the saga of the charlatan derider

With my facebook status update not getting enough notice i think a blog post would do justice to quench the angst against poseurs that recently vexed me to mammoth proportions. I shall first narrate the incident that is responsible to put me in such a morose mood. While chekcing out random profiles of friends of friends i bumped into a guys profile who was supposedly studying at IIM Calcutta(i seriously doubt that though). Seeing the IIM tag attached to it I was bound to get excited like a kid on seeing a lollipop(ya thats the best i can come up with at 2 am) and hence decided to carefully scrutinize the revered profile. On reaching the part where the guy was to describe his favourite books, he had a host of authors mentioned including P G Wodehouse, J.R.R Tolkien, Oscar Wilde, Ayn Rand (i know she sucks) etc etc, which is not so unusual. The unusual part was that all the names were misspelt with the only exception being Chetan Bhagat. Seeing this made me nauseous. I sometimes thought that any decent, well educated person would have brains enough of not bragging to be someone who he isn't. But this is beyond comprehension. I have been coming across a throng of such charlatans recently but all of them did not befit the aforementioned requisites. But someone who belongs one of the best B-Schools in the country was certainly not expected to be a part of the herd. Seeing the kind of people i could bump into, IIM-C is out of my list of "B-Schools i wish to get into"(as if i would've even if i had wanted to).

Anyways, not digressing further,after the initial anger died and i came back to my equable self, i started mulling over this and tried to think of the reasons that makes people pretend. With a myriad thoughts racing through my head, the one that particularly caught my interest suggested it had to be a psychological disorder(no, im not terming them mad), an inferiority complex of sorts. I guess such people have under confidence issues and have a phobia of being laughed upon overtly and hence try and shy away from expressing their true selves and end up ascribing to the herd mentality. What i feel towards such individuals is pity more than anything else as they end up being someone else for the sake of someone else, and that too unwillingly(confusing, isn't it???).

While my conclusion may be termed as lucidly obfuscating(i just said that coz i love oxymora), what it made me realize is that it's not always a charlatan's fault if he is so, but since it isn't mine either, and in spite of knowing i might be forming a wrong opinion even without knowing the person, i shall continue bearing a grudge against anyone who pretends to be who he is not(because that's who i am).

PS: sorry for the masculinity of the article(i'm a male chauvinist at heart :D)

PPS: i had other *interesting* encounters with poseurs as well, but they were close acquaintances and hence i abstained from mentioning those

the enigma that winters are

The advent of the new year brought along with it the mystically enchanting cold, that at times is a nosy intruder, getting inside perniciously and squirming the insides, but mostly is like a harbinger of merriment and solace. Nothing is more peaceful than sitting in the silent warmth of the sun and trying to observe the serenity of the world around. The chirping of sparrows perched on a tree branch, the bitter baritone of crows , the distinct rustle of the whispering wind, the mystique generated by fog, the gradual disappearance of fog during day appeasing the spirit ; winter endows me with an opportunity to clearly perceive the gifts that nature endows upon us. Also for a die hard romantic like me winter is the time to rejoice love. The slow felicity that seeps in with the unobtrusive yet noticeable arrival of the winter teems the heart with emotion and overwhelms me to the hilt during the day . The entire notion of having someone to embrace during the cold to provide you with warmth brings a simper to my face. The yearning period, the melancholy that strikes in the absence of this someone, the drawing of parallels from a million places, all attain a superlative degree during the winters.The ideal setup for a perfect day for me would have to be a winter morning, me with my someone surrounded by nature all around, two large mugs of cappuccino, basking in the winter sun, and listening to Bob Dylan.But then, perfection is hard to attain, and i shall in all probability hanker for such a moment to overwhelm me throughout my lifetime without actually witnessing it(winter pessimism). One more thing that comes along with the winter is a sullen pessimism. While the day fills my heart with merriment and felicity, the sanguinity is engulfed by the dark along with day and a premonition of something calamitous fills the heart and makes a cynic out of me. With so many facets attributable to it, winters to me are enchanting and enigmatic.Enchanting as thy let me experience the peaks and depths of life. enigmatic as i am still not sure about what exactly do i feel towards winters and hence am awed by the enigma. Although i would not be wrong in saying that I prefer summers over winter in spite of their monotony as the troughs and the crests of winters at times are too much to handle, for me, winter is the season to experience the extremities of my thought process and to rediscover myself and my outlook towards life.

As Albert Camus aptly quoted-"in the depth of winter i finally realized ,that within me lay in invincible summer."

and with this post turning out to be as confusing as my thoughts about winter, it would be base treachery to suggest that i am not fairly pleased with the way its turned out to be.