Does The End Justify The Means?

Cool enough, with striking irony, but if you think a little, it’s one of the stupidest comparisons.

If you believe in your cause, have traced how it might end up to be, and you are happy with the result, still you hesitate to take the necessary steps, however difficult, then you are intervening with Her Highness Mother Nature itself.

Again I would refrain from quoting a personal experience and stick to popular literature instead.

Harry Potter (Obviously, it has got something on every subject)

Dumbledore made it quite clear that he had raised Harry as a pig for slaughter. As cruel as it may sound, it was necessary and the sacrifice had to be made. Imagine how it must have hurt the poor old man. Strong heart, he must have. Even the 17 year old boy who was on the verge of impending death understood this and was ready for it, he walked towards his end himself. He had been raised to be prepared for it. The means met its end

and he sustained.

That explains well how carrying out your plan at any cost will go in your favour. Plus it tells us that Dumbledore made smartass guesses.

Brisingr ( Inheritance Cycle )

To overthrow Galbatorix and establish the reign of peace among the races of Alagaesia.

Fight = inevitable

Blood and slaughter, those were the means. What then, when the ghosts of your victims haunt your night’s sleep? Can a potential threat, who had sworn fealty to your enemy, however against his will, be spared? Is taking that risk wise at the stake of your life, which by the way is the last hope of achieving your established goal? Kill the bastard.

But never lift a finger who are powerless over you. Eragon could not being himself to lift a finger against Sloan, the traitor.

If your end is justified, so is your means of achieving it. It must be remembered though, you must take a step out of line only if absolutely necessary.

Once you start doing things that are against the well defined principles, your guilt is sure to come. That guilt can drive you to insanity. In moments like those, remember what cause drove you towards your unruly task. If it still seems worth it, hold back your tears, loosen that knot in your chest and accept what you have done.

What has to be done should be done. Without any exceptions. Heartlessly, though thoughtfully.

In the name of THE GREATER GOOD.

Christmas @ mini Hogwarts

Merry Christ mas!

We’re having this big party and everyone’s here. I kinda expected this party to be wild but looking around I’m thinking, WHAT’S WRONG WITH THE WORLD!

In one corner is Mayu bhai discoursing on the philosophy of Christmas with a gang of followers from which I conveniently excused myself earlier.

Another corner is occupied by Adi with a gang of girls around him. He is holding a public reading of Harry Potter because for him it’s the same as Bible. In their midst in Anam di who is constantly tweeting live excerpts form the reading, oblivious to all the girls sitting around her, dreamy eyed.

Then there are Yencee and Shri, dueling, Rajnikant style.

Nc – Yanna Rascala!

Shri – Mind it!

And then they do a juggling sequence with their toy guns.

A separate group of girls have their heads bent together, obviously gossiping. They have Aakuh in the centre who emerges every few minutes for a – “awwh” or “eeeepp!” or jumping up and down clapping her hands frantically.

Obviously we have Nik and Rahul in a heated debate about which gang of girls to approach first by counting the number of blonde heads. Probably discussing tactics and pickup lines and all too.

Priyansh can be seen playing Gobstones (pebbles) with his friends, cracking PJs frequently and mistaking the SHUT-UP-OR-I’LL-AVEDA-KEDAVRA-YOU stares as looks of admiration.

Pooja can be seen playing with her dolls, that little chick. She is pestering her brothers to hold a doll each and help her with making up a nice doll-marriage story.

I and Rutaba were piling up stink pellets and dungbombs and plotting SIRIUSLY as to who is gonna be out next target while eyeing Nipun meaningfully all the time.

And at last, at long long last! There was the doorbell. SANTA! Both the gangs of girls rushed past me for chocolates pushing me into the now empty space beside Adi. Bitches.

And I did get my sweet revenge eventually. Guess what, NO CHOCOLATES! HA! By now you might have guessed the identity of Santa- Rohit! The girls sighed “hmn” collectively to which Ro just sighed and asked for something to eat.

That was that. It ignited Shri’s temper. For those who know him, you will realize how special it is. He launched at Ro swearing loudly in a language only Yencee could understand. We got to witness a very amusing fistfight between an overstuffed Santa and lean little Shri.

(“Mahn, food is such a driving force! You see since millions of years this has been the law of nature….”, droned on Mayu bhai to anyone who would listen.

The fight continued into the night with people betting on how much stuffing could Shri beat out of Santa. (I went home with my pockets considerably heavier as I bet on Shri winning the duel. I always had faith in my unkil.)

By the end we almost died laughing. Atleast now we had finally emerged out of our own separate worlds and come together to celebrate, thanks to Shri.

Now that we had died laughing, it must put an end to the story.

!Merry Christmas!

And a Happy New Year.

Unmasked

Does everyone wear a mask?

Yes, I do

And not just one at it

A new one for each person I meet

It’s because I don’t want them to know me

Until I permit them to

Until I’m sure the knowledge lies in safe hands

You may remember my status not long ago

To know who you are without any delusions or sympathy is a moment of revelation that no one survives unscathed. Some have been driven to madness by the stark reality. Most try to forget it. But as much as it gives another power, so you may gain power over yourself, if the truth doesn’t break you.

The concept of masks is best explained by sir Paulini in this book (unintentionally?)

He says that a Rider has 2 names. One is his real name and the other is the one with which others know him. The real name is hidden, even from himself. It is only after an enormous amount of deliberation can he know his own reality. Only few have the courage to undergo this deliberation. Even fewer survive it.

The knowledge of your reality has the power to destroy you. Do you really consider it wise to vest it in unworthy hands? Or in any hands for that matter? Because, in a moment, intentionally or not, they may completely destroy you.

Taking the risk of revealing yourself is sheer stupidity. The mask gives you the confidence of survival. The mask can be altered. The mask is convenient.

We ourselves must master the skill of controlling our masks. The act of thinking and the precision of execution is a step towards invulnerability. When none can guess, none can predict, none can conquer. Basically, you need to be a good Occlumens. Shut your mind and shut your mouth. For your own safety.

You may argue, what about trust? If we trust someone with our lives, surely we can trust them with our identity.

Not quite. When you yourself are unlikely to survive the encounter, how can you expect another to handle it well? It’s just too much information.

The mask, although may slip. It’s acceptable. Just an inch or so, to reveal your eyes. Eyes are the biggest giveaway. Eyes are the epitome of all that it true. Not even an accomplished liar can control their activity.

Now while you ponder over this stuff I will go design myself another mask. Now I hope my brother, I answered you well.

EPIC RAP BATTLES

Dobby:

Yo!

Hey Kreacher, what kinda creature are you

You called Hermy mudblood, is that true

You don’t obey Harry Potter sir

You still upto saving up your mistress’ fur

Your ambition is to get your head cut up and hung up on that wall

Mahn! I mean elf! Don’t you desire any freedom at all

Look at me dressed in socks and hat

Don’t tell me you don’t want any of that!

Excuse me, is that a tea cozy?

And that green thing, is that your nosey?

Kreacher:

Mudbloods! Children of filth!

Oh, what will my mistresses think!

And bringing a brat like you in here

Those curtains wont shut when she screams in despair

You betray our race, we’re elves and we work!

You wear new clothes, accept wages, that’s absurd!

Kreacher would die of shame if he were you

Your one sock is yellow and the other blue

I heard you into that mudblood’s SPEW crap

If I could I’d give her a tight slap

Dobby:

No elf shall talk of madam Hermy like way

She’s just working to give us better days

Free as a bird not stuck in that hole

Boy! Now you even look made up of coal!

You deserve to be treated badly by master Sirius

And left by Regulus in the cave of inferious!

Kreacher:

Oh bloody crap, you’re shitty at rap!

Madam Bellatrix threw a knife and made your neck snap

That’s what you get for running after your Harry Potter sir

You even lost Winky, I know you loved her!

I’d die than become a disgrace like you

Your head is full of shit and poo!

WHO WON?

WHO’S NEXT?

YOU DECIDE!

EPIC RAP BATTLES OF HP~!

Take Care

Just two years from now I had a best friend
So close, so damn close we were
Well versed with each others schedules
Busy, yes
But found time for us

Then meaningless fights
Got back together, of course
We were that strong, at least

Nothing passes without leaving a mark
Busy, still
But there was no time for us
Gotten on with life
Had new friends

That friendship is just a ghost of a memory now
I know what he’s upto
‘coz he left a hasty note before going
The longest time we talk is about
The time it takes to say hi
How are you

And no, we don’t launch into our stories
Like before, no formality
Just say a formal, I’m good
Take leave then, goodbye
I love you
We lie

Only thing not phony about it is
The parting
Really feeling that way
Despite everything
Despite the distance
I want you to

Take care

Silence...

He came running to her, out of breath. His hair ruffled by the wind, shirt flying behind him, panting slightly. “He looks like an angel.” She had thought. She was still not over his beauty even after three years of togetherness. His presence still filled her with the same excitement as it had done the first time. It was something resistant to fading over time. He was not conventionally good looking, but to her he was like a stone, in appearance and manner, carved artfully to satisfy her fancy. He felt so perfect that she thought she could never have him. She tried to find solace in other men, but unconsciously she had started comparing them to him. None seemed even close to his perfection.

Then one day, without preamble he confronted her with his feelings. It was a thing with him, you could never know what to expect. It could shock you to death either with elation, or agony. It was ironic, how he could induce such fierce emotions in others, when he seldom betrayed any emotion himself.

He had been away for the past two months now. She had missed him every single day, even the days when she had not thought about him. But tonight was different. She had had a sudden pang of urgency that had shocked her out of her sleep. She knew something was happening.

She stared at the ceiling for a long time. It made her restless. She put on her dressing gown and walked out into the balcony. Standing by the railing, she stared into nothingness. It was only after a long time she realized that she was cold. The night was chilly. Just as she was making her mind to get her coat, two hands wrapped a shawl around her bare shoulders. She didn’t give a hint of surprise. She had already known something was happening. He had come back. Unannounced. His style. Using the door was too conventional for his liking.

Now as he stood with his arms wrapped around her, it was as if he had never been away. She could feel his warm breath on her neck as he took in her perfume. They needed no explanations, no talks, no words. Together they stood in perfect silence.

You gotta be kidding me!

It was the first time I left a book unread after flipping through the first few pages. And it is saying something because I even read twilight when my friend suggested I read it ( I feel like I betrayed Harry Potter). But anyway, this one was even WORSE!

Ever since I read Vikram Seth’s poem in my English textbook and “A thing beyond forever” by Navoneel Chakraborty, I’ve been interested in reading more works by Indian authors. So one day I walked into the earlier strictly prohibited section of English books by Indian authors and got three books with good titles (atleast better than the others…er)

Not suspecting anything amiss, I started reading one and there I saw a-wait-ah no!- I’ll say it,-a – nooo!, okay a GRAMMATICAL ERROR! What? Sorry! A GRAMMATICAL BLUNDER!!

The book was written in PRESENT tense. Period.

No book is ever written in present tense. Atleast not the one in which the protagonist recollects his past that is the ones written in FLASHBACK MODE!

Realizing this I threw away the book in disgust as if it were something infectious, figuratively speaking as I respect books too much to do that. (as a punishment for it I put it in the darkest, most dusty, dingy-est and farthest corner of my bookshelf).

Plucking up courage, I started with the second one. Why didn’t my eyes POP OUT! It had SMS-LINGO!! And if that was not enough, 

*dramatic pause*

*drumroll*

SPELLING ERRORS!! Do not get me started on grammar.

To get over the misery I read The Digital Fortress. Again.

Third time lucky, I prayed, begged. No, grammar was fine. But story, not so. A college romance, again. Excused. Bad try at humour. Cannot be excused. Looked like a copy from some Bollywood chic-flick. And a bad copy, if I might add.

( no details as to the identity given because I don’t want you guys to ass kick me if you happen to like them, wait, since that’s not possible let me rephrase, “if you are the author because no one else would read it anyway. )

I always thought that before publishing a book it was thoroughly scrutinized, edited and a cover page carefully designed (and not use a stupid collage of some random pictures on a white background and no contrast or some cheaply  photoshoped cloudy background with unrelated gifs strewn all over it haphazardly or maybe some unremarkable landscape). How can a publishing company be so desperate to publish something, anything, that it can gamble its credibility for it? Because a bad story can still be excused as a fault of the writer, but GRAMMATICAL ERRORS are just TOO MUCH!

I promise to you my readers, that when I have my own publishing house, I would never allow such a catastrophe. Only the best would be published. If any of my fellow blogers want something published, they might send it to me. Special discounts if you are following my blog. Hurry! (advertising already am I ? ). Anyways,

Conditions apply.