the blues dont let go, no it dont

What is this thing called blues? When I hear it played, I know it. when I hear it played, I feel it. when I hear it played, I just have to half or fully close my eyes and frown in sheer ecstasy. It’s overwhelming. It has not much to do with musical knowledge. The most greatest of musicians couldn’t play a note of blues, if he aint ever felt it. it hasn’t much to do with perfection in terms of flawless notes and breaks and stuff. But it’s perfect. When the blues man sings the blues note, he passes on a surge of such intense emotion and power to you, but backs it with some nameless and soothing substance that just about keeps you from falling dead with the shock. The blues is raw. The blues is real. But what the freaking hell is the damn thing?

the thing about us

I thought I should write about social classes and history, cos im extremely inspired by this history class I had today. My teacher, kumar anna, is one of those exceedingly learned chaps. Iv heard he reads like thirty or so newspapers and magazines and some books everyday. He reads for eight hours every day as a rule. The wonder stops not at his learning but is furthered in his brilliant connections and outlooks. I’ve had another such history teacher too, but will bring her up specially another day. Anyway, it’s only the roused feeling burning me from the inside that I have at this point, but I don’t know enough on the subject that I wanted to write about, to do justice to it. I’m thinking, though, that I should put down the feeling however it is, so I can at least do some justice to that.
I guess I should start at home. the divisions in society are blurred and furthermore differ greatly from people to people. Id say that i come from a middle or upper middle class family. There are a couple of cars at home, a couple of servants, two car-drivers, a day and a night watchman, and a gardener. We often seem to be getting kinda tight, but we buy a sufficient amount of goodies so as to be able to call ourselves mindless consumers, and are able to tap enough of good water from places we’ve never seen, while the neighbourhood stays thirsty, and we don’t even need to feel the guilt of snatching the water and other such resources, cos the system makes that possible too. My dad is a settling writer and my mom is a part time teacher. Any money that we have is that from some institution that my granddad setup, but has today nothing really to do with. There’s a lot of smelly politics there. Basically, none of us really earn for our lifestyle.
Having had a considerable amount of exposure to the severely poor section of india, I developed a conscience, but having felt the softness of my bed and the comforting fan above, every night along with the “safety” of four or more walls, I seem content with intellectualisation and cant go out of my way to act. Somewhere, the very thought of an upheaval in the hierarchies of societies scares the hell out of me. im in love with the comfort of taking for granted life. I don’t have to think about where my food came from, who’s keeping me here, or even who I am. Im supported from all sides to be here. There’s this part in my, however, that’s suddenly co cynical to being here in this way. I suppose it started the day I came across Marxism in class nine. It was so beautiful that I first couldn’t except that the world, hundred and fifty odd years later is still the same. Except that the power manipulators are today capable of masking themselves more efficiently. In many cases, serious questioning must start with cynicism.
Im at a loss of words because im feeling a bit weak in the mind, and need some time to heal. I’ll get back to this post and even try to put it into a clearer and firmer stream. So: to be continued…..

existence shmexistence

i study at a krishnamurti school. if you dont know what it is, find out. because you really dont need to. just like all the other things you do, think or say, or whatever else. we had a talk about questioning and illusions in life on class today, following our watching of a krishnamurti video. a lot of stuff being said in the video didnt agree with me, but what appealed was the man's constant picking on people having to question everything. the talk that followed, once it heated up enough to eat, was an interesting one. we spoke about the need, if there was any, to question things, and our questions on questioning. john lennon in "strawberry fields" talks about how easy it is to live with our eyes closed. i so bloody agree that i could break down and cry. do we take life for granted and be passive actors or whatever the fuck we are, or do we just question things? cos you see questioning aint simple. if you get into the process of it, you'd start to see that there's no drawing lines, and its excruciatingly cyclic. let me illustrate. say you have a problem and are depressed. you ask yourself why you're depressed. you question what depression is. you then try to determine the difference between feeling something like depression, and feeling say liberation. so then you wonder what feelings are. it leads to what life is, and what you are. can you trust what you see, hear, feel, taste? just cos someone's in front of you talking, and holding your hand, how the heck can you be so sure they're there? cos someone told you and assured you? who're they? how do you know you exist? you think and therefore you exist? well then who are you to think, and how do you know you're thinking? there are questions for every frequency or level of thought. none of them have answers, if you realise that no answer long enough. life's so uncertain. if you give up, or decide to forfeit the battle, you can use such things as faith and hope to help live. otherwise, you're constantly tormented by seemingly unanswerable questions, and cant live on normally. i guess you could always go mad. there are many of those types. here's a little story which i think is or is not the way it was; precision doesnt matter, and so doesnt everything else.
life began. it thrived. it evolved. it learns to communicate using snarls and growls and a lot of teeth-showing and arse-sniffing. then one day, one fortunate or unfortunate- what does that matter? -species of creature learns to use symbols to communicate. symbols as in sounds, words, etc. being assigned to select concepts . we thus learn to give symbols to everything around us......... money, luxury, technology, development, and million blahs. how reliant are symbols? you read these words -who?- but are my thoughts actually reaching you through these words? i myself dont understand my words sometimes. how do you knoe that my definition of one of these words is the same as yours? how do you know the dictionary defines in words you understand? for that matter how do you know that the colour i call yellow is what you call yellow? why im saying this is i want you to try something out for the sake that it may or may not matter, but that certainly doesnt matter. close your eyes and imagine that you're an animal. forget language, and symbols. when you see those alien looking green things outside with green growths, dont see them as trees, but see them as alien looking green things with green growths. better yet, dont see, hear, feel, taste things as anything, just forget to think. try to experience without registering. live like an animal. life seems strangs and surreal. try it out.
i feel that going mad, hysterical, illogical, crazy......or even having an uncontrollably devastating humour is an interesting way of living. the mad to crazy things make sure you dont end up a fool, and the humour makes questioning fun.
there's another last thing i wanted to raise attention to. that's jim morrison's outlook on life. says he, "no eternal reward will forgive us for wasting the dawn", and "im gonna have my kicks before the whole shit house goes up in flames" . interesting.p.s. read the "hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy" for some brilliant and amusing concepts.