The best thread I ever read in a forum........

I never thought a normal thread in a travel forum could unravel itself into some kind of a thrilling story.

The thread is at once a coming out story; a funny,bitter,informative,philosophical
and suspenseful rant which went on for a period of 3 years and still continuing.
This is the story of 'scotman' who at the age of 20 came to India to smoke some
weed in a quite place, and got screwed,fought,learned, and ultimately became a
better person. Yes, I know, this looks like a review of mainstream bitter-sweet
philosophically shallow movie.But, it is all true. I laughed, learned, tensed, and moved
by this innocent and naive man, who wrote from his heart, and spoke from his gut.

One of the few threads on the internet which has the potential to be made in to a movie.


Some excerpts from the thread:

I'm now very high, as I write this. To think I was just, only reason to smoke high quality hash in a remote mountain villiage, pondering what my next move in life will be. Living with no worries or big responsibilities. It has, in the most part, been like that, But ive come to crucial realisations that being in India for these 26 daus only , would be worth the near 2k shelled out for my 4 month stay here. Parvati cream sure is good, but just maybe this country is better. To actually decipher and put in order, whats good about being in this quite primitave, compared to Scotland, place is not easy. But make no mistake, this societys mentality is different and far better than that of the west. Unfortonately Indias rapidly gowing middle class seem to want to act like the west. Thankfully, here in the mountains, this type of indian is only a tourist. To be totally honest though, its not all fun and games here, beggars galore, no toilet paper, all scrounging, shameless even sometimes from well off children, for milk (Which they want cause its alot more expensive than a 1,2,10rs handout, so they sell it back to the shopkeeper at a lower price. They get 50/70rs while the shopkeeper gets to sell the powder milk twice!) A scam explained to me from a philosophical west indian rasta, who was living in a shepherd hut halfway to triund, if you set off from dharamkot.

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Typical Indian City story though. I dont like delhi and I think its not delhi I dislike, its Indian citys. (rajkot pop, 1million) I got off the train and the standard jossling from autos to get me into theyre rickshaw commensed. After being very clear that I wante taken to a hotel for 200 or less (repeated about 10 times before I finally got in) 2km down the road he and his mate take me to a 400rs a night guesthouse. They wouldnt take 200 so I walked away and went to look for one myselfe. As I handed him the 20rs which hes lucky he got after his fly move, again typical from city dwelling indians.... He started shouting "NO NO HUNDRED HUNDRED!" In delhi when I arrived I would have probably given him the 100 and taken the 400 room to boot, but after actually preparing for the inevitable, I told him that he "must be the most expensive rickshaw in india" except in my scottish pissed off tone with language far from christian. the gujuratis dont get many western tourists ad they dont seem to understand much english. I think they understood that though and didnt follow and hassle me down the street which they have done in the past!
Its not actually the citys, its the fly bastard indians and autorickshaws that just fuck you about I dont like, and blatantly try to take as much rs as they can in the short time we become aquanted

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Fuck it..just checkout the whole thread  here  http://www.indiamike.com/india/kullu-and-manali-f146/living-in-a-quiet-town-near-manali-t26368/

Rape, Revenge and Violence

The most powerful weapons men used against women :  Physical strength and dick.
So, Mademoiselle - CUT IT OFF.  :)

I spit on your grave - 1978
Directed by Meir Zarchi

         Irreversible - 2002 
        Directed by  Gasper Noe

Bandit Queen - 1994

Directed by  Shekar Kapur

This is one of the GREATEST movies ever made.

Abraham Maslow made my day!

The main article here. Thanks to George Boeree.
about Maslow

Excerpt from the main article :

Self-actualization

 
The last level is a bit different.  Maslow has used a variety of terms to refer to this level:  He has called it growth motivation (in contrast to deficit motivation), being needs (or B-needs, in contrast to D-needs), and self-actualization.

These are needs that do not involve balance or homeostasis.  Once engaged, they continue to be felt.  In fact, they are likely to become stronger as we “feed” them!  They involve the continuous desire to fulfill potentials, to “be all that you can be.”  They are a matter of becoming the most complete, the fullest, “you” -- hence the term, self-actualization. 

Now, in keeping with his theory up to this point, if you want to be truly self-actualizing, you need to have your lower needs taken care of, at least to a considerable extent.  This makes sense:  If you are hungry, you are scrambling to get food;  If you are unsafe, you have to be continuously on guard;  If you are isolated and unloved, you have to satisfy that need;  If you have a low sense of self-esteem, you have to be defensive or compensate.  When lower needs are unmet, you can’t fully devote yourself to fulfilling your potentials.

It isn’t surprising, then, the world being as difficult as it is, that only a small percentage of the world’s population is truly, predominantly, self-actualizing.  Maslow at one point suggested only about two percent!

The question becomes, of course, what exactly does Maslow mean by self-actualization.  To answer that, we need to look at the kind of people he called self-actualizers.  Fortunately, he did this for us, using a qualitative method called biographical analysis.

He began by picking out a group of people, some historical figures, some people he knew, whom he felt clearly met the standard of self-actualization.  Included in this august group were Abraham Lincoln, Thomas Jefferson, Albert Einstein, Eleanor Roosevelt, Jane Adams, William James, Albert Schweitzer, Benedict Spinoza, and Alduous Huxley, plus 12 unnamed people who were alive at the time Maslow did his research.  He then looked at their biographies, writings, the acts and words of those he knew personally, and so on.  From these sources, he developed a list of qualities that seemed characteristic of these people, as opposed to the great mass of us.

These people were reality-centered, which means they could differentiate what is fake and dishonest from what is real and genuine.  They were problem-centered, meaning they treated life’s difficulties as problems demanding solutions, not as personal troubles to be railed at or surrendered to.  And they had a different perception of means and ends.  They felt that the ends don’t necessarily justify the means, that the means could be ends themselves, and that the means -- the journey -- was often more important than the ends.

The self-actualizers also had a different way of relating to others.  First, they enjoyed solitude, and were comfortable being alone.    And they enjoyed deeper personal relations with a few close friends and family members, rather than more shallow relationships with many people.

They enjoyed autonomy, a relative independence from physical and social needs.  And they resisted enculturation, that is, they were not susceptible to social pressure to be "well adjusted" or to "fit in" -- they were, in fact, nonconformists in the best sense.

They had an unhostile sense of humor -- preferring to joke at their own expense, or at the human condition, and never directing their humor at others.  They had a quality he called acceptance of self and others, by which he meant that these people would be more likely to take you as you are than try to change you into what they thought you should be.  This same acceptance applied to their attitudes towards themselves:  If some quality of theirs wasn’t harmful, they let it be, even enjoying it as a personal quirk.  On the other hand, they were often strongly motivated to change negative qualities in themselves that could be changed.  Along with this comes spontaneity and simplicity:  They preferred being themselves rather than being pretentious or artificial.  In fact, for all their nonconformity, he found that they tended to be conventional on the surface, just where less self-actualizing nonconformists tend to be the most dramatic. 

Further, they had a sense of humility and respect towards others -- something Maslow also called democratic values -- meaning that they were open to ethnic and individual variety, even treasuring it.  They had a quality Maslow called human kinship or Gemeinschaftsgefühl -- social interest, compassion, humanity.  And this was accompanied by a strong ethics, which was spiritual but seldom conventionally religious in nature.

And these people had a certain freshness of appreciation, an ability to see things, even ordinary things, with wonder.  Along with this comes their ability to be creative, inventive, and original.  And, finally, these people tended to have more peak experiences than the average person.  A peak experience is one that takes you out of yourself, that makes you feel very tiny, or very large, to some extent one with life or nature or God.  It gives you a feeling of being a part of the infinite and the eternal.  These experiences tend to leave their mark on a person, change them for the better, and many people actively seek them out.  They are also called mystical experiences, and are an important part of many religious and philosophical traditions.

Maslow doesn’t think that self-actualizers are perfect, of course.  There were several flaws or imperfections he discovered along the way as well:  First, they often suffered considerable anxiety and guilt -- but realistic anxiety and guilt, rather than misplaced or neurotic versions.  Some of them were absentminded and overly kind.  And finally, some of them had unexpected moments of ruthlessness, surgical coldness, and loss of humor.

Two other points he makes about these self-actualizers:  Their values were "natural" and seemed to flow effortlessly from their personalities.  And they appeared to transcend many of the dichotomies others accept as being undeniable, such as the differences between the spiritual and the physical, the selfish and the unselfish, and the masculine and the feminine.




My thoughts on this theory :

I self-actualized a bit.

GEMS ---> DO THE RIGHT THING

No single movie changes our lives.

We usually say that they changed us because we wanted them to change us. We want them
to give us a fresh start to our lives.They usually don't.May be they do. I am not sure.

In that confused sense, I can say that "Do The Right Thing" changed my life. I lived in
bed-stuy because of impact it had on me.

There are certain moments in life which are more powerful in retrospect/

Come to think of it,the discovery I made during my stay in bed-stuy is more powerful

now than before.

Bed-Stuy. Afternoon.

I watched the movie for the nth time, and then started watching 'behind the scenes' disk

of the movie. To my surprise, I found out that the movie was shot right on my street, and

the house I was living in, was the place where crucial scenes were shot, before it was built.

And, when I opened my window,  I was able to see the mike Tyson portrait they showed

predominantly in the movie.The open place under the portrait was the place where Sal's
famous pizzeria set was built.

Surprised, I was. But, not overwhelmed. The poverty got me, the noise got me, and people

buying single eggs got me. I wasn't able to enjoy that moment. Spike lee didn't glamorize

the poverty, but I loved the movie soo much that I romanticized the poverty. Let me tell

you this -- Poverty Sucks. Poverty around you sucks.

Watching spike lee movies was a revelation of sorts. They made me ask many questions.

1. Where did I develop my taste for movies?

2. Why I feel comfortable with white people as actors?

3. What is beauty?

All the programs the society inadvertently wrote  for me to follow, just vanished.

I gotta tell you that it was a very liberating feeling. Because, spike lee smacks you

in the head. He smacks hard,and you might find some wounds in your head or some

wounds getting healed after 'The End'.

The subtle and not so subtle feeling I observed in Spike lee's movies was ANGER

..the controlled one.His words are like bullets, his shots are like canons, he is the

'Genghis Khan' fighting against the tough enemy called racism. Well, some people

say that he too fell in to the trap of racism. Who said, "when

you stare at abyss too long, it will stare you back" ?

Spike lee's influence on film making is phenomenal. Not only in America, but also else

where. His first movie, "She's gotta have it", was remade many times by different people.

Some people may want to disparage spike lee's influence on American psyche, but that

is because he smacked them...instead of the  usual MLK way. He is the Malcolm X

of the American film making. I even go as far as to say that Obama's victory has

something to do with spike lee's work many years back. Why? Because, he woke up
people, he rabble roused, he used the medium in the most entertaining way to talk
about issues,and HE CHANGED THE SYSTEM..in such a way, that people started

accepting anyone who was less rebellious than him.Every society needs a person
like spike lee.He is the change the history books forget to mention.

I know each and every shot in this movie..not because I observed it technically -- I
watched the movie many many times.( I am not capable of watching a movie technically

..as it bores me). I watched it soo many times that I finally got bored of it. No surprises

for me in "Do the right thing".

I don't want to write anymore shit. I can go on an on..about how great Danny Aiello was
in this movie and all that. So,

Let me just say this, "Thank you, spike lee. Please don't die.".

Do The right Thing (1989) - Trailer

In The Silence Of My Solitude - A Novel (Part 6)

                                                            11.Flash Forward


 May 2012.
 

Two years came and gone since I read my mother's diary. The puzzle left by that diary took me to nook and corners of the country, in search of her. Something made me believe that she was still alive. I came to conclusion that  she didnt elope with some college student or went to Bombay to become new dimple kapadia. Something horrible happened in that house, that made her unstable, and made her almost crazy.
 

I was hungry. 5 rupees was all I was left with.The thrill of mystery had been transformed to sadness. Thrill is thrill when you solve other people's problems, not other wise.Sad.Sad.Sad. Where was sherlock holmes when I wanted him the most? I wished he existed. I would have gone to london and to baker street, and beg him to take up this case. I was sure he would have shown very keen interest in this unique missing person's story. I wished he was not a character of some fucked up imagination of Doyle.
 

Indian hot summer it was. No, it was the south indian hot summer. The sun was at 12, right on top of my head, blasting heat as if it was in a hurry. For how many millions of years its gonna burn like that. Why does sun burn like that? Why is it committing suicide at a faster rate every minute? Just like people who shine and burn away. Just like people. But my mother was not shining, she was hiding.
 

"Is she thinking about me? Does she care for me? what kind of mother would not want to see her grownup son? What are the reasons behind her disappearance? What is she eating? she is she wearing? what is she talking? Did she age graciously? Why not even a letter? why not even hint? am I going crazy?"

 My tshirt became oversized along with my jeans. I must have lost almost 20 kgs.

What could I possibly buy with 5 rupees? I could buy some fruits, but for how much time would they stay in my stomach before it cries again? "Food is a chemical, so is manikchand", I reasoned. Bought manikchand, tore it open and dumped it into my mouth. It worked fast.Suddenly, everything looked hopeful, and my confidence returned. I felt happy for the reason that I felt hopeful. Hope gives happiness. Happiness does the rest.That happiness stayed for exactly 3 mins, and then my head started spinning, and I puked whatever left in my stomach.'
 

I sat on the footpath, beside the wall. The cars were honking and people going somewhere. Whenever my head spins, I get this keen sense of sound. All those people going somewhere, somewhere important. Then I heard a sound of coin dropping on my feet -- it was one rupee coin. As I was looking at it, it dawned upon me that I earned my first rupee as a beggar. That thought repulsed me. Me?? Beg?? R u kidding me! I angrily threw away the coin. I noticed a young woman with torn clothes begging 5 feet from me. I got up and sat beside her. She looked at me with the same way Microsoft looks at its competitors, hostile!

I said to her, " Look here fucking slut. I am not here to beg"

She didnt quite get my drift.

I said, " The thing is that, society already reserved different sections of the street to different people. Right now, I belong here"

No response from her.

I was a beggar by position, and a mad one by lack of will to beg. I wanted to understand my humiliation. "Why am I humiliated to beg?" One country is begging from the other, one employee is begging the employer, one interviewee begging the interviewer, the godmen begging from devotees, bride grooms begging from the brides.Some one is begging for love. Everyone is begging from someone.You may say that they are not begging, that they give something in return.

The beggars give back too. The beggars give back the sense of " I am better", a sense of proud and fake "altruism".The sense of "I am better than someone" is essential for the illusionary world we live in. There will always be begging, just like prostitution, just that the style changes a bit.

I had all this understanding. But, I refused to beg. I could not run away from the programming, from the false pride.
I suffered. I made a couple of friends among the beggars. They didn't trust me much. A slip of English or even good Telugu made a normal beggar in to 'mad' beggar, and they didn't trust mad ones.So, I was kept at a distance

Fucking assholes they were. People romanticize poverty too much. The basic nature of all human beings is survival, and  in this society survival became synonymous with greed. Fucking beggars stole my shoes.

I spat where I sat. I shat a few feet from where I slept. The smell of piss and shit was horrifying for the first few days.After a few days though, it felt like home. I ate from food left on the roads, near marriage halls..and wherever rich people partied. But, I never begged directly by asking someone. No matter how much I wanted to run away from the pride, I still felt proud in the fact that I was better than these beggars, by not begging. Whats the fucking difference? I refused to answer that question.

A month after my experiments on the sidewalks of the street, I got bored of it. It was the same shit everyday, the same struggles every day. No difference between a software programmer and a beggar, in the sense that a man gotta do whatever he gotta do in a day to survive.  Lie, cheat, steal,beg; sometimes in the name of law, and sometimes in the name of morals and most of time just by being animals.

I was disrespected by the patrons(?), spit and hitupon sometimes. What horrible things did I do to deserve disrespect and saliva. Between throwing away food and trash can ---- I exist. I was the in-betweenist scavenger. That was my contribution to the society.

Well, some people thought that I was not contributing enough.

On that night it was drizzling, as if the rain wanted to take away the heat and shit on the streets. I didnt eat food for the last few days as the marriage season was over. My clothes were torn completely and what ever left needs large quantities of detergent.My hunger and weakness took away the shame. Its like when you are dizzy and about to fall, you just give up all your shame. You have to!

The cool breeze made me sleep. Nothing can beat the nature's AC. I slept like a hibernating bear at the end of her hibernation. I slept looking at the sexy wall poster of some new tollywood actress. I dreamt touching her boobs and caressing her ass. She spat on me, looking at me with disgust. I gave her a tight slap, and she became my slave. I told her to get down, and I dropped my pants.I was about to cum when I felt a sharp pain on the left side of my cheek. Who ever disturbs a person during his/her orgasm must be shot to death. Never mess with the 'high' of a person..either it is power or orgasm.

I woke up from my dream to the realization that I was being hit like a street dog..by three obviously angry men. They were not uncouth or in any way belonging to the street. They seemed to be educated, working class men, with their in-shirts and boots. I wondered why they were angry. I had an erection and it came out for air through the large hole in my pant. I knew the basis of their anger. Limp dick was fine..erected ones not so. I was the 'mad' 'pervert' beggar. I deserved some boots on me. I could see the anger in their faces, and the disgust on the faces of onlookers. They wanted punishment. They were part of the stoning.

Then, some brave guy among the onlookers got an idea, after I gave up my struggles. He took  a large rock and dropped it on my head.I was asking, 'Why?' 'Why?"..Tear automatically came, and the wounds on the other parts of the body became small fish. The big fish was the wound on my head. My head started bleeding, and the tears got mixed with blood. I never saw such amount of blood in my life..it formed a puddle around my  head. I guess, the sight of blood stopped their lynching. Either they felt bad for me, or they remembered the laws of the land. I tend to believe the latter. Then, I went in to coma -- unconscious and then to deep sleep.

I woke up to the sound of crickets. It was all dark, but I could hear the sound of the traffic. It must have been  midnight.

I was wrong. I woke up because of a rape in progress...or lets just say necrophilia or more accurately comaphilia. It made me laugh.Words came out, when my body lamed out.

                                                    

                                           The difference between great men and others,

                                            is that, great men don't get erection

                                            looking at the powerless.

It startled those perpetrators a bit. I guess they thought I was dead. The fact that I was concious didnt stop  them. The fact that I was learned didnt stop them. Someone pushed a dick in my mouth, and I bit it with all my strength. Wrong move, rapist!

I dont exactly remember what happened next. I spit out a bit of dick along with its blood, and then I saw a fat man down on his knees shouting with pain. A few seconds later, some rocks were dropped on my head. I wished newton saw that amazing power of gravity. It was not lynching, it was postmortem.

Then, I died. I thought I died. Whats the fucking difference!!!