The Dreaming Tree

1:30 AM
Purple moor, purple road and the purple moon. High on life and high on an organic group that he otherwise hated. As he stumbled towards his dry abode, an uninteresting square room with three equally boring companions, the lucid truth of the situation struck him down like talons on a wet toad. A mini fortune had turned him into this no holds barred, truth speaking, finger pointing, opinionated 19 year old with an extremely full bladder. Ignoring nature, he squatted on the road, head in his hands and a surprisingly clear series of thoughts. Wasn’t I supposed to be this way?, he asked himself.. Was I supposed to be locked in social chains of unwritten rules and approximate protocol? He allowed himself a smirk, my vocabulary’s increasing, thought he. And with the swiftness that sobriety often robs us of, he decided to act this way, always, to rid himself of the hesitation and apprehension that this world had given him in a gift wrapped heart shaped box.

Next Morning
9 AM
That dude is high! Take that for an entry. Reception as expected, recorded his mind, almost half mechanically. His plan was working, at least till now, his new policy of near transparency had left people stunned, bemused and a few times pleased. He had worked his way through situations that previously would’ve got him nowhere, with (yes this may sound corny) honesty. He finally struck down with venomous wrath on every little thing that seemed mentally constricted, forming this vague sense of belonging. And as he tucked into bed that night he prayed to god, hoping to have dreams of his favourite actress without her make up, for once.

5 years later
Our man had turned from ‘he’ to ‘HIM’, capitalization intended. A young man with the following of a pastry next to an ant hill. Hundreds now followed suit, mingling with his almost divine realization to produce a delicate imbalance in society that often reminded people of Lok Sabha sessions of the recent past. It was only after the above stated comparison was assimilated by the leaders of the world, that they realized immediate action was necessary. This world was not big enough for both of them. And the papers talked about it for quite some time, the rocket full of madmen.

That dear reader was my experiment with insanity. A little reminder that if you play with fire you get burnt. Before I place one final period on this rare message I would quote one of my favourite sons, who once said that there are two men in this world, the smart one who adapts to the situation and changes as per the society, and the stubborn one, who foolishly tries to change the world to his liking. Hence, of course, all the change in this world depends on the latter. So go ahead, get burnt.

Its been a long time, oh faithful reader who hath stumbled upon my blog (for the first time most probably).

On my recent trip to NITK, Surathkal I learnt quite a few things. But the biggest realization came out of the blue, or , well, black of outer space.
The beach next to which the college is so comfortably parked is a a 5 minute walk from the main gate. A walk that leads through eerie residential colonies, where all Hitchcock's of inspiration lives. On an innocent journey through this very road, our group found themselves in the middle of a blackout. The Karnataka power grid had seemed quite consistent in its inconsistencies and as in the previous occasions the probability that there would be light was, at best, negative.

So what do we do on a moonless night stuck in the middle of nowhere in complete darkness? I looked up at the heavens only to realise why god had created load scheduling and power cuts. It was alive with a million stars twinkling for our attention, another chance to play join the shiny dots and conjure constellations. And then it all came back, like the swat kats were bored of the past master and sent him to me.

I recalled how I once told a debate judge I wanted to be an astronaut. How I watched every moon documentary there is. How my first chemistry lab absolutely fascinated me. How my first physics lab's staff had to throw me out to make sure I did not camp through the night there. How I hated (and still hate) biology. How I wanted to study science and engines and trains and machines and generators and motors and circuits all my life.

Now languishing where I languish I wonder all those ambitons have faded away. Its as if they have been smothered. By an educational system that laughs when you are shocked by 440 V machines. That would trip you rather than warn you to look before you leap. A system where positive means lack of negative.

And most of all by an individual who wishes he was forewarned, who wishes he could sit in an armchair and learn all he wants to without having balding professors with crooked noses and twisted minds glaring down and monitoring every move as if his pupils were sick animals in a rundown zoo.

And here's the KO, an educational system that justifies all of the above and adds a prickly reminder, but no answer, to every question raised. And before you leave the room this cynical system will remind you its core value, change implies rebellion, and rebellion deserves death.