Hunger bothers me
But I will not complain.
I am but a no one,
And no one listens to me.
My feet ache
Out of walking barefoot
But I must walk
The place doesn’t belong to me.
This place’s not mine
I don’t belong here
I have no place
And I’m not supposed…
Its not that I have nothing
The penury is mine.
My unheeded wounds,
They do remind.
The tears are mine -
My kith and kin.
For they come to me
When I most need them.
The helplessness is mine
And the loneliness.
The world’s just about fine
I’m invisible.
Life teaches us to live
And we must learn to learn.
I’ve no books
But only experiences.
Everyone errs.
People learn from each others mistakes.
I make my own mistakes
And learn from them.
I will perish
And leave no traces behind.
Except an unsung tale
Of failures and an obscure existence.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Friday, October 10, 2008
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Let me ask you to solve a simple riddle. What is a nine letter word which stands for something that follows you like a shadow, doesn’t let go of you and you can’t get rid of it easily? NO! It’s not Virginity you polluted minds, what I meant to suggest was AMBIGUITY. See, ambiguity is omnipresent, even in my question. In fact, it is far more potent than you would have ever imagined. TRUST ME! I’m not lying.
Ambiguity refers to the state wherein one thing said can have more than just one possible meaning. And as always, there has to be just one intended meaning. But the fact that there are more than just one possible meanings, the probability of the addressee understanding the address is less than or equal to half, mathematically. In simple terms, there is always more than half the chance that you will be misinterpreted. But chance is chance: it has no bearings upon what actually happens. Probability is a mathematical - or let’s say a hypothetical - concept that fails to predict what’ll happen in the real world, outside the framework of the rules that govern it. And from what I have seen so far, let me assure you that you are bound to be misunderstood more often than not. In other words, to some extent, there is absolute certainty that the blasted words you spit from your goddamned mouth, will always betray you and create an unintended reaction from your over-speculative audience. Don’t mind my blasphemous language for it is just intended to bring in some humour. You simply can’t mean what you say. You always have to mean something else. You got to appear like an asinine jerk.
Ambiguity is an irritating and unnerving companion. It’s a pain in the butt: it won’t let you sit and you’ll have to lie on your stomach. Once it sticks to you, like the deadliest of all viruses, it gets into your system folder and modifies the content of your vital system calls, and you are ruined. Even the most obvious of your statements tend to appear like mischievous puns, intended to disrespect people around you. Nobody takes you seriously, and when someone does, he happens to be the beau of a pretty girl who believes she is your object of desire and the results are very unpleasant: you end up wearing a denture. And you know what, I’m married to the dame called Ambiguity already. She’s my wife. And my life …… is …..
We don’t need to look for Ambiguity with a lamp. It’s everywhere: all around us. It’s in the air in the form of sound waves caused by vibrations of the vocal chords of the species that we know as homo sapiens. When we say “I’m sorry”, we mean “stop nagging”. When we say “nice” we mean “not bad”. When we say to a girl “can we be friends” we mean “will you be my girl friend”. When she says “no” she means “I have a boy friend”. When she says “okay” she means “ I don’t have a boy friend now, so consider yourself a temp. You might not be Mr. Right but you might as well be Mr. Right Now.” When she says “I’ll be glad to” she means “I don’t deserve you but luck’s on my side.” When the speaker says “we’ll die for our rights” he means “you do the dying, I’ll do the reaping.” When I say “we are fooling ourselves” I mean “you are fooling yourself.” So, if there is anything that is like advertisements in the middle of interesting news (I mean unnecessarily too much), it has got to be Ambiguity.
During my courtship with Ambiguity, I had observed that things were going astray. My words perpetually conspired against my intentions. I took care to choose my words, and always said what I meant, but people never seemed to understand. To tell you the truth, I’m not just the one she’s been dating. She’s a polygamous bi***. All of us face problems making others understand what we truly intend. I’ve always said that it is better to find out than assume anything. So at one point of time, just to get rid of any ambiguities I always blurted out unnecessary questions. If someone said she could cook, I’d ask if she meant preparing something fit for human consumption by means of heat. If someone asked me to turn on the light, I asked if I was meant to push the electrical switch. If someone asked me why the chicken had crossed the road, I asked what exactly “chicken” was meant to be. At one point of time I was so much into finding out that I became utterly obsessed with Ambiguity. And then people started avoiding me. I distinctly remember the gal who called me home, saying there was no one home. I went there and indeed there was no one home, not even her.
And then I stopped talking much. I do talk but tend to use the least possible number of words. I guessed the amount of Ambiguity was proportional to the number of words. Lately, I have been using the interrogative “What’s that supposed to mean?” pretty often. It’s my favourite line. And these five (or six) words form the combo that I speak most times every single day. So feel free to take a leaf from my book and ask “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ambiguity refers to the state wherein one thing said can have more than just one possible meaning. And as always, there has to be just one intended meaning. But the fact that there are more than just one possible meanings, the probability of the addressee understanding the address is less than or equal to half, mathematically. In simple terms, there is always more than half the chance that you will be misinterpreted. But chance is chance: it has no bearings upon what actually happens. Probability is a mathematical - or let’s say a hypothetical - concept that fails to predict what’ll happen in the real world, outside the framework of the rules that govern it. And from what I have seen so far, let me assure you that you are bound to be misunderstood more often than not. In other words, to some extent, there is absolute certainty that the blasted words you spit from your goddamned mouth, will always betray you and create an unintended reaction from your over-speculative audience. Don’t mind my blasphemous language for it is just intended to bring in some humour. You simply can’t mean what you say. You always have to mean something else. You got to appear like an asinine jerk.
Ambiguity is an irritating and unnerving companion. It’s a pain in the butt: it won’t let you sit and you’ll have to lie on your stomach. Once it sticks to you, like the deadliest of all viruses, it gets into your system folder and modifies the content of your vital system calls, and you are ruined. Even the most obvious of your statements tend to appear like mischievous puns, intended to disrespect people around you. Nobody takes you seriously, and when someone does, he happens to be the beau of a pretty girl who believes she is your object of desire and the results are very unpleasant: you end up wearing a denture. And you know what, I’m married to the dame called Ambiguity already. She’s my wife. And my life …… is …..
We don’t need to look for Ambiguity with a lamp. It’s everywhere: all around us. It’s in the air in the form of sound waves caused by vibrations of the vocal chords of the species that we know as homo sapiens. When we say “I’m sorry”, we mean “stop nagging”. When we say “nice” we mean “not bad”. When we say to a girl “can we be friends” we mean “will you be my girl friend”. When she says “no” she means “I have a boy friend”. When she says “okay” she means “ I don’t have a boy friend now, so consider yourself a temp. You might not be Mr. Right but you might as well be Mr. Right Now.” When she says “I’ll be glad to” she means “I don’t deserve you but luck’s on my side.” When the speaker says “we’ll die for our rights” he means “you do the dying, I’ll do the reaping.” When I say “we are fooling ourselves” I mean “you are fooling yourself.” So, if there is anything that is like advertisements in the middle of interesting news (I mean unnecessarily too much), it has got to be Ambiguity.
During my courtship with Ambiguity, I had observed that things were going astray. My words perpetually conspired against my intentions. I took care to choose my words, and always said what I meant, but people never seemed to understand. To tell you the truth, I’m not just the one she’s been dating. She’s a polygamous bi***. All of us face problems making others understand what we truly intend. I’ve always said that it is better to find out than assume anything. So at one point of time, just to get rid of any ambiguities I always blurted out unnecessary questions. If someone said she could cook, I’d ask if she meant preparing something fit for human consumption by means of heat. If someone asked me to turn on the light, I asked if I was meant to push the electrical switch. If someone asked me why the chicken had crossed the road, I asked what exactly “chicken” was meant to be. At one point of time I was so much into finding out that I became utterly obsessed with Ambiguity. And then people started avoiding me. I distinctly remember the gal who called me home, saying there was no one home. I went there and indeed there was no one home, not even her.
And then I stopped talking much. I do talk but tend to use the least possible number of words. I guessed the amount of Ambiguity was proportional to the number of words. Lately, I have been using the interrogative “What’s that supposed to mean?” pretty often. It’s my favourite line. And these five (or six) words form the combo that I speak most times every single day. So feel free to take a leaf from my book and ask “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
