Progressive Lol-ism

Contradictory to the general preconceived notion that you might or might not have assimilated having had a slight glimpse of the heading, the article isn't meant to tickle the proverbial funny bone, so you may proceed if you should without the slightest anticipation of entertainment.

Given the current state of affairs , I feel that if "lol" hadn't been invented ,it would have been inevitably harder to pretend being modest, much less , sane, on google chats. I mean ,when somebody tells you a joke , you have to laugh more because you're expected to and less because you want to. There is absolutely no other option than to be compelled to put in those three letters , and get exonerated of the slightest risk of being termed a " bore" or more dangerously , of being type cast as somebody who lacks the intelligence of getting a joke. Now again , it's immaterial whether one actually meant it , and again, to what extent it was pretentious and obligatory is an elusive mystery in itself. However, if at all, the idea is to deprecate your opponent , not appreciating the joke considered to be, precisely, "the" strategy, the archaic path. But then, if you really want to deprecate him and put him in further diminutive light, wouldn't you want him to live in that illusive world , where all that kicks his adrenaline is the fact that he has in his pocket a "potentially funny" joke. This way , he would be more than encouraged , to share his thoughts with the junta ,and the further audacious he gets in spreading the profligacy of his joke, the bigger fool he makes of himself.


I was just wondering , that if at all the root of this "lolistic" invention was to be traced, what it would be like. But, there's no absolute point tracing it and hence I wouldn't. Obviously , there is no dearth of good jokes, jokes that command that awe and appreciation on their very mention. In that case however , not only the word "lol" truly means itself but is generally coupled with a sumptuous addition of " hahahahas". And it is precisely then that one realizes that it wasn't that bad a mention.( :D ).Just a pinch of digression. I remember being taught a cognitive strategy in my earlier years , for I had always had this inherent confusion between left and right. Despite frequent mug ups, they were just too hard to decipher for me. In fact, I had this notional faith that the Right Path( from this right I mean ,correct) Path is always the Right Path( from this right I mean the direction) and this was ,I should say tersely, the cornerstone of my decision making in directions. Now , the fact that my name means " The Master of the right path " , shines out to be one of the bigger ,much less ,brighter ironies to have struck me. So the idea was to associate a picture to the words -right and left, and then overtime I was neatly sorted. Since then I've , more subconsciously, had this habit of associating pictures to commonly used words. Ever since 'lol' became a part of general vocabulary , both oral and written, I was more than compelled to attach an expression to it. So here it was, as and when people on chats typed "lol", I could automatically start visualizing them laughing their brains out sitting across their respective computer screens and I should add here , sometimes the very thought of some people laughing so blatantly used to make me smirk myself.

Now, the visualization of "hahas" is a little more complicated, for it can be perceived differently with different expressions attached to it. The idea is basically , how you say it? It could that sullen " ha--haha--hahaha " where the intention , more generally, is not to appreciate but to depreciate. An almost equally glum pattern is " ha ha ha ha". To be able to imagine a laugh with an avalanche of hahas is a little difficult , but I guess trying to imagine a guffaw would be more accurate. Again , trying to imagine some people guffawing at a joke , is not only entertaining but also enthralling, because some of these people are the ones who have literally hidden themselves in the canopy of subtlety , by the virtue of which the public display of unrestricted laughter is considered "inappropriate". Be it as they like it for themselves , it hardly bothers me. on the contrary , I feel indebted to these people , for if they hadn't been that , what should I say, out of the box , I couldn't have managed to gather my food : the food for thought.

Approximately In-approximate

In a world where some people intend to express their intention accurate to the third decimal, the word " Approximately" turns out to be a potential savior for the other variety. With increasing complexity and burgeoning dependency on the minusculest of exogenous details, Approximation has transformed itself from being a choice to a necessity for carrying out wordly processes . Now, what I intend to say may not be clear from what I have written so far , but whatever you may think it to be is only approximately correct. This is one fine example of using the word "Approximately" to shadow one's own unknowingness, the fact that I am myself incongnisant of what I mean to say here.

Putting it straight. As I was sitting today in one of my theory classes in college, very devotedly observing a lizard which had ventured into the arena ( the classroom I mean). And by the word "lizard" I do not intend to personify the teacher , it's a real lizard that I intend to bring into picture. I could intuitively sense that the lecture that was then in pursuit, was as effectively paralyzing the lizard physically as it was torturing me mentally. As sympathetically as we looked at each other ( the lizard and I) , I had this malignant hope raging inside me , the hope that the lizard would eventually lose its consciousness and drop dead on the criminal , the very lecturer who can and should be inculpated of paralyzing fifty nine other bright bulbs in class, apart from the already semi-functional one like mine. I was still wondering whether such a fiasco would deter him from continuing his lecture.

As much I would like to elaborate on the above, I'd stick to the issue. So, lost as I was in my unintentional telepathic interaction with the lizard, I had this random thought. What are the consequences of cascaded approximations, the very approximations that have been carried upon through generations. Almost suddenly,the alter ego inside me became all the more cacophonous and made me self answer a few questions. What was the inherent purpose of using an approximation? Clarity , I suppose, I said to myself. What else? backfired the devil. Perhaps ,they used it for the ease of it , I answered. Then came the question of preponderance. What if the process of approximation, which is carried out in one process cascaded to the other, eventually gave a result which contradicted its own inherent purpose ? It was this that made me realise how the deceptively trivial " approximation" may sway the results to an extent that they produce conclusions absolutely contradictory to the real result, camouflaging the real bone of contention by a wide margin.

Now, I know people will try to justify this with concepts of Maximum error and stuff , but that's not the issue here you see. Life and history are not aptitude questions that can be solved with a pen and paper, there are just way too many exogenous things that need to be pondered upon before making a final quote for the answer, which is many a times just impossible to do. An analogy here is a must and this one I suppose is the most relevant right now. Gossip, is possibly the most pervasive form of oratory approximations and I'm pretty sure each one of us has witnessed ( and I say this very sympathetically) the capability of an immature gossip ballooning into a false rumour and eventually souring terms between and amongst many.

ULIPS and TULIPS

What has caught my imagination this time is perhaps not the most contentious of issues today, but nevertheless , worth some mention here. The news about the newly found truce between the IRDA and SEBI is already making rounds. This very battle reminds me of the two year old ownership mess between the Ambani brothers. Earlier the structure of this financial hierarchy was somewhat elusive of my understanding , but having given it a random thought , I think I can get to the bottom of it.

SEBI, the sole regulator of all equity transactions in the market, is the more dominant of bodies as compared to the IRDA. Here comes the analogy. SEBI can be projected to be the legitimate son of NSE, the parent regulator. Having a decent , if not complete authority over transactions , SEBI has long been ostensible about its power and influence. IRDA on the other hand, metaphorises itself to be the ignored Illegitimate Son. Now, the argument arises over the word "illegitimate" . By my limited understanding I perceive an object to be illegitimate if its formation precedes the intention of it being used. IRDA was setup with a more obligatory set of powers, powers given to it for mere consolation . The board members of the IRDA had long realised this painful irony, and not only were they complacent to it but also somewhere satisfied with the perks they were granted for doing absolutely nothing .More directly, it turned out to be a dream job for some. For the more intellectual variety at IRDA , this was blasphemy. The ignominy they had to face in front of their counterparts in the SEBI would squeal them for inside , hitting their semipermeable wall of ego with little pebbles. As time passed , the rotundity of these erstwhile minute pebbles kept increasing gradually. What could not be averted was this ego being thwarted one day, making them clamor for their respect. It was coincidence then that a new financial product was about to hit the Indian circuit. The name ,ULIPS, very much synonymous to "tulips" , initially, did not go very well with investors. However given its torrid promotion, it somehow filled hand in glove with the then emerging needs, the need to hedge, that is to add to the portfolio an element of prudence, which was sufficed by that 2-5 % share of insurance. It can be blamed on the financial illiteracy of the then naive Indian investor, who invested his life earnings in this novelty , that the real picture remained rather hidden. As it appears now, people were fooled upfront , how ? that's a different story all together.

How does the IRDA come into picture? The IRDA needs some applaud for capitalizing on that minute 2-5% share of insurance to bring ULIPS within its purview of regulation. SEBI , inebriated by its power , failed to gauge the audacity of the situation, and of the fact that it had lost the opportunity to regulate a product which, by far, needed more regulation than others. And thereby followed the mess we have today. As the matter gets set to be settled in court , the common man is caught unaware of his financial unawareness and projects himself to be a member of a breed of Indians , who have very recently managed to accumulate a decent amount of wealth, the newly rich as they are called, participating in India's growth story but have failed to pocket that financial and intellectual insight that could help them retain this wealth in the future.

Being essentially "santimantelle"

"When he said it , he never meant it.When he truly meant it , he couldn't say it. And finally when he could , it was profoundly irrelevant." This is perhaps the newly evolved characteristic of the modern metrosexual man, the santimantelle man , so to say. Callous , as some of us are, we do pretend to bother about things, things we're expected to be bothered about, but I guess , sooner or later , the inevitable yet camouflaged feeling of indifference shows out.

Have you ever seen a man cry ? I haven't. Having said this I'm quite sure , we all have seen unsuspecting women shedding tears as if they were contracted to fill the proverbial buckets. So, what does this imply, by the general sense of perception? Maybe, men are less exposed to such circumstances. And then I ask myself , are we? or are we not? May be calamity never struck us . Heavens never fell upon us. If at all they did, they were never too heavy. If at all they were hard to bear , not hard enough to make us cry, not in front of women at least.

It may be the inner secret for some, revelations for the others , but men do cry. And when they do , heavens fall apart , the helplessness of the crying man is as unfathomable as the depth of the ocean. One is thrown open to speculating , what in the world could be hard enough , to make a man, who is , quite ironically , the pretentious iconism of strength and apathy, sulk inconsolably. When they taught us " relative value " , never had I imagined I would use this to compare the worth of a man's tears to a woman's. It's commonplace to see women crying, and when you do see one , you think , something might be wrong. Quite on the contrary , you see a man crying , though I'm sure he won't cry publicly , we're not built that way you see , but if at all you do , you tell him , these tears are the investments you've made for your entire life , cry , cry your heart out , the more you cry now , the more apathetic you become , the more unperturbed you are by the world around you, the more satisfied you'd be with what you have , and finally , when you'll become almost indifferent to every wordly or other wordly emotion that tends to circumscribe your atmosphere, they'll start calling you the proverbial " man".

For the blabber mouth I am I have to add that personal comment. Well, I'd say , I'm yet to shed my fair share of tears. I'll rather save them for my post married life. I'm pretty sure, with the unanimously criticized traits I possess , I'm bound to give my wife company , as and when she cries cursing the very day she married me , and then, even though it may seem ironical , I'll cry with her , consoling her , and then perhaps telling her : you couldn't have managed anything better than me you see, we're both equally stuck and then in the midst of all the pandemonium happening , I'd say : khaane mein kya hai? , only to see a set of brows raising in wicked amazement.

The lovable loser vs The losable lover

More of a dilemma than a paradox. Perhaps, this is a choice one has to make inescapably, at least once in life. If ever there was a need to configure the pros and cons fo anything at all, I'm sure this contentious issue could be summoned to be the perfect food for thought. I have fellow beings talking about their ego, publicly that is. I'm just wondering if an egoist could actually be so blatantly blurteous about his/her ego. So, the very claim of being an egoist turns out to be all the more ironical. White Bear Phenomenon ? :P.

Having witnessed a considerable number of specimens of the so-called elite species of women, I'm somewhat intuitive of this dilemma prevailing in them( the losable lover or the lovable loser). Well, it's definitely not something to be critical about. But the whole idea of turning a simple choice into a gut wrenching dilemma is kinda thought provoking, nevertheless extremely entertaining to watch. A trade-off of sorts, the inherent qualities of being a good lover and being a genuine loser, are conflicting, but only peripherally (those who got the joke-> lol). It seems to be some kind of portfolio management. To be precise on the idea, you always intend to keep your options at hand. Now, that I've already framed the analogy, let me intrigue myself deeper and pour your brain into the bowl of abstraction , then, beat it unsympathetically into the proverbial yogurt.( this imagination by the way is indebted to the ever un-understandable idiom - Dimaag ka Dahi !). Investors, in particular, are a breed of gentlemen and not so gentle women, who in their incessant desire to get rich invest their already puffing bank balances into endeavors promulgated by others. The motives are comprehensively simple, to get rich. But somehow, by the virtues of common sense they do realise that the birth of every winner is an inevitable vindication of at least two losers, one being the loser himself and the other who made him realise that he really was one, and therefore winning as a proposition is not always equally likely. The standard panacea is to play low: Risk Averse Strategy. The so-called beta of such an investment is lower, guaranteeing the investor more safety than high returns. Nevertheless,on the flip side( risk lovers), there is always a collegium waiting to break free , longing to invest unscrupulously , carrying beneath their skin the fear of losing it all one day, the dramatically obvious Losable Lovers.

Somehow, I always try to conclude the paragraph with a personal take on the subject, but I guess, this time I just don't fit the context. If at all,though forcibly,I had to attach myself to a respectable category , I'll place myself in the section of losable losers , not that I'm particularly regretful of being one, quite on the contrary, I'm not regretful at all. Sometimes, having getting to see the fate of losable lovers and lovable losers and its effect on their respective counterparts is just too much fun. ;)

Vicks: Exploiting Sensitivity

I'm almost sure that some of you might have heard the word " triaminic" earlier and only if you'd have the audacity to recollect, it is somewhat etched in the faintest of your childhood memories. Triaminic is an analgesic( decongestant) meant to relieve children of common cold and cough. I'm assuming, you're already getting bored, well , so am I , and that is exactly why I'm writing this post.

The advertising industry, in general, has always been ruthless enough to capitalize on the most dormant of human emotions and resurrect corporate benefit. The strategies promulgated are somewhat symbolic of human nature yet, hollow to the core in their meaning. Let me begin with a native example. I'm sure you're pretty aware of the architypical Vicks ad, the one which portrays a lady ( who looks rather too young to play a mother) who tries to comfort her son ( who looks old enough to apply Vicks all by himself) by rubbing his stand-out red coloured nose with Vicks and within the span of that 15 second advertisement, not only the boy's cured off his nosily notions, but there's a conspicuous depiction of motherly love showered all over him, as if the so called motherly love is resurrected only in catastrophic times of nose blockages.And what follows is some idiotically silly tagline, the so called icing on the cake. You may wonder why I seem to have a grudge at this.Perhaps , you'll get a hunch in what follows. Upfront, as and when I saw this advertisement for the very first time, it placed in my thinking an inconceivable correlation between mothers and analgesics, which technically is non-existent. So much was the profundity of this advertisement, that , I, then a boy aged 8 years, had embibed an unshakeable belief that perhaps, the effect of analgesics and the so called motherly affection , were variables that always went hand-in-hand, not to forget here the non-sensical belief, that analgesics may prove effective if-and-only-if they're applied by moms. These very notions were thwarted one night, when my white blood cells almost gave up, and I had to succumb ,quite inevitably, to the most irritating diseases of all in-humanity: Common Cold. Coincidently, mother wasn't at home that night.With mummy having night duties, twice a week, dad had to be my only company. I remember myself being the sole victim of his cooking dexterity which somehow always ended up in unpalatable disasters, and then, by the virtues of a unanimous consensus on the ramifications of gulping those unpalatable disasters , we ended up dining at the nearby restaurant. That night, dad being the only help at home , had to make up for mom.The best he could do then was to threaten me to take the analgesic, while I backfired and threatened him of telling mom, that my common cold, was a possible consequence of his forcing me to try "kulfi" , which according to him is by far the best thing one can buy with money, but of course this was only one side of the "forced Kulfi" story, and I better not reveal the other half. As skeptic I was to let dad do the honour of applying the ever iconic Vicks, I was as much confident of its irrelevance, for the preconceived notion of having mom around in common cold catastrophes had haunted my mind ever since I had watched the advertisement. What happened , wasn't much less than a revelation. I actually felt better and there I stood wondering at the audacity of these capitalist giants to try and fool eight year olds in believing the unbelievable. What more can an eight year old feel other than his own "silly"ness of assuming with folded eyes all that is told to him , while others hear his opinion and laugh at it.

Such is the misery of capitalism, which hasn't obscured from exploiting the power of human emotions, Human Sensitivity , so to say.

The White Bear Phenomenon

It is most ironic that when you try and restrict yourself from thinking about something, you inevitably tend to think about it , majority of the times much more intriguingly . Why does this happen ? Well, it is hard to say. The human mind has had this innate capability to learn via contradiction, which more or less summarises the very tendency if humans of being argumentative. Somewhere beneath these grey cells, lies a perspiring ego , almost impregnably waiting to be challenged more so contradicted. It is perhaps this invisible trap of ego that abstracts the whole thought process in a direction one is trying to obscure from.

To make things a trifle more interesting, lets say you commit yourself that from now on , you will never even embrace the thought of the girl towards whom you have a predilection. The level of certainty is such that you try to obscure from even the thought of her and then you tell yourself that this would be it, I would erase her like she was a memory etched with a pencil in my mind. Less has one realised, that it would be then that the very thought of her would become so prominent , that what seemed earlier to be an ingenuous predilection turns out to be an unanticipated affinity, an inclination so staunch that you tend reminisce her fragrance more conceivably than your own odour . The very thought of her, that you intended to consider animosity eventually becomes a indetachable part of your thinking. To sum it all up,as much as you would try to not to think of her, you will keep moving deeper into an endless dark pit, one which has nothing but her memories, leaving you in nothing but a helpless delusion. It is then that one truly gets the taste of what is so pervasively called The White Bear Phenomenon. Personally , the white bear hasn't struck me as yet. Being lazy helps here :P

Try this and be honest : Don't think about the boy who wrote this article for 10 seconds, just don't even let his picture enter your mind. The idea is to contain yourself in such a way that the boy who wrote this article doesn't appear even in the realms of your thinking. Whatever he may be, you will not let him dominate your cerebrum for the minusculest of moments. Basically, you don't have to think about Nitin Garg , 732/IT/07 for 10 full seconds, as easy as that.


And the time starts now : 1 , 2 , 3, 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 ,9 , 10 .

Gotcha!