Vigilo et spero

In English: I keep awake and I hope.

This is an extraordinarily simply Latin proverb, the sort of thing that can be taught on the first day of Latin class. The word "et" plus two simple first conjugation verbs.

The meaning, however, is profound. This is one of those proverbs where two parts are combined to create a greater whole.

To keep awake, to be "vigilant" (this English word comes from the same Latin verb, hence proving not every V word reflects the female genitalia), is a good thing.

It is also a good thing to be hopeful; you don't want to ever feel "desperate" (this English word comes from the same Latin verb, negated - which makes you wonder why wasn't Latin the root language of conversation in the first place).

Yet it would be possible to keep awake without hope. This would be the staying awake that comes from worry, fear, anxiety. My greatest example, Asians - more precisely, the Chinese Mug-till-death flag bearers. Excuse my lack of political correctness, but fuck I'll call a spade a spade any day. As you know, I'm stuck in the University of Edinburgh, the muck of conformity and lack of spirit. Every 10 minutes some fucked up nut will post up a facebook post like ZZZ stress exam, sien, what are the muscle attachments to the coracoid process....etc. For the love of God, deal with it and stop spamming. No one wants to know how much of a dick you are and nobody fucking cares about how much you fucking need to study cos end of the day you're all gonna end up like Jo, the conventional resident officer from the House of God. Yes my insolent friends, Davidsons, Harrisons, Kumar and Clark will get you them initials, but House of God will reflect your true future. The feeble attempts of educating some of you muggers by intricately weaving communication skills and patient centred care into the curriculum has reaped nothing because in my exalted opinion, you can't teach someone to be humane. It is a gift, and may I add one that only a selected few possess. You can be as nice as you want at face value to pass your freaking OSCEs but the rigid nature of your questioning for history taking shall be taken to your gravestone, so much so it shall read 'Here lies .....'

Why my angst you say....because idiots like you make medicine seem hard. The noblest of professions in the world, the Art of Healing, and turned it into a scientific process. Patients made into lab rats, mere tools for your so called acquirement of knowledge. William Osler once said, '

He who studies medicine without books sails an uncharted sea, but he who studies medicine without patients does not go to sea at all'

Which makes some of you jump at my throats stating even Osler wanted us to use patients as lab rats. What he truly meant was to listen to them. Listen to their tales. The best teacher is an experienced teacher. And it was whilst listening to his patients, did he discover raised tender nodules on the pulps of a lady's finger tip and vehemently coined the eponym Osler's Node.

Oh well now that the rant is off, and I've fucked over ALMOST every Asian Medic, time for the great news. I'm now a Mac user. And its pretty darn fucking awesome.

Also, AS many of you people secretly stalk all my facebook activities, May I add yes I do baked, I always have and no dont gimme that you dont look like one who bakes.

Yes i do realise there is a huge population of Fags that bake, and I do realise the image i portray as the unpolished jagged bearded roughian, it is against my principles to be gifted with the whisk and ladle. Well I am, so suck it up:) . Yes I am better than you at most things in life and life is unfair, which is why you're reading my blog and shaking your head at the audacity but lets face it, i couldnt care less about your blogs now could I. hmmm, good way to ward off readers now isnt it. Anyway, in other news, Someone online told me people only read stuff on this blog cos they've got nothing better to do in life:) It wasn't me who said it. Rather this person whom i've possibly not spoken to in 2 years so yeah, she's judged all you people:)

The song above, Awaken, i thought was appropriate seeing that it has been eons since i last blogged. Yes life has taken its toll on me. Age has crept up. Phooey... I just couldnt be bothered to be honest, and like I still can't be hence the crappy blog entry. I guess in growing up, i've become less argumentative and provocative, and just look on as the world eats itself with mucky numbnuts who centralise their life alongside the pursuit of a degree rather than knowledge. I can safely say till this day i've never turned down anything with the excuse of exams, and my rep speaks for itself. 2 hours of your life spent kite flying will not affect much of your sad life. But then again, if you are the group of people that im hitting at, you're life possibly consists of studying, facebooking, stalking blogs, studying, going out with friends to the library to study, going for 1 meal a week outdoors and taking 56 photos of peace signs, engaging in a potluck post exams, and tagging your friends as meals, cooking substandard dishes but talking it up, whilst the world is going out and having a good time. you live in your nutshell and yet you feel you have enjoyed sufficiently in life, not realising you were better off just staying in your native land doing the exact same thing you've been doing all your boring life.

Why the angst you may ask, well simple. Its cause my Louis Dega is leaving and thus the idea of spending the rest of my time without a fellow visionary sickens me. A culture we share, the pursuing of knowledge for the betterment of oneself rather than a sheet of paper with our names on it is a lost cause to many these days. Which is why i bring myself to the topic of wit. A dying form of intelligence. One that is not acquired but inherited. Like the ability to deduce and critically analyse. The 'street' smart intelligence as it is commonly referred to. The Right Brain users. Without Dega, Papillon is but a prisoner that refuses to conform.

Save yourselves lost souls... Pursuit life and its infinite wonders, rather than the straight pubic hairs that you people possess...

Fuck im hungry.. fuck you all...

You know I'm Not Dead

Now I have been laying dormant for far too long. 2 months without a blog post and a whole lot of angst to be blown away. Fuck the world we live in today. Richard Dawkins in his book the God Delusion states that religion is but the cause for most insolence, ignorance and apathy in the world we live in today. A very reputable statement, which I, as a Believer find not too audacious. After all, how many atheists do you see burning effigies of Religious Leaders.

'True peace is not merely the absence of tension, it is the presence of justice' - Martin Luther King Jr

The above statement was my facebook shout out, because where justice fails to prevail, vigilante justice comes in. Now caped crusaders and testosterone charged men wielding pitchforks may have gone out of fashion a long time ago. I have to admit a certain affinity for the 'Achilles Mexican Standoff'. Fuck armies or weapons. A real test of strength and wits lies in a battlefield. Mano-e-mano. No weapons, just plain guts, gore, wits.

Now lets evaluate the pros and cons of this seemingly barbaric form of settling arguments.
A fuckface starts a fight, in a club, calls on his group of goons and buttfucks a perfectly sane dude.
= a bunch of rats against a mongoose
With the standoff, its a fuckface starts a fight, gets his butt kicked in by a perfectly sane dude.
= a rat against a mongoose
too trivial? or too simplified
fucking rats are scum of the earth, constantly linked with disease and whatnot. A mongoose is an exotic animal known to be kept as pets by folks in India and Sub Saharan Africa to keep the fucking snakes at bay, lol what chance does a fucking rat have.

This is of course accepting that the perpetrator of the fight is a small slimy pipsqueak and the dude is a Charles Bronson incarnation.

Ah you idiot, the metaphor was not a physical but rather a mental one:) it takes a bigger man to not throw the first punch:)

Anyway I've been reading up loads of political blogs and I came to this one blog by a Dr. Mohd Ridhuan Tee Abdullah, Senior Lecturer, National Defence University Malaysia cum Secretary General of Islamic Chamber of Commerce Malaysia.

Sounds like a Bogus University no?

anyway, Seeing that he was a contributor to the most recycled magazine of all time 'Dewan Siswa' - that schools made us buy and like the very day I bought it, I tossed it into the recycling box after browsing faces of the sad people that wanted to be Penpals with random strangers. They made us read that crap for Literature. Fuck's sake, Literature is a form of critical appraisal where a reflection is made as to how a work of art has appealed to the reader. Not some cum fed into a mouth of a porn star force to swallow!

Digressing...Back to my point, so this guy Dr Ridhuan Tee, like got into an online battle of wits with Art Harun. Now let us not be biased in our views. But these are transcripts of articles i picked up from their blogs. Honestly, who'd you root for? And i'll come back to the rat vs Mongoose after this.

From Ridhuan T's blog - ertee.blogspot.com

Instead, we always argue to maintain what is not right. For example, what is so wrong if we practice cohabiting before marriage, as long as we believe we are responsible?

My concerned, how if after that, John Doe make a decision not to take responsibility or leave the girlfriend all of a sudden? Some merely manage to marry for 10 days and then divorce. Who will be victimized? Of course the woman. Therefore the rule of law will always protect the fate of the woman.

I have a few Chinese and Malay acquaintance who has made a blunder because of this sex before marriage. To make matter worst, the boyfriend just left. Now, what would happen with this unborn child?




Now to a bit from Art Harun. http://art-harun.blogspot.com/

The events which are unfolding in Malaysia are nothing short of Kafkaesque in nature.

In Franz Kafka's The Metamorphosis, the chief protagonist, a salesman by the name of Gregor woke up one day only to find out that he had transformed into a giant insect. Lying down, he could see his many legs moving about in the air above him. Strangely, rather than wallowing in self pity and descending into a state of utter depression, Gregor's first reaction was "how am I going to get to work?"



A simple word of advice, pick your battles. Admit defeat to the more honourable sovereign victor. Even without reading the contents of their blogs, you kinda have a presumption that there is a clear victor, and there is a clear wannabe.
In the wise words of the unwise Shaun Micheals, ' Don't hunt what you can't kill'.

What do I know about wars? Well firstly, I am Punjabi by birth, the group of people Rahul describes to his batchmates as the True Spartans who were bred for battles. Punjabis have served many wars and by blood, that kinda makes me a veteran. Trust me when I say this, pick your battles.
Cos you don't wanna appear like an effing cunt. i love that statement, because I heard it being said aloud and I laughed. He felt the need to be discreet with the word fuck, but not the word cunt.
Ahh the world we live in today, Fucked we are as Yoda would say.

Shit, we must take. Idiots, we must accept. Morons, we must tolerate. Wanks, we must live with.

Happy new year folks. and if I did swear too much on this post, fuck me. Its my 2nd time typing this darn article. Damn battery died without autosave on the damn blog. Screw Blogspot.
Now a song for the new year, by the now defunct and crappy Smashing Pumpkins. God, grant us some good bands this year.
The everlasting gaze

You know I'm not dead
Now you know where I've been
As you sleep
Torn I am
Weighted down
Patiently
Born of love
You know I'm not dead
I'm just living in my head
Forever waiting
On the ways of your desire
You always find a way
And thru it all
Into us all you move
Forgotten touch
Forbidden thought
We can never have enough
You know I'm not dead
Found below
The creatures scream
Stranglehold
A god machine
Begging to
Tear us out
Worn as hope
You know I'm not dead I'm just the tears inside your head
Forever waiting
On the ways of your desire
You always find a way
And thru it all into us all you move
Forgotten touch
Forbidden thought
We can never have enough
You know I'm not dead

We all want to hold in the everlasting gaze
Enchanted in the rapture of his sentimental sway
But underneath the wheels lie the skulls of every c.o.g.
The fickle fascination of an everlasting God
You know I'm not dead
-and the damn chorus repeats again

A tribute to a visionary

Baba Bulleh Shah, Sufi Poet was born Abdullah Shah in the 17th century in modern day Pakistan. His ancestors had migrated from Bukhara in modern Uzbekistan, in 1680. He was a Punjabi Sufi poet and a humanist. 'Sufi', directly translated means Purity. For those who'd like to learn more about the concept of Sufism, click here. To sum it up, the Great Sufi Poet as well as teacher of Baba Bulleh Shah, Hazrat Inayat Shah summed up the characteristics that makes someone a Sufi.
And this is what we read about Sufism today.

What is a Sufi?
One who does not separate himself from others by opinion or dogma;
and who realizes the heart as the Shrine of God.

What does the Sufi desire?
To remove the false self and discover God within.

What does the Sufi teach?
Happiness.

What does the Sufi seek?
Illumination.

What does the Sufi see?
Harmony.

What does the Sufi give?
Love to all created things.

What does the Sufi get?
A greater power of love.

What does the Sufi find?
GOD.

And lose?
self

Hazrat Inayat Khan

Like many scholars of his time, mystery shrouds the life and times of Bulleh Shah as well as the timelines concerning his life.

By now, everyone is wondering what makes Baba Bulleh Shah someone that I'd pay tribute to. He was a poet that envisioned peace and harmony among religions back in the 17th century. He wasn't a prophet, nor a religious scholar, but one who loved man and women of different castes and creeds alike. He arises from the generation of great poets such as the legendary Punjabi poet Waris Shah , who wrote the epic love story Heer Ranjha fame, and the famous Sindhi Sufi poet Abdul Wahad (1739 – 1829), better known by his pen-name, Sachal Sarmast (“truth seeking leader of the intoxicated ones”). Amongst Urdu poets, Bulleh Shah lived a mere 400 miles from Mir Taqi Mir (1723 – 1810) of Agra.

Recently my rock background crossed paths with the work of Baba Bulleh Shah, as Junoon, ( a Sufi Rock pioneering band) released a song entitled Bulleya based on a poem he had written more than 300 years back.

I have included translations - by myself sadly so if they aren't accurate I do apologize:)

Bulleya ki jaana main kaun
Bulleya, who knows who I am?

Na mei moman vich masetan
Neither I am a believer (who stays) in a mosque
Na main vich kufar di reetan
Nor do I indulge in actions of paganism
Na main pakan vich paleetan
Nor am I the pure one amongst the impure

Na main andar bed kitaban
Neither I exist in books of Vedh
Na main rehnda phaang sharaban
Nor do I stay drunk (intoxicated by Bhang... the original Ecstasy:))
Na main rehnda mast kharaban
Nor do I remain stoned/rotting/aimless

Na main shadi na ghamnaki
Neither I am happy nor sad
Na mei vich paletan pakeen
Nor am I in the (argument of) Purity and Impurity
Na main aaabi na main khaki
Neither I am (made) of water nor of earth

Na main aatish na main paun
Nor am I fire nor air

Na main arabi na lahori
Neither am I Arab nor Lahori(man from Lahore, the part of Punjab in Pakistan)
Na main hindi shehar Nagaori
Nor am I (resident of) the Indian City Nagaori
Na hindu na turk pashauri
Nor Hindu nor Turk Peshaweri

Na main bhet mazhab de paya
Neither I found the secret of religion
Na main aadam hawwa jaya
Nor am I like Adam and Eve
Na koi apna naam dharaya
Nor did I create a name for myself

Avval aakhar aap nu jana
From beginning to end, I tried to understand myself
Na koi dooja hor pacchana
I did not come to know of anyone else (or I could not recognize anyone else)
Mai ton na koi hor syana
I am not just another wise one (or conversely is there is none as wise as me)

Bulle shah kharha hai kaun
Bulle Shah, who is this standing?

Na main moosa na firaun
Neither I am Moses nor Pharoah
Na main jagan na vich saun
Neither I am awake nor asleep
Na main aatish na main paun
Neither I am fire nor Air
Na main rahnda vich Nadaun
Nor do I live among fools
Na main baitthan na vich bhaun
Neither I am sitting nor am I in a tornado (neither comfortable nor in trouble)


Now what the poem meant to me when I first heard it was about someone who is totally lost in the contexts of worldly matters. In many ways I personally find myself stuck in his shoes questioining my existence as a mere mortal on this vast planet that has had some of the greatest thinkers of our time. In a small way, the realization that for me to be anything, I had to know myself first, and that nobody else was supposed to know me better than myself, was amazingly empowering. It was no declaration of independence of a confused teenager, but it did sound a call of freedom for me. It was an internalization of the belief that I was a citizen of the world; that I did not deserve to be judged or judge anyone else with lenses that are often too simplistic, or more often than not prejudiced. I've reached a point in life where I seek not alliances but rather acceptence for who I am is not a mere mortal with the capabilities to think, but also one who feels. I recall an incident here in Edinburgh, when someone (not mentioning whom) an aspiring medical student with a distinct aptitude and enthusiasm that is quite remarkable. Book smart he is, I kid you not. While taking a pulse of a frail old lady, he is unable to find it and says it aloud. Now, he attempts to search for her pulse again and in his zeal, he leaves 3 nail impressions on her brittle skin. Now this sweet old lady just smiles. I stop by to apologize to her after the zealous attempt of my peer, and she smiles saying it is all forgiven. But it begs me to question the actions of my fellow peer. Have we been so out of touch with humanity that patients serve as mere tools for us to practice our limited knowledge on? I'd fear for a frail old lady with a weak carotid pulse and asthma if this guy was to examine her for obvious reasons.

But who am I to say anything:) after all I am neither Moses nor a Pharoah:)

Baba Bulleh Shah's Next masterpiece is adapted from a Pakistani Movie, Khuda Ke Liye, dare i mention probably the greatest Pakistani movie to date. . Bulleh Shah studied Arabic, Persian and the Quran under traditional teachers. Armed with basic knowledge of religion, he seeked a 'higher' plane of understanding his teachings. Ultimately he found his murshid, in the form of Inayat Shah Qadri. Inayat Shah Qadri (or Shah Inayat, as he is referred to in Bulleh Shah’s poetry) was a Sufi of the Qadri order, who authored many Persian books on mysticism. He was from the Arian cast and grew vegetables to earn a living, whereas Bulleh Shah was of the much higher Syed caste - Descendent of Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him)
Yet, in defiance of tradition, Bulleh Shah accepted Shah Inayat as his spiritual master, and subordinated his life to his lower-caste murshid. Much of Bulleh Shah’s verses about love are addressed directly to his spiritual guide, Shah Inayat.

Bullay Noun Samjhawan Ayaan
Bhenaan Tay Bherjaayaan
(Bullay’s sisters and sisters-in-law came to advise him)
Man Lay Bullaya Sada Kaina
Chad Day Pala Araiyaan
(“Listen to us and stop associating yourself with this man of the
Araain community”)- in reference to Inayat Shah
Aal Nabi Ulad Nabi Noun
Tu Kyoun Leeka Layaan
(“Why do you insult our tribe the descendants of the Prophet Mohammed”)
Jera Saanoun Syed Saday
Dozakh Milay Sazaiyaan
(Bullay replies: Those that call me a Syed (the tribe of the descendants of the Prophet) will be punished in Hell)
Indicating that he’d rather denounce his tribe than denounce the his spiritual guide

Bandeya ho, Bandeya
(oh mankind - in a pleading manner)

Araain Saain Sabi Thaain
(People of Araain and Saain clans are everywhere)
Rab Deeyaan Bay Perwaayaan
(God doesn’t care (about placing them together in this world))
Soniya Paray Hatayaan tay
Khoojiyaan Nay Gal Layaan
(Those that are beautiful (in heart and soul) do not find such differences (in castes), only ugly people do)

Jay Tu Looray Baagh Baharaan

Chakar Ho Ja Araiyaan
(If you desire paradise in the afterlife, become a servant of the Araiyan) -Indicating ‘serve the poor and downtrodden, if you seek heaven’)

Bullay Shah De Zaat Ke Puchni
Shakar Ho ya Razayaan
(Instead ask not what caste Bullay Shah comes from)

Bandeya ho, Bandeya

Intellectual nourishment?
adapted from
nothinginaminor.blogspot.com/2008/07/bandeya-ho.html

Despite being very critical of religion, Bulleh Shah does not denounce religion as a whole but rather can be called a critic of all persons in authority - including intellectuals, academicians and jurists - who create obstacles and needless complexities for common people in discovering love, and through love, discovering God.

Bulleh Shah preaches a uncomplicated conception of humanity, as the common connection through which persons of all faiths, creeds and opinions can attain a superior and more pure existence, eventually coming closer to God, as preached by his Sufi teacher, Inayat Shah.

Bulleh Shah’s writings represent him as a humanist, someone providing solutions to the sociological problems of the world around him as he lives through it, describing the turbulence his motherland of Punjab is passing through, while concurrently searching for God. His poetry highlights his mystical spiritual voyage through the four stages of Sufism:

Shariat (Path)

Tariqat (Observance)

Haqiqat (Truth)

Marfat (Union)

The simplicity with which Bulleh Shah has been able to address the complex fundamental issues of life and humanity is a large part of his appeal.

Bulleh Shah’s popularity stretches uniformly across Hindus, Sikhs and Muslims, to the point that much of the written material about this Muslim thinker is from Hindu and Sikh authors.

One particular song that does use some verses from Baba Bulleh Shah's Poetry is Chaiya Chaiya. I recall singing this song as the dance troupe that I recently joined were about to perform and were getting nervy in the room. If only they knew the beauty that hid behind the lyrics written by one of the greatest visionaries of his time.

Jin Ke Sar ho Ishq ki chann (He whose head is in the shadow of love)

Pao ke niche jannat hogi (Heaven will arise beneath his feet)

Jin Ke Sar ho Ishq ki chann

Chal Chaiyya ( Walk in this shadow)

Pao Jannat chale chal chaiyan (walk in heaven, in this shadow)

Woh yaar hai jo kushboo ki tarah (That friend of mine who smells so fragrant)

Jis ki Zubaan Urdu Ki tarah (Whose tongue is like Urdu) - implying whose words are poetic (*Urdu is a very poetic language)

Meri sham raat meri kyanaat (who is my dusk and night, my existence)

Woh yaar mera saiya saiyaa (That friend is my beloved)

Gulphosh Kabhi Itraain kahii ( sometimes (my beloved) teases me (flirts) like a flower)

Mehkay to nazar aa jaye kahi (so fragrantly that you can visualise her scent)

Taawiz banake pahanun oose (having made it into a 'Taawiz'(charm), I shall wear it)

Aayat ki tarah mil jaye kahin (I shall receive her as i would a miracle)

Mera Nagma woh hi, Mera Kalma woh hi (she is my song, she is my Kalma (Muslim declaration of faith)

Woh yaar Hai jo Imam ki tarah (my friend who resembles a priest)

Mera nagma nagma, mera kalma kalma (my song my song, my declaration of faith x2)

Yaar Misaleh os chale (she moves like dew drops

Pao ki talle firdaus chale (she walks with the garden of heaven beneath her feet)

Kabhi daal dall, Kabhi paat paat (Sometimes thru the branches sometimes the leaves)

Main hawa pe dhoon dhoon us ke nishaan (I shall search the air/wind for her symbol/trail)

Main Uske Roop ka Saudaari ( I am a trader of her beauty)

Woh Dhoop chann hon sahar jayee ( She effortlessly flits from sunlight to shadows)

Woh Shokh rang badalta hai ( She changes her ever so bright colours)

Main rang roop ka saudari ( I am a trader in colours as well as beauty)

I end my blog post here today, by paying tribute to Baba Bulleh Shah, the true Sufi.

"freedom from pain, suffering and the external world"

Nirvana - a concept of being free from pain and suffering from the external world
Some may say that is salvation, an abodement of everlasting bliss.

Nibbāna is a Pali word that means "blowing out" — that is, blowing out the fires of greed, hatred, and delusion

I was walking past a shop in the Royal Mile that was selling countless rock and metal memoribillia and hence I decided to pop in and the first poster I browsed at was one of King Kurt clutching his Fender Strat in an amber background.

I recalled the death of the legendary Godfather of Grunge. A form of music that was so appealing in the 90s with bands like Alice in Chains, Pearl Jam and Nirvana bursting onto the mainstream. 'Jeremy', 'No Excuses', 'Would', 'Yellow Ledbetter', 'Last Kiss', and the countless Nirvana anthems were played on a daily basis on my humble AKAI radio on 90.3 fm (Radio 4 those days). Kurt Cobain was at a tender young age of 27, the same age Jimi Hendrix passed on mind you. A suicide note accompanied his final attempt at suicide. (which kinda meant he succeeded this time).

The note read "I haven't felt the excitement of listening to as well as creating music, along with really writing . . . for too many years now".
For some, the death came as a shock. To conspiracy theorists, this was the work of Courtney Love. But one cannot help admit there was a developing pattern to how the outcome was reached.

For the armchair critics who would not bother reading up 'Heavier Than Heaven: A Biography of Kurt Cobain', take my word for it, he had a rough childhood, constantly rebelling although shy inside. A divorce at the age of 8, living with a family of Born-Agains till he was 13, and finally accepting Buddhism and Jainism into his life - to attain the state of Nirvana late into his teens.


To the more medically astute, Kurt had Scoliosis and an unexplained chronic stomach pain (which doctors back then could not diagnose, but suspected to be Curling's Ulcers as he claimed to be terribly stressed out most of the time). He also had Chronic Bronchitis - which could've been percipitated by his Scoliosis as well. His encounters with heroin helped in pain management for his Ulcers, so much so that in one instance, he shot up Heroin 3 days in a row and lamented that for once, he was actually free of pain.

Like every rebel, he had championed the rights of the underdogs. In his instance, gays. Growing up in a place called Aberdeen in Washington, Homophobia was rampant and gay-bashing would be a norm. Kurt would come to the aid of gays to the extent of being called a bisexual himself. He'd spray paint signs like ' God is Gay' and others as a form of defiance to the ultras. This protective bravado-ism gave him a sense of superiorty and an exhiliration to constantly fight a cause that was greater than his own. It was this acceptance of Grunge later on in the 90s and the constant media attention on his personal deteriorating relationship with Courtney that finally nailed his coffin, and placed his legacy in the thrones of Valhalla as one of the best musicians to ever roam the planet.

This suicide attempt however was not his first. Courtney explained that he had a few attempts before as well.

Cobain's heroin addiction worsened as the years progressed. Cobain first attempted rehabilitation in early 1992, not long after he and Love discovered they were going to become parents. Immediately after leaving rehab, Nirvana embarked on their Australian tour, with Cobain appearing pale and gaunt while suffering through withdrawals, and his heroin abuse continued soon after.

Prior to a performance in New York in July 1993, Cobain OD'ed on heroin. Rather than calling for an ambulance, Love injected Cobain with Naloxone (that she acquired illegally) to bring him out of his unconscious state. Cobain proceeded to perform with Nirvana, giving the public no indication that anything out of the ordinary had taken place.

His attempts at suicide became apparent in 1994 when he OD'ed on champagne and Rohypnol ( a popular date rape drug). For the med students reading this, it is a benzodiazepine, a more potent version of Valium (Diazepam), and it sedates in 10-20 mins after a 1mg pill. Kurt passed out and was rushed to the hospital and spent 5 days there. 2 weeks later he had locked himself in a room with several guns and pills to 'hide from Love'. The authorities did get there in time to confiscate his weapons and pills.
Love later scheduled him for Detox and the medics failed to address his previous issues with depression. He was released and cleared to perform in Seattle. It was at this point he disappeared and was never found until one fatal morning, an electrician found Kurt with a shotgun pointed at his chin and blood clots around his ears. He had died 3 days before that on April 5th 1994. High concentrations of Valium and Heroin were found in his stream. His last song for Nirvana was recorded on January 30th 1994. Some called it Kurt's Song.

The references to suicide are quite chilling if you do read the lyrics, empowered by the short introduction above.
ps : note that Courtney Love plays a big part in this song:)

You know you're right by Cobain

I will never bother you
I will never promise too
I will never follow you
I will never bother you

Never say a word again
I will crawl away for good

I will move away from here
You won't be afraid of fear
No thought was put into this
I always knew it would come to this
Things have never been so swell
I have never failed to feel
Pain!!!
Pain!!!
Pain!!!

You know you're right
You know you're right
You know you're right

I'm so warm and calm inside
I no longer have to hide
Lets talk about someone else
Steaming soup against her mouth
Nothing really bothers her
She just wants to love herself

I will move away from here
You won't be afraid of fear
No thought was put into this
I always knew it'd come to this
Things have never been so swell
I have never failed to feel

Pain!!!
Pain!!!
Pain!!!
Pain!!!
Pain!!!

You know you're right (x14)
You know your right (x3)
Pain...

For those who have never ever heard this song, Google it up and it'll be all over youtube. It has the most spinechilling scream ever. The best gut yell ever to accompany a song.

I bid you adieu King Kurt.

What it takes to be a Man.

The hollow winds that blow as a train passes by you at the train station has no scent.
A voyage of soul searching and taking heed of the less capricious things in life has started. I refrained from blogging recently in fear of my emotions taking me by the scruff of my neck, choosing to apply the tunnel vision, focusing on one thing and making everything else secondary. As a 15 year old however, Jonathan and myself coined tunnel vision as the perfect cleavage down a lady's top.

What it takes to be a man, an odd title. Before I start, I'd love to thank those who have sent me encouraging personal messages and comments on my other works.

Recently I have been getting into witty battles with a real life psychologist. Why? I guess to fill some voids in life. Allow me to explain the essentials for being a man. Logic is something we choose to apply on others but not ourselves. If you need to change a bulb, a man would tip toe on a chair and add books below it, rather than get a ladder as he'll have to put the ladder back. It is male logic. Don't question it. However the same logic does not apply in this next scenario. As a guy, there will be NO BETTER MOMENT IN YOUR LIFE than that FIGHT SCENE AT THE FOREST FOR TRANSFORMERS 2. And I shall be bold enough to say, if you disagree, you're either a left hander/queer/gay/a shithole picker or a lady:) Because thats just the way it is. Don't ask for a logical explanation here. There may be a better more enthralling moment soon, but till today, I stand corrected if someone says Optimus Prime vs 3 Decepticons is not the most telling moment in their lives, I'd kick you in the nuts just to see if it hurts.

Another Primary ingredient in man. Food. It is a guy thing, that going out with your friends will make you a whole lot more hungrier, and no matter how rich you are, it is generally a must to bust that belt for a buffet. And at this point if someone says he's on a diet and his gym instructor or crap needs him to cut down, you have all the right in the world to smack him. It is an absolute must to stuff yourself, UNLESS you are trying to fake your way to a lady. Then the ball game is changed. But if you are with a group of friends, guys (with a few girls who're not likely to appear in song sequences in your dreams), it is an absolute must to get stuffed on a buffet.
When eating seafood, to a guy, there is no greater epitome of manhood than being able to devour what seems like a well eaten fish. If the fish head and tail are in tact, the alpha male has to dig behind its gills and inform the rest of the table that the best meat is located there and devour it until justice has been done. IF it is a crab, you are supposed to chew every square inch of the legs to ensure no meat is left behind. If it is a chicken, it is a must to suck on some marrow.

Now we come to the bitching. No matter what happens, no matter how wrong your friend is, you are supposed to throw a punch when he is attacked in a club. And anyone who fails to comply by this rule is deemed a failure to the law. If you are hit in a club and you are surrounded by others, you must at least throw a punch back. As a man it is better to have gone down getting your arse kicked by 5 others rather than take a slap and keep quiet. If someone initiates a slap, talking your way out of things is considered a lost and therefore does not make you a man. Who made these laws, I honestly dont know but women and softies as well as other men who do not know these rules take note.

When going out with friends, even if you are not drinking, you are obliged to buy a round if everyone else has. The one who does not drink from the group has to at least take a coke. No one is too full for a glass. And allergies are about the STUPIDEST most RIDICULOUS excuses ever. A real man will get get angioedema and hay fever but no way in hell blame turn a peanut down.
You are required to put up a fight to pay the bill. In the event that you sit it out, you might as well get yourself castrated.

Remembering one stupid thing you did in life that you should regret but are proud to talk about is another key factor into being a man. Be it singing a love song to a pregnant teacher, or being a drag queen, if you have not had an embarrassing moment that you are proud of in life, you have failed to meet a key requirement.

You are also expected to know that the way to fix ANYTHING is by bonking it hard on the top. Works with women who're kneeling as well:). but yes a hard Bonk is the absolute first aid for anything that isnt working efficiently.

Women are to be given their due respect when they are either related to you by friendship or marriage or blood. In the event you are admiring a beautiful stranger, she is but a lifeless doll just meant to be ogled at. In the event you walk up to her being overly sensitive about a very trivial matter such as the colour of her dress, you fall into the queer category.

As a man you are expected to peel scabs on your knees when you are free. You are expected to be more pragmatic and practical rather than stylish. Your choice of clothes on the normal day should not take more than 2 seconds, being the top shirt in your wardrobe or whats hanging on the towel rack. In the event you have changed your attire for reasons other than a dresscode requirement or issues with sizes and comfort, you are in deed a sissy, No 2 ways about it.

To women reading this article, this article is not meant for you to understand. It is a mission statement real men pledge to every day of their lives. It is a mantra we chant. In the event you find it hard to understand it, you have just walked a moment in our lives regarding issues such as PMS, the need to keep bitchy friends and other trivial feminine matters. WE HAVE A HARD TIME reasoning them out, so please dont attempt to reason us out:)

A Time To Kill

Blitzkrieg - German for 'lightning war' literally.

A famous war tactic deployed by ze Germans to invade the Netherlands, Belgium and the French in 1940 which sparked the last real war that shall remain the greatest highlight/blemish whichever way you look at it of our era. Most WWII survivors will tell you torrid tales of how it was like a chess game, where once your piece was taken, it meant your ass. No such crap as the Guantanamo detention and such where they just lock you up, make you listen to heavy metal (which some deem torturous) and pee on you and shit. WWII survivors lost limbs, eyes, suffered from COPD. Dignity was but a luxury back then. Cannibalism and all other tactics were implemented to ensure survival. And the one i chose to rant about today would be the most effective in my humble opinion, the Blitzkrieg. Its fundamental rule is that any disorganized army is a weak army.


As my blog is entitled Sic Vis Pacem Parebellum- if you want peace, prepare for war - meaning vigilance at all times, Blitzkrieg is the exact antithesis/anecdote for it. It is a form of sabotage to put your enemy off balance. To explain it in lay men terms is to be a trapeze artist and grease the pole for your next competitor so he/she slips and the act is ruined. Herodatus once said King Leonidas didn't allow Ephialtes of Trachis to take part in defending Sparta from Xerxes and his army as Ephialtes was handicapped and his deformity caused a disarray in their formation which was their strength. The Americans were in disarray in Vietnam, falling to a series of guerilla attacks by rag tag soldiers and hence encountered huge losses and casualties. The principle of Blitzkrieg is simple, a well prepared army will win a battle if they carry the battle out as planned. Screw the plan up for them, and they will screw the battle.

The Germans created psychological shock and resultant disorganization in enemy forces through the employment of surprise, speed, and superiority in matériel or firepower. Tested by the Germans against Poland in 1939, the blitzkrieg proved to be a formidable combination of land and air action. The essence of blitzkrieg is the use of mobility, shock, and locally concentrated firepower in a skillfully coordinated attack to paralyze an adversary’s capacity to coordinate his own defenses, rather than attempting to physically overcome them, and then to exploit this paralysis by penetrating to his rear areas and disrupting his whole system of communications and administration. The tactics, as employed by the Germans, consisted of a splitting thrust on a narrow front by combat groups using tanks, dive-bombers, and motorized artillery to disrupt the main enemy battle position at the point of attack. Wide sweeps by armoured vehicles followed, creating large pockets of trapped and immobilized enemy forces. These tactics were remarkably economical of both lives and resources, primarily for the attackers but also, because of the speed and short duration of the campaign, among the victims.

A blitzkreig gone bad however is Pearl Harbour for example. A counteroffensive (counter blitzkrieg) was mounted very soon after and Hiroshima and Nagasaki were mere historical cities that disappeared from the geographical contexts.

Now my point in bringing up the issue. I recently had a friend who endured a rough break up. The other party, used the blitzkrieg to her advantage as she thought. She had him spellbound like a remote controlled Nikko Mobile. And as much as we tried to turn him back into a Tamiya (free spirited; moves with the track) he found it hard to balance both parts. So in order to hit back at him, she branded us the villains. Ah yes, love is blind. By making 2 others scapegoats in the affair, she sucked him dry of his time and resources causing him great strain on his physique as well as mental wellbeing. A man deprived of personal time. Seemingly a wild carefree person, she had all of us smiling away giving a thumbs up, only to find out she was in truth, the combination of every vice that makes up the show on TV we call Desperate Housewives. Insecure, Overbearing, Untrustworthy, Untrusting, Ill mannered, Lacking integrity, and Manipulative Spiteful Woman (synonymous with the female form of a canine)

Now how did she carry out the plan, absolute perfection. One friend, lets call him James Bond, approached my friend the victim(Mr Orange) to this knieving person (Mrs Absynthia) and informed him that she is taking control of his life. We were planning a trip back to nature in a place where serenity and oneness with nature was but for the tourists. And Kolo Mee, Cheng, Kueh Chap, Heineken, Pork Leg Rice and Laksa Sarawak would be the staple diet for the next few days. Ok i mentioned it Sarawak:).

Now being a chance of a lifetime - to a certain degree of exaggeration - one would expect Mr Orange to jump at the occasion but he was bounded by an apparent backache that affected Absynthia. It should be pointed that Backaches are the most common cause of absenteeism among blue collar workers as well as the most vague sign of illness. In other words, you wanna get an MC from a doc, go with a backache. He'll never be able to prove you wrong. So we kinda knew this was a hoax. She had laid the bait. A week later, Mr Orange gets a whiff that Mrs Absynthia has given up on Mr Orange, as they feel they dont taste good together. So in order to make the whole disengagement seem as amiable as possible, she decides to mess up James Bond's rep. She undoes his bow tie and paints him as a guilty conscience - in that miniature devil on your shoulder mold. So knieving is this person, she demands for a few items which had been entrusted to Mr Orange. And to make the exchange, she required the assistance of Bond, and an old ally, The Prince - Niccolo Machiavelli. Now the Prince realizes he is in the middle of the black and white chessboard and decides to take a cut of the offerings which she duly obliged giving the impression that she was truly sincere in the whole deal. Mr Orange on the other hand knows nothing of the deal and quickly hands over the offerings. James Bond on the other hand realizes the prince is taking a cut and asks for his share. The Prince being a man of principle chooses the item of lesser value to be taxed. They agree upon it and they leave with a light heart. The next day the prince meets Absynthia and returns her offerings after taking his cut and she firmly agrees to it. Now at this point everyone in the deal is happy except Mr Orange who is still mourning a sincere loss.

A bombshell is dropped when Absynthia makes a public statement about Bond and the prince as she claims they are senseless thieves that robbed her of her offerings and made them scapegoats for why the split from Mr Orange is inevitable. True enough she places him in a very difficult position and attempts to drive a wedge in the whole ordeal. Mr Orange to my understanding takes a neutral stand in this and she tries hard to send a phoney SOS with a wavering tale of deceit and disappointment at the confiscated offering. She claims it had sentimental value and reminded her of a City she visited and all the memories were stored in that 75 cl potion. She then rephrases and says that a village elder needed the potion to help in a bonding ceremony that cannot take place without it.

The prince on the other hand is oblivious and so attempts to question her motives and is dumbfounded by the whole debacle. When confronted he attempts to extend a hand to apologize but judging by the outburst, he has forged an alliance with Mr Bond. Now what happens in this tale depends on whether there is a counterstrike ala Pearl Harbour or another successful blitzkrieg.

To those who are lost at this point, Absynthia turned herself a victim from a predator, in order to gain the attention of the mass public that seems to be fluttering to her side as she is but a grieving widow - or so she feels - and thus branding the allegiance against her as the four horsemen of the Apocalypse (Conquest, War, Famine, Death), not realizing there are 2 of us, and Macchiavelli the prince once said “War is just when it is necessary; arms are permissible when there is no hope except in arms.....War should be the only study of a prince. He should consider peace only as a breathing-time, which gives him leisure to contrive, and furnishes as ability to execute, military plans.'

Little does she know that The Prince by Machiavelli is the most divine book of political philosophy to roam the lands today while the Nazis and their blitzkrieg tactics are buried along with the Bismarck at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean.

Now all we need is a song to suite the tone of this war:)

The Eye Opener.

Its been awhile since I last blogged. As I've told some, I lacked inspiration. My life was routine, mundane, with few moments that really required attention. While the events at the Rainforest World Music Festival were memorable, I've pretty much continued to lifelessly in deep thought.
I've recently been going to the Gurudwara (Sikh Temple) a lot as a very auspicious celebration, the anniversary of the birth of the 7th Guru.

During a sermon, the speaker spoke of a person called Principal Gangga Singh from some school in Mumbai. He related a story to us.
"In Mumbai, to cross the river, rafts were used. Hence at the river bank, it is common to see boatmen waiting to transport people across. One day, at dusk, a boatman anchored his raft to the jetty. He left soon after as it was the end of a long day's work. After he left 7 men arrived at the river bank after a session of binge drinking. As it was already dusk, there were no boatmen on duty at that moment. They saw the raft lying at the jetty and hopped on after a brief discussion as they concluded how hard could it be, seeing that the oars were there, and having 7 men, they could easily tick turns to paddle to the other side. And so they began paddling and paddling, really vigorously and continuously did so until the sun rose. Dawn had arrived and they had sobered up a little. They later realised that they had paddled continously but hadn't moved an inch. How was this possible? asked one of them. The later realised that the raft was still tied to the jetty and so it didn't budge. "
On hearing this a few laughs were heard. Principal Gangga then asked, what is the moral of this story?
There was no answer and so the principal answered himself.
"There are some of us who're always studying, but never do well. there are others who barely glance the books and end up scoring. It all depends on who you are. The one who sees the anchor, or the one who sees the oar. The one who sees the oar gets to work, without ever realising whats holding him back. The one who sees the anchor lets go of it and at times can even follow the currents and will get to his destination. Don't ever underestimate those who don't work hard, always look at a broader perspective, analyze your shortcomings and reduce the occurance of mistakes by simple deductive knowledge and critical thinking. He concluded by telling his class to not bother taking down notes, rather told them to take note of what was going on.

The speaker then said, another moral of the story was, religion.
One needs to understand the difference between being spiritual in religion or being active in religion.
One who's active need not be spiritual and vice versa.

An example i would provide you of an active person would be one who goes to the place of worship everyday, an evangelist who preaches religion, and one who has vast knowledge about religion. I personally fall in this category somewhat. We are the paddlers.

A spiritual person is one who need not be active, but lives by religion. Practices his faith in his life. An example would be obeying the Sabbath on Sundays in the Christian Faith.

Gandhi once said, "If all Christians acted like Christ, the whole world would be Christian."
I apologize to those of the Christian faith who find my example offensive but it was I feel the most easily understood example. Majority of us who claim to be religious, would fall in the active category. Constantly performing duties in the name of religion, while commiting numerous sins along the way. In the Sikh Temple, food is commonly served after a sermon. An example of one who commits sins while performing duties in the name of religion would be one who serves food, but gets into an argument with someone who doesn't queue up to collect the food. Another example is one who'd cook the food, but later scold another person for adding too much salt to it. It does seem so superficial, but in actual truth, we lack the moral values that are supposed to be instilled by religion while commiting religious service. Gandhi's statement reminded me of a friend of mine, a Protestant, who once wore a band saying WWJD, "What Would Jesus Do" and he claimed it helped him think twice about doing something as he'd rethink his intentions and actions.

He ended the sermon saying you need to remember that everyone on earth who aren't atheists (excluding agnosts) are of one Dharm (Path of Righteousness) - Of one belief, believe in a superior energy/being/Lord. We are only different by ways of religion. He then told us a story of a prince who bought an elephant. He then asked 4 blind men to examine the elephant to describe what an elephant looked like. One man holding the tusks felt the elephant was smooth and curved, another holding an ear said it was rough and full of wrinkles, another who held the tail said its bushy, hairy and long, and finally one who held a leg said its short stubby and hard. This led to an argument in which everyone claimed the other was wrong.


And although all of them were describing the same object, they gave many separate descriptions and argued. The prince later smiled. Each blind man represented a religion, and the elephant represented God. And although our object of admiration was the same, our perspectives differed as we cannot see Him although He is often felt. And this difference alone divides the world and has been the reason for most of the wars on earth taking place.

Another sermon I heard not too long ago claimed religions were like containers. As the Supreme Being rained every container was filled. In essence the rain water is the same, but it took on a new shape in their containers. Some of the water didn't land in containers (agnosts). And so one does not need to have a container (religion) to get wet (spiritual). But having a container eases the collection of the water (understanding of the Primal Being). We have different containers. We all aim to get wet. Some of us chose not to have containers. He concluded by saying in essence we're like rivers that take different routes but aim to flow along one path to the sea(Lord). some rivers are thicker (Religions with more followers) and some are thinner ( less followers) but the aim of every river is to flow into the sea (be united with our Maker).

I once shared this tale with a someone. And today I share it with everyone. I apologize if I sounded like I was propogating a religion, because my intentions were to create an awareness of how similar we are, amidst our subtle differences. It was in school when religious talks were something I'd avoid as it became a 'Mine is better than yours' argument.

Anyway, the Sunday School talk ends there. I wish to inform everyone who has my number to not message me without mentioning your name for my phone's LCD got spoilt and so I got a new phone but only 100 Numbers were saved into the SIM card. So I've lost quite a number of contacts. Please don't get offended if a message you send is replied with a who's this.

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