SITCOMS (Part I)

For long I have been meaning to place on record, my absolute love and admiration for some of the good SITCOMS I have grown up watching (Since I am far from being fully-grown, yes, it is Work-in-Progress). Tonight is one of those moments when I have finally gotten around to putting down something very close to my heart- in concrete words. There is a sense of gratitude in my appreciation (which will follow in the lines below)- as I feel I owe a substantial chunk of my “happy hours” in life, to those sitcom-hours.

Laughter may or may not be the BEST medicine, but it is definitely one of the best ways to live any moment. For me, any person, thing or phenomenon that brings me a moment of pure, warm and unadulterated “hahaha”, deserves (and receives- in spirit, at least) a blessing and a heartfelt Respect! I think this is an art that while well paid (sure – they get enough monetary gains, once the sitcom tastes decent success), is still less appreciated. Creating such masterpieces is a rare product of genius and hardwork, on the part of the cast as well as the crew. And it’s definitely not as easy as they make it seem. So, from the bottom of my heart: Respect! *Tips Hat*

I want to talk about a few of these Sitcoms (in descending order of rank). Nah! Forget the ranking- it’s rather unfair.

1. F.R.I.E.N.D.S

It’s difficult to think of FRIENDS as a sitcom at all. Despite having researched the actors’ personal lives inside out (having rooted for Jennifer Aniston during the ugly Jolie-Pitt phase, and seriously OMG-ing over Matthew Perry’s drug rehab story), one can never think of those people- as actors on T.V, who were ‘paid’ to act out a story. No! They were, and will forever be Rachel, Joey, Ross, Monica, Chandler and Phoebe- who sat with us in our Central Perk, on that couch across that seemed a part of our drawing room, and then went back to a blue- apartment that was pretty much a friend’s house for us. They were all young, innocent, textbook best-friends in a playground- who were put into an adult-life like situation, and made the most of it. They practically grew with us (or the other way around!), we loved them and talked/ thought of them like they were our own close buddies. Growing up in those years, you could never be lonely or friendless. These 6 friends were with you- always, and forever. And since they were friends of all your friends, life could not have been better! Though reviled even in their homeland by some conservative sections for things like “sleeping too much with each other and with everyone in general”, the F.R.I.E.N.D.S were innocent and swore by their friendship (which beautifully never got marred, despite the angle of non-platonic love developing every now and then). Their stories were not so much about “relationships”, “life”, or “friendship” … they were about “wink-wink, ha-ha… witty-witty-snap-snap..”- often loud, crass and slapstick humor. And yet, they taught us a lot of things about relationships, life and friendship; They did! Each one of the actors was remarkable- they brought a unique quality to the character- and there was no way in hell that you could imagine the actor being a person other than the character, and not a F.R.I.E.N.D of the others. The dialogues were funny in context- the script was crisp, and geared to tickle your funny bone, the delivery was memorable and perfectly timed, and while they only tried to make you laugh, they built a small cozy place in your heart and mind. That they became really good F.R.I.E.N.D.S in real life too- helped of course. Unlike all sitcoms since its time, no single character carried the show. All six were significant parts of a huge jigsaw puzzle that fit together. Perhaps Phoebe could be identified as one person with the least “screen/script significance”, even she had her distinct storyline and brand value ( her guitar, her songs were a legend within a legend). Did you know that Lisa Kudrow actually wrote those songs herself? :-)

There are a godzillion memorable lines and moments from FRIENDS (for there was a time when we would carry out entire conversations with each other from those scripts!); will list down a few random ones :

- “Joey, do they know, that we know, that they know about us?”

- “Joey’s apple”

- Emma just said her first word!... What did she say Rach… She said… Galeeba…Erm..that’s not a word .. What?! Sure it is..Okay… what does it mean? I dunno ALL the words!... Alright..make a sentence with it.. okay… ‘Emma just said Galeeba!’

- ‘My Boss wants to buy my baby!’

- ‘ Oh.. I’m sorry, did my back hurt your knife?’

- ‘ Say Ross…I got a science question... If the Homo Sapiens, were, in fact, Homo Sapiens… Is that why they’re extinct?” “Joey… homo sapiens are ‘people’”.. ‘Hey! I’m not being judgmental here!..’

I tuned in to Friends when I was happy, sad, tearful, cheerful- and it always made me Laugh Out Loud. Even if I were to watch it all alone – and even though I knew the dialogues off the top of my tongue. The FRIENDS phenomenon was magic. And we have all been spellbound, and will remain so forever.

When we were passing out of School, Arpita gifted me a poster that she had made. Herself. It had Fat Monica on the left and Slim Monica on the right. On the top, it said, F.R.I.E.N.D.S through… J

At JMC, one of the first ever gifts I received from Mannat was a small, F.R.I.E.N.D.S ka photo-in-a- hand-made frame. I looked over at my desk by chance (having not really looked looked in ages) and I also found a F.R.I.E.N.D.S musical birthday card propped-up there.. We are much older now. Some school would say, we’re old now. We have seen/known many more since. And yet, unlike FRIENDS, they have all been merely SITCOMS.

And I will talk about them next.

The Spirit, The Ghost and the Doctor(s)

Once upon a time, there was a young man who had been suffering from a dreadful, degenerating disease for the past many years. It was a curious disease; the cause of which lay in his unhealthy lifestyle and living habits. The disease spread gradually – though with certain damage- making all his vital organs dysfunctional over years. His life, which had started off on a very promising note, had degenerated before his own eyes, and he had been reduced to a state of self-destruction, despair, defeat and - and above all-a denial. Much like a young drug addict – caught between helplessness, self-disgust and yet- continued depravity, he lingered on.. hopeless against hope.

Every night, he would go to sleep uneasy: his breathing was slow, his vital parameters signaling a mortal warning: “Change now! Or Else!” Nights were a struggle: he would toss and turn many times- anticipating disaster any moment. Was his life beyond repair? Or could he go back in time- pick up the pieces of his soul that made him the special, unique creation of God on earth, as they had hailed- upon his birth? Could he simply take control over his body, overpowering the slow-death-inducing cells? He would toss and turn around in bed all night: making a hundred new resolutions each: to wake up a new man tomorrow. To quit all unhealthy elements in his life- and walk out clean and sober. It will all be alright- he would console himself. The consolation, this small ray of hope, along with a sleeping draught (prescribed to him by his doctor) helped him survive each night. As one might guess though, and as it happens with most addicts – the next day was not much different from any of the earlier days: after all, the unhealthy is often the easy, and more pleasurable and after all- it was the only way he had known how to live life. The bright sunshine of the day helped him hoodwink the dark corners of his own heart and the noise of life drowned the voice of his soul. The dreadful nights of deafening silence followed. At night, he was someone else: a white, helpless ghost that cried of innocence, remorse and cursed the evil spirit that haunted his body during the day, and who had stolen his sacred soul bit by bit.

The evil spirit became the greatest enemy of the poor, helpless Ghost. The Ghost spent all night hurling curses at the Spirit; the latter spent all day mocking and torturing the lame, weak nemesis that was the Ghost.

One night, the Ghost – in a state of half-slumber- had a vision. He saw a faceless doctor showing him a pill- engraved, “Cure”; He jumped out of the bed and decided not to fall aleep- and let the Spirit take over, the next morning. No! Why hadn’t he thought of it before. He had been taking sleeping draught all his life- to “get by and around” the symptoms of his disease; to sleep over them. What he needed was a treatment- a cure. A waistband that would hurt him everytime he would indulge in something unhealthy, so bad, that he would have to fight his urge and terminate the action. A draught that would have him faint and topple over before he acted on the urge- thereby, preventing its execution. (Not AFTER- to avoid facing its terrifying outcome) A cane that would rap on his head – everytime the Spirit would infuse unhealthy urges into his head- and slowly and steadily, rap some sense into him. Teaching him the alternate model of living.

It was now Or never. He would walk up to his doctor the first thing in the morning, and scream for help- plead for some cure to rid him of this malaise- before it was too late.

Early, the next morning, the doctor, seemed a bit taken aback as he heard the suggestion. Taking in every word expressionlessly, this is what he thought: Give him the pill to END this illness? But it was selling the draught – year on year- that kept my kitchen running. Keeping the man alive just enough to make him pay. Keeping him diseased, just enough to make him keep coming back to me.

He smiled and said something to the effect that he understood the man’s problem- and could not help but sympathize with him. He offered him a drink as they sat, apparently, mulling over the solution. Looking through the window, he knew that the sun would be overhead soon. And the sleeping draught would work its magic sooner. And when he awoke next, the Ghost would disappear. All he had to do then, was to connive with the Spirit – an old chum – and hand over a stronger bottle of draught. When the spirit did awake, this time, a bit unsure, the doctor briefed him –with a grave look of concern on his face. He elaborated on how “the other doctor” was no one different: but one of their own: a cleverer evil spirit, out to make bigger business, selling his own drugs under the excuse of “curing” an ailment, which was clearly never possible to cure cure. “Imagine!”, the doctor snickered tactfully, “playing our own game with us - are we that naïve or what? Like we do not know what life is all about- how to live it- and how to deal with the consequences of what we do. I mean..come on..”. The man nodded… looking more and more convinced – but not completely so.

The doc leant closer to the man, and said in a conspirational whisper, “ .. of course we get all kinds of disturbing thoughts in the silence of night.. but the best we can do is sleep over them..right?..both of us know, in our hearts of hearts… that a pill like that would mean the end of our lives..pulling the oxygen-tube out of our systems- you think you’re sick now- when all you suffer from is a few hours of anxiety at night- but both of us know what life would be like- without the oxygen tube- sixteen whole hours a day! And you won’t even be able to sleep over those 16 hours. It’s a trap, is all I can say. That charlatan of a doctor too has his own spirit- believe you me, that makes him manufacture these shady pills – for doing god-knows-what!

Tough to know whom you can trust these days- you can scarcely trust yourself. If I were you, I would know better. Now sleep tight, tonight. And let’s talk some more later.”

The next night- as the man, turned and tossed around in his bed- struggling to fall into the dark chambers of slumber- he found himself wondering if the doc-with-the-pill would visit him again? That money-spindling-scoundrel! As if there *were* some cure to this disease! As if he were dumb enough to think that in a world of spirits- feasting off each other’s souls, some random doctor would want to help his spirit grow. As if that scoundrel were disease free! How was that possible, neither the man himself or his doctor were spared of the infection! Devil knows what he had mixed in those pseudo-charitable pills – and why he wanted to give them away…

No.. he wasn’t about to fall for this trap.. he didn’t know exactly how he was going to come out of the hell that was this sickness – (his own devil of the doctor – oh yeah! They were all the same crooks- had never given him any other solution) .. but, for now, he wanted to sleep his fears away. And he had the sleeping draught for the night.

A reconstruction of the most common conversation these days:

A: I don’t support this Anna movement. Shady guy- I hear he’s himself corrupt.

B: Forget Anna- What’s your opinion on the Lokpal Bill?

A: I dunnoo.. I don’t think their so-called solution will really be a solution. What will Jan Lokpal Bill do.. we already have so many systems in place for fighting corruption- how has that helped ever! Anna people are just getting unnecessary publicity.

B: Forget Anna- what systems/solutions do you propose for corruption then?

A: I dunno! .. See, there is always the Government’s bill- and I’m sure they’ll come up with something good.

B: So.. moving from “ nothing can prevent corruption” to “I’m sure something will work out” –what logic? Anyway, so you believe (on faith) in the political parties’ commitment to fighting corruption?

A: I don’t think you can trust any of these politicians – they’re all corrupt. And because of them, we also have to become corrupt. Let’s see what happens.

** Well, it’s funny how we keep complaining of the pain of our ailment, perpetuating the disease day after day- under the pretext of helplessness, and we don’t even want to suggest/design a cure or treatment.

And the Cherry on Top of the Icing on the Cake?

When some of us decide to attempt to doctor the disease, far from helping out or hearing out- many of us focus not on analyzing the merits/demerits of the cure so proposed- and pitching in with ideas for solution building; instead, our energies are diverted to the vital stats of the self-appointed doctors – and reading and writing gossip columns on them.

Which is fine, really. But the next time one files for one’s income tax refund and has to grease a few palms to get one’s hard earned money back- they would do well to look for a similarly-styled shoulder to cry on.

- The Common Man is an excuse devised by Man for all his self-inflicted (and self-perpetuated) woes.

- A perfectly able-bodied and healthy individual almost loses the right to a fair hearing in Court of Justice when they turn a blind eye, a deaf ear AND most importantly, an irresponsible mouth, to the process of justice.

- We are keen to spot the speck of dust in another’s eye, but fail to notice the log in our own (One of the spot-on truths in Jesus Christ’s Sermon On the Mount)

- The Masses, the People or whatever they’re called – are the most unreliable, immature, indispensable, and useful ally of the leader in any cause. Yeah- all at the same time!

More on these and more take-aways later.

Oh, and also, I feel really terrible for Dr. Manmohan Singh. To have led such an impeccable life for most years- only to have it almost undone towards retirement, is so sad.

When Friends become F.R.I.E.N.D.S

2005-06. Summers, perhaps. I was in my second year of graduation- a part of the coolest, fun-nest , group of kids there could be. As a group, we were sincerely into academics, parades, NCC, NSS, idling away, working, doing nothing, and a bit of Everything. We were also into a C-grade version of dramatics; something called as spoofs. Our group had mastered the art of scripting, directing and enacting "Spoofs" - a dramaticized parody of various pieces of literature (and even Social Science!) However, we did do some serious plays as well, one of which was themed around how natural disasters can wreak havoc on human lives. (We tracked a young girl- who, orphaned post an earthquake, gets picked by a lady to work at a brothel. ) See Footnote for some amusing memories

We were all one-year-old friends I guess. Mannat and I were really good friends … but since we spent most of our time inventing ways for drawing sadistic pleasure out of putting each other in trouble, we hadn't really used the word, "friends" a lot. Hardly ever, in fact.

Well, we were at Miranda House - for a Play Competition at their College Fest. With a bit time on our hands , and having checked out the stage layout etc.. I wanted us to run through the dress rehearsal, for good measure. Something you should know about the kind of Director I was: the lunatic, control freak. The Monica-At-Phoebe's-Wedding (who even schedules Pheebs' fiance's time for taking a leak, and rebukes him for deviation ( "Pee on your own time, Mike!" ) Okay, not exactly Monica…but you get the picture. And having a 21st century Dennis The Menace always play one of the lead roles in our plays, didn’t help calm my nerves. Radhika's Dennis-ness had gotten our plays in the "Rukawat Ke Liye Khed Hai" mode a couple of times.. And that day, I was a classic case of Once Bitten, Twice Shy- gone evil.

We got together in one spot … me at my hyper--est-best .. Some kids/teams from other colleges were also around. As we started hunting for Radhika, we found her and Mannat talking to a group of kids, apparently a part of their friend circle from School. They were obviously excited to see each other, and catching up. I cued Mannat..and she looked alive for the play, pronto. Rahdika, however, merrily went on about her trip..and chattered away, like my entreaties were background noise for the play.

After a decent bit of pleading for attention, across the distance, when my Dennis did not budge, I walked right across.. Without caring about the rude interruption I must have caused, said something threatening-enough-loud enough-and pulled her into the ready-mode .. (the only formula that worked )

Their friends, all seemed a bit taken aback by this impudence- on the part of somebody whom they didn’t even know. (I am guessing - the shouting, threatening and Monica-ing in general added to the total effect of "whoa!") I had walked back and into the play, when I faintly heard this conversation (and turned to look, across at the far end of the patch ) … Two of the girls made expressions of *rolling eyes* and menacing.. One of them, grinned at Mannat … in a sly who-does-she-think-she-is tone,

"Is she your friend?"

"No!" Mannat declared, smiling broadly at her Friends-from-an-year-back.

"She is my BEST FRIEND!"

And with that, laughing, she tuned around and walked into the play.

We didn't win the competition, but we sure had a hell lot of fun. I know I did :-)

Footnote

Okay, my fav. Memories: (you have to be inside my head, to spot the amusement :D )

1. Josie - managing to screw up the 3 second role she was supposed to play (that of gesturing to the poor little girl, begging for a blanket to cover her shivering, dying mother - that she didn't have any warm blankets left to give out) Whatever she did (something like half hearted attempts to spread-put wings to float/ Or to conduct an orchestra) - Smitha and I had to stifle laughter everytime (yeah..come on Smitha.. We never quite discussed it, out of politeness..but seriously, I caught your eye everytime :D :D )
2. Reji- The gorgeous Damsel in Distress: The main protagonist.
3. Mannat- Shivering and dying- thanks to Josie. (aaah.. Vengeance is sweet, even if illusory ):P
4. Ankita - in her blue denim shorts, as the well-fed , chubby and smug, supposedly starving boy casually telling her never-there-for-rehearsals Mr. India of a Daddy, " Baba…bhookh lagi hai" .. And lying down again, in style.
5. Radhika - The PERFECT Lady Owner of the "Dance Place" - the paan chewing, inappropriately saaree-clad, and wily business woman.
6. Simi: (The hapless white kurta clad patrakaar, interviewing the couldn't-care-less-but-pretending-to minister, couldn't string 5 words in level II hindi together ( always slipping on "ta-daad" - meaning numbers, in her dialogue, " Hazaaron ki ta-aa--da-da-da-ad mein logo ki jaan ja rahi hai..")
7. Rajita: The better-paid-more-sophisticated-reporter making the final observation on the very dejected girl's plight .. "khabron ki surkhiyan badal jaati hain… aur reh jate hain kuch sawal.. (pause) ..jinka jawab.. (pause, turn- look at Reji), dhoondti reh jaati hain.. (pause) ..inki aankhein." :D: D

Of Food Chains and Yardsticks

Of Food chains & Yardsticks

Warning: Another “Random: mixed bag” post- Do not try to dissect the logic of the Title.

Mayur and I were discussing yesterday how dormant our blogs have been. (To the extent that he had even forgotten the name of his own :D ) Well, as I told him, and again told Meggs today, I must have written like ten thousand blogposts since my last one - all in my mind (some even in my miles-long gchat conversations :-) ). There have been way too many things, quite a few emotions, quite a few new people, situations etc - that made my head launch into a story-telling mode at a supersonic speed internally. As always, my typing capabilities/motivations fail to keep up with the pace of thoughts inside my head- and that’s kind of annoying.

Without digressing, I’ll hit straight at the two thoughts that have been on my mind for long now (developing over the years) : 1) Foodchains and 2) Yardsticks

Yardsticks:

The other day, I was with some one I completely respect and really adore- always have and always will. A Highly ‘successful’ (rich, recognized) professional , who is also a very honest, compassionate and essentially a good human being, they (gender disclosure avoided) were meeting us right after a ‘reunion’ with some old (school/college) pals. After say, 25-35 whole years. Their face beaming with the joy of nostalgia, from having revisited the lanes of beautiful memories, I could totally appreciate what happy emotions their mind must be filled with- as they told us about some of their friends. Until, they said something that disturbed me a bit (the momentarily revisited innocence of youth wearing off, replaced by the less wholesome arrogance of worldly-wise-ness ) They said something to this effect, “it was interesting though..almost everyone was less than keen to talk about their professional lives … {insinuating that most did not have MUCH to talk about- except a couple of ‘winners’ like them-self} “almost scared to venture there.. they just kept going back to other topics” *flashing a smile of victory-almost-threatening to border-on-disregard-for their once ranks-no-thanks buddies*

Now, granted of course that everyone lets their hair/ their guard etc down with close ones at least..to bare the innermost thoughts- good or bad. Still, I found myself wondering… (though not articulating it aloud) – Really?? Are you really so smug about having supposedly outdone your peers in the race for success in life? And how exactly? Fatter paychecks? Bigger house(s)? Bigger titles? Fancier Awards and other insignia of professional achievement? No arguments that any of those other things would logically be considered as a feather in your cap. But is that all you think there is, to life- your life and that of others? (Deep down, I am sure they know it’s not!)

Did you find out if some of the non-remarkable looking (perhaps less expressive/ boastful?) buddies have had a more wholesome personal life (Or even a rewarding work-life for that matter-something of their liking/disposition, different from your own)? Or been a better friend, guide, parent, child, community member- simply by having been present, which you- despite your best intentions, may not have managed to? I am not saying that’s what happened. Just that, you don’t know an iota of how rich someone’s life story has been, unless you really know what it has been indeed. You do not really know if net-net, in life, they have had more moments of contented happiness, than you have- for whatever reasons. Or you two may have different yardsticks for success– although you are free to use your own, to discreetly measure the success of the other one.

But, in every society, people constantly over-indulge in this frivolous exercise. And it is this over-indulgence that I find most annoying.

To each one, his own. Didn’t the wise men say so?

It’s funny how this tendency creeps into the way most people raise children, dictate their goals, define their idea of success - imposing upon them, an inheritance of their own aspirations, their ambition and their grudges with life. Consequently, everyone gets chained in this race, by their own doing, constantly be-grudging the ones ahead of them in the race and hence, mocking at the ones behind them to relieve the pain of losing out to someone else. No one knows which one of them, is going to die with/-out a song on their lips and love by their side- only when perhaps one can really say if they are dying a happy person. Life is not one big common race that is finished for all together when the whistle blows- and the winners declared. Everyone steps out at their own time- having run their own course. You cannot simply outrun the others and win the race. Or let’s just say, you could do better by focusing on your own time-(out).

The race- one ahead of the other, brings me to the second thought: Foodchains

Foodchains develop in every distinct group – wherein creatures come together- working towards a set of collective goals (survival, success), furthering a subset of individual goals. Every ecosystem has a foodchain, and so does every society/organization. By definition, a Foodchain has the members of the group arranged in a hierarchy; in the human foodchains, those who possess greater power, control over societal resources are placed above the ones who possess the same in lesser degree. Hence, at the bottom of the pyramid, the power, control, resources may be zero or negative, while the top layer is loaded with all.

Like the foodchain occurring in the nature, at every layer, the members seek to protect themselves from those above them, and further their survival/ interests, by defense, or diplomacy, quid pro quo, or whatever possible measure. And they find the satisfaction/ pleasure of a similar relationship (roles reversed), with the layer(s) below them. What they lose out in one relationship, gets compensated in another. After all, man’s desire for power, control, and resources is universal and an intrinsic part of being an animate creature- with survival as its ultimate goal.

What does amuse me though (just as it does in the real food chain) – how easily we can switch between two completely opposite roles in our everyday lives: From being the ruthless, (power) hungry predator, to the cowering, pitiful prey.

The boss who, because of a bad mood from home, or having had an earful from his own manager, may vent his anger at his junior – by disregarding the latter’s personal or professional dignity, very often, justified only in terms of the advantage accrued to him in the power equation. The junior, indignant at being unduly exploited in his position of limitation, comes out with a bad mood and unloads his burden of the ire on anyone and everyone who is below him in the chain (For someone really junior, it could even be the zero-watt-power office boy, who has not served tea in time or breathed too loudly for the junior’s comfort)

At each level, a person feels wronged and decries the unjust violation of all principles of decent human behavior of those up above, and then to soothe his own bruised ego, replicates the model downwards- without batting an eyelid.

Reminds me of the amusing story they tell about the man who gets bitten by a dog his way to work one morning. It so happens that the man’s boss yells at him, the man comes home and yells at his son, the son, having no one to yell at..goes out and kicks at a dog to vent his frustration. The Dog does his *bit* the following day :-)

The Food chain behavior however, becomes, all the more annoying when simple manners get sacrificed at the altar of chained-behaviour. Words like “thank you”, “please”, “sorry”, “excuse me”, or even expressions/ body language, indicating such sentiments are used downwards not as frequently as upwards, or as the norms of civil behavior would call for. So, if a junior officer hands over something to useful you when asked, your mind does not signal, “hey.. that’s helpful.. and deserves a look of praise/thanks” .. but, “okay.. that’s what they’re supposed to do.” – or at best, “good ..they’ve done it”. But, get similar work done from any one above you and the first thoughts/ expressions are those of gratitude, acknowledgment, and even (arrgh ..i tell you) .. indebtedness.

There was a phase as back as in my school days, when I had discovered this unpleasant fact about human behavior. Depending on which level of the food chain you come from- in that moment/ context, your behavior gets interpreted and is treated in completely different fashions. For something as simple as:

Being “nice/ polite” to another fellow human in some situation: If you are a Top-er in the FC, and nice to someone below you, you are humble, munificent, kind and all things divine. If you are an FC peer, then you are merely a “decent” one, if you are a bottom-er vis-à-vis someone, then you are meek/weak/with little alternative options of behavior to the someone- Niceness is not considered a virtue but a default necessity.

Being unhelpful/ rude/ impolite to a fellow human: If you are a Top-er, well, that’s a given. Anyone below you, if they cannot avoid it from you, most would accept it as “normal” as how things are supposed to be. A peer would give it back to you or refuse to take it from you- may the best man win. If you are a bottom-er, god save you (though you donot seem to have access to divine resources/ benefits either..so don’t count on that!). A bottom-er’s bad mood/ flare-up/ tantrum is not entertained anywhere- not even by fellow bottomers. You are scum of the earth, behaving way beyond your station, and you get it back – worse than you gave it. You also risk being thrown out of the pyramid entirely. The struggle for survival ending with the elimination of the necessity of survival.

Consequently, many Top-ers (the un-initiated ones in the FC system/ society) are often advised to make a bold and explicit communication of their position in the FC vis-à-vis others, by behavior typical of that level just so that they get the “right” kind of treatment.

(Sample pieces of advice: “ Whyy are YOU calling THAT one ‘Sir’.. he is just a So-and-so here!” or “You don’t have to ASK for it like a request.. just TELL them you want this in such-and-such way or else”). Need I mention the most famous verbal qualification/badge any non-bottom-er worth his worthless bottom, carries around in India : “Do you know who I *AM*…I am so and so’s son’s-friend’s-dog’s-nephew’s-master’s-sister’s-bloody brother!”

For good or for bad, this system becomes self-reinforcing. Hence, a top-er not being “predatory” enough may be seen as a ‘soft touch’ – more suitable of being further down in the FC. Even those below him, thanks to the conditioning of behavior, will respond inadequately unless they see some fitting (predatory) behavior downwards – which now becomes their only trigger for appropriate action. Even someone starting in the top, with a clean slate in mind, after some induction, tends to fall in line with the rules of the system (which is often stronger than the strongest individual)- for predation does seem to get better response. And this vicious, self-sustaining cycle goes on- at each level.

Well, it seems that this is how nature designed he world though. And who are we to argue with nature’s big plan. Right? The model does seem to have survived very well for so long.

Footnote: As usual, all my you’s were conversational and not an accusation at the reader really, and all my thoughts/ observations – which may seem based on an extreme model of behavior/ thought, were mostly just that of course. Net-net, everything does balance itself out in this world- and for good.

Psst.. Have updated my about me to explain the rechristening of the blog.

Best,

The Kwibbler