Yet each man kills the thing he loves,
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The koward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!"
                     oscar wilde , the ballad of reading gaol







When was the last that I thought of you...I know not...but am I the one who goes alone on this path...and should I but care only a little for the souls that follow or those as march ahead?

Mode C is a way of life, perhaps my way of life: C for Cool, C for Cold, C for Chaos, C for Calvin. Ultimately, all of it boils down to the way you look at things. Are they not how they are but just how they appear?? No...and yes...Almost all the seriously critical fundamental concepts of life...aren't they just the bogies under Calvin's bed that he is afraid of? Miss Wormwood, Susie, Mom and Dad, and of course above all, Hobbes...aren't they all merely the means that he uses to attack these bogies?

Reflecting on 'living the Calvin way', I have started to believe that life and our reaction to it can only be explained by a number of Calvin and Hobbes strips combined together. The philosophy, as I like to call it, is to know that you are not alone. It is not just my perspective alone that is going to help me fight my bogies. I will be able to inch towards the Calvin way only when I perceive the other perspectives on my way.



   
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All pictures and names concerning Calvin and Hobbes are copyright Bill Watterson


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Tuesday, November 09, 2004
Not Fair

There are times when happiness knows no bounds and yet there are others, when there is no limit to the tears that come to the eyes. Some people say that this is what brings balance and fairness to it all. But why does it have to be like that? Why can't joy and sorrow be in moderate measures at all points in life?

Despite the kind of dare-all face that I may put forward to the world, I am frightened...frightened of all these sorrows that await me...of all those joys that might cause me to forget the people who matter. No matter how hard I try, I just can not make myself call Nani today. With exactly one year having passed since Nana passed away, I could not control my tears today. They flowed like they knew no end...compensated for all those tears that had dried up in my eyes one year ago...during the rushed flight from Chennai to Kolkata...the train from Kolkata to Patna...the Ghats where Nana was lying on the ground, all cold and silent, as if waiting for me to kiss him good bye. I never knew that a person's forehead could be so cold...and then the fire that purified...that took it all away from me...the guardian that I ever knew, even more than my father.

Baba is not keeping well and is bed-ridden ever since he came back from his yearly trip to Vrindavan. I tried talking to him yesterday but he couldn't even speak to me. The effort that it took for him to call out my name made me cry out at my helplessness. As Maa said, it is time for me to be strong because I am going to face some very big losses in the near future. As she put it, it is time for one generation to bless us and go on to attain salvation...sounds logical...but I am so selfish...I don't want them to go. I want to hold on to them, never let go.

I am actually ashamed to write all this on the blog...somehow, it feels as if I am trivialising the entire thing by opening my wounds and hurt for others to read. I still don't know why I am doing this, except for the fact that it helps me get over the thing in some way. I know that I am being selfish and just because I am afraid of my emotions, I am trying to give them a shape and figure that I can then ignore.

Posted at 12:13 pm by Nitai



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