Words of Wisdom

I have, for as long as I can remember, been a firm believer in the deceitfulness of man. People lie. And I'm not saying that some people lie, or, for that matter, that most people lie. Being in the mood for gratuitous and sweeping generalizations, I am confidently proclaiming that all people lie.

All people lie. Deception is one of the life skills that need to be mastered by us all if we aspire to live comfortable, reasonably conflict-free social lives. It is one of life's necessities, like food, clothing, shelter, and vodka. And like food, clothing, shelter and, to a far greater degree, vodka, it is the glue that holds the world together. The force that binds us all. The set of tools we use to work our way through life. The thread that runs through the social fabric of our existence, and prevents it from getting ripped in multiple places as a result of the constant pressure from all sides, if I may put it so.

All people lie. And all people cheat. And all people, far more frequently than you would imagine, resort to duplicity, guile, treachery, and general underhanded skulduggery to obtain what they want, or what they think they want, or to prevent other people from getting what they want, or what they think they want, or any one of an entire host of other reasons, some a lot less noble and a lot more petty. How many times, if I may cite an example, have you been told by people (dentists and doctors, mostly) that this isn't going to hurt one bit. And how many times have you told people (not dentists and doctors, mostly) that this isn't going to hurt one bit.

My basic point, in case some of you are wondering, as I am sure you would be inclined to do, is that people, under normal circumstances, are not, and never can be, completely open and candid with other people. There's always a hidden agenda, a minor twisting of the facts, a proclivity to say what you believe others want to hear (or don't want to hear, depending on the degree of mutual animosity you and the aforementioned others share). Which is, and this is the crucial part, perfectly fine by me. A slight amount of deceitfulness is, as has been mentioned before, necessary and, quite ironically, almost prudent. A little bit of oompus-boompus seems, to me, a small price to pay, when we consider that its complete absence may lead to a rather altogether undesirable consequence; that of the unraveling of the social fabric that has already found a mention earlier in this post.
No wonder they call it the naked truth.

Having said that, however, I find it sensible to mention at this juncture, lest you lose interest and drift off to sleep (I would know, for I did), that this post isn't about lying.

I have, for even longer than as long as I can remember, been a leading proponent of the belief that there are ways to circumvent men's (and women's. Especially women's) dishonesty and prudence (both of them being pretty much the same thing, as I have already mentioned before, and then conclusively proved). This post is, as far as ways of circumvention (Is that even a word?) go, about one of my personal favorites; this post, or what's left of it, is about alcohol, which, now that I think about it, has also found a mention earlier.

Alcohol is, without question, one of the most pleasant, and definitely one of the most potent approaches to making men (and women. Especially women) speak the truth. People say what they really mean, and they really mean what they say, once they've got generous doses of the hard stuff inside of them. It has been my observation that some of life's maxims, life's most incontrovertible truths, emerge from one's very depths after copious amounts of alcohol have been consumed. Other things also emerge from one's very depths after copious amounts of alcohol have been consumed, but we shall do well not to concern ourselves with them now.

Having had indulged me for so long, you must allow me, at this stage, to put forth an example to substantiate my claims.

Imagine then, if you will, the organizers of the 3rd IIT Delhi Parliamentary Debate walking out of IIT Delhi's main gate after the completion of the finals of yet another satisfactorily-organized (I am tempted to use the phrase wildly successful, but the jury is still out on that one) edition of the annual parliamentary debating tournament, and making a bee-line for SDA. Imagine also, as I would like to request you to, all of them seated at a particularly crowded booth at Masala Junction (IIT Delhi's very own, in the absence of a more appropriate word to utilize here, theka; these days being promoted as a bar and lounge by an overly enthusiastic management) about an hour later, singing, dancing, arguing, smashing beer bottles on each others' heads, and generally acting like booze-addled buffoons.

Which is when Siddharth Krishnamoorthy, a strange and singularly entertaining hybrid between an IITian and a Stephanian (yes, such species do exist), with a few measures of rum and a few more pints of beer within him, in a bout of particularly severe angst, came up with the lines that made us all, in a perfect moment of clarity, see sense, albeit fleetingly. His opinions gave us pause, if you will, and compelled us to think. Singing, dancing, beer-bottle smashing, and other allied activities that go hand in hand with drunken revelry ceased, for a few brief instants, to occur, and anyone who has been waist-deep in drunken revelry before shall know how difficult it is to even momentarily suspend the above-mentioned activities in such a situation, and therefore how momentous a turn of events this was.
Everyone listened to Siddharth Krishnamoorthy.

Before I go into the specifics of his monologue, let it be known that I will be, in the interests of general decency, intentionally omitting most of the choicest swear words that SK decided to sprinkle his speech quite liberally with. Without a doubt, this purging of profanities will make his words appear a little more bland than they actually were, but I do hope that the gist will not be lost.

These were his words. Not his exact words, but slightly paraphrased words, for this is a family blog.

"Dude, what's the deal with women, man? Like, why do they have to get married? I don't get relationships, man. It's like, a choice between the deep sea and the devil. I'm 21, and every time I date a woman, and it gets slightly serious, I am expected to get married to her. Why in God's name is that?"
"And that's not the worst of it. The part that really gives me the shivers and makes me stay up nights is that If I really like a girl, I have to make my move fast, like, really fast, because dude, let's face it, if you wait long enough, dude, she might just get married."
"What kind of a sh** deal is that?"

What kind of a sh** deal indeed.

And while we're on the subject of life's most horrifying truths, there's another one I want to share. Have you ever noticed how all the new stuff you buy comes neatly packaged in a shiny box with all the polystyrene packing material and all the bubble wrap? And then you open it up, clawing at the thermocol eagerly, hardly being able to wait a moment longer before you can get your hands on what lies inside.

The thing is; and this is the part that really (for lack of a more suitable word which captures the emotion adequately well) sucks; nothing goes back into the box the same neat way it came out.
True story.