What’s your favorite season?

A seemingly innocuous question, right? This is how my answer typically goes:

“Well, I love the summer season because its my birthday season and plus its so bright and sunny and warm and fuzzy and optimistic and its like sunshine in your face and cheery smiles everywhere. (Not the best sentence construction, I know). Its like happy time, you know.

But I really like the winter too. It’s probably the influence of popular culture of snow, snow fights, snowmen, snowwomen, snow angels, snowfall, snow sledging, snowboarding and the entire snowscape of words starting with snow. (You get the (snow)drift, don’t you? No?)

But I don’t even get snow where I stay. Nevertheless the cool winds, the thankfulness at not sweating every second, the presence of fresh strawberries make winters worthy of being my favorite.

And then the monsoons. How can one not like them?  The pitter, the patter, the rhimjhim, the jhimjhim, the tip tap tap, the thashooom (that’s not rain, I just fell down) and the splitshy splish splash. If seasons were people, the Mr. Rain would win the Grammys 3.6 billion years in a row. Also, he’d have the best perfume ever manufactured.”

I could similarly tirade about autumn season, spring season,  pizza season(ing), open season, bugs bunny in duck season, and so on, but then I realize my audience has wandered off in search of better conversation long ago, and that I am a blithering, blabbering idiot.

Now, I don’t like to be blithering, blabbering idiot, so I decide that I am a genius of the most profound order.

I start wondering why it is so hard to choose. And I’m not just talking about seasons here, I’m talking about everything. All the hundreds of this or that questions we have to answer everyday. Will your lime soda be salted or sweet? Do you want the New York Chocolate or Dutch Truffle? Should I read Fahrenheit 451 next, or The Fountainhead? Should I become a Computer Scientist or a Mathematician?

I’m not talking about The Road Not Taken-esque scenarios where one path is done and trodden and the other is difficult and exciting. I’m talking about two paths, that sound equally good, have the potential to take me anywhere and have no significant difference in a pro-con analysis. How do we then decide anything?

(At this point I should mention that I blabber, and I don’t really know an answer.)

But I have this new trick to deal with such situations. Just don’t think. I think its a perfect solution. Just don’t bothering thinking, cause it isn’t worth it half the time anyway. (After typing all this I wonder if I’ve accidently inspired the entire human race to get dumber, but I don’t believe this blog has that kind of a following. Also, I believe I am right. We humans think way too much about inconsequential stuff.)

So, remember, think before you think.

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Rusted

Its been some time,
Since I’ve practiced rhyme,
But now that verse tempts me again,
Not returning might just be a crime,

The exuberance that I had earlier seems to have faded,
My style appears to be a little dated.
Yet in sudden fit of determination akin to that of dogs,*
I am taking up a quest to clean up the mental cogs!

I shall polish the grey cells and exercise the hand,
Even if my words don’t have lustre to reach the fabled Good Poetry Land.

Rust is corrosive, a narcissistic abomination,
It suppresses capability within its encrustation.

Yet rust is that honest villain that reminds me of when I worked not,
And with some laborious scraping, it can be disposed of.

*I honestly don’t know if dogs have sudden fits of determination. They must have some determination though, they’ve lived so long. I mean, Darwin can’t be wrong, so apply weird extension of logic.

Popcorn.

Do I like popcorn? Yes, I guess. Isn’t popcorn one of those foods you are universally obliged to like? Its the ultimate movie snack, for one. And the smell, that of a melted butter fountain erupting in Disneyland. Not to forget the most characteristic of popcorn properties, the “pop” sound. The way it almost might be the tune of your favourite song (almost). The way the sound pauses for just a second, and when it continues you feel like how the heart beep machine in the movies goes: A long terrifying straight line, followed by a sudden blimp.

Eating popcorn isn’t eating popcorn, its an experience. To stick your nose against the foggy microwave glass (I don’t actually stick my nose against it, it might be hot and yes, I’m a slight coward) and watch the wrapper as it unfolds itself. The excitement builds up in your stomach as the packet builds itself up. Given how much we know  of the universe, it could actually be a minimalistic version of the Big Bang.

Its beautiful, its exciting, its the next highest grossing blockbuster movie and you’ve used up a lot of precious time reading about what you’ve (in most cases) seen before. But what does popcorn taste like? Buttered popcorn is butter, salted popcorn is salt, cheese popcorn is cheese, caramel popcorn is something that’s trying to be caramel. But where is the popcorn?

My hypothesis: Popcorn is only there in your head. It is that extra zingy advertisement that sells you the World’s Best Electronic Plant that you don’t really need. Popcorn is the sum total of your excitement, your fascination, your awe and your imagination. Only the calories are provided in the packet.

So is popcorn <gasp> a bad thing? I would hazard a no. Its does give you the joy of anticipation and an opportunity to jump up and down and be all wide eyed. And I have always been a defender of unwarranted optimism.

Have you notice that futuristic scifi robotic movies are always so distant, dry and drab? It scares me! Why will humans suddenly stop loving colours and creativity? I love technology but that does not stop me from appreciating colour, art or the sunshine. There is an erratic quirkiness of life that is so visible in our small joys.

The sun, the stars (barely visible), some graffiti, an aimless walk, a illegible doodle, a happy dance, a book you’ve read a zillion times already, and some popcorn as well. This is stuff you do not associate yourself with because of any purpose or motive, but simply because you want to. These are things that take you away from the clockwork of reasons and compulsions into a rollercoaster world of choices.

So if you don’t like popcorn, you might just be a robot.

(Disclaimer: Before you seethe in anger and denounce my views, remember, I’m not a fine connoisseur of food. My extent of knowledge goes up to knowing the difference between chocolate and asparagus, and that serves me adequately. In short, I’m being a know it all when I know nothing at all.)

Also, first blog post! Yes yes yes! This is a good feeling.