A Reason to Start Over New (Don't say the next line, please)

There is a little part in all of us that is sad. Not unhappy or tragic, the kind of sad that is synonymous with pathetic and sorry. It manifests itself in different forms – some levels of sadness include watching saas-bahu soaps, owning Hello Kitty pencil boxes and wearing WWE t-shirts. You could throw in Himesh Reshammiya and Sean Kingston, but the fact remains that sadness is subject to matters of influence in terms of fashion, popular culture, your next-door neighbour and the like. It changes with the daylight. It is transient. It is what a statistician would call a dynamic force. It is also a little confused. Moreover, the world needs Sad things like it needs war and world peace. We enjoy Sad things as much as we deride them. Mapping levels of sadness, therefore, needs an astonishing amount of tenacity and ingeniousness, none of which you or I possess.

But there are these phases of intense creative activity that take place in most schools, commonly known as recess or lunch periods. And during one of these periods, some people who shall not be named came up with a measure for sadness – Sadity, quite a different thing from Patheticity, drastically different from jaaliness and paatiness. The basic idea being this – all people are sad, but once in a while you cross the Sad Line, and achieve Sadity (you could say this is close to achieving Nirvana, but I haven’t much experience as far as grunge or salvation is concerned). Associated sentences that were used include “Dear lord, you’re so far behind the Sad Line that I can’t even see it anymore” and “That is Sadity of the worst kind.” Mostly, they were used on me.

Then, of course, other terms like Retard and Loser and Noob came into existence and Sadity was forgotten. Suddenly, rolling your eyes became more fashionable. And somewhere along the way the purpose of living life according to the Principles of Sadity ran out of steam. I would like everyone to believe that the reason I haven’t blogged for so long is because I was doing some deep soul-searching related to the mysteries of existence, but the real reason is that I had nothing to write about. Life ran like a rickshaw, things seemed normal, and I spent most of my time sleeping.

Till yesterday.

I logged into Orkut after what seemed like ages, and here is the first friend request I received: hi butifl m vivek jain m4 orissa, hey itll be my pleasure 2know abt u. n ur life, so can we join each odr.

I have no idea what “butifl” is, but I resent comments aimed at my posterior. And m4 might well be Orissa’s answer to the British Secret Service, but I strongly object to being joined to one of its passouts.

Also, please consider the fact that this is my current Orkut profile picture:

I feel happy. Sadity is back, and it’s beautiful. Of course, none of this is actually sad, it is just a matter of how you see it. Sadity can be cool. I may have graduated to Facebook but I’m sticking to Orkut still, not that I haven’t already laid sinister plans to infiltrate Facebook with the S-virus. Online social networking is the best thing that could have happened to idle minds (synonymous with jobless, a wonderful, wonderful epithet). And if you are wondering why I blabbered about a non-existent concept just to introduce you to Warhol’s pink cow, rest assured. I don’t know either. But, as they say, it’s all part of the plan.

I think I’m going to like this blog. Here's to joblessness.