The 1% day

 So when I ask you how your day was, you'd go:

"Not too bad" or

"Can't complain"

"I've had worse"

or once in a blue moon,

"Brilliant!"

But what if I asked you this instead:

"What did you learn today?"

" What made you happy today?"

You could come up with with things that make you feel better, or at least put a smile on your face.

Even if it just made your day 1% better , these questions are worth it. 

Even if you answer one of them to yourself - you know- either smarter or better- you'll know your day wasn't wasted.

So that's what I'm starting here. I'm kind of journaling either a small joy or a small learning moment every day ( or sometimes both). 

Join me in this? I'm doing this!

Pebble in my brain.

Have you had a pebble in your brain that ruined things for you? For example-  when a single conversation with someone you love or care about goes wrong and it just puts shade on the rest of your day?

I had one today. Till then, my day hadn't been spectacular, but it wasn't bad. And then, that call I got disturbed my peace, and I just kept thinking about it, from all angles. It wasn't a life threatening conversation, or anything very bad, but it was more like a pebble that's gone in your shoe and you're still walking with that pebble instead of just stopping, gettting the shoe off, throwing the pebble out, and then walking again. 

I think that's the problem, you see. With a pebble in a shoe, its all physical, but what if the damn pebble is in your brain? How do you shake it out? Well, I think I know the answer. For me.

It's journalling. Not what I'm sharing here, but just a conversation between me and myself. When I wrote my thoughts down, it was getting that pebble out of my brain and it just feels clean and good just to have a functioning head again. It's not as if the issue is sorted, or I'm over it or something, but with a pebble-free brain- when I can see the damn pebble outside my head, I know what to do with it a little bit better. 

Plan B is Plan A

 What if Plan B was God's plan?

You know what they say nowadays: Dont have a plan B. Focus your energy on Plan A. 

That will make it work.

 And it does. For a lot of people, not being distracted by trying to hedge bets and derisk things allows them to concentrate their energy on what matters.

But what about those people who have a quiet voice inside of them which says:

" That's your Plan. Good one. I know you're excited, but here's a completely different one from what you have, and you will be on that one instead"

You'll avoid it, of course. You will do everything in your power to disregard that voice.

But it's coming from your gut, and you almost unwillingly pay attention to it. And then it overtakes Plan A.

In God's mind, Plan B was Plan A all along.

Mellow Drama

I recently went on a wild trip when I decided that I'm going to live out as many days as possible on the coins and cash I've got till I ran out. So yeah, I did this for a stupid while. I even converted Euros into pounds just to stretch this silly game. 

I lasted  quite a few days, strangely. I avoided all eye contact with people who thought I was bonkers ( I didn't look like I was going to inflict coins on the poor cashier behind the counter.) I kind of realised I was doing a silly thing, but funnily, I felt quite thrilled about it all.

And that's when I realised that I was just trying to inflict some drama in my life. It doesn't matter what the drama is, but I wanted something to spice things up.

What's the drama that you're addicted to? I'm beginning to think we all are, and its a matter of chemical manipulation that all of us human beings do just to feel "alive".. and also weirdly, in control. 

And hell yes, if you didnt know that, well, hope this wakes you up. Choose your drama, make it benign, or better still, something that will genuinely help your health, wealth or relationships. Dont choose drama that sabotages you, just so that your addiction to having some drama makes you feel like you are in charge. 

Choose a mellow drama.

Talking to Myself

When I'm speaking to the camera, who am I imagining is on the other side?

I thought about it a lot. 

The first thought was, 

Is it  the people who follow me, or the people I want to be followed by?

 Or is it one person- you know- the ideal person who I'd want to be speaking to.

Wait, but- who's that?

My student? My family member? My closest friend? 

Or is it my imagined future super sweet, super good looking, super intelligent follower from a different place, who vibes with what I say and how I say it and why I say it?

The more I thought about this, the more convinced that it was someone who I haven't met- yet.

And then a weird thought came to my head:

Am I, actually talking with a different "me"? I'm just staying somewhere else,  with a different body, a different face, living a different life, a different destiny.. and I'm trying to reach out to this person and connect- in a very visceral way.

I think I'm just connecting to a different me. This camera is a mirror.

Hey. How are you doing?

Dunbar's Difference

 Imagine that you are talking with your best friend

Now imagine that you're talking to all of your close friends and family

Now imagine that you're talking to close friends, family, and friendly acquaintances you like

Like some people you work with, some who work for you, your happy neighbour down the street.

The number is probably around 150. Yeah, this is Dunbar's number, a neurological limit set by your brain for forming close, meaningful relationships.

This keeps changing- you chop and change. Some people drop off, some you discard, and some hang around but you wish they do.

Evolution decided around 150 is your core tribe. Who are we to argue?

We are apes with clothes...

Perhaps, more importantly, the question is:

How are we treating the special 150 in our lives?

Elevator Speech

 

What's my elevator speech here?

I'm here to look at small joys and share them with you. That's it really. Small joys, in a conversational manner. Hoping that you see them too. And discover more for yourself. My idea is that we miss out on small everyday things and observations which could make our life happy, but we just doom scroll quickly beyond it. I'm hoping to start a little community here where we could share small little joys which can make an ordinary day a better one :)

Companies are limited,  Small joys are Unlimited!

I think everyone needs an elevator speech for Tiktok. I mean, if you are doom scrolling, and I have to get your attention in 3-6 seconds, what exactly am I going to say, really? Or are you going to like just the "way" I'm saying it? Who the hell knows. But know you know mine. Check out all my other videos, and join me, if you like, in making this world a slightly less cynical space. why not!

The Joy of TikTok

I'm loving being a creator on Tiktok right now for all the wrong reasons 

So I'm from India where there is no TikTok.  Now in the UK, just got on to it, been here for a month, and I'm just loving the anonymity. 

 Unmasking myself and become as authentic a person can be in front of a camera without being obnoxious is extremely enjoyable. 

 Also, everyone who's liking what I'm saying is doing so because they like what I'm saying. 

Not who I have been, or who I am, or who I will be. 

 Getting that kind of feedback and love is an amazing feeling.

Of course, I create content for the views, likes, comments and follows. I'm hoping this state of being anonymous doesn't remain so for long. Of course I'm secretly hoping that this video is seen later on my a lot of people who call this an Origin Story. How Clark Kent was unmasked and became Superman. 

But till that happy moment, I'm loving the anonymity.

Elongated Musk

Mr. Elongated Musk, as former fanboy,

I now think your lore is greater than your tusk

I wonder if you'll change

your point of view

if you realise

we're just primates

who happen to wear clothes

on our way to the pearly gates

I don't know why

Silicon Valley is gaga

about sending a Tesla

into space. Ha ha.

What a waste of talent,

Mr. Elongated Musk

You could perhaps

with that king sized brain

literally train

so many people to change

their own lives and the world's pain

But you build a driverless car

and go too far

and even if you do

go to Mars

do take a breath and pause

perhaps ask

what's the cause?

You might say its to ensure humanity's safety

from polluting you and me

A Plan B

after destroying Planet E

Is that really clever, Mr. Musk

or do you know something more

than all of us?

I used to like you,

Mr. Elongated Musk

until I saw that intelligence

and courage and heart

Live in separate worlds.

And while the fanboys will vehemently

shout down a naysayer like me

I want to like you again, Elon

Please come down to earth again

Let's rebuild what we have and gain.

The Scientific Method

One day,

The Scientist and the Philosopher

met at a bar
(if you think this is a joke,
you're going too far)

The topic at hand was not Atheism or God

Nor was it about religion

It was, quite surprisingly,

their failure with money and women

I believe in the Scientific method,

said the Philosopher bitterly

but look where its got me

he said accusingly

I'm stuck in my head

sleep alone in my bed

All my deep ideas

remain pleas

for someone to notice me

and that happens very infrequently..

I believe in the Joy of Discovery,

said the Scientist

and I'm sure you'll get the gist

when I report that

he told the other guy

his pending patent

had made someone else richer

and gave him a nice ulcer.

Just then the barkeep came to them

what'll it be then

"Gin for his depression

and rum for my frustration"

said the Science man

"and keep separate tabs"

said the mournful Philosopher

Just as his sad eyes spotted her

Across the room

"The witch forgot her broom"

said he

TheScientist who had

also been rejected by her

nodded sagely

As they downed their joint account

of depression and frustration,

the Philosopher said

"I'm getting out of here

Take a contemplative walk

In the city"

The Scientist waited till he left

Got out his notes from his phone

studied them for a while

made a new entry: Attempt 7

as he carried out his new experiment

to get to heaven.

He approached her, with a non stalker smile

said its been quite a while

that you last rejected me

after which

I've got half a promotion

and a citation

for my almost exemplary work

will that work

for you to have a drink with me?

Results of the latest experiment

are still awaited

Although early signs seem promising

She had a drink and let him sing

his song of courtship to her

and had left the bar with him..

April's Voting Fools

Left, Right, Left, Right

All my friends on Facebook

think of democracy

with all their might

Left= Bad

Right=Wrong,

Everyone's election game

Right on song

Up, Down, Down, Up

We all wait

for The market and the elevator

to create their storm

In a teacup

People perfectly reasonable

a few months ago

unrecognisable

with the new logo

they sport

as they court

a date on the calendar

when they'll vote.

Where they'll be vindicated

or not

After which whether they'll have angst

or not

for the next five years

is yet unclear

And while there won't be

any tears

they'll be outrage

as people in a cage

argue about freedom

with all their wisdom.

Please do vote, of course, whatever your gripe

or forever smoke the peace pipe.

The Closet Optimist

Every time I see a spark

of hope in me

I feel crushed.

Nope.
I will not have this beautiful feeling
of both unease and joy
Dictate my life
only to have me reeling
At the last moment,
As clouds of doubt seeded
From both skeptic and cynic
Makes me wonder-
is this still worth it?

The startup that wasn't supported

The project that wasn't funded

The relationship that never got the right chance

The health that did a deadly dance

All seemingly bright and beautiful

at first glance?

My reluctance as an optimist

Perhaps is a silent tribute

to all those left in the mist

With A Bewildered face

and an Angry Fist

That's shaking at the world

as they get hurled.

Many of us, then,

The other garden variety of dreamers

The closet optimists

We won't get taken to the cleaners.

We believe in the goodness of a thing

As we wait for the rest of the damn world

To get the right neurons firing

But hope we won't

Although

Dreaming we can't avoid

We accept the non acceptance

with equanimity if not poise.

Poem for poets who wrote a poem on #poetryday

Good lord,

We have a poetry day too

And if my dog made some poo..

We'll toast that moment hard
I'm sure you have a clue
where I'm going with this?
I'd give this day a miss
( with apologies to all
who wrote good stuff today:
this is still a diss)

Relax, sir. Relax, Ma'am.

Just a meaningless rant

on the strange creation

of super meaningful days

that could wither away with

a deep gaze

At them, but still

We simply need the memes

Need that gate-pass

Need that permission slip

Can't celebrate life

without themes.

And here I am,

as I contribute to the banal

As if I'd rather have a root canal

(now that's trite, but just out of spite)

Smirking from my pulpit

at the monkey tribe below

not knowing

that the tribe below

is the schizophrenic version

of my own reflection.

Happy Poetry day, then, everyone.

Story

What's your Story

today, as you stir

What'll make you blur
the bad tidings
Face the music
of another day?

Better make your tale

strong and true

Lord of your manor, are you

or the hapless victim

of a crime

Playing a bit role

An Extra

in your own life?

Whatever it is

sure your story has layers untold

And plays out in technicolor

(well, at least in silver and gold)

Oh wait. I forgot. Today,

you got up on the wrong side

and found no story

that kicked in

Fear crawled up your skin

Without that soothing balm

without that justification

How will you ever

take any action?

With nothing at all in your damn head

you climb down the stairs

You look at others in despair

You find no real people

just ghosts with stories

with their angst and their glories

Just walking around, doing this and that

But when you talk to them

it comes out pat

My life. My relationship.

My money. My bad hip.

So interesting, so tiresome

for sure there's no outcome

For a person without a story

is a story without a person

Outsourced

Ive outsourced

my heart, my mind, my memory,

my life
I'm in too deep
my smartphone's
got me by the jewels

I've outsourced

my past, my future

my present's sutured

up by a distant cloud

apparently there's an app for this

and there's an app for every that.

I've outsourced

my skill, my motivation,

my drive

I'm a happy little piggy

on Netflix and Prime

I've outsourced

every possible way I exist

and yet I do?

Must be something like love

that I can't outdo.

Maybe there's reluctant Hope

that I can't outsource too

And maybe Dreams

although getting someone to work

on my plans will do

Perhaps all the outsourcing

Finally helps me and you

Find a moment that's true

and use currency that's real

About time too?

Errorism

To err is to sin

And to sin is to miss the mark.

Mark these words:

Easy to say

Tough to live by.

For any Errorist.

He'll give it his best

Whatever cause he's fighting for

(and mostly it's a him. Give it a rest)

.

Guess the Errorist must realise

that it's a short life

and a long knife

won't give it any more meaning.

Not stunning as a realisation

People are saying these things

on every TV station.

Me, with no skin in this game

You, I don't know how much flesh

We've both not given much

to any cause we celebrate

Perhaps the Errorist

missed his mark

Ironically, when he ensured that

he nailed his target and made it flat

He made people like us angry

confused, out of their comfort zone

We looked for meaning and found none

Embittered, but without teeth,

We snap and growl with every sound byte

We give pompous advice

and sound real nice

when we make wise statements

about strategy and choice

Tomorrow,

it will be the Kardashians.

And we'll be the Errorists.

The Workout

Dawn- hustle, bustle, begin the tussle

Sleep deprived; not worth the hassle?

Au Contraire.

Every effort at the local gym
makes my heart ready and my body limp
with fatigue. Good fatigue,
one might say
( though this is not really going the six pack way)

Fatigue that puts air conditioning in my head

for the day's heat ahead

Drowning out anguish,

kicking anxiety's butt

Slapping self pity's creep

Letting me breathe

Breathe in, go slow

Breathe out, there's the effort

Sometimes, it doesn't hurt as much

sometimes, a bit too much

Doesn't matter

Its not the body I'm healing

It's all in the head

Hustle, bustle, begin the tussle

here we go again

The secret I'm beginning to get:

The pain's really the gain.

Sobriety

Morning:

It was a meek, milky

blue sky
calling out
to say hi.

Hmm. So so long,
its been
that I saw a streak of white
race across my sight

It was passing jet fuel

posing as cloud

Look at me,

it screamed aloud

I'm going, I'm going

and you ain't with me

I figured that

It must've been some big journey

that a past self had been on

Well, the jet's gone and so has that man.

Noon:

Thought to myself

If it was a Jet

and I didn't see it

Maybe the sky was better

without it?

Sour Grapes always taste better

when they aren't w(h)ine.

Jets without traces

Leave no trace of crime

Evening:

The thought moved me and my day

along with it

till it became quiet night

I looked up for my next no- surprise.

(The city's bright glow

tends to overflow

and filters out factors

like stars and other non-actors)

Night:

Dust settled,the stars came on

with feeble might

wasn't even a fight

with attractive streets

and other pretty sights

But memory took over

and maybe closer

to things still sore.

Of course, it felt much more

As i replaced the sky I was seeing

With the sky I'd seen before

Mesmerised, I wondered

If this is what it is to be sober

Then I'd go beyond October(!)

and look at newer things

with older eyes

and older things

with younger guise.

to be (hopefully) continued...

The Joy of Boredom

Bring me my old self
And some ice-cream, cool drinks and a comic book or two.
 Ok wait don't;
The law of diminishing returns
 has ensured
That the ice-cream is blah.
The lemonade is not worth it
The comics are banal.

Bring me my old self
That was very sorted.
When all I needed was a day's worth of plans and dreams
and the delicious feeling of doing nothing about them.
And feeling better for it.

Bring me my old self
That will talk to my new one
And make him listen.
Listen to the music.
Of cigarettes smoked staring at the night sky
Of fences climbed to get rid of messes
Of motorcycle rides that suddenly got cold
Of stolen times when the heart got bold.

Bring me my old self
get him to slow down enough
To get bored and restless
and see the depth in its dullness.

Bring me my old self
I'll introduce him to my mid life madness
He'll get a kick out of it
and laugh. Of course, with a tinge of sadness.

Binge Watching

Airplane rides, from Pune to London: not good for extra long legs. So I've decided to forget about trying to desperately adjust every other moment, sit ramrod straight and watch them movies all the way through (forgetting sleep).  Yes, you see a lot of rubbish. But then you get a movie that does the magic for you.

This time: The Revenant (ok-doke) Black Mass (overhyped) Irrational Man (creepy but compelling), Burn after Reading ( weirdly funny in parts- John Malkowich going batty over a moronic Brad Pitt trying to blackmail him)

But the magic happened to me with The Big Short. Never thought I'd see a film about the subprime mortgage crisis without falling asleep, but wow. Taut, funny and compelling. Superb performances from Ryan Gosling, Brad Pitt, a couple of other younger actors I don't know the names of, Steve Carell (very good). And the compelling Christian Bale. Throw in  TV chef Anthony Bourdain to explain what a financial technical term is, and you know the movie is kind of special.

Just for a bit, all that flying discomfort was forgotten. Or maybe it was the drinks kicking in, finally.