Once upon a time, there was a bus driver who was quite unpleasant to his passengers.
A lovely young lady of roughly 18 years sought to board the bus one day, but he did not stop the bus.
Unfortunately, the lovely young lady was struck by the bus and died instantly. The conductor was taken to the police station by enraged passengers, who then took him to court.
The judge was not impressed by him, and he was sentenced to death.
He was escorted to the chamber of electrocution. A solitary chair sat in the room’s middle, while a single banana peel sat in one of the room’s corners. The conductor was strapped to the chair and given a high-voltage current. But, to everyone’s surprise, he made it. He was freed free by the judge, and he returned to his trade.
A good-looking middle-aged woman tried to board the bus after a few months, but the conductor did not halt the bus. Unfortunately, the attractive middle-aged woman was again struck by the bus and died instantly.
Angry passengers again drove him to the police station, which then drove him to court. The judge took one glance at the conductor and sentenced him to death. The bus conductor was escorted to the same electrocution chamber, which featured a solitary chair in the center and a single banana peel in one of the room’s corners. He was strapped to the chair and given a high-voltage current. To everyone’s surprise, he survived this time as well. He was freed free by the judge, and he returned to his trade.
An elderly gentleman attempted to board the bus a few months later.
The bus conductor halted the bus this time, recalling his previous encounters. The elderly gentleman unfortunately slipped and died as a result of his injuries. The conductor was escorted to the police station and subsequently to the same judge’s courtroom. Despite the fact that he had done nothing illegal, the judge chose to set an example and sentenced him to death because of his previous record.
The bus conductor was returned to the same electrocution chamber, which included a solitary chair in the center and a single banana peel in one of the room’s corners. He was strapped to the chair and given a high-voltage current.
He died instantly this time!!!
Why didn’t he die the first two times, but died instantly the third?
Try to figure things out on your own. This is quite intriguing, and the solution is totally logical. If necessary, go over the puzzle once more.
Still not able to? Then take a look at the following…
C’mon, think hard…
Do you want to know the answer?
Now, here’s the answer…
Because the conductor was a Bad Conductor the first two times, electricity did not pass through him. However, he was a good conductor the third time, so electricity flowed freely through him and he died!!!!
Please don’t curse at me!! I’m also looking for the person who submitted this to me… as for the banana peel, it’s probably been removed by now, so don’t worry.
merely a passing glance – is it fate or you that decides who you meet and who you love??? Is it a matter of taking a chance or waiting for a sign from the universe??? Is it your choice or simply waiting for everything to fall into place??? It simply happens… Every now and then, we meet someone with whom we can converse for hours on end, and time never seems to be enough. We want that conversation to go on forever, or at least yearn for a sand-glass that could keep time till we become bored of chatting…
With my personal experiences, I came up with a notion that still motivates me anytime I look back along my road when I was in my teens: “If you’re going to attempt, go all the way, give it everything you’ve got, and never give up.” Otherwise, don’t bother. This might entail losing a lot of people you care about, including friends, relatives, and possibly your mind. For days or weeks, it could mean not eating, sleeping, or breathing. It may mean freezing on a park bench overlooking the sea or on a mountain peak at 3 a.m. It could lead to incarceration. It could imply mockery. It could imply ridicule or isolation. Isolation is a blessing. All of the others are a test of your stamina and determination to complete the task. And you’ll succeed despite rejection and the odds being stacked against you. And it will be far superior to anything you can conceive. If you’re going to try, give it your best, never stop, and never give up. There’s no other sensation like it. You may be alone, but you will be filled with the will to achieve your goals, and your evenings will be filled with fire. You’ll coast through life to the perfect chuckle. It’s the only decent fight there is, and it’s the only thing that matters…”
I met an outstanding, most incredibly fickle minded dynamite head of a girl a few days back when I chose to adjust a few things in my work routine, just when it seemed like my wandering voyage was unstoppable. This one-of-a-kind woman was nuts, someone I would label insane for all the more rhyme and reason. It’s impossible for me to be drawn to someone so insane, yet she donned a lot of masks, much as I do at times, to hide her actual nature from the undesired audience. Someone who acted like a girl when she desired something and more like a tomboy when she wanted to blend in with the crowd or stand out in an unfamiliar crowd. It could be regarded as an un-perfect combination or a delicious calamity.
She had no control over her emotions, and no matter what she said or did, it always felt as if she was living her life alone for reasons better left unsaid. When it came to attachments or feelings, she seemed to be a completely different person, able to cry over the most insignificant concerns and slam the snot out of anybody who would take everything she said for granted or ignore her when she was talking about anything and everything. When she is a damsel in distress and a gamine, for example. It’s a rare thing to encounter someone with that much charisma and charm – this is a coincidence, a close miss, or a one-in-a-million chance.
“It’s not just the craziness of the opposite person that attracts me,” I say, “but a certain insanity and oddity of that person that matches mine :D.” A friend of mine always referred to me as a guy who gets attached to the most highly complicated and troublesome category when it comes to girls; I’ve never liked sane girls, hence the name insane was bestowed upon me I guess :P. A relationship would be too dull and mundane to strive and work hard for without a bit of insanity in it…
What was amazing about her was her outspokenness and how straightforward a person can be, her way of shouting out loud to things that she cherished, loved, and condemned, the she-hulk kind of animosity and rage at times and yet the benevolence and grace of a princess of wonderland, at an age where others are prying over things and crazy nonsense college life going on a scale of randomness career paths with nothing making sense in life, this woman had a dream that
She moved like an angel when it came to dancing, a hurricane one moment and a soft summer breeze the next. When it came to any other work, she was as lazy as Garfield, but when she heard music, she would rock the dance floor bam-bam. She stated that dancing is her source of inspiration, that it is all she knows how to do, and that it is something she excels at. She was hotter than a cherry on a cigarette at 20 and turned every head when she moved; when she danced, she made every other name on my best dancer list a disappointment.
That awkward moment when someone stares at you while laughing at the same time, and you know something nasty is brewing in the opposite person’s head. We had this similarity, and I suppose that’s what drew us together in the strangest way possible. We both knew the difference between smiling and laughing; we smiled when we used to fantasize about the most heinous evil schemes, and we laughed when we turned those fantasies into devilish reality. People around us frightened us both and were always curious as to what was going on in our heads when we wore that smirky grin. We were well-known in our field, excelled at all we did, and the more we proved ourselves, the more “haters” we attracted. — This could never get me down, and I used to think of it as another “even-I-can’t-believe-how-fucking-awesome-I-am” moment… Something I wanted her to understand because when it came to her, she had raw rage that burst like a volcano if someone said anything about her or her life. Tsunamis and earthquakes seemed to be manageable when she was enraged. What astonished me was how someone with so much fury sulking inside could be so peaceful at times. I suppose everything that we can never understand is hidden beneath my smile.
I wanted her to know that these aspects of her appealed to me. Some people are like fire, and if my insanity was comparable to that of a phoenix, hers could be compared to the spark that ignited that fire to such heights. She was so much more than meets the eye, a girl who could come with a warning label that read “super sensitive, handle with care.” When I went up to explain this to her, she would simply look me in the eyes and smile devilishly, and I knew in my head that I didn’t have to say anything, even though there is no greater agony than carrying an untold story inside you, but I have a pretty good guess that she understood because words are only painted fire, and a look is the fire itself…
So I got back to my senses upright back on my journey once again… See you till the next crazy soul I come across…
Something in our imaginations twists us into fantastic tales of teeth falling out, bouncing around in enormous marshmallows in the sky, failing semesters in classes we’ve never attended, taking a walk in the park down the street that’s also a spaceship the minute we close our eyes and drift off to sleep. Sometimes we’re a superhero rescuing the day, and other times we’re waiting for a superhero to rescue the day. A place where you can be anybody or anything. A place where worlds merge and imagination comes to life.
What kind of person would you be??? What superpowers would you wield? What would you do if you could make a difference???
Nothing happens, they say, unless you first dream.
I WAS DREAMING. I fantasised about being the strongest to protect the ones I care about. I imagined myself as the wisest person for the people I care about. In vain, I wished to be a hero for others. I fantasised about being a grin that could lift anyone’s spirits when they were down. I imagined myself as someone who inspires others to achieve and shine. I wished for those who love and care about me to look up to me and be inspired by me. Always wanted everyone to think that this is a man who believes in himself and that there is no event, no possible outcome, and no specific consequence that could cause his faith to be shattered.
But, staring deep into the darkness, I stood there for a long time, wondering, dreading, questioning, imagining fantasies no mortal had ever dared to dream before, always wondering whether I could ever be this person, if I had it in me to live up to my own aspirations.
I’ve made my fair share of good and poor decisions, and if I had to sum up everything I’ve learnt in one sentence, I’d say “if a person does not focus on dreams, he forgets to live.” It is impossible to lose or undreamed what has been imagined.
Even heroes require assistance from time to time. Everyone takes hits from this thing called life like a brawler, and for some, it is enough to keep them from getting up. So was a time in my life when someone reminded me of the worth of my dreams and encouraged me to believe in myself again, — “You are something between a dream and a miracle,” she used to say to me. “Don’t ever let somebody take this away from you, because without it, you would lose yourself in a nothingness.” Something that would stay with me for the rest of my life. I learned to believe in my dreams, which was a valuable lesson. If someone tells you that you’re flying too high, tell them that you’ll get used to looking up. When someone informed me that this place was too huge for my dreams, I replied that your city was too tiny for me. That’s the power of believing in yourself and your dreams. I was a devil’s advocate, and she was a divine intervention who convinced me to believe in my dreams. It was never about the distance or how far I could travel, I realised.
Still haven’t figured out where I’m heading with this??? ‘DREAM’ is still the same thing I started with. If you ever wanted to be a hero, this is your chance!!! Do it for the people you care about, for your pride, because how will you know who you are unless you try…
How far have you dreamed yet???
“We are the music-makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams.
World-losers and world-forsakers,
Upon whom the pale moon gleams;
Yet we are the movers and shakers,
Of the world forever, it seems.”
― Arthur O’Shaughnessy, Poems of Arthur O’Shaughnessy
I believe this is a proud remark that sums up a traveler’s life in a single phrase. A story to tell, an adventure, a dream, and a reality to share. Words are inadequate to express the emotions, delight, and memories associated with a person’s life-changing travel experience. It teaches you about life’s realities, and for some people, it becomes a way of life. Tell us about your experience, share your narrative, and let your stories be told…
WE ARE ON THE GO. Many reasons for the voyage to begin, some in search of something new, a new beginning, to find one’s self, to discover, for sheer fun, for excitement, for teachings, the list might go on and on, but pages would be insufficient to explain. “Don’t listen to what they say,” according to a Chinese proverb. “Take a look.” – This works for me. We travel to bring what we can, in our ignorance and knowledge, to other parts of the world where wealth is distributed differently. And we travel, in essence, to revert to our youth – to slow down time, be taken in, and fall in love all over again. In this way, travel helps us achieve a better balance of intelligence and compassion, allowing us to see the world clearly while also feeling it deeply. “Because seeing without feeling is clearly heartless, and feeling without seeing is blind.”
My narrative begins in an amusing way… I was up in a household that travelled extensively. My grandfather, according to my father, taught me how to travel. He is an adventurer who, at the age of 81, knows Gujarat, Rajasthan, and Madhya Pradesh like the back of his hand, so one night, as we sat on my terrace in a chilly winter night, reminiscing about memories, gushing experiences, and sheer adventure spirits rising high, my father said, “Travel has been the most valuable teacher in my life, Man learns through different kinds of experiences. I and my partners in crime used to bunk our school back in Gujarat and gather at a hangout spot (which we used to call adda – not an underground bunker)”, he said, adding, “I and my partners in crime used to bunk our school back in Gujarat and gather at a hangout spot (which we used to call adda – not an underground bunker)”, it was a chai wala at the lane behind their school.” All of them would gather their pocket money, some of which they had saved by skipping meals, some of which they had borrowed, and some of which they had stolen from daddy’s wallets (with them secretly knowing but pretending they didn’t and telling mom to keep quiet about it), and get on a scooter, four people sitting on a Chetak (scooter), and ride nearly 30 kilometres to see Amitabh Bachchan’s movie.
When they didn’t have any money, they would sell snacks to the other students outside of school. I still remember my father’s amazing masala chana dish (spicy chickpeas). Every trip they planned had a ‘Plan B,’ but when it came to implementing it, that ‘Plan B’ was something they always forgot to prepare, yet they still managed to make the best of every circumstance.
However, for me, the first big pleasure of travelling is simply having the luxury of leaving all of my convictions and certainty at home and viewing what I believed or knew in a new light and from a different perspective. I suppose this was my inspiration; I’ve been travelling since I was fourteen years old. What started this crazy journey was a train ride back from Ahmedabad to Bombay, where I met a person, who was in his grey but so full of life that he could cheer up almost anyone, a bargain guru, as I referred to him – specifically how he could manipulate the hawkers coming on-board the train at various stations where our train would halt. As I passed through Surat, I realised I had caught the wrong train.
By now, we’ve all heard (too frequently) the old adage about how every parent’s basic teachings to their children are – don’t talk to strangers, don’t take food from strangers, always be aware of your surroundings when travelling; I guess I never paid attention to any of these things. Finding myself in a situation where I had no choice except to seek help from strangers, I summoned what guts I had, boarded another train with the assistance of the TC at Surat station, and returned home. That was the best and worst trip I’ve ever had.
As a result, travel spins us in two directions at once: it shows us sights, ideals, and situations that we might otherwise overlook, but it also, and more fundamentally, it reveals us all the parts of ourselves that could otherwise rust. Because when we travel to a truly strange area, we are unavoidably transported to moods and states of mind as well as hidden inner channels that we would otherwise have little reason to visit. This is a sneak peek of my vacation slogan; what’s yours?
Who hasn’t heard the phrase that the most important time of a person’s life is when he discovers who he is and what he is intended to do…
Who exactly are you? A question that has plagued me for the past 23 years of my existence on this piece of rock. I’ve asked this stupid question over and over again, but to no avail.
I was always talking about discovering myself, the true significance of my existence, as I boldly stated! The real question I should have asked was, “At what age did I lose my identity?” When did I learn to be alone, or when did I forget how solitude affects a person? When did I discover that the way I look is the most significant factor in my life? When did other people’s opinions become so important that my entire life revolved around what others would think of me if I did this or that? When I was asked, “How are you today?” I gave a standard response. This got me thinking about whether or not I am a nice person. I suppose it was when I discovered I wasn’t loved enough… When did I start to lose myself? When did I lose the ability to question myself? When did I start debating with myself about what was right and what was wrong? When did my moral compass go missing and leave me befuddled? When did I forget what it meant to be honest? When did my ego become more important than the feelings of those who cared about me?
We always desire to appear bright, gorgeous, pretty, strong, better, social, presentable, and so on… We need others in our lives to exist, feel, and love, but when did we stop listening to our moral intuition? We all want to be kids from time to time, right? Why? Why do we all have that sensation? What was so wonderful about being an adult when we were children, and now that we have finally grown up, all we want to do is go back to being that child… Why? Because it was more bearable to get injured while playing than to be played… Maa’s and Paa’s scoldings and drubbings were much better than breakups and deception… still not it? It was easier to be us, it was easier to glance in the mirror every now and then and not validate how we appear on the outside even if we are miserable on the inside… I believe we want to be a kid again not because we want to play forever, but because it was easier to be us…
I was not pleased with myself. I was not dissatisfied. I was stuck somewhere in the centre, which is far worse than simply being pleased or miserable. I had no idea where I was. Nothing was occurring, which made me increasingly irritated. Why was it always me? I wondered. Who am I, exactly? Why did life punch me in the heart so hard that it caused a hole big enough to swallow the entire universe like a black hole? In my thoughts, a voice screamed, shouted, and said “Stop putting the blame on yourself!!! You spent years crying aloud and apologising beneath those blood-soaked eyes, enabling others to blame you for their pain and grief when it wasn’t yours to bear… When your heart absorbed in all the pains and secrets that you couldn’t dismiss, you forced a simple on that idiotic face… You gave your life for the sake of others, but who is there to pick you up?”
“The minute you start thinking like a victim, life starts treating you like one.”
I know what you’re thinking: “What’s the point?” Nothing seems to make sense… The sole goal is to locate important things and people, hold on to them, fight for them, and refuse to let them go.
So, who are you really? I ask once again. You are not your name, height, weight, or gender; you are not your age or where you were born; you are not the language you speak or the food you consume… You’re a character from one of your favorite books… The tunes that keep you up till 3 a.m. because they’re stuck in your head… You are your thoughts, which never seem to stop… You’re a Saturday beach sunset or an early Sunday morning sunrise with a cup of coffee in your hand… You’re a million things, but everyone only sees the million things you’re not… You are not your birthplace, but rather your destination… And because life is always black or white, never grey, you should never live it that way…
At the end of the day, life is made up of moments that both make and break you. Bottom line: even if you can see that these times are approaching, whether big or tiny, and you are not prepared, they will arrive. No one asks for their life to change, yet it always does. So, where are we now? NO!!! Helpless, puppets, hopeless… These big and tiny moments will happen, and you won’t be able to avoid them; however, what matters is how you respond to them. That’s when you might discover who you truly are… Keep in mind that you have no pity or compassion for the nasty beast within you. But, hey, it can’t hurt to be a little crazy, right? Buy a ticket, take a flight, skip a meal, eat more than your stomach can handle, take a ride to an unknown town, and if it gets a little heavier than what you had in mind, well… chalk it up to forced concision expansions… tune in to a song, dance like a freak, get beaten, rise… and while you’re at it, find someone to tag along with you… it’s easier to say you’re insane than to admit you’re hurt
What would the world be like if countries’ “Democratic Leaders” were replaced with “Music Makers?”
Music has been around for a long time, and many people believe that it was created by man. But the truth is that music can be found in any sound, including silence. Wind blowing, raindrops falling, your heartbeat, even stillness is melody, so to think that such a sedate force is guiding the future of billions… what the heck!!! “Music is my saviour,” however, are phrases that have never made sense to me. I’ve lost track of how many times these words have passed through my mind yet I’ve never given them any thought.
It always looked like a bunch of nonsense that people kept saying with no meaning or truth to back it up, a marketing gimmick, but it came to me when I was at a music festival last year in Magarpatta city near Pune. A friend’s suggestion to attend a three-day music festival with over 15000+ spectators and over 64 musicians, including DJs, rock bands, folk bands, and Sufi music, etc.
I’ve never been a fan of crowds since my first concert experience in 2009. Places where people congregate, large meetings, and conventions. There are a lot of things you need to take care of, like your wallets and belongings, and even your girlfriends… hehehe; I remember a Channel V concert with a lot of different music icons and idols like Akon and Atif Aslam performing, various genres of music, and a crowd of around 30 – 40 thousand people.
But, with all of my experience and fears of losing things put aside, a thought came to this perplexed mind of mine about what was so common about concerts, I mean, it’s impossible for a person to like every song that is performed at concerts, and with these vast choices of Rock, Metal, Alternate Rock, Jazz, Funk, Pop, EDM, Trance, Hip Pop, with Indian genres; I mean, there are total 20 categorises and in which 280 genres of western music
Curiosity is the mother of all good bad decisions.
I started looking into what it is about these shows, music, DJs, and bands that drives people insane. I’ve seen people quit their jobs for such events if they weren’t allowed leave, lying to their loved ones about it, some with weeks or months of planning and others with a spontaneous break from their lives. When I investigated the amount of people who attended the world’s largest music festivals, I discovered that the top of the lists were:
1. DONAUINSELFEST (VIENNA, AUSTRIA), with 3.2 million visitors in 2013, 2,000+ acts, and 21 stages.
2. MAWAZINE (RABAT, MOROCCO), with 2.5 million visitors in 2013, 90 acts, and 7 stages.
3. SUMMERFEST (WISCONSIN, USA), 800K-1 million attendees (840,000 in 2013), 800+ acts, 11 stages
The figures spoke for themselves; after all, who could imagine another activity other than this that could bring such a large number of people together in one area for a single goal?
You still have the entire world at your disposal, but India isn’t far behind. Concerts and music festivals such as Sunburn, NH7 Weekender, goMAD Festival, Enchanted Valley Carnival, and others have attracted crowds that we can’t imagine seeing at any political convention or rally.
What motivates these events? What is it about these events that draws so many people in? It can’t be the kinds of music played, the artists performing, the time of year they’re held, or the location they’re held; granted, these are factors that influence but don’t significantly conflict our decision not to attend one. We’d never heard anyone state that a particular band or artist performing is a reason for people not attending music festivals or cancelling their tickets, or that the entire crowd evacuated because of the location.
MUSIC is the answer to every justification for a music festival that you can think of. It doesn’t matter what genre, artist, or band music is; it has the capacity to bring people together. It doesn’t care what religion, caste, location, or category you belong to; it doesn’t distinguish between position, class, or gender. Music has the power to bring people together. This is a tremendous force. Something that people with opposing viewpoints on anything and anything can agree on. People have a choice, but there is one thing that everyone has in common: music. When words fail to reach you emotionally, music comes to the rescue.
I bet none can differ this point with me right?
So, what if somebody with this capacity, this power of bringing people together, were allowed to control a country or the entire world? What would be the outcome? Is it a lovely reality or a terrifying nightmare?
There would be no racism, hypocrisy, discrimination, prejudice, or injustice since there would be no social evil. Elections based on the number of people who attend a concert. Election rallies, which generate a great deal of hardship and trouble for the general public and persist for a month, would never be a problem. Promises made would be kept, and pessimism would decrease. People will not be shunned or shunned because they come from a state where the government is at odds with them, or because they make poor decisions or take a long time to make decisions.
That is just about one country; if I take the entire planet, there will be no wars; the world will be separated by musical genres, and even called after them. Unlike the battles and judgements that entice the youth into politics and lay the groundwork for a moderation that may take a negative turn, music will not do so, and people will shake hands when it comes to societal policy or change.
There will be no wars between countries; instead, if things get heated, we can have face-offs and music concerts to settle disputes; who needs nukes and destructive weapons when things can be resolved in a more enjoyable manner? Millions of dollars/rupees are spent on research for arms and ammunition, but how different would our country be if same money was focused on issues that need to be addressed on a priority basis? Spending ‘all’ resources on monitoring people in other countries to determine how soon we will face a war is an ineffective and poor strategy, whereas if these resources were spent on developing the country’s system, the country’s people would behave in accordance with their system, regardless of the situation or challenge they are presented with.
The crux of the matter is how to reach out to people in order to change their values. This is our leaders’ job, yet today’s leaders all have arbitrary beliefs.
What’s the worst that could happen if something like music may prove to be an optimal means to reach out to an insane number of people’s minds with one voice? Consider the following scenario: imagine the outcome of the Lok-pal bill judgement if the path taken had been different. Where there was so much violence, destruction, and strikes that occurred, the situation could have been avoided and a different outcome of the overall concept presented. But, as I said, it’s just wishful thinking, right?
“Music is the universal language of mankind.”
– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Music helps us in ways we can’t begin to define; it touches or lives in a million ways, whether you’re furious, pleased, depressed, or elated; whatever your emotion, situation, time, location, or flavor, music never harms you. Every scenario and emotion for every human has its own rhythm or tune. Music moves you, inspires you, relaxes you, makes you determined, devout, channeling outbursts of emotions or stillness louder than words can ever express, makes you think, recall, laugh, and love. It has the ability to pierce our hearts with its music.
With such power uniting nations and people all over the world, why not have the individuals who created such awe rule the country for a change? I have no fear of danger when I hear music. I am impregnable. I don’t see any adversaries. I can trace my ancestors back to the beginning of time and all the way to the present. It brings concepts together, aids in transcendence, raises emotions to new heights, and aids in the development of our civilization.
“Where words fail, music speaks.”
– Hans Christian Andersen
When Fido Dido was the mascot for 7up, I read a phrase on an old bottle that said, “Good music has no expiry date.” Yes! The present generation appreciates loud music, but there are days when we play oldies from the 1980s and 1990s, and vice versa for our elderly. I’ve heard a rickshaw wala listening to remixes by many prominent DJs rather than the original covers, and I’ve seen my elderly dancing to current pop music.
Many people believe that they (music composers) are unqualified or unfit for the job of ruling a country, but how would it be if they did? Simply said, it isn’t their job, but let’s face it, those that do haven’t been performing well on the job profile in the first place. I’m not coming up with the idea of replacing the so-called just system with a crazy all-night party. However, rather than being paid for attendance, presenting the idea of people actively uniting for a common purpose (being paid rather than paying is never a loss, is it?).
So, thinking that music creators should be given an opportunity to shake things up isn’t such an awful concept, is it? It could be wishful thinking, but it’s worth considering, or maybe I’m simply thinking too far ahead…