way it’d remain.

Big dreams. Too feeble a dreamer. Too feeble. Cheers.