The Biker's Way

(....The true way)

Members of the Sons of Anarchy Club

Ever wondered how, the use of words like ink, patch and cut changed forever thanks to a certain 'club'? How we accepted macho outlaws perennially on-the-run refer to each other as 'Ladies' and didn't find it amusing because it wasn't being used derogatorily but rather out a pure feeling of love! And how "Hey man! I need you to do me a solid", never sounded more cooler than when uttered from the devilishly foxy mouth of the President of the Sons of Anarchy, Jax Teller?

Its been, a few months since the curtains came down on the greatest biker show ever (SOA as it is fondly known among fans) but the show has left an indelible mark forever in minds of its viewers. With sizzling high-end action that would leave you punching anything that moved (not exaggerating!) to scratching the ends of leather-vested pillows or sheets, hoping they covered you instead; the show has more followers than any club, legion or organization.

Different people have different 'favourite' SOA moments. For some it's the quirky cameos that added an element of fun to the show. For others it was simply the bizarre situations that the outlaw bikers found themselves in time and again. Seriously, who would thought of Stephen King as a 'body disposer' who liked 'disposing' while listening to 80's music! Or Marilyn Manson as an Aryan Brotherhood leader who liked talking in dog-code simply because he loved his German Shepherd. From cross-dressers to women shedding their feminine inhibitions, the show had everything for everyone.

Whatever be the reason for the show's popularity, Kurt Sutter, the creator certainly made sure one watched the show in complete darkness. Bizarre as that sounds, the fact is that apart from riveting action, the show had loads of emotional appeal, that made you want to turn away and wipe away that moistness. Opie stepping up to take the blow for the club, Clay's death, Jax's upheaval before he confronts his mother are all unforgettable and soul-stirring events that stay with you long after the show.

Major awards may have eluded the popular show, but its success is in its huge fan following that continues to grow even today. We may never get to see a cop-chase in Charming ever again or old ladies jostling with each other to become reigning queens in their men's lives, but we sure do hope that the blokes of  SAMCRO will return again and patch our lives into theirs and make for one last bang, before that gavel turns in, completely!

Do you truly care about yourself?
- Are you ready to  make a commitment that you will stand by yourself no matter what?
- That you will abide by every rule in the marriage book and put up with your own true self no matter how disgusting or frustrating you might become?
- Do you promise to fulfill every wish of yours and sacrifice your other needs to obtain that which your heart truly desires?
- That you will make the institution of marriage cry at its own lofty standards, that it takes two-to-tango?
- Can you bring every known convention to man on its knees and prove that humans don't need one another for support, companionship and togetherness?
Will you....
Wait.
This has been going on for too long. Let's stop and think carefully. It isn't as hard as it sounds actually - being married to your own self.
The principle is, you live for two, but actually just for one.
- You get all the perks of marriage (commitment, security, stability blah blah blah) and yet you don't have to deal with any of its murky underside (Wife: Honey, you never turn the alarm off!, Husband: How in bloody hell am I supposed to wake up then?????)
- You get all the lovin', carin' and cuddlin' when you want, where you want! (I mean come on, who doesn't love-a-little-tickle, themselves!)
- You don't have to think of what he likes or doesn't like. Or break your head over this gift or that ! You already know what you like!
- You don't have to put up with false pretenses or 'be-the-ideal' everything (girlfriend, masseuse, cook, TV operator, telephone operator). You can be who you truly are... you are after all dealing with just you !
- And when you wake up, you don't have to worry about being the bed-hog, for the whole bed is your freakin' side!
Ahhhh...such is marital bliss!  If only we could experience it just once...

(This article is a tribute to Grace Gelder, who married herself on March 16, 2014 on a little farmhouse in Devon, England).

Stranger with a wrong address

Breathless, I rushed to the door Caught in a knob of uncertainty Was it the wind? Howling into my senses Or was it a stranger
With a wrong address?
"Is this Willow Garden?" he asked me
I didn't speak to shadows
I wasn't going to start with this one
He turned to leave,
Concluding I was deaf and dumb
In his hand I saw a parcel
Was it for me?
From a distant relative perhaps?
I called him back
I could see a smile cross his face
Was it crooked or genuine
It was hard to tell
I opened the door expectantly
My hand long as Pinocchio's nose
Ready to receive the largess
Instead I was met 
With the razor edge of a blade
Glinting against the moon
My mind flashed
He was no stranger
He was a friend, of Darkness, of Night
A fiend who had come to devour
Under the pretext of delivering gifts
I smashed the door on his wrist
Thrusting it with all my strength
He gritted his teeth
Kicking the door in one swift move
I fell on the inside
His power overwhelming me
I was but a child, he with the strength of a bull
But size can be an impediment
When you have speed on your side
I struck at his heels
With one swift roundhouse kick
He fell, shaken from his base
On my feet now, I savagely visited his wrist
Again and again
Till it was a crushing mix of blood and bones
I screamed in joy, he in agony
My ch'i and sha perfected to harmony
It took me less than a second to know
That he was a stranger at the wrong address
Glee writ large
I wanted to end it then and there
But my training was to incapacitate
Not to mutilate, reminded mother
She and I picked up the lump of darkness
And sent it packing into the night
It didn't even belong there
But what use was strength
When it only created more monsters?
Never, I promised mother, will I answer the door
To the stranger, who comes bearing gifts
With that twisted smile...

Indian traffic through the eyes of a hawk

"I was once soaring majestically in the sky. I had no fear, no boundaries, just an endless colour blue that stretched before me. I got tired searching for my prey and decided to rest on a building. That was my misfortune, for the building was so misshapen, that I wondered if it is was a building under construction or one that had just been left there forgotten by everyone. But from that building what I saw changed me forever."
"I saw a car entering a road that was No-Entry. Even I know what a No-Entry sign is...why can't a human?" At this point the hawk grows despondent and a tear rolls down its face. "And they call us bird-brained?! Where's the justice in that??!"
A woman in a beautiful grey sari startles the hawk next. "Here she was sauntering on the streets like it belonged to her...and suddenly... she darts down the road and starts climbing a divider. Stuck mid-way she thrusts herself into the bars of the divider and does an impressive somersault to the other side. Luckily the sari never tore, but I could see more of the lady than anybody ever cared for." The hawk's face lightens at the thought. He decides to share the intimate view of the woman later with his hawk-buddies.
But he was sure his father wouldn't approve. "What can I do if I have the eyes of a hawk? Can I close them and stop them from seeing what they want to see? Or is it a sin that I used my gift to good advantage?" The deep philosophies of life trouble the hawk and he decides to look for more interesting things happening on the street.
The next thing he sees defies any form of logic. It's called an Indian traffic jam. "Cars can't turn because there are vehicles coming from the other side. From the other side, nothing can move because people want to cross at that exact same time. The police can't do anything because if he does he will end up somewhere up there where even I don't know what happens. The only person who can do anything is me. But why should I swoop down and help those people, when they don't it acknowledge my presence." The angry hawk clicks his beaks ferociously and yelps a loud screech. A boy who is walking below the building points up to his father and says, "Look there's a bird sitting up there!".
The father doesn't bother to look up, but drags the boy into a one-way street from where cars and bikes are rolling out ferociously in the direction they are not supposed to. "Come fast, there's no time for bird-watching, we need to get out before the jam hits the other side."
The hawk on hearing this, swoops down and takes advantage of another gift he possesses. He shits. On the man, on his car and on the whole traffic jam.
Satisfied he returns to his roost braver and deeper in his resolution that he can make it out of any situation in life. But out of an Indian traffic jam? Well he has his own doubts about that one!
"Kudos to those who brave traffic jams, and special kudos to those who make it alive out of an Indian one!" the hawk screams. He is happy with his statement because he knows even his father would agree with him on that one.

The Balance of Life

When devastating blackness envelopes us, we need light to see the day,

When blinding light sears our senses we need some darkness to soothe our nerves,

Yin cannot exist without yang,

The good will not look good if there was no bad. So here’s a list of things to bring balance to our lives!

If the painful past haunts you,

Think of the expectant future.

                       

If something sinister troubles you,

Then, think of something noble.

                       

If you’ve run like mad,

Also learn to sit like a turd .

                       

If you’ve helped someone,

Learn how to kick up a fuss.

                                               

If you’ve had a brush with the law,

Change the law for the good.

                       

If you’ve sung Praises to the Lord,

Indulge in your sweet fetishes.

If you’ve gained a pound,

Then lose a freckle.

    

If you’ve paid money for nothing,

Then charge a bomb for something.

If you’ve gotten used to life,

Don’t allow life to get used to you.

For there can only be balance in the living world, God only knows what’s on the other side!                  

                                    

Age of Dragons 

With the breath of fire

A look of deep menace

Swirling and curling in their hides

A dragon did exist once

Not as a myth or a legend

But as a living breathing testament

Of only one creature's power

To rule our minds

And be able to exist in every culture

If the Viking, Norwegian, Greek, Chinese or even the Indian culture has ubiquitously mentioned one creature, it has to be the dragon. The power and mystic of this reptilian being has been such that theories are abound that the creature must have existed in some form or other.
Maybe it was my recent cinematic experience where I saw Smaug rise from molten gold and proceed to desolate Lake-town or perhaps it was yesterday's Game of Thrones episode where I saw mere tiny dragons transformed into ferocious mutants ready to take on the world.
Whatever may be the reason, these creatures will always remain part of our culture no matter how modern or how old. That is the significance of these creatures and may the age of the dragons never die.

  

Beauty of angst

I'd like to explain angst with a simple example. Here's David and George. While George is an aspiring writer David is his counterproductive friend. David doesn't realise that George's inconsistencies stem from an underlying need to 'make it as a writer'.

George: Jeffrey Archer! How in bloody God's name does he write so well?

David: He claims its because he went to prison.

George: Really, now did he...

David: Yes, got arrested a while back, something he lied about some wanker.

George gets up and begins pacing the kitchen floor his thoughts deep within his own mind. He picks up a nail cutter that is lying by the cheap kitchen table.

David: Clay and friends gonna be here any minute mate.Get the beer in the fridge, might as well start off before they're here. Will you grab one for me?

George doesn't bother answering because he hasn't heard a word his friend has said.

David: George! What's the matter? 

George picks up his dark leather jacket and rushes to the door.

George: Don't wait up for me...for sometime.

David: Why! Where you off to?

George looks at the dirty nail cutter in his hand. The blades are all jutting in a sickening order of bluntness. He pockets it with a dirty grin and an insalubrious intention. 

George: I'm off to get arrested. But don't you worry about me. I'm gonna be just fine.

He slams the door tightly shut.

David is left wondering what he said that made his friend so angst-driven.

As you can see, just as there can be no success without purgatory, there can be no art without angst. It's so important that you will find people going in search of it.

But how does one identify an angst-driven person? Let's try to see some real-life examples. Traditionally it would be someone with a long beard and trails of black hair that have turned grey over the years due to neglect. Sri Sri Ravishankar??? Yes definitely. Prahlad Kakkar, most definitely. So there are two classifications for angst, one is the Spiritual Guru Angst and the other is the Common Man's Angst.

What about women? Hair and beard can hardly be considered viable indicators. While women have lots of one, there is a complete lack of the other. So I think we need to tweak it for women this way - dark eyes, sagging skin, devilish mane. Shehnaz Hussain?? What about unstarched cotton saris? Does a certain Ms. Banerjee come to mind?

Guilt and shame are supposed to drive people towards angst. Which is why prisoners around the world have the bestselling art shows. Apparently, thieves die to get their hands on some prisoner art. When they get caught they go to prison and make their own art. Other thieves in turn covet these prisoner's art and so it goes on... they thieve and they go to prison...and on and on. So do you now see the cycle-driven angst or the angst-driven cycle, whichever way you prefer to see it?

So we've seen the different types of angst and the nature of angst itself. Now we'll see the different levels of angst. A man has everything in this world? So you might think what angst could he possibly have? That's not true however. A person with high income and high societal place can also have high levels of angst. While it is more common with people with less income and low societal value. But things are getting around, and we are frequently seeing people with no apparent reason driven towards angst. Such people are called Anst-driven Perfectionists. They have perfected the art of angst. Such people are so worthy in their fields that it is rather unworthy mentioning them here! I'd just like to say that they are the greatest minds and the greatest philosophers.So guys the bar has been set pretty high. We need to buckle-up and reach the Paradise of Inimitable Angst. That is the only way.

P.S - I sincerely love all the people I have mentioned in this article. To prove it, I ask myself the same question. What drives the angst in me? I have to say, its my tiny eyes, bulbous nose and perspiring palms. There you have it, now we're even aren't we?

Next chapter: The mental agony of angst.

(Please do share your encounters with angst!)