Postulate

Does everybody in India keep their headlights on high beams permanently, because they've been taught "high" is always better than "low"? Exam grades, grooms' height, sons-in-law's pay scales, sons' houses - why, even cholesterol, blood pressure, and blood sugar - the higher they are, more sympathetic the nods and noises you elicit from listeners. 

id est

Lookie how long its been!





Much like in real life, when meeting friends that I haven't met for a loooong time and have no clue about what's going on in their lives, I'll pretend that the hiatus never happened and pick the threads right up without it being awkward at all (!)*





So there's this Facebook thing called terribly tiny tales, which is a terribly interesting concept. The premise is that stories should be "tweet sized", so presumably around 140 characters long, I think (not being the most prolific of twatters)



And if you've read this blog earlier, I have dabbled in stories, but this seemed interesting. Just how short can a story be to be effective? A thirukkural length story perhaps.


And the best part of all this is that there's not much room to say anything, apart from the essentials. But what I deem essential, with my opinions and my outlook, might not be effective for everybody. Take this, for example, something to convey a couple's desperation to meet:





"They shared a love for foie gras,

  but met at McDonalds."




"He met her at McDonalds;

 they ordered the salad."




What would I expect the story to convey? That they had a taste for the finer things in life, but still met at McDonalds. This would necessarily imply that people who like foie gras do not like McDonalds. Is that true? I couldn't possibly say. The second example demands that people see the irony in going to McDonalds for a salad. Am I just a bit rubbish at concision? Or generally rubbish? 





If I had a 140 character limit, what'd that be like?

"Mangalyam Tantunanena...", he mumbled, repeating after the vadhiyar, amidst the cacophony, as he fingered the silver cross around his neck.




"Rombo chellama irundhutta, she might be reluctant to awaken in the mornings. you should give her some time..", he said, handing the keys over
"

Better, if only marginally. Creates a context and all. Eh? But quite a lot longer than 140 characters. 

Around here's where you're probably expecting a conclusion to this post. Unfortunately, I couldn't be bothered, so there's none. Life is stern and life is earnest and you can't always get what you want. I felt like a burrito today but couldn't have one. 



* (!) is what the BBC marks sarcasm in its subtitles. If its good enough for the beeb, its good enough for me. 

Postulate

People who are always in a hurry on the road - tooting incessantly and flashing their headlights and generally making obnoxious prats out of themselves - They almost always seem to be in cars that were acquired with a head-over-heart decision, with one purpose in mind: to get them from A to B, sometimes even C. I'm sure they do it admirably, but like I've pointed out in the past, they're little more than household appliances.

I wonder, then, if they're in a raging hurry because they're reminded of the joy they could have had if they'd put their priorities right and decided that whilst getting to B is important, it's also important to enjoy the drive there. C'est, don't they say, la vie? 

Politically Incorrect

Lookie! Here I am, again, on the last day of this year. And rather annoyingly, Facebook, it seems, won't go away. In fact, social media has become humungous. Absolute nobodies become household names overnight. Household names get cut down to size when their misdemeanours become the target of very public, and very personal flogging. Again, through social media. Careers are made or broken, because of viral responses to stuff on social networking sites. And it is being hammered into our heads, non stop, that social media is the next best thing since sliced bread. The wheel. That it really is the cat's meow.

Heh, no.

Let me explain. India, in the past few months, has been hit by a popular movement against corruption, led by someone called Anna Hazare. The rights and wrongs of his movement, I shall not go into (not in this post, anyway), but Mr Hazare, we're told, has "hundreds of thousands of millions" of supporters across India and the world. How are these numbers arrived at, do I hear you asking? Well, its based on how many people "Lick" his Facebook page or "tweet" his twatter page, or something. And its not just for this, its an epidemic. When Sachin Tendulkar had scored about 70 runs in a recent match, NDTV already had a page up to "congratulate Sachin on his 100th 100." Well, he never got there. And yet I'm sure the page got millions of licks. And twats.

And based on these numbers, people make money. Advertising revenue. It doesn't quite translate into anything in the real world, though. It is so laughably easy to "support" or "congratulate" someone, clicking on things from the comfort of one's home. Click, click, click, click - it takes no effort at all. Damn nearly no time spent, nor energy, nor money. And so, when Mr Hazare expected hazaron to rally against corruption, he got about two attendees. And quite likely neither of whom had licked his page. Does this mean, then, that people aren't bothered about corruption? No, I'm sure they are - but just bothered enough to click. And nothing more. That's how its been for quite a while now, hasn't it?

What, then, has social media changed? 

Thanatophobia -

 - I hear, is the fear of death. Yes, that fear. Of death. Arguably one of the most popular phobias. Or at least one of the more popular ones. But I wonder how many actually have the fear of death in itself, which is essentially a biological process. I might even go as far to call it a biological milestone. I'm inclined to think more people are afraid of the implications of death - not being able to do the things you've wanted to do all your life, not being able to meet the people who matter to you, not being able to achieve anything more - and so on and so forth. Which then begs the question - Conquering the fear of death, which many (for lack of a better word) Godmen and saints have claimed to do - Is is really something to be proud of?

Isn't it a statement that you're making - that nobody really matters to you anymore - that you don't have anything else to achieve? That you think the world can't find you useful in any way whatsoever? Isn't that a rather sorry state of mind to reach?

So! All the fuss of not being afraid of death! What's it about?