Why we Blog?

I’ve been a part of the blogging community for a while now, and as I am sitting and trying to do some work and obviously not feeling up to it as usual, today I feel like being distracted to the idea mentioned in the title of the post.

So why DO people blog?

Perhaps, one reason is that people like me blog, is that blogging is a great way to be distracted when you are trying to do work. Or better still, when you really really have to work. Blogging maybe an online manifestation of the involuntary bio-chemical metabolism which secretes the distraction hormone in your body precisely when you want it to stay dormant. You can just open your blog, type out anything that comes to your mind and post it…as your blog…as your official trail of thought, and exhibit it to the world. And what’s worse is that you can get away with it.

Nobody is really going to come and tell you what a waste of time it was to read your blog, because it maybe insensitive to the very notion of the expression of your heart. One’s feelings, emotions and desires can not be defined by the parameters of conventional reading & writing and hence anything you write, however insignificant, rotten or badly articulated it maybe, will be accepted in the blogging community with grace. Sometimes even praised, with a ‘Great Post Dude!’ comment on your blog.

They are lying, you know they are, but it still massages your ego. So you make another pathetic attempt at a blog post the next day. And then the day after that. And so on. And more and more space available on the internet gets filled up with err…nicely presented trash. This effectively captures more than 75% of the people who maintain the blog on the net, including yours truly. (I’ve got to be modest; I am a middle-class Indian after all). To divert your attention from the lousy content on these blogs, these guys fill up their blogs with pictures, flash animations, colourful ads, visitor counters and so on.

Then there is this completely different brand of bloggers who think they are the representatives of the national dailies and it is their national duty to provide perspective to the daily happenings around the world, for the less informed masses of the world; people like you and me. Reading their blogs is like listening to the late night edition of Jain TV News with the ugliest looking anchors having the most pathetic of grammar and pronunciation knowledge. Sometimes they even yawn in the middle of the bulletin, which is expressed by the trend of using “….” to connect discreet words passed off as sentences in a blog post. The “…” manages to trace the exact trail of thought, they will claim. Bullshit.

I spoke of another common breed of bloggers in my first-ever blog post; the kind who just write what they see. All of what they see. The blue sky, a little white cloud in the middle. Softly chirping birds in the background, and the smell of fresh green grass below me. That light-yellow flower with its dark-yellow pollens and the bumbling bee which encircles it.

It’s a torture to read these blog posts. They basically try to describe everything around them, when there is actually nothing substantial to describe. But, because they believe it’s cool to blog, they will still indulge and try to come across as sensitive people who see the world with a curious eye, smell all its smells, feel its air and hear all its sounds. And find pleasure in them. And they hope others will think the same way about a routine scene outside their windows. Worse still, think kindly of them when they put their vivid description of this banality out for the world to read.


There is of course the commercial and technical breed of bloggers. The guys who want to make money out of their blog mostly because they spent all their college time perfecting the art of playing Doom, Need for Speed or Age of the Empires and now don’t really have a job. So they give catchy to titles to their posts like “What to do if your computer crashes?”, “How to install Linux”, “The 10 step guide to being an HTML pro” etc. etc. They then post elementary stuff from cheaply available PC magazines and put it up on their blogs. Stupid, dork and technically-challenged computer users across the world put these very words in their Google searches all the time and invariably reach their blogs. Cleverly placed advertisements pasted all over the blog, sometimes even as the content of their posts make these poor users click on them in the hope of finding a solution to their technical Armageddon which is normally nothing more than a routine system crash or something similar. Whether or not a Bruce Willis comes and decides to save the world from the meteor by blowing himself up after this is not their concern. Google sends them paycheques anyway. Not bad, for spending the whole day with Coke, Pizza and an X-Box.

And finally, there are what one can call, the radical bloggers. These guys have subdued desires of shouting their mouths out in the parliaments and senates of their countries. But, they know they are far from getting there even in ten lives. So, they use the internet. And their blogs, to ‘stir the masses with issues of national interest’. They write didactic pieces on how messed up our economy is, what a moron a particular chief-minister is and why they can’t afford to use soap everyday after relieving themselves because the prices of onions are on the rise. What’s interesting is that they quickly manage to find more people like them online, who can’t raise their voices in front of their dominating wives and resort to a blog to show what ‘men’ they are. Their correspondence extends to several days in their comments windows where they chart out detailed plans to change the world.

Well, so that just covers up pretty much everyone who attempts to blog.

The little few who remain are probably the genuinely good bloggers. But, nobody knows about them.

And if I brought them up here anyway, you’ll say I spoilt the ending!

Rukavat ke liye Khed Hai

Before you guys mention it in the comments, let me take this opportunity to myself apologise for the quality of my previous post. Its a pathetic, zabardasti type post I agree, (as is this one actually).

Sorry, about that. But, its just that I am a little saturated and frustrated with this annoying prejoining assignment which I am working on and I felt like just taking it out. Nobody I knew was online on Google-Talk and I couldn't shout it out in the middle of the night. So, late in the night, the blog seemed to be the only resort and Arthur Wellesely, the only available unfortunate scapegoat.

Bhavishya mein uchh kvaality ki post karne ka prayas hum nirantar jaari rakhenge. Dhanyavad.

The Fate of All Great Men

Duke of Wellingdon (Arthur Wellesley) was a great man. He commanded the British armies in many campaigns and even rose to become the PM of Great Britain for two terms. There are several buildings, roads etc. across the world which are named after him. The Ram Manohar Lohia Hospital in Delhi was called Wellingdon Hospital until recently.

Like many other great men his tales too are immortalised. They find their mention in history books and paintings. They lend their names to roads, buildings and monuments and their legacy is kept alive by men who worship them. Men make statues to honour these great men and they stand at important crossings (like this one in Edinburgh, Scotland) as a reminder of their glorious histories. People feel inspired by the mere sight of these great men as they walk past them.

And the birds.....

The birds reach where nobody else does.

They find comfort in pooing on them.

And in pooing on them all day, without the fear of being interrupted.

Its the same fate, for each great man.

Kickass English Warnings

One afternoon, I was walking around in the Westminster Abbey-Whitehall-Downing St. area in Central London admiring the buildings and monuments. This is the area like the Lutyen's Delhi with all the major government buildings, PM's residence, parliament etc. You've got to give credit to these people for the way they've preserved and maintained their buildings, but anyway, that's not what this post is all about.

In India, you come across several houses which have a board saying 'Kutte se Savdhan' on their gates warning people that a hungry, ferrocious, blood-thristy beast resides inside the house and he will devour you if you ring their bell. Some of them even put an image of a dog which looks more like a lion next to the notice. I am not really sure what's the point of doing this, I doubt if its a regulatory requirement, but those dogs anyway come and lick you all up and sometimes scare the shit out of you whether or not you happen to read that notice. Its not like if you read the warning, it equips you in anyway to better handle the onslaught that is waiting on the other side of the door. Its quite possible that the guards sometimes put such notices at night on the gates once their owner's go off to sleep after giving them a painful day to take out their frustration.

Well, anyway coming back to London....I came across this notice which was like no other I had ever seen. And it was on a prominant government office. Just take a look at the picture (click it to enlarge it) and try to read what's written on that little notice board next to the black door.

It reads: BEWARE, Horses may kick on Butt. Thank you.

Apologies for the poor picture quality but I didn't have the courage to cross the road and take a picture from that side of the road, but how arbit is this for a warning?

How the hell do they know that the horses will kick only on the butt? Or is it that they don't regard the the rest of the body with as much sanctity as the butt that they don't think its necessary to warn people about it? Horses could do far more damage if they tried 'kicking' elsewhere, but that doesn't seem to worry the English. And what is the man sitting on top of it doing if he allows his horse to kick someone's ass?! Isn't that suposed to be his job as a supercop on those racing wheels. He gets paid afterall, to ride the damn thing all day, in the hope of proving himself to be useful someday on this royal ride when thieves are speeding away in a car with the crown jewels.

P.S.: The tone of politeness in the warning coming with that little 'Thank You' in the end, doesn't take away the eccentricity, obscurity and the sheer stupidity of the notice, I'd think. Well tried, though if it was an attempt to do that. But, its not good enough. I think its still a little funny.

I am Still Alive....Oh Yeah!

Well, yes. Thats about all that I wanted to convey through this post. That I am still alive. And also that I've brought it up that this is a great song by Pearl Jam.

I know I haven't posted in ages but cliched as it may sound, I have just not had the time. In the time between my last post and this, I spent two memorable weeks in England & Scotland about which I am dying to write, I have been slogging on this apparently farji ('fake' for our readers in England ;-)) assignment that I am supposed to be doing before joining my course and I have spent a few hours hunting and setting up what will be my house during the weekdays for the next few months near Delhi University. So, there's been little time left for much else. And I feel bad about it.

How can 'life' take time away from my 'life'?

London Diaries, 2nd Impression: The 1st Impression was just the 1st Impression. Its Blooody Good out here!

Well, in the hope of shedding the first impression, I started my London tour by first diving straight into the city. Oxford St, Bond St, Regent St, Trafalgar Sq, Piccadilly Circus, Leicester Sq, Baker St. etc. etc....they are all there. There was a sense of childish excitement in me as I was around these places since I knew these places very well from my Monopoly playing days and it was thrilling to actually see them.

Central London is nice because its the part of the city with some real depth...old architecture which is very well preserved, theater, parliament, expensive shopping districts, colleges, museums, concert halls and some lovely places to eat. You just need to start walking in any direction from any point and you won't feel like stopping. There's a famous street at the end of every block or a familiar place after every few steps...so you can just go on endlessly admiring the sights & sounds. The tube system here which probably deserves a dedicated blog entry is so fantastic that it'll get you from anywhere to anywhere in the city without a problem irrespective of how far they maybe.

In that last two days, I also had my brush with the notorious London weather, which can take U-Turns several times during the day. Sometimes, the sun can come out as late as 7 in the evening after a cloudy day and sometimes it might shine brightly for a few hours before being abruptly interrupted by the rain. But it's all 'jolly good'!

There's lots that happening, lots that I am seeing and its probably unfair to try to some it up in a quick & rushed blog entry. Maybe, when I am back home, I'll do more justice to this.

London Diaries: First Impression - Are we there yet?

Yes, that's the first impression of England. Are we there yet? I mean, are we actually there yet?

No, I don't mean that with a sense of excitement but more of curious surprise. My trip officially kicked off yesterday as the Virgin Atlantic flight landed at the famous London Heathrow, and as I emerged out of the aircraft this was the question on my mind - Are we actually in England?

As soon as I came out of the skytunnel, I was sorrounded by a sea of humanity. At least 90% of them South-Asian. The gaurds, toilet cleaners, immigration officers and all the other airport staff is all very very comfortably Indian. Gujarati and Sikh aunties running different errands at the airport, wearing trousers and shirts, but the bindi and earrings still very much in place don't really let you get the impression that you are away from your own country. The sounds & noises that you get to hear were also mostly in Hindi and Punjabi to add to this 'homecoming' feeling.

The airport then itself is as good or bad as Delhi. Its a whole lot bigger I agree, but that's not my problem. I saw the terminal that I got out of only, and the lights, sky tunnels, corridors, escalators weren't really 'world-class'. Infact, at many places they were downright bad. And to top it all, I didn't find a trolley there near the conveyer belt. I usually don't find one in Delhi either. So I ended up chugging along with my luggage in my hand and although this was slightly painful, it actually gave me a sense of masochistic pleasure. Oh yes, did I tell you about the hour long queue I was standing in for immigration. Know of another familiar country it happens in?!

And then we drove out of the airport. Most cars on the roads are now similar to those in India. Many of them are actually exactly the same. The colour of the road and the texture of the grass on the side of the road is once again very much like in India. It isn't that perfectly cut and shaped grass that one sees in picture postcards. Needless to say, the radio station was playing Bhangra and Bollywood hits only and there were Asians in more than almost every other car on the road. And yes, there was also gandagi around, it wasn't all spic and span like you expect 'Europe' to be.

Wooh! So, having spent all this money to come all this way...I am wondering if there's anything 'British' really left here. What's for sure is that atleast in the city, the 'air' isn't anything special these guys can be arrogant about. So they can cut their stiff upper lips and snooty noses and face the reality. Asians are very much running the show out here (Ah, racism...now back at them, with more contempt...feels good!)

Anyway, so I start off with the sightseeing etc. today, and the British have a reputation they will need to fight hard to defend! This is the country synonymous with the word 'Vilayat' and I myself wouldn't really like my trip here to be only like homecoming!

Over to the red buses and black cabs...