Sunday, December 11, 2011

Wish You Were Here

This song, like many other pink floyd songs, should be listened to, when high. I feel the song unfolds a totally new meaning when listened to in a state of trance. "Wish you were here" is an one-end conversation between two versions of the same person, our real selves, the one who is stuck in the quagmire of the daily life, and the higher self, the one who is outside this circle of influence of the external stimuli.
Day in day out we try to untangle the shackle life has put on us, we try to solve the mystery of the cycle of happiness and sorrow in our own way, we try to fit things in our definitions of black and white, good and bad, heaven and hell, and this constant endeavor makes us believe we can actually differentiate between every thing that surrounds us. Then comes a state which is above everything. A state of mind where nothing really matters, where words seem fake, the black and white world troubles no more and we realize how stupid we were to have cared about the small things and in the process made our lives small.
I will explain this conversation, (or monologue) from the point of view of two forms,
Form 1 - The normal us, or the conscious form.
Form 2 - The higher form, the sagacious form.
"So, do you think you can tell, heaven from hell, blue skies from pain, can you tell a green field, from a cold steel rail, do you think you can tell?" this part of the song is a mockery thrown by form 2 upon form 1. He mocks him by saying, "how silly you were to have cared about good & bad, black & white, when nothing actually matters. So what you can tell what is good and what is bad, how does it matter? that, what is good to you can be bad for me. How silly were you to have thought that you know the lines of difference, when everything in this world is absolute."
"Did they get you to trade, your heroes for ghosts, hot ashes for trees. hot air for cool breeze, cold comfort for a change, did you exchange a walk-on part in the war, for a lead role in a cage?"
 We all sell ourselves everyday. To find a momentary happiness, to achieve a short-lived goal, we weigh ourselves on the other side of the balance. They trade us daily and we sacrifice in the process. We sacrifice the things we love, the things that make us the man we really are. We tie the knot so tight that we forget it chokes us dead. Here form 2 feels sorry for form 1 and he sympathizes with form 1 and asks him were you put into trade too?.
"How I wish, how I wish you were here, we're just two lost souls, swimming in a fish bowl, tear after year, Running over the same old ground.
What have we found? The same old fears.
Wish you were here.."
Now form 2 asks form 1 to set free of all the attachments that bind him to the ground and stops him from flying away. He tells him that they have lived in the same fish bowl (body) for many years and have seen the same things and have developed the same fears, but form 1 has been affected by those fears and that is why he suffers, on the other hand, form 2 remains undeterred as for him the small things in life does not really matter. So form 2 wishes form 1 to come to his state.

Friday, December 09, 2011


I am disgusted. I feel ashamed to call myself a part of this generation. My helplessness strangles me and the fact that I am just another mute spectator to the pathetic surroundings makes me hate myself even more. The shackles that bind me under the mask called "attachment" has made me a mere puppet, who can just shrug his shoulders while watching the morning NDTV news covering the death roll by a hospital fire, and all he can do is  bite the rest of the crunchy bread toast.
I cannot even imagine the pain those 89 people had gone through in the last hours of their lives. They  had come to an elite city hospital hoping to get better, and they got a demon in return who strangled them right in the middle of the night and their very ICU became their own coffin. Tears fill my eyes when I see the helpless family members running madly here and there, searching for the ones who they hoped will get better the next day. The ones for whom they prayed.
This is a massacre. Who are we blaming? Does putting a few men in jail help the little boy who have lost his father, the husband whose wife was expecting a baby? Does protesting against the ruling government help either? Opposition blames State, State blames Center, Center expresses shock and despair and an ex-gratia is announced for the family members of the deceased and the case is closed. We move on in our lives and everything else seems normal. The authorities get over cautious for a few days and a few more hospitals are searched and a few licences are cancelled and we wait with baited breath for another mishap to occur elsewhere so that the focus shifts to something else. What A Shame. What A Shame.
This is not just another mishap. This cannot be tagged "just an accident" and be made invisible. This should not be.