The JUGGAD Act

For a long time now, I've been hearing about how in my future field of work "sources" matter more than knowledge itself. You become a part of a brand name. You become a product. And probably, it's not only law that I'm talking about. Almost everything is, in fact, based more on marketing and propaganda. Everything today depends on how market yourself. It depends not on your achievements anymore; what matters how many layers of well-fabricated lies you have on you, or how you can brag about your supposed accomplishments or how you can pretend to be something that you're not. And no, it's not unethical; in fact, if you look closely, you'll see that the ones who haven't been able to sell themselves this way, haven't reached anywhere. It's cut-throat competition out there, and noone, believe you me, noone cares about how morally bankrupt you become in the process of becoming successful.

I am sorry, I digress when I'm too excited or emotionally unsound.

What I was talking about is "sources" matter more than knowledge or character. If you don't have a source or a "Juggad" in the field, you are incapable of finding yourself at the pinnacle of success. You might just be reduced to a lesser mortal if you don't have a godfather in your field of work. Though I revel in the fact that my Father is in the Merchant Navy, I sometimes wish he was a lawyer or was somehow legally inclined. Life would have been a tad easier had he been a lawyer.

Anyway, I was reading Paulo Coelho's The Zahir the other day and it is funny how I found an entire chapter related to what I'm thinking now. What follows now is an excerpt from The Zahir - Coelho explains quite subtly the importance of "juggad" or what he calls rather politely "Favour Bank" :
( I wish I could footnote. Sadly, blogger does not provide for footnotes.)

'What is this Favour Bank?'

'You know. Everyone knows.'

Possibly, but I still haven't quite grasped what you're saying.'

'It was an American writer who first mentioned it. It's the most powerful bank in the worl, and you'll find it in every sphere of life.'

'Yes, but I come from a country without a literary tradition. What favours could I do for anyone?'

'That doesn't matter in the least. Let me give you an example: I know you're an up-and-coming writer and that, one day, you'll be very influential. I know this because, like you, I too was once ambitous, independent, honest. I no longer have the energy I once had, but I want to help you because I acn't or don't want to grind to halt just yet. I'm not dreaming about retirement, I'm still dreaming about the fascinating struggle that is life, power and glory.
' I start making deposits in your account - not cash deposits, you understand, but contacts. I introduce you to such and a person, I arrange certain deals, as long as they're legal. You know that you owe me something, but I never ask you for anything.'

'And then one day...'

'Exactly. One day, I'll ask you for a favour and you could of course, say "No", but you're conscious of being in my debt. You do what I ask, I continue to help you, and other people see that you're decent, loyal sort of person and so they too make deposits in your account - always in the form of contacts, because this worls is made up of contacts and nothing else. They too will one day ask you for a favour, and you will respect and help the people who have helped you, and in time, you'll have spread your net worldwide, you'll know everyone you need to know and your influence will keep on growing.'

'I could refuse to do what you ask me to do.'

'You could. The Favour Bank is a risky investment, just like any other bank. You refuse to grant me the favour I asked you, in the belief that I helped you because you deserved to be helped, because you're the best and everyone should automatically recognise your talent. Fine, I say thank you very much and ask someone else into whose account I've also made various deposits; but from then on, everyone knows, without me having to say a word, that you are not to be trusted.
'You'll grow only half as much as you could have grown, and certainly not as much as you would have liked to. At a certain point, your life will begin to decline, you got halfway, but not all the way, you're half-happy and half-sad, neither frustrated nor fulfilled. You're neither cold nor hot, you're lukewarm, and as an evangelist in some holy book says: "Lukewarm things are not pleasing to the palate."'

"Listen. Can you hear it? The music. I can hear it everywhere. In the wind... in the air... in the light. It's all around us. All you have to do is open yourself up. All you have to do... is listen. "

There is chaotic tranquility in me, around me. All I have to do is follow the music. The music inside me, the inexplicable void that speaks not in words, but in a tune only known to me. Despite, all the noise, all the contention inside, all the commotion, the music hasn't stopped. It is a faint, dissolved tune now. But if I let it play inside me a little longer, I known I can add words and lyrics and turn it into a pretty little song called Life. Follow the music. Believe in it. Let it touch you. Let the light of music reign supreme. 

"Sometimes the world tries to knock it out of you. But I believe in music the way some people believe in fairy tales."

Photo courtesy: August Rush

Chasing The Sky.

It didn't take me much time to realize that I was almost chasing the sky today when you guys egged me on to photograph the sky. The evening sky here has a charm of its own. One of the few things that keeps me grounded here. Today the orangish churning sky captivated this random photographer and I persisted to run after it. I would've lost all sense of time had you people not joked around about my weird positions trying to take the pictures.

I ran from near the auditorium where the sky looked fiery - almost as if it were on fire, to the lawn hoping to get a better view and then, to the end of the iron-concrete wall that separates the temporary campus from the other wings of the university. Everytime I moved in closer, I moved farther away from my sky. Everytime I expected to get a better picture, I lost a part of my sky. Each time I thought I had the sky in my palms I lost the fiery gleams of orange light peeping through the clouds. A little closer and I would have probably lost my marmalade sky forever.

My dreamy sky is my muse. It engulfs me. No point chasing it. No point capturing it in my starshine eyes.

Blog Going Private.

This is it! My Blog is going private. Yes PRIVATE! Anyone who wishes to read and NOT copy to their blogs what I write in mine are welcome to send me a mail for an invite.

send mail if you want an invitation to read this blog.

rebel.deya@gmail.com

This blog is becoming private on the 15th of October.

The red painting somehow reminded me of the BIG red suitcase I carried back home. Keeping an eye on it all of the nine and half hours during the journey back home, while the rest of them slept. Two of us played NFS and listened to music on the Ipod. Watched the starry midnight sky as the train lurched forward. But not moving an inch from near the suitcase. My BIG red suitcase! I wonder was it only clothes and books I was carrying in it. Or, did I bring a part of that life, that city here as well? I wonder why it took three guys to put it in the train when I boarded. Burden, they said! Burden! I think I DID bring that life here with me. That solitude, that quietude. The blaring music and the earphones. The silent observation. That silence. The darkness. Staying up till 4 am. Did I bring all of that home?

People live parallel lives, don't they? A family, a profession, school friends, university, clubs.. but how often do they get entangled in these lives? How often does one life dissolve into another? Isn't it difficult juggling lives? I'm a new player. Just a new player. A new clown in this circus called The Big Bad World. Called Life. I don't know the rules. And so I got disoriented. Lost my composure when I lost one life in the crowd all of a sudden. All these years, I've just watched the crowds from a distance. This time, I lost my way bigtime. Let one life dissolve into another, and let it run through my fingers like grains of sand.

The painting shook me back to consciousness. The red suitcase shouldn't be burden. The memories I carry shouldn't be burden. And it'll take some time to merge those worlds. It'll take some time for me to get used to my parallel lives. All I have to remember for now is whenever I travel from one world to the other I have to slip off from the Deya I am in one world and change into the Deya of the other realm. Strange, I know. But magical it sounds to me. :)

... And there, we were thinking why this painting costs a whooping 35K. Methinks the painting is priceless. :P

a very chocolatey declaration.

now here's presenting a new space for ranting. yes this blog's here to stay as well. but chocolate is more me. somewhere i can be the sillylittlegirl that i am.

so go get yourself a Chocolate.