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A whimsical tirade

I am fasting today to mourn the death anniversary of my grand-pa.  But that is not how I want to honor him and his memory. When my grand-pa was alive and was physically capable he would organize these health camps in his home districts of Kavre every winter. He lived with one principle “Sewa Nai Dharma Ho”. These camps gave some elderly people and children from remote parts of Kavre the rare opportunity to see a doctor. AAOCA Japan would send intern-doctors to Nepal and these student doctors would give free eye/medical care to these otherwise deprived people from remote villages. Nepal Eye Hospital would give free cataract operation to those elderly citizens that needed them who otherwise would remain with a blurry vision for the rest of their lives.

As a young 11-12 year old child I loved wearing a “Volunteer” badge on my shirt and walk around these camps helping with what I could. I fondly remember I would sit and attempt to translate between elderly folks and Japanese doctors whose English were rough like sandpapers. This is a very fond memory of my childhood. It’s a mark my grandfather left on me and I still cherish it every day.

These camps do not happen anymore. Nobody has the time. Nobody cares.

I am currently working with several friends and family in Nepal to have a day-long “Swastha Sibir” organized to at least kick start this and see how far I can take it. The doctors will not be Japanese but our own Nepalese doctors who we will be volunteering the services for one day for free.  First step towards this is organizing and funding.

I would like to ask all of you my friends and family to help me bring this simple idea to life again. Just give what you think is appropriate. Any help will count. Through this Blog I will keep everyone posted about the progress. The target day is Jan-11-2012 so please find in your heart and give and help.

PS> You do not need a Paypal account to Donate.

https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=3P6FC2FNTQFBE

“Life is not fair”,

Then why am I fighting all along?

I,
Yes Me, the one that matters

I’m going to frolic.

See me skip these steps.

Watch, because I’ll show you the way.

When it comes to emotions

Do not worry,

But when it comes to expediency

Oh hell, it’s an emergency.

You can run the race

Isn’t it a disgrace?

You accomplish all these,

Your degrees, career, your daily grind

All this you died for

For a measly death shall surmount you anyway,

Are you really that blind?

You are here

Reading this, but you are not.

Your steps are misguided,

What you see is not all that you want to notice.

You want to frame this image

Post it up on the walls of your memory

With a signature of judgment,

And a marinated sense of entitlement to what you have seen.

Why are you still reading this?

You are an unyielding piece of shit.

Yes, I verbally abused you

But what do you expect you just invaded my universe.

Your mind is racing to get to the bottom of this

As such, so is mine.

Consequently we serve the same intention

In dissimilar time spectrums

Within parallel universes.

Cognition is clogged,

of everything that seems full

half seems to have withdrawn

from the realm of factual.

An inner tornado of perception

melts away into a fecal matter

pushed through an inconsistent anus.

pushed through as actions of suffocated,constricted and cramped desires

Man, that shit is heavy

As such my personal inner violence is defined.

Pleasure is within the spectrum of pain

It is such that it often fails to register within my vision

Thus, these nicotine stained teeth grind.

Who is really real or could it be that its me that’s who is fake

I detach myself from the sheet every morning

in close proximity of getting wrapped in it each day all over again.

This sphere of madness is ever spinning

Who seems the the most clueless is ever winning

There’s too many of these to immitate

Define Schizophrenic?

It is some heavy shit , my friends.

Born and raised a Hindu I never considered my religion as a part of my existence at all. I grew up opposing things I could not make logical sense of. Customs that did not have any practical significance and spiritual logics that worked within their own interests like politics. But it’s eminent that the GOD factor hits you in life every once in a while. When you question yourself, does he really exist? Especially in times of need and despair you tend to gravitate towards the idea of religion. One fine day in February 2007 every bit of my worldly possessions besides the clothes I was wearing got burnt in an apartment fire. I lost documents, pictures, clothes, money, and my school work, basically everything I had been working so hard for all this time.
My mother heard of this and went to do what she normally does in times of a problem, pray. On top of that she went to a “Jyotish baje” (fortune teller) and he recommended that I worship lord Shiva. Every time I talked to her she kept insisting that I become a little more religious or do as she says. I craved for an answer rather than a blatant remedy. I wanted to believe in something for a change but I just did not find the right direction. My way of being religious and answering to my mother’s request was to go get me a tattoo of “Om Nama Shivaya” on my forearm. That way I see the hymn dedicated to lord Shiva everyday for the rest of my life. But all this sudden changes faded away as time passed. But not for too long though.
Life got rougher by the day and to add to the trauma my grandfather who I was really close to growing up passed away. I could not even say goodbye or just be with my family. It took a heavy toll on me. Depression sunk in to me like a sinking freight ship .Deeper and deeper. I went on the 13 day long fasting as a mourning process, shaved my head and did what my culture and religion demands me to do. I used this time to do a lot of soul searching but it only brought more misery than answers.
One day I was at work feeling really depressed, down and tired of long shifts. A Sikh man with the traditional turban and a notebook in his hand walked into my work place. His eyes were distinct and piercing. His voice was soothing and comforting, especially at a time when I was restless inside. He asked me to show him my palms. In my mind I thought “Where the fuck did this guy come from”?, an Indian guy reading palms in the suburbs of Dallas. Just did not add up. But his persona was so strong he drew me towards him. It was almost as if I was under a spell. On a regular day I would not believe this guy telling me about my future by looking at my palms. But I was vulnerable at that time. I was in dismay when he mentioned a loss of a close one. I asked him who sent you here. He just said , “He can’t come so he sends people like me.”. To prove his point further on he asked me to think of a bird and put a piece of paper in my hand. He told me to open the paper without revealing to him what bird I was thinking of. When I undid the folded paper it had “Pigeon” written on it in Hindi. And that was what I was thinking of. The guy went on for about five more minutes bombarding me with blessings and guidelines. I could barely keep up with his tempo of doing things. He gave be a blessed piece of black stone that he proclaimed had an image of the lord Ganesh on it. It wrapped my fingers around it and told me I should wear it around my neck with a black thread. This seemed all too familiar but at a very unusual time and place. I was confused and to add to all this semi hallucinating experience the guy got down to business. “Son donate some money to the poor”, because if you give you will enjoy a larger return. Quiet an investment scheme he had. I offered a small amount of $10 which he blindly refused. I was so much in his spell I handed him; let’s just say a larger amount.
Throughout the remainder of the day I could not gravitate to what had just happened. Did the guy just con me? But at the same time his touch felt like it took off a load off my chest. I felt calmed and serene. Out of all these years I have worked here, I had never before seen the man. And as he walked away I felt weak and emotional. I thought of my grandfather.

December 13 is the “Death” anniversary of my hero and one of my favorite music personalities, Chuck Schuldiner from the legendary death metal band called “Death”. I was still growing up when Chuck and his band were touring and writing music. But about a year before Chuck passed away due to brain cancer I laid my hands upon the iconic album “Symbolic” . Back then I wasn’t really into heavy music as much , I listened to bands like Pantera, Metallica, Sepultura, etc. But the first time heard the opening riffs of the song ‘Crystal Mountain’ I knew that this was the greatest shit I had ever heard. Lot of people label him as the godfather of Death Metal but I look at him more like a pioneer of innovative heavy music. Progressive might be another word that might describe Chuck. At an age when glam and thrash ruled the world Chuck chose a different path. He created a sound that was never heard before. Beautifully harmonized melodies, thunderous blast beats, guttural vocals and dark-philosophical lyrics. And often people accredit him for his guitar skills but I always thought Chuck was an amazing songwriter as well.

Do you feel what I feel, see what I see, hear what I hear
There is a line you must draw between your dream world and reality
Do you live my life or share the breath I breathe
Lies feed your judgment of others
Behold how the blind lead each other
The philosopher
You know so much about nothing at all

“The Philosopher,” Individual Thought Patterns

You be the judge.

His work truly is, ART. His influence on me personally is endemic. Some argue about his stint with Christianity before his death. It is contradicting to his work, yes, but I hate assholes who think they are conformist to the so called anti-social lifestyle.

Like this paranoid asshole.

http://www.anus.com/metal/about/metal/chuck_schuldiner.html

How metal can you really be? This asshole wrote to chuck’s mother and says this in his own writing “Judeo-Christianity, or Christianity; however you prefer, is the mindset that drives the hatred which drives a desire for a new way or possibility in metal”.

I would like to say to the self proclaimed advocate of Metal, “Speak for your own self- Asshole”. The same lyric that’s quoted above has been used by our friend at anus.com as Chuck’s defense of being a Christian. Chuck was Jewish by birth and our friends at anus.com I believe are Christians by birth, and if anus.com wants to talk about being pro-choice well I do not see why they dislike chuck. He made a choice, he had skimpy voice doesn’t necessarily mean he was gay; he loved cats thus he wore t-shirts with kittens on it. May Leonardo Da Vinci was a homosexual but does that discredit all his works?

Ps. No wonder it’s called anus.com, because it’s filled with assholes.

Chuck was a regular guy, shy, loved animals, cooked and took his mother to the mall for shopping. He was a musician. And just like preachers and god goons people that try to glamorize stuff like Satanism or any ideology about following something are on the same platform to me.

I didn’t wake up this morning wanting to write a blog about chuck but I got provoked and disgusted by the article that I linked above. The Sound of Perseverance is truly the sound of perseverance. I am not glorifying the man here gratuitously but glorifying his work, his art and his talent. What he was in his personal life has nothing to do with “Death” irrespective to all the propagandas. I don’t believe in them and more importantly I really don’t care.

The last show I had seen was the Cannibal Corpse/ Dying Fetus tour back in December 2006 with Sushant and it was quiet an eventful night. We had come very close to getting a DUI or a Public Intoxication charge. Memories.

I had contemplated watching many shows in between this period but some how it never did happen. Last Monday Charles, Sushant and I headed out to lower Green Ville in Dallas to watch what would be my first night to watch a Metal gig in almost two years.

Let me tell you why this gig was special.

First, I had not been out just as my old self in quiet a while. Put on my favorite attire (an old Band T-shirt and Jeans) and caring less about the rest of my life. Obligated to have a good time and listening to the music that shapes my persona.

Lastly, the front man of Soulfly is Max Cavalera. The front man of the old Thrash /Speed/Death Metal band Sepultura. As a teenager my choice of music was Metal and now it governs my ideologies. One particular band that had a very radical impact on me growing up was “Sepultura”. A Brazilian band that became world renowned singing songs of frustration, political injustice and just the misfortune of being born in a third world country. It reflected what I felt and I could relate to the music they played like it was meant for me. In particular the album “Arise” stands out due to the fact that it was the first record I had heard from the band Sepultura. Every time there was a riot in the streets of Kathmandu I had a severe urge to crank up “Refuse/Resist” on my stereo. I had a poster of the band on my wall that I used to pride upon and emulate Max to the snap shot. I loved to wear camouflage trousers and when I had an opportunity to get on stage with my old college band we belted out half of the “Arise” record. It was almost relevant to the time and events that surrounded us as young adults.

I got to see my idol up close and alive.