Sense of Entitlement.

I admit, I get my giggles by calling other people's bullshit. But it is a private pleasure, so I am OK with it. Of late I have met various american people and have heard them talk, and if you were to choose the one stereotype about the quintessential american, it is that he, or she, loves to talk, to confess. They love holding a moral upper ground. Its something we are familiar with in India, it is the exact thing that Gandhi understood and exploited. It comes from a deep rooted sense of entitlement, that if you do 'good' things, you get good things. You worked hard today, so you need more things. You deserve more things. You earned it. You have money because you are good, and so people should listen to you. You are only to do your karma, without questioning it, and that should be enough. The rest is bhagwan ki marzi. Karma is a complicated word, it can be moulded to suit one's convenience. I am certainly guilty of doing this, but every once in a while I understand that karma is the enactment of the truth. To never be lazy and to constantly question one's actions, seek the truth, understand actions and consequences, but never let the thoughts paralyse you into inaction. It is the pursuit of an ideal level of engagement of mind and action, a pursuit of consciousness. It is Work.

It was too cold for a tshirt and a hoodie. Crick in neck, she braved the wind a little, and tried to calm her nerves by smoking a cigarette. By then all the cottons she carried smelt of cigarette smoke. It was warm every where else, but San Francisco. She was woefully underprepared for what was to come.
The last two days were spent at the Fillmore jazz festival. San Francisco always had some event or the other going on. There were events to commemorate events. She was never one to commemorate anything, but didn't have any complaints. Except for the weather.