Good cannot produce evil. This was the topic we were given to write a 12-16 line poem on as part of a project in school. But hold on-
Roses have thorns on the plant they grow on. Everyone loves the rain, but they create irksome puddles that always manage to squish on you their dirty water. And black is a fab colour, but it makes nights so much more dreary than they need be.
So- how does good NOT produce evil? It does. So- what do we write?!
We have two options-
One. We say this point, that Good CAN produce Evil. But to go against the given topic would mean making our poem very very strong, and the words very very powerful- something none of my team mates could do, since we were not much into poetry. So there were huge chances that we would fail to write anything good.
Two. We could completely ignore the logical reasoning our brains instantly came up with, and write a romanticist poem on Good this and Good that. Yeah, that would get the marks. 🙂
So after much brain-hitting, and finger snapping (me), frowning, and dreaming (me), scribbling, and keeping from tearing the paper apart as we wrote (me); we came up with the following poem. It managed to impress the right people, and we have good grades, Thank You. So here it goes-
As a flower springs from the soil
Fragile and timid and soft
And as it blooms and grows
And holds its fair head aloft
It germinates and grows its young
And the babe seeds rise out
And when the bee strikes they spill
All around, ALL around
Young flowers spring out naive
And the goodness surrounds!
There is good even in the Devil!
Only, in Him, dominating is Evil
Our thoughts should be good
Good will never produce crude
For good is incapable of just one
And that, is Evil.
– By Ruchika, Varun, and maybe Akshit
We weren’t done by then. We had touched upon the Devil, and we so wanted to go on. But our 16 lines were up.
Fortunately, some other group members had come up with so many lines that we were able to put together TWO poems!
And though that was bending the rules, submitting two poems when we had to put up one, we did so good that no one bothered to yell. Why?
Because good poems hide the way for scolding and shouting.
Because good cannot produce evil.
I have no friend called Melanie. Nor do I know any Matt. But I know the names. And Melanie would probably be my choice over Matt if I were idle in a chat room and both were available to talk. (Given that at this point I am not biased towards boys, which I can be, at times, for obvious reasons.)
The divine reason why? Because I love good names.
Names, I was taught in school, is the first level of our identity. Not that all my classmates understood identity, but we know exactly what names are.
- Foundation for jokes.
- The only blessed tags in history that have not been the cause of war.
A lot of babies have been born around me lately. A lot of name-suggesting… My first criteria has always been an interesting name, and preferably not very common. Secondly, it should begin with the letters between K and S. Cause in India, in most of the schools, we are given roll numbers alphabetically by our first names and that matters a lot.
Now I’ll get back to the title. Firstly, I was pretty bored of short titles and this seemed a good break. And secondly, in one of the epiphanic moments today, I realised how much I liked good, pretty names. And before you go on, a very important disclaimer: Names matter, but people FIRST. And any resemblance to any person living or dead is PURELY co-incidental. Also, if you and I are enemies, and your name is in the list of Names I don’t Prefer, it’s not really because of the name. Please, I’m not that stupid.
Names I’m in Love with…
Pakhi, the Bird and Saachi, the Truth. Best. Names. Ever. Both of these belong to my lovely cousins and my aunty takes a lot of complaining from me on how she had already booked the bestest already.
James. (Also Bond.) Yes, I am such a fan that I can easily love you at least a little just for the name. And even if you are fat, ugly and chauvinistic, I could manage. Similarly with William, but that’s perhaps because the L’s are so cute and the M gels so well.
Avni. That’s another Indian name. Another cousin. And though it breaks my Range Of Alphabet rule, it’s a very regal-ish name. Very princess-like. Very Second Look.
Bhanvi. YET another Indian name. I noticed how Indians are super imaginative in names, and even in that variety, HARDLY any Indian name doesn’t have a meaning.
Arthur. Yes,yes, this one’s from King Arthur. Legends are everyone’s favourites.
Nelson. Good! Nelson Mandela. This one I feel is very CIA-ish. So if you have a friend in school by that name, doubt his true identity. ‘The name’s Nelson, Detective Nelson.‘
Ooh!MY name! Ruchika. It means Interests, or Hobbies. And It’s a very special name. It can be posh when I want and absolutely ruddy if I choose. When spoken in American and English accent, I have found it to be very stylish. (Indian accent is too diverse to judge by.) It’s a pretty sweet name, though my sister’s is often cooler. Bhavika.
Names I don’t Prefer… (Remember, it’s JUST an idea. Nothing serious. So…Please don’t bomb me!)
George, the farmer. I can try but it’s too close to Georgie Porgie for comfort. And when I heard the rhyme in kinder garden, I pictured a pig. Thankfully, and very decently, that bias has now gone, but George is still too simpleton for me. Dear George, I am reminding you once again, we can be great friends! Surely you won’t go by a little innocent ramification, would you? *puppy dog eyes!*
Simran. Run, Run, Run! (That’s just how the ‘ran’ of the name will be pronounced, in case you were wondering.) It’s too common. It’s too bland. It’s too… I don’t know, maybe it’s just that I have never met a Simran who I have had fun with. Perhaps.
Akash, the Sky. Call yourself Sky! That’s so much better! But I can’t do well with Akash. It’s too many whispy sounds. Again, too common, again, no great experience.
You know what, that’s actually a very strong reason. Years ago, I felt the name Sarthak was also too common to be liked. And then I made friends with one of my best buds in 3rd standard with the same name, and since then, throughout the seven years, I have liked it. Psychology so spoils my blog post!
Anyway, dear George, Simran and Akash. Muah! No way I’m going to come with this prejudice before meeting you, no chance. So cheer out and don’t prejudge me yourself! Fair?
What are your favourite names? Eccentric habits? Biases? Is your name Matt? Hi Matt! Hellllo Melanie! Cheerio!
Man is a rational animal, so at least I have been told, throughout my life. I have looked diligently for evidence in favour of this statement, but so far I have not had the good fortune to come across it. On the contrary, I have seen the world plunging continually further into madness. I have seen great nations, formerly leaders of civilization, led astray by teachers of bombastic nonsense. All this is depressing, but gloom is a useless emotion.
Aristotle was the first to proclaim explicitly that man is a rational animal. His unimpressive reason for this view was that some people can do sums.
– George Bernard Shaw, Me Thinks. Do correct me if I indeed am wrong.
I can’t say I wasn’t pleased to find this passage somewhere among all my debris. What is it about this one piece that makes me laugh at the joke and mock at the human race at the same time? There are sooo many critics out there, or pessimists as some prefer to call them, including myself, but it has never quite reached this saturation, has it?
Well, since we are calling man a big bad dungbag, we might just do it complete. Here’s my take on WHY and WHY NOT man deserves this flattering title;
Why Man Is a Stupid Shitbomb of Utter Nonsense:
- Such generous feelings come into my mind strong and poignant when I ride my cycle home. When you are on a cycle in New Delhi, you notice EVERY pothole, every traffic light, every cut in the dividers, and EVERY bastard who the Driving License guy made a mistake with. Just imagine what One Light Down can mean. In a mere four metre distance on the ground of a place where the traffic light was down, I almost bumped into three cars, almost drove over the divider, almost skid and banged a car door and almost got killed. Not much, just heart-stopping. And I have heard of such complaints only too often to generalise- Man when on the wheel isn’t man at all.
- “What’s 2+2?” “4, sure!” “Where does the sun rise from?” “East, duh!” “Why are you taking that/tearing that/throwing that/sweeping your dirty table with that/etc, it is mine?” “Oh shut up that hole in your mouth, you insolent lazy shit ass and…” Oh yeah, definitely wackos.
- And of course the usual- I can kill whatever animal I want. I can do whatever and however and whenever I want, I can’t give a shit if it will kill you. I got a voice box, I’ll scream. I got a window too, I will throw my stuff out of it, even if it lands right inside yours.
- Religion is so important that we can wage incessant wars. Malnutrition, death by hunger, diseases and crime is no big deal, and we won’t spend a minute there, we could miss our movie.
- We will have plenty more things to personally want to put to this list, and we’ll agree with almost everything but yet we will read and skip and scroll down and get on with our lives. Because if we commit the heinous crime of only thinking about this just once, we will lose our precious title of louts.
- We won’t like this post. Nor will we comment. Because we are stick ups. (Don’t mind this one much. Just the impatient blogger in me having a ball.)
Why Man Might not be That Bad:
- Well I am being very biased if I just go on panning poor dear Homo sapiens like that. Everyone is frustrated! Just because I have a nice little blog to my disposal doesn’t mean I get to take it out like that. Okay, it does, but I shouldn’t. Because that time when the traffic signal was down, one gentleman kindly switched off his car and waited for the ruckus ahead to clear and then he moved.
- Thanks to Human Rights leaders and Lawyers and Social Sciences teacher, who STILL make me romanticise with the idea of an ideal society, and the belief that everything might just turn out all right.
- There’s no counter to those who think they own the world. But it is definitely an ease to know such idiots are few. New York, I think, reflects that. RANGE. That should be the motto of that place or something. There’s always some one who will think differently, which means that there will always be someone who will think BETTER.
- There’s a huge role of writers in maintaining worldwide peace. I have never believed that wars are fought by soldiers, but actually the democrats and diplomats behind them. And writers thin the need substantially. The war of words versus the war on ground has long been a favourite theme, and I’m proud to say that writers have since been saving the world.
- There are different ‘groups’ out there, different ‘classes’ or we might as well call it different ‘categories’ of people. Not that I profess it, there just are. Educated, illiterate, Lawyer, Banker, Optimist, Sadist, King, Slave…. Pervert, Pervert. These will remain just as they are for too long, I know. But I also know that pinch any of these hard, and they will squeal the same. Put a gun to either’s head, and the fear will be the same. Get to love any, and the passion will be the same. Everyone may not be so different after all.
- The last and most important reason that makes me prefer this list is that I have been shown just WHY man is beautiful. And even though there are times only too often when I want to strangle someone so urgently and so hard, I don’t do it. Because I know this one thing. And it would be a lot of trouble. Anyway, this is it- the beauty of Man- Imagine a person who is so inhuman and so cruel and so so bad that he makes your life hell, drives you into the most mind boggling of situations, becomes the cause of your death, and then later is also responsible for demolishing your grave. And that’s after he’s ruined your name in the world. He’s killed you not only physically, but in every other sense a person can be alive. He’s like Hitler crossed with a dumb Man-eating dino crossed with the alter ego of Gandhi. Okay, here’s the beauty of it all- One day, sooner or later, they will ……….. die. Rejoice. And EVEN IF they die with a good name and a chapter in the history books, THEY WILL BE FORGOTTEN. And if you must insist that that’s not good enough, start believing in ghosts and hope to become one to come and personally drive that person to the grave. Have a grand day!
Most probably, coming up next: My take on an article I read called ‘Laughter panacea’. My guess is it will be pretty passionate. Excuse me now, I got to go Google the meaning of ‘panacea’.
“Ya, let’s do it.”
Karan pushed himself up in the bed. From his pathetic position under the sun to the shooter’s gun hitting his head, Karan’s mind had suffered but his mind was recovering. Karan only cared about his memories of Sunny…. all intact.
They were shifting him out today. Finally.
Jeremy was talking. “You know, medicines can make you fat. I’m not saying anything, but you ARE taking seven tabs a day… I wonder if you’ll be able to jog around Rajouri Garden in ten minutes ever again.”
“Don’t worry, Jem. I’ll always be around to beat your twelve minutes.”
“Not in this wheelchair.”
The doctors still wanted Karan to avoid walking, it was such a deadly collision, they thought his mind might not take the exertion when he tried to control his limbs again. He had to give it time. The heat, not having sense of balance, propped up on a thin ledge of wall four storeys above the ground, blind – wasn’t as bad, but the gun that thwarted Karan right at the temple, was the spoiler.
“I’ll attach boosters.”
“Not until we have it sorted with Officer Yadav, chum. Got to warn you, he’s taken up this proud one-kick-you’re-down sort of attitude since the news hit the press.”
Jeremy wheeled Karan out to the Lounge. Funny name for a hospital place- hardly anyone was ‘lounging’.
They stopped near the water dispenser, looking around for Yadav when a heavy voice called from behind them, “We ID-ed the shooter as a Uday Sharma from Bandra, a popular killer for hire, among the concerned circles. We think he was also responsible for that body we found under ITO Bridge- It is Ankur, Jay. That’ s what I wanted to tell you yesterday. I’m sorry. Some chap must have had something against the family.”
“Saw in the newspaper today… It’s Ok- We hadn’t talked in years.”
Karan smirked inwardly at Jeremy’s act. Joker!
“What about Mrs. Virmani?” he asked.
“Missing. It seems she did catch her taxi, but she won’t go anywhere. We have policemen posted everywhere significant. Why she ran, I can’t make zilch out of.” Officer Yadav grunted.
“I’m sure there is a reason.” said Jeremy. “I think she’s just become an old, wicked lady.”
“Anyway, I’ll talk to you later. I will have to, regarding Mrs. Virmani. Till then, you boys take some vacation, god knows who have earned it.” And Officer Yadav walked off.
“I understand just what you meant by that attitude. Boys. Where exactly was He when you shot the shooter?”
“Two levels down. Slow brat, would have been the death of you. Anyway, let’s get you out. Wanna hit my place?”
“Stop treating me like a cripple already! Let’s got to mine.”
Jeremy laughed. He wheeled Karan out to of the hospital, into the motor he had picked up from Mrs. Virmani’s house earlier.
“Tell me all about it , Jem. Everything. Specially the explanation for the direct hit to the heart.”
“Simple. I said I was aiming for the head.”
They laughed, and roared off to Karan’s flat. Good friends back together, right where they deserved to be.
Later, in his apartment, as they sat and had a cold one, Karan typed furiously in his laptop.
“You still write accounts of our missions?!” Jeremy asked. Karan silently nodded.
“We didn’t really complete it, you know… We had to-”
“I know. But I don’t think the contractor wants to find his son anymore you know… he died a few days back. Under the ITO Bridge.”
“Don’t ***king tell me!”
“Ya, I just had this nurse in the hospital do a simple DNA Test yesterday… just had an idea.”
“A nurse? Why would she-” Jeremy was confused. Karan smiled.
“Oh of course, the magnificent aura of the Great Indian Charmer. When were you going to tell me about it?” Jem snapped.
“Right after you stopped treating me like a baby.” Karan snapped back.
“Nice, good old times.”
“Aww… You’re getting old, Jem!”
“I am not the one in a wheelchair.”
“Ya right.” Karan smiled. He looked up at Jeremy, and said softly,
“Hey Jem. I too would want you to investigate my death man.”
“I would man….” Jem said, “anyway, I WOULD have to cover my tracks.”
Karan threw a pillow at him… Jem said, “How sissy!”
Sometimes, Death IS the solution. So what that the case was still in loose ends, they were both at peace with their conscience. They continued assisting the police for another ten months, often dropping in ‘subtle’ hints to connect Varuna too. A month later, the police announced that the same shooter had killed Varuna Gupta.
Mrs. Virmani had nothing to hide. She was just an “old, wicked lady” as Jeremy had said, who enjoyed troubling Ankur and Sunny(who was Ankur’s friend). She said she had run because she was scared. Jeremy didn’t believe it, but the police’s harshness and continuous demands were good enough for him. The shooter was hired by some Bombay man… that mystery was still pending. But Karan and Jeremy were on it. They would find out sooner or later.
Until then, Karan just spent time slowly returning to his Ten Minute Pace, writing up the story, and spending time with Jeremy.
He never removed the locket from his neck.