What's going to happen in next five minutes?

Let's not lie to each other. You and me. What we have going on here is not a social experiment. It's not a way to get a reaction out of you. I am not selling you anything (yet). There are no books, no t-shirts, no courses to make you a better blogger, human being, or whatever the fuck you want to be.

What you and me have here, is, by a freak chance, an honest relationship. I am writing something and you are reading it and it might make some neurons in your head trigger a little bit differently, and that's about it. Or maybe not. I won't know it. But you, will.

Now, let's talk about the illusion of control. Here's how it goes.

You're reading this on a screen, maybe your smart phone or your laptop. Maybe you are in office, or home or anywhere else you like to catch up on your reading. Just take a look around you, everything is

calm and collected, because if it were not, you'd not be reading this.

But who, or what says that things will remain this way, say, in the next five minutes.

And you say, "Of course, Pallav, what kind of crazy talk is this! Things will surely remain calm and collected for the next five minutes, and I'll finish reading this blog post."

To which, I'll say, "Dear reader, you cannot see the future, you don't have prescience, you have absolutely no fucking idea what's going to happen in the next five minutes, but you're absolutely sure that it's not going to all explode in chaos, bloodshed, and tears."

Give this a thought.

The illusion of control.

Thank you.

Write Angry [updated]

You've just downed a small mug of black coffee like a vodka shot. Your eyes are open, your pupils dilated, there is a mad energy behind your eyes, you're typing like a god possessed by another god and you're not making any typos. Your fingers a blur of the keyboard, flinging letters on the screen with the passion of new lovers flinging their clothes in a dark empty room, and the backspace key...is a distant memory. Fuck auto-correct. We are taking this thing down the old fashioned way.

There is a fire behind your eyeballs and there is electricity in your balls. You're not writing from the brain anymore, it's all impulse. All natural. All madness. Fueled by amazingly bad coffee that felt more like downing a mug of old engine oil. It has set fire to your neurons and the blank page is a vista that you're going to cover with the black blood of words that you will slaughter mercilessly on the page.

Inspiration? Muse? Creativity? FUCK ALL OF THEM.

You don't need them. Grind the writer's block under your mighty finger muscles and snort the dust and get high on it. So high that you never want to stop. So high that even if the computer breaks down, you'll grind this keyboard to pulp by mashing your fingers on it, till you're just left with bone stumps covered in tattered skin.

You come to the blank page. You come to it angry. If you don't write, you'll die. Here and now and they'll pry your dead fingers from the home keys of this keyboard with rusted crowbars. But your soul will be stuck here. Forever.

Surajmukhi Complex :: WTF is that?

You probably know some people in your life who think that everything is about them. If you don't know anyone like that in your life, then congrats, you're that person.

You're infected with a condition called Surajmukhi Complex. Surajmukhi as in sunflower. While the sun rises and sets on its own, the flower things that the sun is rising and setting as per the flower's convenience as it turns around all day to face the sun.

Or some bullshit like that.

The point is that the moment you start thinking that it's all about you, it stops being about you. It becomes about everything and everything associated with you. No one can live in a vacuum, no man is an island and till you're not that, stop thinking that it's all about you.

Control is just an illusion that can be broken so quickly that you won't even have time to reflect and shed a few tears. It's all a downhill ride from the moment you're born.

And it only ends when you die.

About NOT giving a fuck.

We're an angry lot, man.

Every day, people are not giving fucks about a lot of things. People don't give fucks about the environment, the planet, the world, their parents, the animals, the music, the news and shit lot of things, when you come to think of it.

Every day, you can find someone making hateful noises in their real and virtual space that they don't give a fuck about a certain thing/person/behavior/whateverthefuck.

This is completely and absolutely wrong.

These people who say that they don't give a fuck about things are motherfucking liars. Why? dear Pallav, , you ask, who died and made you the absolute authority on the capability of people to not give a merciful fuck about things?

No one actually.

It's based on my own experiences and my failure to NOT give a fuck about things. I kept thinking to myself that I don't give a fuck about most things, but then I realized that I WAS giving a fuck about those things. Just that those things were not in the background of my mind, but they were still there. Now there are people who say that they don't give a fuck about say, Bollywood, (good enough topic to not give a fuck about). But then the same people religiously follow every Bollywood related account on Twitter, read about Bollywood in magazines and find out ten thousand ways to declare Bollywood as corrupt and useless. They'll troll movie stars and directors, write blog posts declaring the reason why a movie fucking sucked.

Though, fuck all that, here's a picture of Deepika Padukone looking fucking fantastic.

You don't give a fuck about things, by NOT giving a fuck about them. Figure it out yourself. 

Why this generation is fucked - part 1

Yeah man, you've got apps n stuff, but what do you actually want to say? Are you saying it? If yes, then are people listening? If people are listening, are you making some kind of impact? Are you changing their world, their thoughts, their ideas in some manner? because if not, then why the fuck are you even doing those things.

Is there any actual value of reaching out if you're not even touching someone? Which sounds pretty perverted, but give it a few minutes, and it just might make sense.


If you're not connecting with people, then you might as well stand inside a bathroom and yell at the walls. Same effect. The sad problem of our generation is that people do not realize this fact. Every day, people are talking to gods, their favorite movie stars, and people they crush on, without closing the loop of communication. Let me throw some social science your way, because I really don't want to let my degree of Masters of Mass Communication go to waste.

This is a model of communication. See the blue arrows, that is the loop of communication closing. The source sends a message to the receivers and gets their feedback, hence closing the loop of communication. That's successful communication.

But, here, in our case, the loop is open!

Get that shitty little fact inside your fucking heads. You hope to be heard, you hope that you'll be listened to, you hope that someone will love you back, I say fuck that shit.

Hope is for losers.

To communicate, you must make an impact, and you can't make an impact by blindly throwing everything against the wall to see what would stick.

More thoughts on this later.