Thursday, August 29, 2013
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Vipassana- meditate on this (part 2)
Dear faithful reader
Ready for round 2?
Now all this practice of disattachment makes the mind hungry to attach itself like a parasitic tick. the big fat grey kind that feeds and feeds until its head is so deeply wedged into its host that it is accepted as a necessary appendage. well that's the mind for you. All you have done is taken away its comforts (talking, reading, writing) but you cannot (this reminds me of the william wallace Braveheart speech..."you may take away our pens, rip out the pages in our books but you will never take our freedom {of association i presume}) rob and pillage its right to imagine and connote and denote.
You may not have been introduced to your neighbours, but that doesn't stop you from forming ideas and opinions about them from the smallest details (even from a slight side angle view). and this is how the daily dialogue goes....interesting bone structure. must be European perhaps eastern. it's quite sharp and pronounced. def northern hemisphere. the skin is very clear and soft for her age. cooler climate for sure. aah and the smell of her facial products. expensive. Clarins? Chanel? must be upper middle class. but look at the way she dresses, the way she knots her scarves is more french but the sensible shoes more German. could go either way. the french roll has got me stumped. just old fashioned? (she was German) .
And this happens with every slight encounter. To your mind's eye (it really is) every stolen glimpse is the opportunity for "insight" every sign or symbol another piece in the 10-day puzzle. They are not your neighbours. they are not your friends or fellow mediators they are the straight-backed ballerina who sits in front of you, they are the former athletes who know how to stretch their hamstrings. What's that i hear? an ankle bracelet? hippie. and what about her? never a hair out place no matter the hour. always neat, even walks with exact precision. organiser. teacher? so not much insight, just the most random stereotypical connections. but it keeps the mind fed.
Mealtimes are another interesting social experiment. When that gong brings you round from your deep-seated physical pain and mental positivity (these coexist quite nicely) you know that there will be no gathering of social circles or creation of egalitarian squares. you will simply follow the shuffling, shivering, aching limbs into the dining hall with your stainless steel plate, spoon and cup in hand and claim the nearest available plastic chair.
But life has a funny way of befriending you and dealing with the issues at hand simultaneously. the lighting was such that your shadow head was projected onto the wall in front of you. sometimes two of them. how apt. of course on those "high humour" days you can just imagine the opportunities for shadow puppetry. sometimes you just cant help your nature, no matter many meditational hours you spend purging yourself of those std- issue habitual patterns - mental attachment, always living in the past/future. on a whole we are a very unoriginal species.
The one thing that Vipassana tries to teach is that these laws, these practices are universal, not religious and not sectorial. They exist in nature as clearly as human nature, and its propensity to form rites and rituals, exists in all of us... german, hippie, householder or nun.
And that truth, i discovered, is always made clear to me in a simple and humorous way. Like on this one meditation morning. the usual routine. we had just finished our 4.30-6.30 session. we were tired and stiff and came limping out of the Dhamma hall to walk off our stiffness, our blankets shielding us from the morning breeze. As i emerged from the dark hall, the nun (the only one on the course) was already on the pathway leading to the pagoda. Her shaved head bowed, her purple blanket hiding her grey uniform. As she rounded the corner the sunlight shone through her blanket, just for a second or two but just long enough for me to read the inscription woven into her blanket. " Thai. For cabin use only" How similar we are.
A second later, i laughed the laugh of a practicing vipassana mediator.... not suppressed, just observed, and with no attachments.
Ready for round 2?
Now all this practice of disattachment makes the mind hungry to attach itself like a parasitic tick. the big fat grey kind that feeds and feeds until its head is so deeply wedged into its host that it is accepted as a necessary appendage. well that's the mind for you. All you have done is taken away its comforts (talking, reading, writing) but you cannot (this reminds me of the william wallace Braveheart speech..."you may take away our pens, rip out the pages in our books but you will never take our freedom {of association i presume}) rob and pillage its right to imagine and connote and denote.
You may not have been introduced to your neighbours, but that doesn't stop you from forming ideas and opinions about them from the smallest details (even from a slight side angle view). and this is how the daily dialogue goes....interesting bone structure. must be European perhaps eastern. it's quite sharp and pronounced. def northern hemisphere. the skin is very clear and soft for her age. cooler climate for sure. aah and the smell of her facial products. expensive. Clarins? Chanel? must be upper middle class. but look at the way she dresses, the way she knots her scarves is more french but the sensible shoes more German. could go either way. the french roll has got me stumped. just old fashioned? (she was German) .
And this happens with every slight encounter. To your mind's eye (it really is) every stolen glimpse is the opportunity for "insight" every sign or symbol another piece in the 10-day puzzle. They are not your neighbours. they are not your friends or fellow mediators they are the straight-backed ballerina who sits in front of you, they are the former athletes who know how to stretch their hamstrings. What's that i hear? an ankle bracelet? hippie. and what about her? never a hair out place no matter the hour. always neat, even walks with exact precision. organiser. teacher? so not much insight, just the most random stereotypical connections. but it keeps the mind fed.
Mealtimes are another interesting social experiment. When that gong brings you round from your deep-seated physical pain and mental positivity (these coexist quite nicely) you know that there will be no gathering of social circles or creation of egalitarian squares. you will simply follow the shuffling, shivering, aching limbs into the dining hall with your stainless steel plate, spoon and cup in hand and claim the nearest available plastic chair.
But life has a funny way of befriending you and dealing with the issues at hand simultaneously. the lighting was such that your shadow head was projected onto the wall in front of you. sometimes two of them. how apt. of course on those "high humour" days you can just imagine the opportunities for shadow puppetry. sometimes you just cant help your nature, no matter many meditational hours you spend purging yourself of those std- issue habitual patterns - mental attachment, always living in the past/future. on a whole we are a very unoriginal species.
The one thing that Vipassana tries to teach is that these laws, these practices are universal, not religious and not sectorial. They exist in nature as clearly as human nature, and its propensity to form rites and rituals, exists in all of us... german, hippie, householder or nun.
And that truth, i discovered, is always made clear to me in a simple and humorous way. Like on this one meditation morning. the usual routine. we had just finished our 4.30-6.30 session. we were tired and stiff and came limping out of the Dhamma hall to walk off our stiffness, our blankets shielding us from the morning breeze. As i emerged from the dark hall, the nun (the only one on the course) was already on the pathway leading to the pagoda. Her shaved head bowed, her purple blanket hiding her grey uniform. As she rounded the corner the sunlight shone through her blanket, just for a second or two but just long enough for me to read the inscription woven into her blanket. " Thai. For cabin use only" How similar we are.
A second later, i laughed the laugh of a practicing vipassana mediator.... not suppressed, just observed, and with no attachments.
Vipassana - don't just mediatate, vibrate! (part 1)
Dear fair and balanced reader
It is a strange thing spending ten days in absolute silence, stranger still sharing it with 80 people that you will never look in the eye, never greet or acknowledge in any way. at least for for 24/10. nil by mouth, nil by eye, nil by hand. nada contactico. The outside world is, like romeo was to juliet "ban-i-shed". shed being the key syllable here. shed, rid, metamorphosis. the external is irrelevant, the internal your only concern. They make this very clear in the hour before silence is introduced like the new kid at school - someone you are forced to befriend and show around but hardly want to share your lunches with. that honour is reserved for you as you spend your three mealtimes staring at a wall that has long been shedding itself of its institutional beige paint. (its probably down to its primer already.)
And for the next 10 days you will work harder than any painted wall or padded cell to rid yourself of your layers and layers and years and years of accumulated attachments and experiences . (and sometimes the process is so slow and painful that you would rather watch paint dry). You will wake up at 4am and do 11 hours of seated meditation in 2-hour and 1.5 and 1 hour stretches. you will ache, fidget, fight your drifting mind and generally feel a world of pain and discomfort and a significantly smaller amount of sheer elation. but the 5:1 ratio is worth it and the odds get better as you "even" out.
Vipassana is slightly different from other meditations in that it believes that the root cause of all misery happens at a sensory level. Every day, every minute we are reacting to external stimuli, creating either attachments (cravings) or repulsions (aversions) to them. they believe it is from these millions and millions of sensations that we form our deep seated habit patterns and that by practising Vipassana, which is to simply call up and observe these sensations, we can break our habits at the deepest level and thus free ourselves of any and all attachments. so in the 10 days you first learn to meditate and then to go deeper and observe the vibrations (sensations) in the body. and it's incredible but you really can. you can feel yourself pulsating with energy and sensations. of course by the second hour these sensations collide with your severe pins and needles, back and knee ache and a cracking pelvis but even this pain is possible to disassociate from and simply observes...but only if you have managed to go into this deep state. If not, it's just a world of pain and persecution that your brain fights and you give in to it eventually.
But the mind never gives up. this is one constant. The body is a big woos. she will ache and complain and fail you at every turn. she will bring on a cold or refuse to wake up or go to sleep but it's so blatant and pathetic that you just give her a stretch or slap and she submits right away. what a putz. but the mind, the mind is a true visionary with a singular mission - to have you bend to its will. and the problem is it has the conviction and skill to have its way. 99% of the time. you got to hand it to it, it has the biggest stock library of moving images outside of CNN's offices. Barry Ronge would be impressed by the number of movies, TV shows, adverts, even detailed arbitrary scenes that my mind can recall at any given second. (But with more repeats that an eTV weekend.) Hey i was impressed. And then there's the most distant childhood faces and places I had to spend hours trying to tag and bag. Like i was putting together a scrapbook. Me a scrapbooker! But then, when you have finally made it through this stockpile, your crafty mind has an even bigger aresnal awaiting you....the big idea. and not one but millions of them. Business, creative, personal...the ideas just come rolling in and you grab at them and repeat them you are scared you will forget them. because you cant write them down (no writing or reading allowed) and of course your mind knows this all to well.
But that's not all it knows to do...
(end here or see part 2)
It is a strange thing spending ten days in absolute silence, stranger still sharing it with 80 people that you will never look in the eye, never greet or acknowledge in any way. at least for for 24/10. nil by mouth, nil by eye, nil by hand. nada contactico. The outside world is, like romeo was to juliet "ban-i-shed". shed being the key syllable here. shed, rid, metamorphosis. the external is irrelevant, the internal your only concern. They make this very clear in the hour before silence is introduced like the new kid at school - someone you are forced to befriend and show around but hardly want to share your lunches with. that honour is reserved for you as you spend your three mealtimes staring at a wall that has long been shedding itself of its institutional beige paint. (its probably down to its primer already.)
And for the next 10 days you will work harder than any painted wall or padded cell to rid yourself of your layers and layers and years and years of accumulated attachments and experiences . (and sometimes the process is so slow and painful that you would rather watch paint dry). You will wake up at 4am and do 11 hours of seated meditation in 2-hour and 1.5 and 1 hour stretches. you will ache, fidget, fight your drifting mind and generally feel a world of pain and discomfort and a significantly smaller amount of sheer elation. but the 5:1 ratio is worth it and the odds get better as you "even" out.
Vipassana is slightly different from other meditations in that it believes that the root cause of all misery happens at a sensory level. Every day, every minute we are reacting to external stimuli, creating either attachments (cravings) or repulsions (aversions) to them. they believe it is from these millions and millions of sensations that we form our deep seated habit patterns and that by practising Vipassana, which is to simply call up and observe these sensations, we can break our habits at the deepest level and thus free ourselves of any and all attachments. so in the 10 days you first learn to meditate and then to go deeper and observe the vibrations (sensations) in the body. and it's incredible but you really can. you can feel yourself pulsating with energy and sensations. of course by the second hour these sensations collide with your severe pins and needles, back and knee ache and a cracking pelvis but even this pain is possible to disassociate from and simply observes...but only if you have managed to go into this deep state. If not, it's just a world of pain and persecution that your brain fights and you give in to it eventually.
But the mind never gives up. this is one constant. The body is a big woos. she will ache and complain and fail you at every turn. she will bring on a cold or refuse to wake up or go to sleep but it's so blatant and pathetic that you just give her a stretch or slap and she submits right away. what a putz. but the mind, the mind is a true visionary with a singular mission - to have you bend to its will. and the problem is it has the conviction and skill to have its way. 99% of the time. you got to hand it to it, it has the biggest stock library of moving images outside of CNN's offices. Barry Ronge would be impressed by the number of movies, TV shows, adverts, even detailed arbitrary scenes that my mind can recall at any given second. (But with more repeats that an eTV weekend.) Hey i was impressed. And then there's the most distant childhood faces and places I had to spend hours trying to tag and bag. Like i was putting together a scrapbook. Me a scrapbooker! But then, when you have finally made it through this stockpile, your crafty mind has an even bigger aresnal awaiting you....the big idea. and not one but millions of them. Business, creative, personal...the ideas just come rolling in and you grab at them and repeat them you are scared you will forget them. because you cant write them down (no writing or reading allowed) and of course your mind knows this all to well.
But that's not all it knows to do...
(end here or see part 2)
One of those days
Today
I will not take my feet out for a walk
i will not open my mouth to mindless talk
i will not peel my eyes open for a quick
"look see"
i might even sack my bladder if it demands a pee.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Mum's the Word for the next 10 days
Dear Reader
i am going under the radar for the next ten days.
Ever heard of Vipassana? It's a Buddhist meditation technique that they teach you on the 10-day silent retreats.
Don't laugh out loud dear reader trying to picture me being silent for ten days ... and did i mention 4am starts, no physical exercise, reading, writing etc and 10 hours of meditation every day? It's boot camp for the mind.
apparently it's a really healthy thing to do...break your ego to release the spirit.
basically your back is broken from all the sitting, your mind is going crazy from all the mindless thinking and sleep deprivation that in the end,well, something's gotta give right? so you break down any sense of self you may have and start anew
or that's how it's supposed to go.
i guess i'll find out in a few hours when i go to Bodguya {the place where Buddha achiveved enlightenment} and start the programme
so this is a small farewell {so many of these these days} to my sister that is leaving me today, to my dear reader who i am leaving for 10 days and of course to that old sense of self.
see you on the flip side of the coin
meeeeeeeeee
i am going under the radar for the next ten days.
Ever heard of Vipassana? It's a Buddhist meditation technique that they teach you on the 10-day silent retreats.
Don't laugh out loud dear reader trying to picture me being silent for ten days ... and did i mention 4am starts, no physical exercise, reading, writing etc and 10 hours of meditation every day? It's boot camp for the mind.
apparently it's a really healthy thing to do...break your ego to release the spirit.
basically your back is broken from all the sitting, your mind is going crazy from all the mindless thinking and sleep deprivation that in the end,well, something's gotta give right? so you break down any sense of self you may have and start anew
or that's how it's supposed to go.
i guess i'll find out in a few hours when i go to Bodguya {the place where Buddha achiveved enlightenment} and start the programme
so this is a small farewell {so many of these these days} to my sister that is leaving me today, to my dear reader who i am leaving for 10 days and of course to that old sense of self.
see you on the flip side of the coin
meeeeeeeeee
Monday, January 12, 2009
Goodbye 4GB
Dear Reader
Sometimes posts and themes grow on you like a delicate Henna tattoo. Other times, they grow more like the green culture at the bottom of your hiking shoe. (except in my world there ain't no rhyme or reason for their existence.)
Today's theme, that of many a spiritual seekers' favourite "attachment", falls into the latter category I'm afraid. Which, in plain simple eEnglish means that last night a very precious possession was taken from me and i had to find some way of dealing with it or go into a deep depression.
What could be so precious you ask? My passport? Travellers Cheques? Some family member surely. No, sadly, just a small piece of black plastic, no bigger than my thumb. It's called 4GB and it's still got a hold over me, my thoughts and my past.
B some crazy universal coincidence, just two days before I went to listen to the Dalai Lama speak in Varanasi. And through the crackle of the 89.5FM translation station, I couldn't make out much on his wisdom or the theme of "attachment" save for the phrase "you must become like a piece of wood"... dead. solid. without emotion or need of of anything... but your root system i guess.
So when this incident happened, which started last night with my foolishness and ended this morning with my rage and tears, i was forced to go in search of my withered tap root and from the Dalai Lama's well of wisdom.
You must become like a piece of wood. These were the words i first chose to yell at the monkey who had just torn my 4GB card to shreds. (With the right pitch and intonation anything can sound like the deepest, darkest cussing. Add a woman with wild morning hair and red puffy tear-welled eyes to the mix, and you have "a women's revenge" chasing you across the rooftops.)
I knew it wasn't the monkey's fault. He was being true to his nature. From his rooftop vantage point, just three leaps and a tail swing away, this small black rectangle lying alone on a bigger rooftop square must have sent his logarithms crazy with calculations and curiosity. And when that sun finally broke through that smoggy Varanasi sky, he must have been beside his pink ass to suddenly see three small golden teeth signalling his immediate decent.
Monkey see, monkey do.
Meanwhile, in a room not too far away, another monkey slept on lightly in her bed. She had a similar curious nature to the culprit but this monkey, dear reader, had a far worse trait than this. She was a clumsy fool. That evening prior, on seeing the beautiful full moon, she had decided to invite Mr 4GB to woo her with his visual tales of young love and silk saris, shy chai (tea) sellers and silent sunsets over granite boulders. Her eyes swelled with stories of the past, her heart sunk when she knew even this moment would never last. But this fool, in her dreamy midnight state, left Mr 4GB, alone and unrequited, to the rooftop quarters, only to find him a broken man the next day.
Dear reader, i cannot lie, this morning there was wailing and gnashing of teeth. There was wild tossing of flailing limbs on the bed. There was punching of pillows. After all MR 4GB is a hard man to forget. We shared so many memories together. But no more. It took me a while to remember that I have each one of these moments saved in one other place. a safe place that no-one can get to and nothing can corrupt. And this place I will take with me to my grave.
And when i find myself switching off, dreaming of what i had but lost, i will tell myself this one thing....it's just made of plastic but I'm made of solid wood.
Sometimes posts and themes grow on you like a delicate Henna tattoo. Other times, they grow more like the green culture at the bottom of your hiking shoe. (except in my world there ain't no rhyme or reason for their existence.)
Today's theme, that of many a spiritual seekers' favourite "attachment", falls into the latter category I'm afraid. Which, in plain simple eEnglish means that last night a very precious possession was taken from me and i had to find some way of dealing with it or go into a deep depression.
What could be so precious you ask? My passport? Travellers Cheques? Some family member surely. No, sadly, just a small piece of black plastic, no bigger than my thumb. It's called 4GB and it's still got a hold over me, my thoughts and my past.
B some crazy universal coincidence, just two days before I went to listen to the Dalai Lama speak in Varanasi. And through the crackle of the 89.5FM translation station, I couldn't make out much on his wisdom or the theme of "attachment" save for the phrase "you must become like a piece of wood"... dead. solid. without emotion or need of of anything... but your root system i guess.
So when this incident happened, which started last night with my foolishness and ended this morning with my rage and tears, i was forced to go in search of my withered tap root and from the Dalai Lama's well of wisdom.
You must become like a piece of wood. These were the words i first chose to yell at the monkey who had just torn my 4GB card to shreds. (With the right pitch and intonation anything can sound like the deepest, darkest cussing. Add a woman with wild morning hair and red puffy tear-welled eyes to the mix, and you have "a women's revenge" chasing you across the rooftops.)
I knew it wasn't the monkey's fault. He was being true to his nature. From his rooftop vantage point, just three leaps and a tail swing away, this small black rectangle lying alone on a bigger rooftop square must have sent his logarithms crazy with calculations and curiosity. And when that sun finally broke through that smoggy Varanasi sky, he must have been beside his pink ass to suddenly see three small golden teeth signalling his immediate decent.
Monkey see, monkey do.
Meanwhile, in a room not too far away, another monkey slept on lightly in her bed. She had a similar curious nature to the culprit but this monkey, dear reader, had a far worse trait than this. She was a clumsy fool. That evening prior, on seeing the beautiful full moon, she had decided to invite Mr 4GB to woo her with his visual tales of young love and silk saris, shy chai (tea) sellers and silent sunsets over granite boulders. Her eyes swelled with stories of the past, her heart sunk when she knew even this moment would never last. But this fool, in her dreamy midnight state, left Mr 4GB, alone and unrequited, to the rooftop quarters, only to find him a broken man the next day.
Dear reader, i cannot lie, this morning there was wailing and gnashing of teeth. There was wild tossing of flailing limbs on the bed. There was punching of pillows. After all MR 4GB is a hard man to forget. We shared so many memories together. But no more. It took me a while to remember that I have each one of these moments saved in one other place. a safe place that no-one can get to and nothing can corrupt. And this place I will take with me to my grave.
And when i find myself switching off, dreaming of what i had but lost, i will tell myself this one thing....it's just made of plastic but I'm made of solid wood.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Sleeper Class
Dear Reader
I have to terms with my class. I am not a 1stAC (air con) girl. My railway ticket does not usher me into a two-bedded compartment with proper bedding and semi-climate control. For i am of the general sleeper class. Not 2nd AC, not 3rd AC but general sleeper. That is to say...I will not go gently into this or any other night.
I have come to terms with this general state of unrest but not, I will say frankly, with my classification. In a country which prides itself on a thorough (there are over 1000 classes) and ordered class and caste system, i am somewhat baffled as to why they thought to call my class SLEEPER. Some better suggestions would be... "mostly awake class", "10 winks class" or my personal favourite "slumber party class' because that's what it is. one big noisy party under bad lighting with bad food.
Sleeper class, what a joke. Take head dear reader as i write this blog sleep deprived and bleary eyed, but feel i am justified in my protest. Hang on now. isn't a sleeper a bullet? now that kinda makes more sense. because i would gladly take a bullet rather than suffer the fate that is The Sleeper.
To give it an office perspective, for my hard working readers, the sleeper is kinda like an open plan office...there's always someone walking into your space without rhyme or reason (actually the reason here is to stare) and the partitions are a mere formality, giving you just enough privacy to pick your nose and not enough to avoid being caught out. of course, being India, this office is an all-night call center where people compete in tone and pitch for communication space. and hey, if you cant shout at the top[ of your voice you always know that your cellphone can play music really loudly, especially if its really bad music like "I'm a barbie girl in a barbie world its fantastic..." no it aint.
Hey now i probably just sound like a party pooper right? now there are good things about general sleeper. I think its quite ingenious fitting three bunks onto one wall. And I have high praise for the government issue vinyl bunks. because honestly, when that train clocks the higher end of its speedometer, the only think keeping me from being bounced about like some baby on the knee of an overzealous grandad, is the clever combination of vinyl and humidity. genius. I don't know why humid countries don't just do away with cloth seats and seat belts and just install meters of cheap ass vinyl. any entrepreneurs this?
okay enough with the class bashing. some of my best ideas have come from being glued to the the top bunk, staring at the ceiling wondering why they bothered to put in big ceiling fans they never planned to use in the first place. some kind of torture? were these trains once used to transport suspected criminals prisoners because i can tell you, i would break. you wouldn't even have to open the door to the vile bile latrine at the end of the corridor because i would be crying confession just from sheer heat and exhaustion and back cramps.
I guess if one were very zen one could see the sleeper as a perfect opportunity for meditation. , i prefer self medication. because, in my book, if you cant accept your class, its best to act your class and take drugs***
*** disclaimer: i only use over-the-counter drugs. luckily in India, that's quite a broad term.
I have to terms with my class. I am not a 1stAC (air con) girl. My railway ticket does not usher me into a two-bedded compartment with proper bedding and semi-climate control. For i am of the general sleeper class. Not 2nd AC, not 3rd AC but general sleeper. That is to say...I will not go gently into this or any other night.
I have come to terms with this general state of unrest but not, I will say frankly, with my classification. In a country which prides itself on a thorough (there are over 1000 classes) and ordered class and caste system, i am somewhat baffled as to why they thought to call my class SLEEPER. Some better suggestions would be... "mostly awake class", "10 winks class" or my personal favourite "slumber party class' because that's what it is. one big noisy party under bad lighting with bad food.
Sleeper class, what a joke. Take head dear reader as i write this blog sleep deprived and bleary eyed, but feel i am justified in my protest. Hang on now. isn't a sleeper a bullet? now that kinda makes more sense. because i would gladly take a bullet rather than suffer the fate that is The Sleeper.
To give it an office perspective, for my hard working readers, the sleeper is kinda like an open plan office...there's always someone walking into your space without rhyme or reason (actually the reason here is to stare) and the partitions are a mere formality, giving you just enough privacy to pick your nose and not enough to avoid being caught out. of course, being India, this office is an all-night call center where people compete in tone and pitch for communication space. and hey, if you cant shout at the top[ of your voice you always know that your cellphone can play music really loudly, especially if its really bad music like "I'm a barbie girl in a barbie world its fantastic..." no it aint.
Hey now i probably just sound like a party pooper right? now there are good things about general sleeper. I think its quite ingenious fitting three bunks onto one wall. And I have high praise for the government issue vinyl bunks. because honestly, when that train clocks the higher end of its speedometer, the only think keeping me from being bounced about like some baby on the knee of an overzealous grandad, is the clever combination of vinyl and humidity. genius. I don't know why humid countries don't just do away with cloth seats and seat belts and just install meters of cheap ass vinyl. any entrepreneurs this?
okay enough with the class bashing. some of my best ideas have come from being glued to the the top bunk, staring at the ceiling wondering why they bothered to put in big ceiling fans they never planned to use in the first place. some kind of torture? were these trains once used to transport suspected criminals prisoners because i can tell you, i would break. you wouldn't even have to open the door to the vile bile latrine at the end of the corridor because i would be crying confession just from sheer heat and exhaustion and back cramps.
I guess if one were very zen one could see the sleeper as a perfect opportunity for meditation. , i prefer self medication. because, in my book, if you cant accept your class, its best to act your class and take drugs***
*** disclaimer: i only use over-the-counter drugs. luckily in India, that's quite a broad term.
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