The Secret of Wordscapes...

There are no lies. Everything exists somewhere. Know that every breath you take changes the world around you. Every word skews it. You are the maker of the world around you. You are the wordsmith that shapes it.

Imagine. A chance encounter with a stranger. Eyes meet and the scape starts. You speak and with every word, you start weaving a new pattern. Truth or lie has little to do with this game where the beauty of what you weave defines how real it is. Bold strokes and subtle tugs bring out an incredible texture to the interaction. The dance goes on as both of you create a whole new scape of possibilities, your own private universe.

Stop. What rot! How can you just make a mere conversation seem like something magical? It's just another day and just another person. What difference does any of it make? Who even remembers chance encounters like these? Who even bothers talking to strangers unless you want something out of them?

Shush! Watch what bitter little creatures fly forth from your lips, birthed in your vitriolic cynicism. Deformed, grinning imps that scurry forth to do mischief; bringing more misery and chaos to a world that has already had enough. You have the choice of picking your angel to carry every word you speak. Let it be a gentle creature full of hope and joy and not a dark brooding form rising from the depths of hell.

Now that li'l internal dialogue has been wrapped up, let's move on with the scape. Weaving scapes; the art of creating or modifying reality using words; is a talent that does not come easily to most of us. Most of us are limited by reality, as we perceive it. Obsessed with the implications of our perception and how absolute we deem it, we are crippled by the belief that this is all there is. Nothing more is possible.

Close your eyes and make a wish. Put everything you have into that wish. Don't mince any words. Describe your wish to the fullest. Put every ounce of eloquence you have in you into that wish. Let go and pour forth all the passion you can dredge up into that one thought. And then, let it fly. Watch the li'l wordscape come to life. Become the wordscapist!Cogito Ergo Finito

Flutterby...

Somewhere in a far-off exotic land, a butterfly flutters by. Borne on the drafts of a light breeze, it flits at random till it comes across a a slightly persistent current of air. It realises that it is drifting down a path it did not intend taking. Its fluttering becomes persistent and it manages to struggle out of the presumptuous nudging it was being subjected to. But something happens. In its indignant flutterings, it has managed to push the current slightly off-course. A flutter has been created that was about to go a very long way.

Now wind currents tend to be very rowdy. They jostle each other with even more impunity than they would nudge an unsuspecting butterfly. The slightly off-course current of air, fresh from a rather unsettling encounter with a spirited butterfly staggered into one of his pals. A climatic game of dominoes was set in motion with the nudge being passed on as pushes and shoves with dizzy winds careening all over the place. The nudge was going places indeed with staggering off-course currents travelling for hundreds of miles before rocking another fellow current off-course.

Somewhere above bleached white beaches and incredibly blue seas and below a white hot sun, something was brewing in the air. Like the ominous grumble in the ponderous belly of a gourmand post repast, there was a tight restlessness in the air. It was a Mexican standoff between an unnaturally hot day and the hangover from a freezing night. Something was going to give.

Into this tension-loaded atmosphere blunders a drunk li'l current, reeling from a shove that started thousands of miles away. In an instant, instant mayhem was cut loose. Belligerent winds from the land and the sea and the very skies plunged into the fray. It was a free for all and every Johnny Breezer in the neighbourhood worth his whiff came blowing away. Round and round they went, chasing each other's tails. And right then and there, a monster was born!

Little currents and big winds were all drawn together in the tight, crushing embrace of this newborn fury. Bending over itself in the agony of its violent birth, the twister soars to the skies. Alas, it is tied to the earth where it was born. It twists and turns with a passion that becomes dark and destructive. It yanks and pulls at anything holding it down, scooping up water and boats and fish, regardless of volume or size. Dragging its crippled tail across the seas, it staggers on to land. Things, against all expectations, turn a lot worse.

Sheer chaos and destruction breaks loose. The tornado jumps and skips, trying to reach that elusive momentum that will let it escape. But its very form prevents it from doing anything but rip and rent the very fabric of the land it rakes. In an instant, trees are uprooted, buildings razed, ruminating cows displaced over miles and vehicles tossed around in a calvinistic rage. And suddenly, it's over.

Sunlight breaks through the the monster's shadow and dazed mortals stagger over ruins. Life has changed forever for many. And it all started in a day's time, originating with an innocent flutter. A flutterby happened...
Cogito Ergo Finito

It's not easy to be me...

Perspective is everything. Ionesco wrote this play, Rhinoceros. It shows a village of people mutating into rhinos. The first person to mutate is cast out as a freak. Eventually, everyone mutates but one person who remains human. He is then cast out as a freak. Perspective is indeed everything.

I started out as a child who had no opinions. What others told me was the truth for me. That person’s reality was mine. Perspective too was adopted. It is shocking how much rot can be fed to one so impressionable. Anyone and everyone had a piece of advice, with ‘experience’ backing it. And it’s tragic how much of an impression all that makes.

Luckily, identity asserted itself. My experiences and learning saved me from becoming a collection of assorted ‘that’s what they say’ and ‘what will they think’. Some people I met contributed to the crucible of self-purging, the act of becoming.

I went through life trying to adhere to these scathing directives and an internal conscience that was more intellectual than moral. It hasn’t been easy. My significant others unfortunately adhere to a different set of principles. ‘They’ play a big part in the lives of all those I love and care about.

There are times I wake up gasping, feeling like a newborn Neo, helpless and atrophied, cast out from an unnatural, somnolent womb, surrounded by millions of watching eyes. But the Nebuchadnezzar is not waiting to rescue me. And I cannot escape the 100 regenerating Smiths by flying away to Neverland. Redemption is not that simple. It will need the painstaking effort Andy put in at Shawshank, scratching away dirt by the pocketful, behind a blowup of Rita Hayworth, digging his way out at the end of 20 long years.

There have been crucial times in life when I have had to brace myself to take that all-important step that was true to me and no one else. I have faltered, I have tripped, I have chickened out. But I have also persevered. And I have suffered for my insolence. I have been punished for acting on my beliefs. And now, once again, such a decision lies before me; perhaps my biggest yet. This entry is my declaration of intent before that step.
I might be a rhinoceros or a human, but I am no freak; even if that’s what they say. And when I act, what they think is the last thing on my mind. I will be true to the person I am and what I believe in. And there are no conditions therein. As the band Five for Fighting said in their song Superman… ‘It’s not easy to be me.’ But at the end of the day, there’s no one else I’d rather be!
Cogito Ergo Finito

On the joy of writing...

Let's start with a story. The story of a child lost in books; in a dream world of fairies and dashing heroes and dark, dastardly villains who somehow were always considerate enough to let world be saved and had the good grace to come to spectacular and satisfying ends. The child grew up to move on to bildungsromans of simple people being transformed into larger than life legends. Next in line were tales of ethical dilemmas and conundrums that had deep existential implications. These stories defined the child's life. There came a time when the child's hunger for stories could no longer be fuelled by what had already been written... ever. The child wanted stories that had not yet been written. The child began to write.

This could be the story of any author. There comes a time in the life of every author when he or she starts searching for a story that has not yet been written. The story takes birth and grows in their mind. And there comes a time when the author has to sit down and put the story down on paper. The story has to be told. And that is when the child becomes an author. And that is how stories get told. Stories that will be read by children tomorrow, thus fuelling more authors and more stories. There are people who turn their nose up at the non-storytellers; those who are unable to come up with stories of their own.


I say there is no such thing. Everyone has at least one story to tell. Sometimes that story is saved for the tiny ears of a grandchild decades after the story comes to life. Sometimes the story comes to life in magnificent dreamscapes, only to be shattered every morning by a rude alarm bell and reality. Sometimes the story takes on an ugly reality in the form of lies and make-believe. But there is always a story. Everyone has their story. What is this post about anyways? This post is about that story; your story! Write it down. You owe it to yourself and more importantly, to the story. So what if you never publish it and make money off it? So what if no one ever gets to read it. So what if even you wince as you read it. The point is that the story got told. The point is that you set it free. And who knows where the story might go from there? It just might light a spark in a child's mind; a spark that will lead to another story. And therein, your story will find it's purpose. In the end, it's all about stories.


Cogito Ergo Finito

Virtual Vulnerability and the Big Bad Wolf!

Let’s go back to childhood, when mama told us time and again, ‘Do not talk to strangers!’ And we followed this advice in every way we could; ranging from responding with scowls to perfectly innocent smiles, to installing peepholes on the main door. This anti-social behavior might well have protected us from a range of unimaginable horrors, including abduction by the neighborhood psycho and being cheated by the ever-hovering conman. Amen!

A decade or so back, something changed. A new form of interaction entered our lives; the internet. And suddenly, everything in our lives had a virtual implication. Our mails went virtual, our classrooms went virtual and even social interaction went virtual. However, mama’s advice did not go virtual. Because the internet was all about talking to strangers! And talk to strangers we did; first through simple chat applications, then through VoIP applications and now via thousands of mushrooming social networking sites.
Popularity is no more about having a date of a Saturday night or the number of people hiding in your apartment to surprise you on your birthday. Popularity now lies in the number of connections/friends you have on your social networking website and how many of them blink online on your chat list.


Now, stop for a moment and think: How many of these ‘friends’ do you really know? How many of them have you met? How many of them do you know are real people?You will realize that you have indeed slipped and have been talking to strangers. People you do not know, people you would not recognize if you walked into them in office tomorrow, people who just might be completely different from who they say they are (and that cute photo with the puppy might well belong to another complete stranger!) And these people, in some measure, are privy to a lot of information about you.


Think for a moment about your virtual presence. Various mailboxes, chat IDs, social network profiles. Casual stuff, no worries! One step further. Postings on professional job sites or matrimonial sites, memberships in online forums and communities, a mention in employee listings of organizations you’ve worked for with all contact information listed. This might be a little more serious. But then you are not worried, right? Let’s try once more. Bank accounts (most banks offer online transactions), credit card accounts, phone accounts (again, online billing and transactions), Demat accounts, insurance accounts… Your entire life is at risk.


Having established your vulnerability, we now introduce, the Big Bad Wolf (yes, we didn’t forget him). Let’s call him BBW! Disguised in Grandma’s clothes, he is lurking online, just waiting for you to slip up. While all the anti-virus software of the world and your firewalls will keep him out of your computer, they cannot keep him out of your head. BBW holds a PhD in what is called Social Engineering. Social Engineering is defined as the art and science of getting people to comply with your wishes. And BBW does that very well. Here’s how!


BBW starts off by identifying a target group or a person. In this case, let us assume he is targeting you. He draws up a list of attributes and characteristics that will appeal to you. Using this list, he creates a virtual identity. This virtual identity has everything from a job to a social network. This new character, let’s call him Nice Joe, will be exactly the kind of guy you like. Soon enough, you will bump into Nice Joe in an online chat room or a discussion board. You might receive an add request, or a mail citing common friends. And if BBW has really done his homework, you will want Nice Joe for your friend and send him an add request!


Very soon Nice Joe, now NJ to you, will be your best buddy! NJ and you start spending hours together online. Online games, chats, putting up discussion boards, feeding each other’s BLOG traffic… the best virtual pals ever. Sending files to each other is a common occurrence. One of these files NJ sends you will have what is called a sleeper application. This particular application is the type that takes root in your system, and quietly records all your keystrokes and sends it to him. NJ, or rather BBW, now knows exactly what you wrote in that mail to your girlfriend/boyfriend, how many shares of that new public issue you bought and of course, the password to every account you have.


The story gets uglier by the minute. Through the benign NJ, BBW has broken into your life, and can do just about anything he wants. All your life is at the mercy of a Big Bad Wolf! This story might sound far-fetched, but is as easy to execute as a fried egg, sunny side up. Easier, actually. The BBWs of the virtual world have all the tools at their hands to execute such fraud, and if something like this never happened to you, it probably is because you have been lucky enough to go unnoticed by them so far.


Virtual identities are getting easier to fake day by day and social engineering is becoming an extremely dangerous menace. Stories of fraud are commonplace enough, and the odd tale of a psychopathic homicide that started off with an online flirtation seems to stress just how vulnerable we all are. Call it a raving paranoid conspiracy theory or call it a commentary on the dangers our daily lives expose us to; but the next time you accept an add request on your chat list or social networking site, do spend a minute to think to yourself – Do I really know this person?


Cogito Ergo Finito