Friday, June 13, 2014

It's a dog eat cog world

Cogesh was almost ready for office. What would he do without his morning cup of coffee.

Cogesh settled comfortably on the bus seat. As the buildings rushed past him in the window so too did his mind along the memory lane into the past. He remembered how he and his brother watched Dragoncogs Z, got hyper excited and started sparring with each other. One duel got particularly too realistic which resulted in several scratches and a visit to the mechanic. Then how his dad came back excited from work on payday, lugging a bucket full of grease. Everyone rolled in happiness for days. Times were simpler then. For one they didn't have to deal with all these electronic people, not that he had anything against them. He just wished they learnt his language and integrated better with their culture.  

One day he would be the top gear in a sports car, that was his dream. His dad had told him, "Son, you could be anything", to which the Cogesh replied "I want to be a dog". Not a person to go back on his words, his father took him to a dog training camp. But this didn't go as expected and his dad had to retrieve him from the recycle bin for metals after the dogs mouth had their way with him. So Cogesh settled to a more realistic goal of becoming the top gear in a sports car. His grandmother worked in the Trans continental railways, his father on the Trans-Siberian Railway engine. So he he wanted to be the part of top gear in the fastest sports car. He was confused with the world, he was not sure if he was a special being in the universe or if he was just a small part of the machinery, replaceable, dime a dozen entity. 

He reached his workplace in time and started work. 
Cogesh at work.

He precariously positioned himself between the other cogs and shafts. He didn't really need to do anything. He felt he was made for this job, it seemed so effortless. Why would one want to be anything else? 

Later in the day he took a break from all the rolling and turning. He went to the coffee machine with his co-workers, discussing the latest sports. He turned on the coffee machine by pressing on the hand button.
The hand belonged to Bill. Bill had been recently promoted to the critical job of ON/OFF button in the coffee machine. As soon as the gigantic hand pushed his hand down he shouted at the top of his voice "make some coffee!!". The messenger boy was waiting for this. With this important news he ran like the wind towards the manager. Upon hearing the request from the messenger the manager immediately called the team and gave the order. " Sam start the boiler, Zhang roast the beans, Kuhu transfer the water.." and everybody rushed forth to complete their job in time. Zhang was starting to question if she was in anyway special but then an excellent joke from Kuhu made her laugh and forget it all.

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Choices, Choices & More Choices

Now that the popular social networking site has introduced 50 more options for gender rights activists are pretty happy. Next they'll demand 50 more restrooms for each of those in every building. I can hear the janitors screaming everywhere. This explosion in the gender choices has caused some problems. Even before this it was hard for me sometimes to classify some new people that I see as boys are girls. Is that a really pretty girl or am I going to get a nasty surprise? Now imagine the same problem with 52 choices!! Recently when I met Ash my thoughts went along the lines of " I'm pretty sure she/he/it is not Gender Nonconforming because of the blue pants, not Gender Questioning because of the hair, probably not Gender Variant, doesn't feel like Genderqueer. That leaves me with only 48 more options. After years of dedicated research (aka relentless stalking) I've finally narrowed Ash down to two possibilities. Looks promising.

       It used to much simpler in my great,great ... grandfathers day. He would never have had any problem identifying the gender, the answer would in fact be trivial. He wouldn't have to bother with any of this courtship, fighting for mate bullshit. He would reproduce when he damn well pleased without begging anyone. That's right, he was a prokaryote. Any identity form to fill in those days would easier, for the question of which sex there would be only one choice. All your sons would look exactly like you. In fact everyone would look exactly the same due to population not having much genetic diversity. Well there would be a minor problem of me mistakenly kissing my headmaster instead of my girlfriend, and wanted posters would be less effective, you win some you lose some. Ah good old days.

       Enough of this daydream, I live in the present and I have to deal with it. Ash is here. Finally! I've been waiting for so long. I gingerly remove her coat trying to control my eagerness. What a sleek tail she has. Wait... what?

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

Four Seasons of Grief

Poem inspired by this painting by my friend Namrata (Blog Link)

Cry in Summer, feeling like a bummer
Cry in autumn, I'm really at the bottom
Cry in winter, even though I'm a painter
Cry in spring, what grief will it bring