Enlightenment

"How would I know if I am enlightened?" one less mortal asked me from across the table! He was probably expecting a chuckle out of me, or at least an appreciation of his smart ass! He got neither. Instead, I just ordered another beer. The waitress seemed to understand my disposition. She obliged.

"What do you think enlightenment is?" he continued, insulting my indifference. I shrugged a 'I wish I knew' and continued to appreciate the dark amber color in my emptying glass. 'Alcohol' I thought, must be so crucial for enlightenment, as a topic of discussion, I mean.

Few more minutes passed. Now he had a certain look on his face, which humans -- and probably chimps too -- get when they appear to be thinking hard. He was probably regretting his broaching of the subject. I felt relieved. The patio area of the pub was getting busier. Few souls poured in, probably looking for happiness or at the very least someone to hit on.

"You seem to be at a loss of words for someone who claims to be enlightened" he said. He didn't show any signs of retreat. That was definitely un-called for. We come to this pub quite so often and drown ourselves in Newcastle and then sometimes share our deepest secrets with each other. I was afraid I might have shared my recent revelations with him. I hadn't imagined him taking me for my word. 'Poor Bastard!' I pitied him; Alcohol had definitely tampered with his judgment.

Now, I felt the need to speak. So I ordered another beer after I gulped down the one in front of me, as if I were in a milk commercial. I think, after banging my now empty glass down on the table, I even smiled looking at a fake camera, as if to show my strong calcium laden teeth.

"There are a lot of misconceptions about enlightenment!" I remarked. He thought I was joking. I could see how he could misconstrue my remark as funny. I don't blame him. There is something in my personality, which makes other human beings around me, always assume that I am saying something funny. That doesn't mean they find it funny, but they certainly assume that I am trying to say something funny.

"Plus, I thought I told you in confidence about my revelations the other day, remember?" I continued the scolding tone in my voice. He smirked; As if to assume that he had a trump card in his hand and could use it against me anytime he wished; but today didn't seem like it. "I'll keep that for some other time" he gestured only by slightly tilting his head.

"But you said you finally understood the difference between saguNa(with attributes) and nirguNa(devoid of all attributes)?" he almost shouted at me. Luckily the tables around us were busy guzzling beer and were least concerned about consciousness. 'Half knowledge is worse than no knowledge' some higher mortal once said and she was right. I am at the receiving end of this adage, all the time.

"No dumb-ass!" I continued matching his decibel level, "I said I finally understood why the human mind feels the need to differentiate between the two, when, in reality they are the same -- err, it is the same thing, I mean!". There was no use barking at him like this. He completely ignored my remark as if I were talking to the 'Guinness for breakfast' sign behind him.

"Have you heard the one about this monk?" he asked me. He always asks me that when his blood alcohol level is more than 0.1 percent -- by volume -- and then without waiting for my response, he continued with this old joke...
"A monk walks up to a hot dog vendor, hands him a $20 bill and asks 'Can you make me one with everything?', and the hot dog vendor goes, 'Yes! But change should come from within'"

And like always the joke followed by the obnoxious laughter of his. It was time to leave. So I took care of the check, grabbed his keys and offered him a ride. After all less mortals don't deserve to drive with that much of spirit in their blood.

Synonyms Govern, Allright?

Ever since my cousins introduced me to the concept of Graffiti, I have been fascinated by it. At its worst it is vandalism and should be out-lawed, as it most certainly is in many places on earth. At its best, it is funny, witty and provides a much needed laugh in today's weird wide busy world.

What is Graffiti? some of you might ask. The Merriam Webster's dictionary defines it as usually unauthorized writing or drawing on a public surface. But it is more than that. There is usually a message in that scribbling, a political opinion, a pun or just a funny remark.

About a decade ago, when I first came to the United States I looked for Nigel Rees' Graffiti books in frenzy. I had looked for them in almost all book stores in Bangalore, where I lived before. I couldn't find them. I desparately wanted them. So I researched the internet and found a used copy somewhere in a used book store in England. I wanted to have it. So I got it after shelling out $30 for a set (of four) of these teeny tiny books! $30 well spent.

Thanks to Mr. Rees, I get the much needed laughter when I browse through the books. Here I mention some of my favorites.

Nigel Rees, I hope I get paid next time scribbled an unknown artist, perhaps alluding to the fact that the best part of Graffiti is that it is anonymous.

I hate Graffiti was printed in an elevator to keep patrons from scribbling on its walls and somebody had added beneath I hate all Italian food.

Graffiti is a universal phenomenon and it is not outrageous to believe that in an alien world far far away, slimy looking alien creatures, how much ever technologically advanced, take vicarious pleasures in scribbling Graffiti. The book lists a cartoon with a alien space ship returning back to its planet and the welcoming alien comment's "I see you visited earth" pointing to the graffiti written on the space-ship.

One of the delightful aspects of Graffiti is that it sometimes appears in a series. Particularly a series with a basis or a basic Graffiti (or a Graffito, really). For example, The Government is screwing the country forms a basis to many derived Graffiti like

Don't Vote. It will only encourage them or
Don't Vote. Do it yourself or my personal favorite, during Richard Nixon's presidential campaign for the second term,
Vote Nixon. Why change Dicks in the middle of a screw?

Another series, I am a big fan of, has the form Graffiti rules, ok?
Nigel Rees mentions possible origins of this series. But over the years there have been numerous takes on this and some of my favorites are..

James Bond rules, OOK?
Typographers rule, OQ?
Queen Elizabeth rules, UK?
Apathy ru..
or
Jargon rules, ongoing agreement situation?

Now you know the thought behind the title for this post.

Anonimity brings rauchiness abound. Bathroom Graffiti or Contraceptive Vending machine Graffiti illustrates that.

Insert baby for refund a contraceptive machine said
or This is the worst chewing gum I've ever tasted.

Vandalism in the form of Graffiti is obviously disruptive. It defaces public property and takes a toll on tax payers to clean up. So I have always imagined a private Graffiti Wall or a City where people can go and write Graffiti for others to read; but it is not the same. The casual scribble by an anonymous Graffiti artist who leaves a mark while passing by has a different charm than orgainzed Graffiti.

As long as there are walls there will be Graffiti, unfortunaley, for it is vandalistic; but occassionally one can find a spark of wit which undoubtedly leaves you smiling.

Graffiti lives, OK?

khana

I was sitting alone in a very cliched Chinese Restaurant in the Beaver Square Strip Mall in Beavercreek, Ohio and pathos gripped me suddenly. I was devouring General Fang's (or was it Wang?) Chicken which was greasy and tasteless at the same time and I could feel the heavy drops of despondency run through my veins. Has it really come to this?, I thought to myself as I spiked the fork into the dead chicken. It was dead and ended up as bad food on my plate. I felt sorry for it. It had died in vain, from my perspective that is.

See, I moved to Columbus Ohio in November 2005 from the San Francisco Bay Area. It is not very hard to find good restaurants near good old SF. True connoisseurs can find good eateries in varied cuisines. Hell, I even know a Peruvian restaurant that I like, that too in downtown San Francisco. But Ohio is another story.

I drive 65+ miles to Fairborn Ohio for work, three days a week. Everyday I am in Fairborn, at lunch hour I search the citysearch and google local sites to find a good restaurant to eat. It's easier these days, with millions of people getting on the internet and leaving feedback or ratings for restaurants; shamelessly gloating about their favorite eating joints and carelessly bashing others which they loathe (like I am doing to this Chinese restaurant). I have tried a few of them and haven't really liked any and hence I usually resort to the chained ones ....as in Olive Garden, Don Pablos, Panera Bread and the likes. But that day I had to eat Chinese and the reviews said "food rather malaysian or singapoeran than chinese.....with a touch of blah blah...."; and I thought, Even Better!. So I got the map and drove 4 miles to Beaver Square. At first I couldn't locate the restaurant, although it was right there, facing the street. No red decorative arches, no dragons, no generalizations! I entered and it was a modest place with ten tables at the most. The buffet serving area gave me the first indication of how the food is going to be. But still I went ahead and said "Table For one please" and the waitress obliged. You are a courageous hungry man Shailesh, I said to myself. Even the restaurant name was cliched...'Big Wall'!!! I should I have known better.

Just a week before this disconcerting experience, I had driven 4 miles in another direction to try out a pizza place just because it was called Giovanni's. You see, there is this nice Italian Pizza place in Sunnyvale not far from where I worked in California, which served the best New York style pizza and was called ........you guessed it right... Giovanni's. The one in Fairborn Ohio was not even close. Actually if the waitress there wasn't very polite, I might have just walked out after taking the first bite of pizza.

So I guess for now, it makes sense for me to bring food from home. It is healthy, it saves money and it sure as hell tastes good. In all modesty I am a very good cook and for lack of good restaurants it makes sense to bring food to work! Bon Apetit!