The Thought Salad

Void

2012-01-18T22:20:00.000-08:00

Trapped in the deep ravine of self,
Lies a mortal man,
Crumbling inside the mirror of deeds,
Lay with fear, hand in hand.

A mirror to lie to,
Yet his grave conscience to face,
The mortal has lived for ages unheard,
With a pen, a broken heart and a crippled grace.

Oh no, not a poet ever,
Still the ballads of confusion prevail,
Demeaning the mere existence of truth,
Hanging by a broken rail.

Oh no, not an artist ever,
Embossed in the paint of the fiery canvas,
A canvas of lies and grim reality encore,
Spends a day with friends, and night with the dream whore.

Hush the valley, oh he is falling in,
The immortal man, who is dying within.

Blah blah...Oh Blah!

2012-01-16T22:15:00.000-08:00

A new day. And the last of the lot. I regain a confidence and take a look at the clock. Damn. Its 12pm again. I promised myself to stick to a routine! Why the hell do I submit to this chilly weather around me? Isnt there a way to elbow it out and make a free space for my damaged confidence? I mean, I wish to get up at 7, get ready, and get the complete day to myself. Half the day is already gone and its Tuesday; Saturday I would back in Dehradun for my last innings of 3 arduously boring months. I need to enforce self discipline. 10 mins, and I need to go out for some work, on which I have tried a lot to convince the other party of numerous reasons that I cant make it. Turns out that I am not good at plating excuses on someones face.

The geyser is bubbling and so is my mind. Why can I not stick to a routine? I am such a shameless creep who cant keep his own promises, leave alone expecting others to be fulfilled! (Oh I made myself sound an unreliable freak, I am not that bad....or am I?). Anyway, I really need to consider revamping the routine. I have more important .....

Here goes my toast. Its on fire. Bye.

Perfect

2012-01-02T22:56:00.000-08:00

A while ago, the clock struck 12. The tik tok of the hand brazing aside the mark could be well heard by me. I lay in my comfy bed, thinking aloud; thinking about the word: Perfect.

There is a strong sense of positiveness lingering around this seven lettered word. A plethora of images wobble around ones mind when you hear Perfect. A perfect man. A perfect body. A perfect weather. A perfect shape. A perfect smile. A perfect gesture. A perfect score. And many more.

However, why is it not possible to define A Perfect Tear? A perfect hurt? Maybe, a perfect agony? Why is the word perfect not able to define a lost love, something like, A Perfect Betrayal? No it does not. Because conventionlism overshadows innovation. The convention lies in the fact that perfect is akin absolute. The best, or perhaps the greatest. maybe that is why, there cannot be a "best" tear, the "absolute" agony, or the "greatest" lost love! Perfection bears synonimity with idealism. However, even a fraction of truth does not prevail here.

If asked to me, I would define Perfect by another word: Illusion. It isnt the positiveness, but anything, that claims to be perfect. Yes, it is illusion. Someone would surely counter me by saying, "What nonsense, I know of someone, who scored a "Perfect" hundred in their exam! Isnt that perfect?" I would humbly submit a no to them. Did he score a "perfect" hundred in all his subjects? If yes, did he score a "Perfect" hundred in all his subjects and the same in all his terms? If yes, did he do the same throughout his Senior Secondary school? If yes, then please tell me did he do it in every single exam he faced since he entered his school, till he completed his post graduation? I wonder.

Calling anything, anyone perfect is disgrace to humanity. If they are perfect, they don't qualify as a homo sapien. If they do, then you don't qualify as a homo sapien! Nothing in this world is perfect. The day, an emotion, a success, a word, a belief, a practice achieves perfection, we can be sure about the dissolution of mere existence of everything. Everything before that would crave for being perfect. Everything would claim to be "more perfect". The basic human nature would not let us rest at homes, thinking of something that is achievable but not yet achieved. The world, then would surely crumble under its own weight.

Ok, why am I writing this? The truth is that I have been seeking it i.e Perfection. I desire it badly. Perfection in attire, impeccable success, an ocean of knowledge, and love beyond the greatest lovers; Everything incites me to achieve the best. I crave to see the best light, the best form, and this quest for the best leads to me moments like this. I am trapped in my own web, struggling to weave through a way that helps me untangle myself from this absurdity. A very common proverb goes as, "You feed the tiger some blood, you would be its meal one day." Maybe not falling "perfectly" in place, this proverb, however entails the common behaviour of the common man. You let him taste success, and he can kill for more. He can cheat for more, he can lie to the loved ones, he can hurt the closest. I don't look at myself as a person to the likes of above genres. I have tasted success, a bit of it. I have been at the top of the totem pole of a unimaginable success. However, you cant stand at the top for long. The high is always temporary. Alcohol or success are the same. You cant enjoy swinging at the top for long. So, I came down generously to my personality, and began looking for another high. However this time, I do not want anything except myself to improve. To achieve what I want to become.

I want to get to the top of my satisfaction once again. I wish to look in the mirror and call myself perfect, even though I know that for anyone who desires this, their world would come crumbling down under the weight of their own desires.

Haqeeat

2011-07-31T12:12:00.000-07:00

Unhe yun masoom samajh kar main mohabbat karta gaya,
Unke har lafz ko ibadat samajhta gaya,
Aaj zehen me lafzon ka sailaab umada hai,
Main behte behte yunhi hansta gaya.

Har sawal ek aina sa ban gaya hai,
Jise dekh main khud ka hi putla banta gaya,
Unka wo baandha hua sama,
Har pal ke saath tanha banta gaya.

Ab is goonj ki haqeeqat kuch aisi hai,
Ke apni hi niyat par main ghaav bunta gaya,
Ek baar bhi peeche mudke na dekha unhone,
Main najane kyun unhe sunta gaya.......

Taqdeer

2011-07-31T11:35:00.000-07:00

Yun to samundar ki gehrayi bhi naap leti hai duniya,
Zara is dil ke zakhmo ko naap ke to batao,
Haq jataakar jo aansu khoyen hain,
Unhe wapas lakar to batao…

Ye zubaan ek lafz ko taras gayi thi,
Un dino ki raunak ko lautaao,
Haq ki kyun baat karte ho humse,
Un zalimon se zara mera dil to le aao..

Karta hun bas ek hi iqtila aapse,
Mujhme wo nami wo nazakat le aao,
Kadmon tale jo kuchal gaye mere haq ko,
Un zalimon se mera pyaar to le aao,
Unse mera haq to le aao.

What a 51st. I wish this to be 50th.

2011-07-28T11:25:00.000-07:00

Its no achievement. I have not won the presidency. I completed my 50th post and I did not realize it. This is the 51st. And its gonna be so not like it.

What is a relation? A connection between two people? A mother and a son? Two brothers? Two siblings? Two friends? Two lovers? Professional relation? Relation with your favourite music? Relation with your favourite food?

You name it. Lets listen to my answer: A relation is anything, but fucking permanent. Today, writing this, I sense deep agony. I sense crucification of trust. I observe denial by none other than one of my most treasured one. Not that its for the first time. I ran the same path some years back. The only problem is, the grief is identical. Five years back, when I met him/her, s/he was a kid. Totally unaware of the world, inside a shell that had to be broken for him/her to get out and spread his/her wings. I worked hard on that, showered all my love, all my commitment, included him/her in my family as my only brother/sister. I never had one. So I just couldn't keep a control on my care and love. In between all this, I fell in a relationship with a girl. She, as it gradually turned out to be, transformed into my life. I loved her like my breath, and went to extreme limits with my commitment for her. Alongside, s/he was also there, slowly transforming in my only younger brother/sister I know.

A man doesnt know when he dies, he only knows when he is stabbed.

Today, that girl is no more around, and for that matter of fact, is in a relation with someone else, when she used to cry fortnights for me. For us. This, now affects me zilch. Because I have lived my time, my agony, all alone in rooms, with friends, with tears, with pain, on streets, with beer bottles, with failure in academics. I so have been there and done that. So now, it hardly pains.

And s/he, just said to me that s/he hardly cares about what I think. S/he, whom I almost "raised" with all my devotion and sincerity as my brother/sister, now shows me the middle finger. Its a classic case of children-abusing-parents case. And let me tell you, it slices through the heart like a dagger. I loved him/her like my own body part, like my breath, and what did I get in return? A slap of disregard on my face.

Today, s/he says s/he doesnt want to talk about anything anymore. His/her statements make me feel like a polybag. Like used furniture. Like rotten fruits. I really dont have the slightest of idea whether s/he has any realization of this. I crumble along this trust deficit to serve my pain. I drag myself through agony to still love him/her.

S/he may have got wings to fly. S/he may have got fascinated by the fanaticism of the shine of the world. S/he may have stepped out and met new people and made new friends. S/he maybe flying solo and happily, but theres one thing I think s/he should remember.

There was someone who didnt sleep nights giving you new wings and repairing your old ones. Never forget them. Life isnt sweet enough to be at your service with another version of them, when you someday decline. You will, be sure of that. One day you would need a shoulder.

And if you are totally "i-dont-care-a-shit" now, that fateful day, you would wish you wouldnt have been so cruel to them.

They would be in heavens, still looking onto you with love, whereas you would be the one battling. Or maybe repairing someone elses wings.

Haste

2011-07-25T12:07:00.000-07:00

I turned over the leaf of my calender about 25 mins back. And with that I ended 24 complete hours. I ended, thousands of seconds that I let pass by, idling on the couch or sprawling on the bed. And all of this, suddenly has begun to pinch. Confined by the daily worries, we hardly seem to pay attention to the time we simply waste. For instance, being a readomaniac, my passion for books never died. However, these days I hardly throw a glance at the best releases around me. Actually, I hardly know any! And flipping over the calender leaf, I wonder. Why is that I dont have the slightest idea of the major releases? What is it that is preventing my to explore, to open up? To get out and reach for the skies?

The resonance of unavailability of time is deafening. And I want to learn. I want to read. I want to listen to music. There's so much of what I want. With every new calender leaf, a new haste begins. Towards terminating the haste with which life slams itself on my face.

Its Time

2011-01-16T10:52:00.000-08:00

Oh yes. Definitely. Its that time again.

Bidding goodbye to a loved one isn't easy, whatsoever. When the tough looked soldier glances back for that one last time, in those distant yet captive eyes of his mother, before leaving to step in the arduous battlefield, its a sombre sight. Though not of that magnitude, but it is tough to leave the place which provides you flawless care and compassion. Its called home. And I crave to be here.

Its hard to go. Its not that my destination is too bad. Its one of the dream destinations for quite a few and remains on the top of the charts for creating envy withing those who never got a chance to be there. The only problem is, this place here, Delhi, my home, its just too good to be here. The love isn't a showoff. The care isn't for self interest. When you are at home, the meals aren't bought or won. They are fed with umpteen emotions, all derivatives of profuse and selfless love. And it shows. The sleep is unhindered. When the eyes close, you are sure that you would not get disturbed. It is said that a man who sleeps peacefully at the end of the day, entails the maximum happiness out of life. You don't have to 'think and talk' . You dont have to seek help for implementation of your ideas. The feeling of light shoulders, shedding some responsibilities for some time feels bliss. To lie down and bake in the sun without thinking about the money shortage, projects, seniors, politics. It surely is something to die for.

This something isnt there with many. Many, dont have homes. And this realisation first leads to prayers for them, and thanks for us.

Presently, its time. I have to leave for yet another term away from this heaven on earth. And I dont like it for sure. I, personally feel blessed to be here. My prayers are for every man out there, that he who sheds sweat and blood hard day in and day out, if wants to feel eternal bliss, should come.....Home.

PS: I would try my best to be active here, though i cant promise. Tc ppl.

The Other One

2011-01-13T10:51:00.000-08:00

As the moon ascends to conquer the night,
His inside wails aloud in might,
Oh he rushes behind the walls,
Tries to suppress, suppress it all..

But Alas he knows,
He knows its changing,
Oh Yes,
He knows its the call.

And, there, Oh it begins,
Like a dreading werewolf, on a self derail,
The mighty claws of doubts enlarge,
Ready to pounce upon his scars,
The torso unfolds to magnanimous proportions,
Ah that is the pain of his untold emotions,
The stark realities of the lonely cries,
Lie in the blood soaked vehement eyes!

And there it rises tall in front of him,
His demon to him,
His Conscience within.

A Page From My Imaginary Diary

2011-01-11T03:46:00.001-08:00

To define the desperateness in me is not going to require knowledge of a hundred books. You just have to be with me, near me. Several people claim to understand it though, I can bet on my life, they aren’t even close. Only because they aren’t with me. They don’t know. They aren’t living me. My thoughts reiterate the questions, and for the answers...they are yet to be found.

Where and when did I lose myself? A sinister moment for sure. However, I wonder whether it was just a moment. But if it wasn’t, how is it possible that I did not realise! I mean, I was losing the man I was so proud of, that is me, and it was me only who was losing me, and how come I couldn’t stop myself during all that time? Sounds so idiotic! But it is true. And I abhor the apathy. Presently, as I embrace the shrieks of street kids playing in the sun, I am trying to recollect any vision, howsoever botched up it might be, of me being similarly content and happy, unconcerned with the surroundings, and with myself, like the kids.

And as usual, all efforts go empty. Presently, I feel the need of herculean strength to jot down all this. Why? I left writing ages ago. Those tit bits that I have penned down recently, na..I read them and my instinct clearly pops up; it was not me. I was brilliant. I was confident. I love(d) writing. But now, I can’t recollect the feeling when I actually ‘wrote’ last. In quite a similar manner, it seems my hero, that made me proud, was slained long ago.

I wish for a morning that does not begin with,

“Oh shit I again got up late, now the time available would be less, and ideally I should have bathed till now, I should do that, I have to read this, I have to listen to that...”.

Followed by, “Now what to do, where to start from. Forget it would sleep a bit more. NO! Get up! Its 12!.”

...and further,

“I am not being up to the mark; I just need to tweak myself up a little bit. I have to read that novel, I have to read newspaper, Oh, also the news. Damn, there was a bag that I had to get stitched. What about my music? I need to get into a band, I love that. And my profession? I am pretty good at that but yes i still need to gear up. Get information and knowledge. Oh damn my final year is approaching, need to prepare for the placements too. I need to plan my future... I mean what after college? Should I go abroad? Do i have to give all those shitty exams? Should I join this or should I study further? I am getting so fed up, I think I should write.

(I open the laptop, and sit in front of it, with a page opened in front and my hands on the keyboard..)

“How should I begin? Ok this would be good....no no .... *delete* *delete* *delete*.....Shit I cant write anymore. I am lost.

.......after 25 min or so...

“Its 5pm, and I still haven’t read the news paper.....................................................”

And it begins again. And I hate it from the pit of my gut.

One thing that I can recognise in me is that the desire for exorbitant knowledge, that I borne during secondary school, has revived profusely (My unparalleled interest while listening to the Lok Sabha proceedings and craving to know the history of any damn country or place or thing, vouches for that immensely! Mind you, I was a student who used to almost puke at the name of ‘History’ and never went above 30’s or 40’s in Social Studies). But the ends don’t fit together. I don’t know why. I seek umpteen knowledge, but I don’t know where to begin. I know there is no method of gaining knowledge, but thats what. Gaining knowledge is, and should not be obviously, the only thing in life! All the things that I want to do, never get aligned. Never are in order. And I know, in the recent one or two years everything has just remained incomplete.

I read the newspaper, I don’t grab the news, I look for excellent vocab. Later on, when I realise I don’t remember anything from the newspaper, I get frustrated that I wasted so much time. I was gifted a Salman Rushdie by a friend last May, believe me, I have not even finished the first five chapters! I mean, me, who used to literally lick off novels, of the likes of Harry Potter in 2 – 3 days, has been unable to finish one in more than a year!! Shameful. And highly discouraging. And like this, several things flash in front of me, reminding of my incompetency. Its seriously disheartening.

I don’t know from where to begin, what to do to achieve peace of mind. Every minute my brain keeps on spinning like a machines rotor. Thinking and thinking...I want it to rest. I want peace. I want to be satisfied with myself. I want to face the mirror and outdo my let downs. I want to see that look in my eyes, that killing confidence...I want to get in order. I want to be me.

Once Dad said, looking at a match of Sania Mirza, while she was resting for a moment,

“Forget about the idiocy of this woman, just look at her eyes right now. She is resting, but look at the way she is looking at her opponent. No cruelty, just intense confidence and an attacking spirit. This is the way you have to attack challenges of life.”

I want this. Back.

?s

2010-11-09T18:12:00.001-08:00

So here am I. Leaving home to step in shit once again. I wonder why life needs to be so complicated. Why people are so unaware of their personal self. Why do they thrive on sadistic approach towards life. Grudge, just because the other one is better than you, isnt it a total loss of energy? I just wish people understood this...Or maybe I understood the cynicism. Maybe then my mind would feel confident. Confident of sheer happiness.

WTF

2010-11-07T05:12:00.000-08:00

I am packing again. The very mention of the word "college" ensues sourness upon me. Its been approximately 2 years now since I have stopped liking college (and in total its been 3 years since I entered college, wow). The mystery does not only involve the reclusion towards college, it points fingers at various other aspects; one being myself. Very often I dig deep down inside me to find the reasons for it, but every attempt leaves me more confused. And now I am really tired of trying.

I really have a pretty strong nonsensical feel right now. Because I have no idea where this is going. I know there is a lot of mess inside me, that is for sure. And I really want to sort it out. Its been long since I am accumulating all this shit and now its brimming, ready to explode, like a volcano probably. The only issue is that I probably don't know what is the question. What is my confusion all about?? I do NOT want to think! I feel so damn stagnant. I get scared when I think that nothing at all is moving in my life, except time. Time has moved so far away, and I am still stuck. Where? I dont know. But I AM stuck. A better word to describe what I feel is "left behind", far behind. I feel like sitting besides a lake in an accelerating time warp. I feel I am still stuck, but time has moved on. Its where it should be, probably 2-3 yrs ahead of where I am. This feeling, is hell scary and excessively demotivating.

For eg, when you see the younger generation around you, knowing more stuff than you, that too in a much better way, it shatters your own image of being an elder. You are supposed to guide them! Now what do you do when they laugh at your face because you are stuck? Because you dont know stuff? When they are relaxed and having fun and you, still trapped in your own conscience and your own questions?? It stabs your confidence right in the center. And mind you, the few lines above that are written in second person, are not actually meant to be like that. I am talking about myself here.

I know if someone reads this, they would ask, "What in the world is this guy actually trying to say!??" I am trying to put the pieces together. I am trying to solve all the questions which are staring and blaring at me! I want to live life and not remain stuck in between these questions.

Its not that people dont respect me. They do. But when I am in college, I see people forming groups. And i am in NONE. I talk to everyone, but people consider me as someone who is different. And yes maybe i am different, but why do i feel hurt when no one bothers to ask me when they are going out? Or why have I not formed connections well enough so that I dont feel awkward in going to someones place very often? Why do I feel I am expendable? What the hell is lacking in me?

Till recently, I was in a totally hopeless situation. I mean, recently I changed my image a bit due to something that happened. Someone very close to me made me realise what is STANDING FOR YOURSELF. I am very sober, extremely "boring" for the world (ppl close to me would never agree to this), very mature, very silent etc etc...people around me? The Opposite. Vibrant, Persistently commenting, pulling legs, downgrading ppl....once twice thrice, its ok. But continously!!! for 3 YEARS!!?? I somehow never gelled with that. That too in an EVIL way, kaminapan you can cal it.

I dont know what I am writing. Signing off.
(Th problem still remains :(.......)

The Leech

2010-08-12T02:34:00.000-07:00

My mind has always been up and running. Always occupied with the essentials. But of late, it has reached a more complex and dangerous form. I mean its like there is so much on my mind that sometimes it feels like the pressure exerted on the walls of a dam by the superfluous waters of a river after a flood. It feels like there will be a sharp spark in my head and there it would be; my brain lying on the floor besides me with its circuitry emitting dry smoke, like the one from a burned wiring. Thoughts which could not stop, and the highways in my brain, that could not accomodate their pressure. I admit that I have started to think a lot, but it somehow feels unavoidable. I just cannot stop it. It has become like a disease. And mind you, I obviously hate that.

If I were to attempt to list out everything, I would be lost in translation from one issue to the other. Ironically, however, this is what I am from the past one and a half years which envelopes approximately two academic years. I dont know when I was dragged into this. I never realised when this "leech" began sucking the peace out of me . Now, it is so bad, it feels like that even if I pull it out, the tiny fangs of the "leech" would not dislodge, and consequently it would pull my character with it, like the skin, tearing it apart to pieces, the soberness would spurt out like the blood and proceed towards becoming empty, and the the complete "I" would be destroyed, like the muscles ripping apart, and my peace would be lost, forever.

I met a friend yesterday over a coffee. We chatted a lot. She, as usual, never spoke much about herself. And I as usual, kept ranting. Discussing with her the past, made me feel relieved. I blurted out whatever was curbed deep inside me. I had a chance of reclaiming my sanity and I said it, I said it all. It felt like a major portion of the leech taken off without pain. I felt light. As the talks proceeded, I found myself talking about writing. She mentioned of the past times when I used to write a lot, compared me to a lot of people whom I advised to write, and in the end, thus, slammed a hard hitting point bang on my dead conscience. For the first time in so many years, I felt it. I felt like writing. It was like someone in comatose moved a withered finger. Moreso like the first ripple of still waters.

I was told to write whatever comes to my rusted brains. The suggestion lingered on for a long time, and thankfully, and luckily, did not fade out. And so here I am, ranting to you all. I would not have written this much too, if it would not have been for her. The issue has not begun yet in this text, but this is just for those who feel stuck. I would really try my best to put the issues in my mind in my further posts (pray that they happen). But my advise for the stuck ones-Go rant it out to a good person, to a good friend. And if you write, just be frantic. Take a paper and a pen, or open a blank page on Word, or any shit of that sort, and just be frantic. And if you dont write, then start writing. Its a very effective vent. Take out your frustration on the keyboard or the pen, but begin. Begin, and you will surely see the light.

Love,
Nik.

The Bubble

2010-07-13T13:55:00.000-07:00

It doesnt even budge my inner self now. Is this how life is? Is this how the cycle works? Right from no one, to an acquaintance, a friend, the most important one, your life, your sadness, your disappointment, your disgrace, your anger, your past, and once again-no one. I wonder if anything stays. If anyone stays. And here they go once again, Mr. Coldplay blasts in my ears, "We've been living life inside a bubble...". I just landed on the profile of my "no-one to no-one (NTN)" accidently on a famous social networking site. Her friend sent me a friend request. Its unusual for me to have my thoughts and feelings in coherence with each other. This time they were. And somehow I got a prompt NO. In perfect coherence. And I suddenly found myself feeling the bubble...

Nasamjhi

2010-07-12T13:50:00.000-07:00

In badalon ki parchaayi,
Kuch yun hai gehrayi,
Jaise na samajh sake hum zindagi ko kabhi
Jo samjhe to lagi wo nasamjhi hi sahi...

Har chehra ek sawaal ban jaaye,
Har sawal ek khayal le aaye,
Aaina dekh kar yun sawaal utha abhi,
Na jane ye kaun hun, shayad aaine ki bekhudi...

Waqt ki daud thame na thame,
Wajood ki talash me yun jite rahe,
Par koi is dil se ye kahe to sahi,
Ki saansen abhi thami nahi!

Jaane kahaan raah chhod aaya kabhi,
Main hokar bhi main na ho paya kabhi,
Dabe zehen ki saanson ka shagird jo bana
Baarish me ye aansun chhupa aaya kahin!

In palkon ki parcchayi,
Ab fir hai gehrayi,
Kash samajh sakte hum khud ko kabhi,
To shayad is kaagaz pe aaj yun na hoti nami.........

"I"?

2010-05-20T05:03:00.000-07:00

I have just woken up. And I just have minutes to write this. The clocks gonna strike 5.30pm and it would be tea time here in this strange home of mine; a home that's called hostel. Speaking of home, the next thought that conceives in my fertile gray world is that tomorrow is my last exam. And I would be going home. Real home. But then the exams is also of Applied Numerical Methods, an enhanced and more gory (:P) form of mathematics, which has been my top rival since, I guess, I met it. But then its just the last stupidity that I have to do for three hours and then...vroom..back to the real home. But then I would come back on 27th for some work, back to this pseudo home. Then again to the real one. And on 1st I would leave home (real) and would reside under a makeshift roof somewhere in Western India for 2 exilic months just for a certificate of "Yes-he-is-interested-in-his-profession" of my internship. As soon as my brothers birthday month .i.e. August would arrive I would be back from that 2 month exile, to my real home. That is, just for a week. Later, I would again return to this pseudolife and start my final year.......

And I stop. And I think.

Where am I? "I"?

After I woke up..

2010-04-30T08:36:00.000-07:00

It is so common for me now a days to just wrap my arm around my tired eyes, and try to fall deep within myself. It seems I am feverishly looking for a bug, some strange clutter that is stuck up somewhere between my brains and my nerves. I am severely smouldered these days, battling my own self. I do not know where I have lost myself; my proud self that I used to flaunt to my 21 years old well known and looked up to self confidence, whenever it used to go low because of something unpleasant. But these days, huh, I feel like a small kid, who loved his mother to beyond the universe, but who lost her in the crowd, and now is wandering on the busy freeways amongst speedy traffic, crying his agony out, ignoring his burning throat, avoiding to feel his lung muscles getting tired, sidelining his hunger pangs, trying to ignore his blistered feet, and just looking to get back to home, to his mother. To relief. To peace. But all that life can offer him at the moment are painful ears due to the honking world around him, and hopeful, yet lost eyes. The world rushing past him, making him feel he has been left behind. Far behind, of where he thinks he should have been now. Love, affection, care....everything seems to be another world. A different universe altogether. Now what he sees is nothing except strangers. Both in persons and in feelings. The thing that pains more is now he is becoming accustomed to this life. He seems to have forgotten the mother. The home. It feels to him that he has come a long way, a long way from where he was the king of someones world. Where, actually, he was someones world. Now, all that is left is disarray. Confusion. Would he ever find himself? Would he ever step on the doorway of his home? Would he find peace, solace in anything except his own hopeless hope of living again? He doesn’t know the answer to any of this. He also doesn’t know if he will get it ever. He just sits beside a wrought bench on the street, living with his glances to the world swooshing past him, living with the feeling of being left behind, left alone, searching for answers of what he is, was or will ever be.

Twisted

2010-04-24T10:14:00.000-07:00

Suddenly an urge flared up on my fingertips. The next thought that crafted was that I dont want this to be a poem as it would require thinking. And this, I dont want to think and type.

Its been four long, arduous months since this facade has made itself an integral part of my life. Its almost in coherence with my tanned skin and severely tampered soul. Most of the readers of my blog (well, I guess there are just few of them) know that I write mostly when, as they say very disappointingly, "something happens" to me, or for that matter, with me. I say, its not that always something different happens to or with me. That something is just LIFE in either its angelic conformation or, very often the bitchy one.

This time, its neither of them. Its kind of twisted. Its a question, actually a horde of them, that has contorted the image of my own personality in me to great extents. There are so many questions, that very often it feels like my brain is no different from a sack being filled with rushing water, way beyond its capacity. And the part that is troublesome is, that the "sack" is still trying to hold on. Now it feels that the "sack" has a turgid conscience, one which has inflated beyond the capacity of self respect.

These days, when I hold the pen in my hands, all I manage to write is a tiny, as my confidence, a dot. It feels such a colossal task to even start! So much is happening, yet I feel like an empty vessel. A barrage of emotions fills my veins, but by the time they reach between my ears, it seems they get diluted with time, and contaminated by other thoughts residing there, so much so, that the only change that happens is the dot gets darkened. Deep. And what happens next has become as frequent as the daily breath. My pen lays besides the dot, waiting to be picked up again in the so familiar tainted hope. And I, like the tiny dot, like the dark speck of beginning on my conscience, stay still where I was. Where I am right now. To some people who are really close, the monotony of this mess up would have begun to look like the monotony of seasons. Even the seasons differ in pattern and timing. But mine, both are unswayed everytime I hear a stressfull hello, if I hear one at all.

Why do I feel so caved out? Like I have been scraped from deep insides of my already damaged confidence? Scraped out each and everything that I possessed and was proud about? Sometimes it feels I am wasting this life that I have been gifted by the Big Man above. And sometimes, it feels as empty as an abandoned house for the past several years, a house which was a mammoth palace of exuberance and glee. I have no answers to any of my questions out here. When I began writing (read: typing) this I did not know where would it finally lead to. I still dont know. I thought I will just write my heart out. But even when I am typing this I feel stuck somewhere! I just know that I have so much to do in life, so much on my mind every single day of the year, every single hour of the day that I feel I am lost. Both by location and by virtue.

Which path should I take? How would I know its right, even if I muster enough courage to choose one? What is this emptiness that is filled in me? College, phone(x 4), education, industry updates, assignments, projects, social networking, blogging, latest technology, newspaper reading, maintaining relationships, keeping in touch with friends (old/new/those who think they are and I simply abhore them but cannot cease contact due to some "social obligations"! :x), keeping in touch with important contacts, watching 24(its the latest addiction that haunts me even when I am under the shower), watching movies, gaining general knowledge, family........................damn. What not!

I just want my erratic thoughts to get straightened up and let me ease out. Let me know a way out of this shitty puzzle I am trapped in for the past 4 months. How to manage the above mentioned carcass of my brain in a day, so that I just feel that this life, is not withering away to disappear in thin air. I just want the whats and the hows and the whens and the whys to just get answered. I just want to feel substantial. I just want to accommodate the essentials in my life, become what I imagine myself as.

The problem is: I suddenly do not know how to.

And here again, my fingers withdraw themselves from this disjointed world of my confused ramblings....and I go back and play an episode of 24, silencing my quest towards myself until it rages again. Or till when, and if, a big if, I find my answers.

The Wish Game

2010-04-04T22:58:00.003-07:00

The words are lost, as they seem,

I feel nothing but jeopardy,

Meandering paths through my scattered thoughts,

I try and try,

To pick my wish that is lost.

Confusion construes abatement of sanity,

This world seems to have just zombies and profanity!

So I yell.

“Listen! All the worlds just listen to me!

I do not seek success, my desire is peace!

I want to be born again, just wish it’s on Saturn!

Humans don’t fancy me anymore,

Humanity has become their private slattern!”

And I keep running on the Wish Path,

To step on what is mine, but alas!

With every step the ground beneath dissolves,

“Not this one, not even this...” they say

And I keep running to save my fall.....

My wish is lost once more,

And so am I in the confusion,

The confusion of what I want,

And what I should have chosen.

Sitting besides this window,

The fear fills my heart,

Time doesn’t wait,

Even for itself to depart!

Still I keep thinking,

How to keep winning,

In profession, love, friendship and family,

How to keep myself spinning.

Time wades across life,

It would reach the other end with pain,

I wish to find my wish by then,

And I really wish not to wish again.

PS: No REAL TIME scenario! :P

The Moment (Part IV)

2010-03-15T13:20:00.000-07:00

Hi people…(a sheepish peek-a-boo……..).

Umm..I really don’t want to start this one with a “sorry” but I guess that would be the only appropriate step to take. (To avoid myself getting cornered and getting a black eye.. :P )

It felt really great to read those comments all over again on the previous part of this series i.e. The Moment-Part III. It felt like blowing off dust from the cover of the “memory book” before flipping through its pages.  Also the reviews on The Moment-Part I and Part-II were highly encouraging.

So to all those who commented, to those who didn’t and just read it and to all those calls immediately after reading the 3rd part blasting in my ears saying, “What the heck do you think of yourself! How can you just NOT continue this!!!”; I say a biiiiggggg SORRY  for not moving further with this one. I would not give any excuses, just the fact that somehow, it just didn’t happen.

Anyway, without further delay, the last part of the journey continues here……………………………

The MOMENT

With the sky opening up smoothly, the cloudy agglomerations dissolving in themselves, similar to the transcendental gates to the heaven opening up for a hearty welcome of the Lords and the Angels, he felt as if the space time continuum had been broken. Time decelerated. The colossal blend of voices and noises around him weighted a ton, fused together to form a kind of boggy mass of waste sounds, stretched, lowered on their intensity and took light years to reach him. Silence had dawned upon the place. The only sound interrupting the entire muteness of the situation was the sound of the footsteps. Her footsteps. Easily recognized, and the perfect ingredient for turning his stomach knotty and upside down. But this is how he had planned it. So yes, It.Was.Happening.

Clasping his palms together, gathering all the possible strength from each and every part of his already trembling heart, he moved a few steps to his left and leaned to get a quick view of her but pulled himself back the next second when the excitement gripped him strong. Finally something was going to be really awesome in his usual daily humdrums. Unsure of whether to force his hands inside his jeans pocket to vent out his unnerving exhilaration, or to let the cool breeze embrace him, reminding him of the turn on the road where he used to embrace her years ago. Like the wind and him, they used to hug like they are meant to be like that forever, till the end of time. He decided to let loose. He took a deep breath combining his happiness, joy, nervousness and homogeneity of excited feelings, he looked down, closed his eyes. Somehow he knew it. She was there.

Sighing heavily, he looked up. As beautiful as ever, adorning his life as ever, clad in a sparkling white suite and her coat fluttering in the wind, as if expressing the mutual feeling of joy shared by her heart, she looked at him with the perfect expressions. Her hair was flowing like a river midway down a snow capped mountain, fresh from the melted glacier of her spic beauty. The sparkle of her glowing pure white suit seemed to be faded in front of what the brightness of her expressions had to offer. There could be just one word to define it: Flabbergasted! Going weak in her knees, she almost fell on the friend besides her. She clutched her friend’s arm, strong enough to dig her nails deep into it, and the other was pressed hard upon her mouth in amazement. It actually took a minute for the reality to sink in her. Standing few feet away and staring at him was tougher for her than lifting Everest with her pinky at that moment! Teary eyed, totally unconcerned about everything and everyone around, she ran towards him and hugged really tight. Their bodies touched each other, so close and so intense that everything felt like out of a boundary, as if they got a marker that selected them around their bodies so as to exclude them from the rest of the world. His fingers were lost in her hair like himself for the past so much time without her and his arms around her were almost of the strength of banyan roots. None around them, her doctor colleagues, her college, the admin block, the residents...none seem to matter!! The Moment had arrived! He held as if to never let go, never ever. Love had met! The moment they exchanged glances few years back, they knew it. It wasn’t just going out. It wasn’t just mere dating. It was something else. It was love. It is Love! And it was in their eyes. He felt as a sailor on a voyage in the ocean of her eyes, a voyage that led to her heart. The soil under their feet dug in. They hugged like they loved. Intensely and purely. A mark had been made in the ground and on their lives. There was so much more happening than just meeting again. It was like breathing again. Living again.

Holding her hand, he stepped back a bit. It was unbelievable. They were right in front of each other after a long time! After conversing with her friends for some time, both of them stood up. The hidden giggle finally came out of her presently vibrant and flamboyant soul. She could not stop kissing him on his cheeks and hugging him! The incessantness of the act was a proof of how unbelievably beautiful and glorious her heart felt at that moment! He, on the other hand could feel her resisting as hard as she could to get her legs stopped from trembling because of the surprise! He kept his hand on her knee, and she calmed down. They exchanged a hug, and sat inside an autorickshaw. They were finally together. Leaving the aroma of their togetherness, the feel of their kisses and the strength of their love in the air, they left to spend the 4 best days of their lives…unsure about when, and most importantly whether, they will meet again or not.

Everything seemed to be like a painting made by the Big man above. A painting made by the Love Brush with profuse amounts of the colors of Jubilance, Happiness, Triumph, Romance, Mushiness and a prominence of Perfectness, all smeared together on the canvas to create an amazing blend of unforgettable moments.

A Bit of Life

2010-02-09T10:10:00.000-08:00

Multiple Personality Disorder: A relatively rare dissociative disorder in which the usual integrity of the personality breaks down and two or more independent personalities emerge.

I read this statement in one of the Saturday supplements of a newspaper. It is of high probability that the psychology students might have begun contriving a plan to hang me as this definition might not be the exact textbook definition, but for the layman I think it is enough to convey the essentialities.

On reading the above definition, my neural highways suddenly experienced thronging traffic of millions of ideas and thoughts. I read the whole story about that person suffering from such a disease, and felt how it would be for someone to recognise his own self in such a mode; several definitions of his identity, enormously confusing conclusions about his own personality and the dejection from his lost soul. I wondered if I would ever meet someone suffering from such a disorder, wishing that no one should actually suffer from this.

And then I realised that I have seen it. I see it daily. There is someone, or rather something I know really well, which suffers from this disorder in its grimmest forms. It is all around me every single moment. It is very famously known as Life.

For those minds which are already lost in a kaleidoscope of conclusions and confusions as to what am I blabbering, I would like to impress upon the fact that if seen clearly, Life suffers from MPD. Remember the time, when we are left abandoned with a very common sentiment nowadays: “WTF!?” Just because a friend whom we expected, and were completely devoid of any fragment of doubt, to say a proxy attendance for us, did not do it even though we got caught thrice saying his proxy a day before!?? Or probably, when that very same friend comes to us the very next day and asks us to cover up for him for his wrongdoing in front of college authorities! “A DOUBLE WTF!!” Such situations, though trivial in nature, lead us to frequently question ourselves:

“How can people change in such a trice?”

“Am I expecting too much from everyone?”

or of the likes

“Is there ANYONE, anyone at all, whom I can call a genuine soul?”.

Or probably, the worst case scenario leads us to the distressing conclusions,

“Maybe I am made to feel this. Maybe I deserve this. Maybe, I am made to undergo this strife.”

Lost in this dubiousness, we never realise one thing. It is not me. Or you. Or him. Or anyone. It is life which is suffering from MPD. One moment it is gleeful, the next it leaves you appalled. One moment you love someone, and a morning later you realise you are finding reasons to hate him/her. One day you feel successful, the next you are lost in self doubts. One moment life seems perfect, the next it feels as it was the worst thing that happened to you ever! It changes its face in a New York minute! If you imagine life as a person, you would never want to imagine the trauma he/she would face by the frequency of multiple changing personalities it undergoes!

On a larger picture, the best example could be love. For those who were once very seriously in love, or rather thought that, and have come a long way since they lost it, there must have been a morning when once they would have woken up and thought:

“Shit. I am not thinking about her!!??!@#!?” :)

Or something like..

“Wow, it’s been 3 weeks, I didn’t even think about talking to him!”... :)

...and you suddenly realise how much has changed. An example of a slow transformation of lifes MPD.

All of a sudden, life seems to have turned into something you could have never imagined sometime back when you were shattered into pieces. Confidence rules.

Life seems blissful.

The moment you get out of bed, and look at the mirror, you realise how beautiful it used to be, with a face besides you in the mirror, which is missing now.

Life seems bleak.

Once again, Life undergoes a makeover in a jiffy. Such prolonged and swift changes in its personality...doesn’t it seem too much to take for a young human brain and heart? Yes It does. And it is. It is this superb frequency of change that we experience in our lives, which is responsible for our instant happiness or instant gloom. These are the alterations which are responsible for us to classify random people to friends, from friends to more than friends, from more than friends to beloved and so on...and yes, in the reverse order too. These are the changes which are responsible for most of our shocks, disappointments, dismays etc. I personally for the same reason hate such changes.

But I guess what I learnt from the past and would like to share with all of you is that these are changes. They cannot be stalled. Our lives are diseased with MPD. I wish there was some cure to this disease, but alas, there is none. Time loves to tickle us. Sometimes also bruise us. And we react incessantly to it. The key is not to.

It is just that life changes. With time, the bruises heal up, the jokes die, the sadness conforms to elation, and the elations mellow down. At the end when you reflect back on the life one fine morning sitting in your chair in the balcony sipping on the coffee, you realise it was nothing but the diseased life. It was just MPD of Life. It was just the change. It was just that time played with us. Tickled us. Sometimes for short intervals, sometimes for years and left us with changes, which sometimes were responsible for smiles, sometimes tears. But its just time. So its better for the youth experiencing gruelling changes and ups and downs in their life, to understand that its just a matter of time. Things shall pass. It is not worth getting upset, wasting time drowned in agony and pain.

Because when you would be sitting in that balcony at the end of your journey, you would for sure know that life goes on...and it goes on...........changing.

An Experience, A Gift... :)

2010-01-31T09:13:00.000-08:00

I remember sitting on a creaky red chair in a marriage party when I must have been nine, or probably a sober ten. The common Indian verbal ruminations about what not in the world, by “who not” Indian females, were in the air all around under the fluttering typical reddish tent. Yes, tent. I am talking about 11 years ago. Anyway, I obviously couldn’t understand such ‘relevant’ women stuff at that time (with not much of a difference to this fact even today when I am 21 :P). This led me to stick to my chair obediently and wait for my parents to finish their miserably important socialising. Keeping me accompany was the chilly weather and the sound of the noisy dhol. In between all the social paranoia, I remember a very strange incident that happened. It happened with me. And the crux is, it was something which was totally unexpected. (Though really felt afterwards...)

Fiddling with the golden button on my baby black suit, I remember someone occupying another chair besides me. Shockingly, it was a girl. And the bigger shock was, she was looking at me. Direct, into the eyes. Actually what was actually a shock was the combo that she was pretty, she was a “girl” and she seemed to be inclined towards breaking a conversation with me. ME! WOW! But with my characteristic straight faced expression (It is still there...for people who know me know it) I looked back and she made a statement, “You know, you are looking so damn cute.” With the help of her stunning smile, she managed to get through pulling my cheeks. (Now you would understand why the shock was “felt” afterwards :P). Later, she just stood up and went away. I was left bedazzled.

The reason for me to gape was the false proving of my own belief that girls don’t, and probably would never talk to me. Later on, I do remember clinging onto dad while walking out to catch an autorickshaw back home (we did not have a car at that time) with one recurrent question:

Me: “Would girls ever talk to anyone like me when I grow old? Would I be able to make even friends, forget about girls?”

Dad: “It is not what you actually think it is.”

Again, very obviously, at ten you cannot expect someone to infer this statement to flamboyant precision. Even I could not. I got nuggets of what it could mean, but I could not decipher exactly. So I ignored and life went on.

11 years later my memory serves me wonders. Life seems to have undergone a complete evolution. Studying engineering in one of the most specialised disciplines, my life, till now has been completely different from what I imagined it to be like. I transformed into a self-believer after eighth grade. Till then I used to bear a lot of appalling comments, disgraceful looks and ignorant gestures. I was no more than a ludicrous dope! Right from the beginning of my school, I used to be below the poverty line in the section of “friends”. Living in the negativity bubble around me, my academics suddenly began to suffer. And suddenly I became broke in the section of “friends”. This struck a chord in me. I decided to walk backwards. And academics became my first step. Somehow things began to fall in place. I began to score well in my school. The world followed. I started reading novels, writing poems, studying academics, debating, gaming, socialising, understanding my culture, trying to become a good person........and what not! I even entered sports, though never could go beyond school level J. Maybe because....because I am differently abled. I realised that maybe I suffered the ignorance and avoidance during my initial life not because I was differently abled, but because I did not try to conquer my life. Maybe because I did not try to win over. Maybe I did not ever think that I CAN DO IT.

Now that I feel I did win over the difficulty and the hurdles, my address book comprises of more contacts of females than males.... ( I guess... :P) And yes, girls DO talk to me. J And I am pretty wealthy in the department of good friends now (like the one on whose request I am writing this post). :P J

So I understood a very important fact, which I would like every struggling person to keep in mind:

“It is not what you actually think it is.”

PS: I actually did not know what to write when I was told to do so. This was an impromptu when I came across a News channels award ceremony dedicated to the differently abled superstars...

Cross posted for my sweet friend here

And Thus I Wrote (Part-II)

2010-01-27T10:10:00.000-08:00

Another one was in the form of a sudden realization that I have stopped writing. Actually, a much fiercer and abominable situation has been the birth of the feel inside me that I might not be able to recoup. Ever again. This realisation has the inherent potential of metamorphosing into a really dreaded situation because writing had been “the vent” for me ever since the demonized downswing. The feel of not being able to write ever again was enough to mess up my mental state of affairs. I have begun to feel like a lost nomad. Of late, I have been attempting to write regularly, but except crushed paper balls in my room and accompanied hopelessness, nothing met me.

But I believe in, “When you are just about to fall off a cliff, the tree branch you accidently cling on to is the perfect definition of a friend.” And that tree branch to me is a very sweet friend and a co-writer who came in contact after a long time and suddenly gave me just what was required for me to SERIOUSLY attempt writing. She kept a condition which left no choices for me other than writing! She said she won’t write on her blog until I write SOMETHING at least and believe that I can write and thus get back to writing. So I had to.
What to write, that was told by another special person in my life. (Believe me I am no better than a lost memory case presently! It feels like I am writing for the first time, which I am obviously not as is seen from my blog!) She just asked me to write something, ANYTHING. According to her, I should NOT try for a masterpiece in getting connected to writing after such a long time. I say, forget master piece, I do not even know if this is worth being called something!
Anyway, there is one more aspect about which I would write soon, (Yes! I have the urge to write at least another post.) Not here, as this is already stretched too far and too long.

And I genuinely do not know what title to give this, but one thing is assured: This is what I FELT. And thus, I wrote.

PS: Thanks to those two special people.

And Thus I Wrote (Part-I)

2010-01-27T10:04:00.000-08:00

I received a mail today forwarded by my sister. It had a story in it. I knew what it was made of. So I didn’t read it. I went to the washroom and splashed water on my face real hard. And stared at the mirror. Actually, I stared at me. And “me” stared back. This faceoff usually is detrimental to the arising mess in my brain. So, it was a relief again. The mail was another attempt by someone who was very close to me to achieve god knows what by making me read it. Actually, I am still unsure whether to use “was” would be correct. But I guess the blistering and eventful past that I had, left me with no other option. There are similar mails, which lead to similar mirrors, which in turn lead to similar stares and similar thoughts that I encounter. The point is, all this happens almost daily. I have lost account of the time since when all this has been an integral component of my already undefined and random life.

Phew. I finally got an OK from my conscience for the above paragraph. I say so because I have been experiencing an intensely choked up, stagnated mind state since a long time now. Imagine to be forcefully stuffed in a half your size air bag, your and the bags mouth sealed with a scotch tape, limbs tied around with dry, rough jute ropes and silently placed in the middle of the room where people are doing heavy breathing yoga exercises to relax themselves, with none of them opening their eyes so that they could see you and help you! Height of mental and physical exertion? That is what has been my mode of living, rather existence, for the past many months. In every domain, irrespective of its nature, I have been feeling the same. And I really have no clue what to do. Relationships (I am not only talking just about the “youth love”, it includes friends, families, acquaintances and some undefined but special ones too), academics, hobbies, interests...everything has been facing a major blow.

One of the major setbacks has been the totally unexpected end to 2009. I had my 5^th semester exams over, and it was no less than the end of a mini world war. I was jubilant and exulting in high spirits. All the frenzy and excitement with which I came back home got snapped off in a moment. In one phone call. It was the New Years Eve and all that I was expecting from her call was a wish. No, she was not the girl with whom I was in a relationship. In very recognizable terms, she was not my Girlfriend. She was someone who was (still have doubts about using the past tense, how I wish I had been left with an option) very close to me. She held an extremely special place in my life. A girl whom I loved. But not as my girlfriend. Just as someone.........someone whom I LOVED FROM THE CORE OF MY HEART. I had gone through a very vehement downswing in my life 2 years back just for the fact I got committed in a relationship. She came to the rescue and made me believe. I didn’t want to repeat that downswing. Just the fact that I really liked her as a person and that she was there, was enough. But I guess not for her. She had one question. What about the future. I said I am 21 only. She said I love you a lot but cannot carry on like this without a relation or future commitment. All this when the world stepped forward into 2010. I for a change, had nothing to say. I had another blow. I wanted to return to 2009.

Hey..

2009-12-21T00:45:00.000-08:00

Huh..finally. I am back. Again! :P Yes, I return again to this world of words and emotions. I have no clue what to say and what not to about my absence. The only thing that I can say is that this habit of intermittent appearances that I possess is actually not intentional. Its the outcome of ENGINEERING!

But the ironical shit is that, last time when I was on a writing spree, my "ENGINEERING" end semester exams for the 4th semester were going on. Today, when I decide to return to this, I have just entered my room after giving my end semesters again! I have no idea what kind of a drive do my final exams instill in me that I really feel like writing. Or maybe its the more probable reason that I can think of: Ab kuch ho nahi sakta, jitna padhna tha padh liya, 10 din ke baad ghar jaana hai, so relax!" :P

However, the interesting part is, that whenever I think of relaxing during my exams, I think of blogging. For people who know me know that I have blogged mostly to vent out. Not to display my literary skills, or that I have ample time in my hands that I feel like playing with the keyboard and play "tap-tap". I have no explanation, why do i feel like venting out ONLY during my exams. I just do. And this is what I feel like now.

Anyway, its been time that I wrote something. Not that I am a master of the pen, but still I feel all of you who read me must be missing me a lot :P ..

So guys I am back, (no guarantee till when will I stay.. :P i am serious!!) and I have to write. Stuff has been happening. Good, bad, dirty, fun, etc.. So here I am.. this is me...! (With due respect to Bryan adams. :P)

Chao...

Place for my head!

2009-07-24T02:40:00.001-07:00

I am wondering why I am writing here when I usually prefer a paper, that too which is kept to myself. But then I looked around and glanced at the clock. 3.10pm. And I realised that this is the second time I am waking up in a day. I cant find a paper and a pen. No one is at home. Brother out for tuitions, mom and dad on work....and me...On this couch where I fell asleep 3 hours ago after having breakfast. Fell asleep again...3 hours ago.

Sometimes what happens, you are sitting in a bus(whatever), and your glance lands on an aged man in the corner of the street busy in his chore. And your mind starts building image of the personality about that person. And you reach on a conclusion about his family, maybe he is living alone etc. You think "He must be around 50-60, with a small house, earning his daily wages..Maybe he is arrogant, and is not in good health.....his wife and kids are living alone some kms away. Maybe he had sacrificed a lot for his family and now is living alone for them to be happy. Maybe he was a kind soul, yet arrogant, and person with values......." ...and what not. You draw out a complete image of his heart and his life. And mind you, all this takes just a split second i.e. as your bus(whatever) turns around that corner.

The other side of the coin is you come across a person, whom you talk to, unlike the old man at that street. Whom you become friends with. Whom you just...just like to talk to. And so you do. For hours and days and months.........And you rest yourself in the comfort that the person is one with whom you can be great friends with! And that you know them! And you quickly, add that person on all the social networking giants on which you spend most of the time of your day. And you are happy. That you found a good friend! And when you talk for a long time, you like talking more. With every passing day, that friend of yours, becomes more special. And adds on to write in your "Life Book" a new chapter. Without you realising it. One fine day you realise it, and its not LOVE that I am talking about here. You just realise the darkness of the ink with which this chapter was written in the book. Its DARK and engraved. Like a kid who writes hard pressed with a dark pencil for the first time in his school notebook. It feels good that it has been written. That someone, is so close that HE can edit YOUR "Life Book".

And one fine day, maybe a decade later, while you amble across that same corner of the street, you remember. That bus ride. You walk up to a nearby store to ask about the old man, and you get to hear this:

"How a good man he was though a bit arrogant. In his mid 50's he succumbed to bad health. Living alone in an old shack, he used to garden here to earn daily wages as he lost his job. And all that because of his cunning wife who lives with their kids at a distance of few kms. Sacrificed a lot for them. A man of values he was."

And it feels like déjà vu. You sit alone sipping your favourite coffee. The past cascades in front of you. Its tough to feel, that your favourite networking site doesnt have that "SPECIAL PERSON" anymore. And you flip through the pages of your "Life Book" to find that chapter. Its still there, written in the darkest of ink. But what you see, is that it has been earmarked, and left in midway...........just because a decade earlier, someday your conscience realised that you never KNEW them.

You still knew that old man on the street.

And you get your stomachs filled with a lump that travels up to your throat, choking your conscience. A stinging realisation strikes you. That maybe you were just ballistic in life. You never stopped. And questioned yourself, "Do I KNOW this person?"

And suddenly the page was left half written, because KNOWING is not easy....

Summer '09 - A lavish explanation!

2009-07-20T04:06:00.000-07:00

Delhi's temperature is escalating by the day. So I got another AC installed at my place, in the hallway this time. (This step was specially taken for my mum who faces the kitchen heat everyday!) Now I am sitting here. Earlier I used to sit in my own room which, obviously, doesn't have an AC (I am not a descendant of a super filthy rich ancestry, quite the opposite I guess..). But somehow, I feel this AC had a different effect. Because I feel like "writing". After exactly 40 days since I last wrote something.

Anyway, first I would like to describe my absence. My exams started and I had to disappear, and then vacations of more than 2 months were round the corner. I returned home, and was gifted with the news that out of those two months of my holidays, I had to spend 1 interning. So bags packed, and by the end of the first week I was out. A complete travel freak, with sheer clarity I absolutely carved out the frolic journey that I was about to experience. Though I did not even guess, or care to guess, that the frolic would get blotted with patches of quest: about my own self.

Ok, so on the 3rd June late afternoon, the humid greasy late afternoon welcomed me at Ahmedabad airport. It had been over 5 years since I last visited Gujarat. So I realised that this was the 6th time now. My destination was around 2 hours from Ahmedabad. I left the airport by mid late evening, and crossed Baroda and Surat on the way. Though just touching the outskirts of Surat. Reaching the destination, I was told that I had to shifted to the site immediately, which was again 140kms away. The weather mellowed down, with a greyness and cool around. And the person driving the car, I guess, figured out that I loathed lousy speeds. So he pressed the accelerator.....enough to make the air hit my face hard enough. And make me smile as approaching milestones swished past me..........

I reached the site in one hour. Got my accomodation. Settled down, and was told to start work from the next day. I loved the place. The weather. The people. There was hardly any thing that I did not like. Umm...actually there was. My laptop charger got screwed up by the first weekend. And my phone after 3 days of the above disaster. I became restive. Damn frustrated. Though I somehow managed to cure my phone problem, I missed my laptop for the whole period of one full month. Another reason why I could not write. (Reason : Excuse :P).

Anyhow, I started working. 8am to 8pm. Nothing else except work. I used to come online for some wee hours of the night, but blogging was something that I just could not manage. I used to feel like a thoroughly beaten ass by the end of the day due to the work and writing in such an awesome situation was something that I could not afford. I was still human guys. :). Days passed with me working like a full time rented ass, who wasnt provided the liberalness of anything except having his food. That too, if generosity prevailed beyond humane limits.

Two weeks passed and an incredible twist was in store for my modus operandi since I started. I had to meet a really close friend. We met and had fun for four eventful days. For me that acted as a lumpful breather. I relaxed and the beauty of that time is impeccable. A substantial break from work was essential. And such a beautiful break....nothing better that i could have asked for.

"Nothing remains." I knew it. And in less than an eye twitch, I found myself again playing ping pong with tons and tons of iron. And also trying to reason out my decision of coming for my interns. But as I read somewhere very recently, "To have a gain of something, you've got to loose everything first." So work followed. And I followed it.

For the next 15days, I met people, talked on phone, (too much...damn too much..), completed a project ALONE (Supposedly, to be done by 4 people), and waited. WAITED FOR THE LAST DAY. AND MY FIRST EVER TRIP TO MUMBAI!

3rd July 2009, my last day of interns, I could see my bag packed. And I smiled. By the end of June, the rains had set in properly, and it was coldly misty and windy all throughout my way to the railway station. And again, the car was speeding. And again, I was loving it. I got in the train, it shunted, with me sitting by the wet, dripping wet window, and it left the station. It was one beautiful journey. I met people, which I had never done before. I had been to the North, the South and the Central belt of India. But in the West region, no where apart from Rajasthan and Gujarat. As mentioned earlier, being a travel freak I really savored the trip. And rains! They added to the flavour .....

Dadar Jn., 6.45 pm
3rd July 2009.

Yes. I was there! Mumbai welcomed me with...the very famous, Mumbai Rains. The welcome on the station was much better though. I went to a friends place to stay overnight. We discussed college, upcoming results, my journey, women (not those from college! PLEASE!), food, plans for my stay in Mumbai etc. I had to meet two more of my friends who were doing their interns in Mumbai itself and I was excited. Next morning I woke up to this view from the window of the room:

Meeting my other friends at VT, the four of us went to Gateway, (Rainy Gateway!), Taj (Rainy Taj!), and I was exuberant! Seeing such a beauty, which I could not ever find in Delhi, I regretted the short stay I had planned for Mumbai. Marine Drive, Chaupati, Gateway, Taj, Causeway....and what not. Though I know I could not have covered a lot, I was still satisfied. The next day was another beautiful experience. I spent the whole day with special people and attended the workshop that was planned with a very good friend. The nights and the days were memorable. The next day I met a friend for lunch and spent the day with another very good friend. However the night was unimaginable. LITERALLY. I was with two of my very close friends, and we had planned dinner together. And marine drive was added to the plan. So I was at marine drive at 12.30am. Bliss, for me atleast. But my mood wasnt the way I had imagined it to be. I could not even think. Something happened and ...........and the "quest-blot" was there.

Another main reason I did not feel like writing for more than 10days now.

Though with a complex ending, this was one hell of a time I spent. And thus could not blog. Work was tiring, but hell interesting. Imagine, what you just read in books and see in pictures and read in long boring paragraphs, everything happening right in front of you! And then meeting people, friends, some for the first time, some for the nth time! And that too in Rainy Mumbai!

Now I am back in Delhi. Hope that I remain regular. Though it might take time for revival, but the spirit in me is surely poking me in the ribs. And waking me up....

(By the way people, I got royally screwed up right now for keeping the AC on for hours continously............. :P) .

Just A Human

2009-06-10T10:43:00.000-07:00

Hi ppl...i know i disappeared for a long time. Though im wondering how many of you missed me... :P (thinking...thinking... :D) anyway...dis is my post after a very long tym.... and i hope its worth a try...after a long time!

I dont want this to go bad,
I dont want this to be this way,
Swallowing your memories everyday...

I dont want it to crawl,
Like a baby after a fall,
I dont want it to bleed an ocean at all.....

Then why,
Why dont i feel you anymore,
But still i dont wanna let this go..

Why,
Why do I wait for your call,
When i dont wanna say a word at all..

Lifes been busy, so am I,
So are you, and so is Time,
People came and went,
Some became foes..some became friends,
Still you stood strong, firm and unswyaed,
In my heart, that felt betrayed,
Yet for 8 painful months, it unfailingly craved........

I miss going mad about you,
I dont know if you do,
I miss that hiding under the pillow,
During nights when lights went off, but hidden smiles still glow,
I miss the long phone calls, I miss the messages leaving me blue,
I still miss that love, that I showered on my "baby" you...

But you turned it this way,
No words were left to say,

I fell on my knees and bruised my heart,
Cried and shouted, on seeing you depart...

But you didnt look back,
And just went away,
Girl, i wish you knew,
How i spent every single day....

Booming voices haunted my nights,
Empty desires filled the day,
Silence dawned with every rising sun,
An atheist fell on knees to pray...!

And now you reappear, afer 8 agonizing months,
In the moon while i was staring at it,
And say that "You love me",
And say that you want me..

I am left bedazzled,
I am benumbed,
And then i am elated!
To see you return..!

I wanna hug, i wanna kiss,
I wanna ask, what was this!!?

But here the hell falls apart,
I feel accustomed, to the vacant heart,
Betrayal engulfs the soul of me,
I feel nothing, but an uprooted tree...

You say "Forget the past",
"Lets make a new start",
I wish I had a potion to drink,
Which would sprout love in my heart...

I see the mirror
And just a pair of eyes stare back,
No body no soul, No feelings to hold...

You left me stranded, and questions grew,
And now you are back, and want nothing to brew?
How do you think thats possible girl,
I loved you a lot, But i lived lonely too.....

I wish we talked it out,
I wish it to be back,
I wish you tell me HOW TO BELIEVE YOU.....

My soul wants answers,
To the barbarism it went through,
I wish to love you back again,
But with a love that is true..

I wish you knew what it feels like,
To want and not want the one you loved,
I wish you knew what it feels like,
To spend a wait, thats hell above...

I just dont want it to go bad,
I dont want it to be this way,
I just wish you understand,

Girl I am Just A Human..
A simple Human every day.....

Girl i am Just a Human...
A simple human everyday..........................................

PS: apreciations, and criticism both awaited eagerly... :P

The Moment (Part III)

2009-04-27T20:58:00.001-07:00

Hi guys!..Me back with the third part.... :) Hope you enjoy this.... Have fun!! ;) The first two are:
1- here
2- here

The Journey

"Abe kya hua.....?" His friend nudged him. And the picture dissolved. The picture of his Wonder Girl. He was still fighting with his thoughts. When something frustrating of this magnitude happens, and people expect you to 'relax' and be 'normal'; its all the more frustrating. Sitting in that autorickshaw, with his feet rested on his suitcase, he looked at Bangalore swifting past him, with the wind slapping hard against his "Gulgula Cheeks". Gulgula .... with this word he felt, as if his mind shifted gears. To the present.

They stepped off the auto. His friend paid the autowallah as he stepped at the entryway, flanked by rose bushes and moneyplants and a marble staircase leading to the floors above. He waited for his friend, and as he was staring at the beautiful flat, he got the usual one on the back of his head. "Come on, move!" And he sensed he made a joke of himself. He was staring at the wrong house. It was the one besides. Absent mindedness was his virtue since he became aware of himself, which is every single morning. So he moved to the flat, which surely did look like a room on rent for an engineering student. Black patches of worn off paint on the walls, typical dusty floor, half broken steps of the cemented stairs ...and what not! They went in, and the aroma of food greeted them. Their stomachs seemed to purge gastric juices like the water spewed out of a gardners thin pipe, and they understood the call of hunger. Without further delay, he was asked to get fresh and appear for lunch...at the floor, on the widespread clothsheet, unlike his expectations of a dining table. But his adaptability rescued him. He went for a shower, and the soothingly refreshing water shut his mind and relaxed every inch of his scalp. And then restarted his mind. And it struck to him. Tomorrow, he would be having lunch with her. After a span of 2 years. And he smiled.

After the food, lounging on the bean chair was the best idea. It had been an hour or so since they got over with lunch, and discussing about last year coaching classes. The smooth wind caressing him, and his hair freshly fluffy, he stood up with his cup of cappuccino, he could see almost a lot of Bangalore from this terrace. And memories, and excitement erupted as a combination. They both discussed, about meeting after a year, about what all they encountered in the past year, about lost friends, about not getting through exams, about not becoming doctors but engineers! Anything and everything under the blue moon. Friendship blossomed after a very long time, as this young college life gifted them one thing both were seeking since last year: Peace.

The sun faded away, and dusk set in. Afternoon in Bangalore also seemed like an evening time. Atleast to him, as he was used to the hot, sweaty and humid Delhi air. They had fun talking about everything, and now it was time to move out. Roam around in Bangalore. Discover what he had not in the previous visit. They went to his friend's college, and he enjoyed the visit. As soon as they were about to walk back to the room, after having a hot chocolate fudge each, after he was shown the beauty around (both scenic and otherwise), he recollected that he had to buy something. A gift. A gift for her. Tomorrow he would travel 300 kms away from this place. Just to see her after 2 long, patient and uptight years. A conscious , beautiful yet humming excitement filled his heart. And he bought the gift..smiling at his own stupid, lovestruck self. All his friend used to ask him was, "Hua kya hai tujhe? I know tu yahaan kyun aaya hai...but fir bhi??!!! Are you insane?" And his consistent unwavering reply woould be, "Tu nahi samjhega."

Next morning the train was supposed to be boarded at 6:00 am. But owing to the 3 movies and "college life fun stuff" last night with his friend and his three other friends, he realised that it was 9:00am when he woke up. Laughing at themselves, they got ready and he asked his friend the remaining alternatives. "Catch the earliest bus. Main tujhe Majestic pe drop kardunga." Without delay they left. And dropping him at Majestic, for a first time journey to the destination, his friend left, wishing him best of journey and a safe one more importatntly. Attributing to the hurry and the excitement, he just jumped in an average bus, and left Bangalore at around 9:45am. All that was left now, was just the meeting. After just about 6 hours. It seemed like a dream come true. And considering the fact that she had the knowledge that he would be arriving three days from present day, this surprise arrival would surely be eventful and memorable!

Witnessing the beauty on the way, he did not sleep for even a fraction of second. The company in the bus was not really one to keep him busy. So his headphones, and the cool breeze were his friends. The sight of windmills at a distance, on the mountains, looked like a call. A call towards love. The flashback started. Her vibrant face lit up as he closed his eyes. The moments together, the warm hugs, the numerous passionate kisses, the unparalleled fun, the annoying tease statements, the coaching class footsie, the class bunks to be together, the assuring hand holds, the early morning fights, the unending phone conversations all throughout the nights....everything became vividly alive and tingled him somewhere inside. He was sure... something memorable is so damn sure to happen!

He walked towards the gate and could see her friend with whom he made the plan to surprise her. Surprise her by arriving 3 days earlier than she was told. Her friend waved energetically enough to confirm him that she was his partner in crime! They met and took the next step as decided...bring her there for a random reason. Her friend went to find her. He stood there. There, in front of the gate, near that dhaba. The view of the walkway from where she would come was blocked as he stood just besides, sticking to the wall at the turn. Yet far away from the turn. The surprise element was gripping him from inside. He was about to see her. Damn! It was happening. Everything inside him was haywire, but unlike girls, he could not let it get revealed on his descriptive, now red hot excitement filled face. Unknowingly his feet were tapping alternately, and his palms rabbing against each other.

Then all movement was paused. He could hear the footsteps, standing at a distance from the corner, sticking to the wall. Steps of many people walking. Like 3-4 of them.

His breath suddenly fell deep in his throat, he could feel his stomach intensely churning as the steps came real close, just around the corner...

PS: Guys I had to rush somewhere, so will update it soon. I guess it might be having some mistakes... :D

Often..

2009-04-24T12:21:00.000-07:00

Often the path of "undisputed" love,
Unbelievably weakens and gets pinned down,
By the blood stained hands of the malevolent destiny,
With scars of petty mistakes bleeding around..

Often we wonder why and how,
Smiles metamorphosed into grieving lours,
Why that site becomes the foulest one,
Where we spent our myriad hours...

Then Often we wish,
To return.
To Walk down the lane,
And reach the Turn..

Where we once stood holding their hand,
But now all that remains is a barren land...

So here, at this restive turn,
We wish, and cast a deadly spell,
Rip apart the sky...flame the Earth,
And careen.. and fall, to wake up in hell..

But we choose this agony..to survive it, In hope..
In hope to reunite the two soul gores,

And thus we parley so much more..

Parley in symphony with demons of hell,
With the very famous demon known as "DaYs Of YoRe" (DoY)!

And we fight, we argue, we fight, we lose,
We win, we lose, we fail with moves,
We adopt to IGNORE, but DoY scores!
Hauls the memories out of our grooves!

And like this we struggle, alone till months,
Fighting one on one the likes of DoY,
And with the "Sword of Patience" and "The Faith Gun",
Victorious you rise! But then you fall mum..

The redness of fire dissolves and its silent,
The place is now Heaven blue, with nothing as violent...

And then you hear the steps,
The walk of a very familiar form,
And out of the white haze,
You see THEM!

THEM, for whom you were bruised for months prolonged!

And a sudden light spreads around,
Engulfs the two of you, and jars you down,
And you wake up with THEM lying in your arms,
So tranquil yet bruised, you kiss them around..

Often this is a story thats seen around,
And Often it happens with people who love,
Its a wish not to soil it again and keep it crowned,
Because Often ...this LOVE is pure as dove...

The Moment (Part II)

2009-04-22T11:31:00.000-07:00

Hey guys.. Here's the second one...! ;P Cheers :)

The Journey
As his head collided with the wall of the train compartment, he managed to take a glance first at his watch and then outside the window. It was 5 am. He could hear the monotone of the "chaiwalla" which confirmed their halt at a station. He managed to look out with his heavy, tired eyes after clearing the hazy glass window. The dawn was on the verge of greeting him. It was bluish-white, windy and supposedly cold outside. He could see the red cloth getting swayed high up and vanishing in the air of Bina Jn. He was weel versed with the way now. Every station and its timing was etched subtly in his memory. Discarding every suggestion his mind put forth, he slided down back and was about to close his eyes. When his eyes fell on something. Something so captivating that he could not sleep anymore! He positioned himself to the maximum view and got fixed.

Alight by the blueness of the pre-dawn light, the girl in front seemed to be having the best sleep of her life. The blanket was just below her chin, as if intentionally slided down by God to let her pearlish, smooth and fairly white face light up the surroundings. The air inside the compartment was slowly meddling with her blonde tresses making the streaks slip and fall on her smooth cheeks with their ends falling on her thin yet seducing lips. He could feel the bewilderment caused to him. He routinely checked if someone around him was awake and staring at him perplexed at the beautiful sight. He could have wished for nothing better. And those moments were interrupted by a lady. Oh! How he cursed her! How he wanted to pause that moment of eloquent beauty! But as he wished for more the train screechingly came to a halt. He was about to move. But, she moved first.

Opening her angelic eyes, he looked towards him. And got conscious. Sat up straight, and slided near the window. She yawned and stretched reluctantly, conscious about her impeccable beauty.
He got conscious too, of his not-so-finely carved actions as she had. But what men are known for, he too was busy in portraying "cool" and "I-dont-care" attitude. When she struck.

Her: "Where have we reached?"

Him: (Looking towards her with extreme "coolness" and fumbles) Itawa...oh sorry...Itarsi Jn.

Her: Ohk! Thank You.

She took out her phone and called someone. After disconnecting the call, she comforted herself on the seat and looked out. He gathered all courage and blurted:

Him: Going to Bangalore?

Her: (Smiling) Yes.

Him: So you belong to Delhi or just paid a visit here?

Her: Arre nahi, main to dilli me hi rehti hun. Near east of kailash. Bangalore to bas relatives se milne jaa rahi hun. Tum kahaan se ho?

He never expected such comfort from her! Not at all! She sounded like she knows him since her birth! And he replied:

Him: Delhi se hi hun. Just completed my first semester of college. Chuttiyan thi to doston se milne jaa raha hun.

Her: Ohk! So you seem to be more of a "all-for-my-friends" person! Masti karne ka plan hai poora!?

And something inside him took a sigh of relief! And they hit off! Lunch time approached and both of them knew almost every detail about wach other. He told he stared at her in the morning, she hit him with her hands. She told him that she was scared of him in the starting, and he gave her a hi-five for theor friendship now! They went to the train door, stood there. Whole afternoon. They laughed upon the fact that why did they pay for the A/C ticket if they had to stand out only! They gossiped endlessly. Around 6, they reached Dharmavaram. And they stepped off the train on the platform.

The evening sky greeted them. They took a plate of daal-pakoda and shared it. The train moved, and they ran towards it! Climbed it and laughed their hearts out! Nothing awkward had happened yet. And there wasn't any scope if it either. Acoording to him only. They teased each other, exchanged phone numbers, exchanged hugs, and became best of friends. The journey was perfect. They had dinner together, played a game of checkers, discussed about their professional goals, about their families, about their interests, likes and dislikes...anything and everything under the sky! He felt like as if this was better than reaching Bangalore. They conversed till 3am. Talking on every random topic they could. Talking endlessly. When finally she said that she was hell tired and wanted to sleep. He agreed. But before dozing off, she struck again:

She: Oye! Idhar aa...
He: (Leaning Forward)
She: (Planted the smoothest and the most caressing kiss on his cheek)
He: Ye kya tha?
She: Kuch nahi...aish kar! Aur so ja!

Next morning something awkward did happen. He woke up at 11.30 and was amazed at a note in his pocket which read:

"Hi idiot,
Remember I didnt tell you something yesterday at Dharmavaram? I am suffering from breast cancer. I was not going to Bangalore. I will get off at 5am. You are snoring like a bear! I am going to get myself checked. Infact to get myself confirmed, that am I really gonna survive only 3 months or can I expect myself on this Earth for a bit longer time.

You commented that I came across to you as a girl who doesnt fear anything. Yes I dont! Coz' I dont fear death now! Its been 6 months now since i was diagnosed. And it doesnt matter anymore. Theres just one thing that matters to me now. YOU. Yes I Love You! I know thats bad but I can't help it! And I am as usual chirpy and telling you this with all my cuteness. So smile.

And by the way, we won't meet ever. And won't be able to talk also. (The no. I gave you is wrong. I didnt want you to go mad trying to contact me!) And nothing is SERIOUS. I JUST LIKE YOU. So dont be caring and sad as usual and dont think about me. Just take care of yourself and live life happily! I hope you find a girl who loves you lot! And takes care of you and your bhullakadness! I am happy. I will be happy always, even after leaving this world. (Maybe because I met you in the last moments!) Dont you worry.

Ok ab mera station aa raha hai. Mujhe jaana hoga. (Picchli baar bhi teri wajah se hi chhootne wala tha!) Please khush rahiyo and be with your family. Children are treasures of their parents. Make them proud.

Mmmwaah! Bbye!

Yours,
Wonder Girl. :)"

He didnt know what to do. He couldnt absorb it. He just couldnt. He went to the washroom and cried his heart out. Feeling light he returned to his seat. In just 3o some hours, he met a beautiful human being, me awarded her the place of one of the most treaured relations he had in his now lost heart. And now he had to delete the place. He had to erase everything. It was damn tough.

Sitting at the seat, the sun shone upon him. He couldnt feel it. How he wished he could see his wonder girl once again and scold her. And then hug her. How he wished he would have guessed her feelings. He just considered her a very good friend. How could he not see it in her! And then he knew. Her eloquent beauty enshrouded her feelings. Her pearlish fairly white faced decieved him. Her blonde hair hid every single of her desires under it. How he wished he could have told her that he is already commited. That he is going to meet his someone special to Bangalore.

Lost in his agonizing wishes, he saw the yellow board of Bangalore Jn. nearing him. The train halted. He stepped off the train and tried to forget the incident as a nightmare. But it failed. It was tagged. Embedded in him. He did not tell anyone about this ever in future. He just wondered, "Can anything be more spontaneously hurting? Can anything be more devastating?"

And securely placing the journey and "Her" on the sacred pedestal named "My Wonder Girl" in himself, he stepped ahead and greeted his friend with a smiling face, and a crying heart...

An accidental morning... (ewww!)

2009-04-21T17:59:00.000-07:00

At this point of time, I am experiencing such vivid twirls in my heart, that it makes me go bonkers in my brain. Its 6:31 am and the first thought that came to my mind was, "What the hell am I doing online at this time? Am I really awake!!? Or is it a dream that refuses to establish its identity! How the hell could you commit this sin of getting up so early!!" Running in the meadow of my beautiful thoughts, some erogenous, some tempting me enough to just close my eyes and just fall back to sleep, others alarming me of the conscious battle fury which I engaged myself into last night, dedicated towards making a decision of studying this semester... I decide to just pen down my state right now.

Why am I wasting time here on net? I should be studying instead! That was the primer. The frozen nerve feeling at my pinky, arising from the elbow joint managed to dissuade me from me drawing conclusions. I got reminded of this friend of mine. A very close friend. According to her, I 'malfunction' after 12 o'clock in the night. And again in the morning with the sun, I transcend into this personality of a normal engineering student. I wonder how this is possible? Have I grown into one classic case of BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder)? What crap am I thinking at 6:30 in the morning!!!!!!!!!!

I break my reverie with the help of her reminiscences fruiting inside me. I get this non familiar feeling of discomfort inside me. Surprizingly discomfort as this wasn't associated with her. Actually, this shouldn't be associated with her. Like you jolt, when you accidently touch a metallic frame of a cooler without earthing, I too jolted, though all inside on the thought of her being with me again. I so wish not to think about it. Successfull in this attempt to curb this feeling, I draw out the curtains to let the sunshine embrace my face and make it warm..I open my eyes and let the light fall upon me..and then it clicked:

"To hell with everything, its just 6:45! Go to sleep moron!!"

And allowing myself for this, I fall back on this routine hostel bed of mine, with this blue printed bedsheet, and just wonder, "how damn random can my life be? I woke up at 6:30 in the morning to write this thing!!!?? Do I really need medical care?

No, maybe its just the "malfunction". And I enjoy it. It lets me introspect in my mad mad way. Though its some crappy, insignificant stuff that breeds in my useless brain, it does find its significance on its own at some later point in time. In life. And what could be more comforting than the feeling of knowing yourself, knowing your desires and being able to soul-search with effectiveness? This could be enough to eradicate the evil around in humanity if people dwell upon their innerselves. Just randomly like it happened with me this accidental morning. And then this applies:
"If you know what you want, then you know how to work towards getting it." Simple.

The Moment(Part I)

2009-04-20T21:38:00.000-07:00

Hey guys..this is something which I wanted to post for a long time now. A series, with its first part right here. Hope you enjoy reading...!

THE BEGINNING
"Yes its happening!" He enjoyed this tingling echo which he felt every 10 minutes now! Fiddling with his plans continuously, he packed his suitcase and waited eagerly for the taxi to arrive. His parents were experiencing utmost joy seeing their son smiling like never before. Acknowledging the happiness, he stood up. Went and hugged his mom and said, "Maa, thank you for this." And he heard the horn. Retaining the giddiness, he hugged everyone and almost ran down the stairs and seated himself in the car. This was the beginning of the journey.

All the way to the station he had postulated. About this step of his. Just for her. Just for both of them. After 1.5 years this was happening! And that too like this! He stepped at Platform No. 1 of New Delhi Railway Station. The usual paranoia of the place failed to disengage him from his giddiness. Monday night was surely a busy day at the station. A push here and a pull there..everything was perfect. The same lady clad in a green suit, was at the enquiry. He knew her. She waived at him and expressed her wish to talk to he. He managed his way in the cubicle and sat besides her, and she came up with her usual question, "Ab Kahaan?"

Him: "Bangalore".

Her: "Firse?"

Him: "Haanji aunty, but picchli 4 baar ki tarah, is baar exam denen nahi jaa raha!"

Her: "Then for what?"

Him: "Arre nothing, just to meet a friend. Summer break in college so planned this."

Her: "Ok!"

And someone demanded her to do her job and she got busy. She didnt know which friend. She could even guess an ounce of excitement that he posessed at that instance. He left and bought himself a Sprite and waited at the bench. And in 15 mins, at around 8.45 pm he could hear the shunting of the train. He boarded it and searched for his berth. He wished for good company. And seeing a beautiful girl right in front of him, his wish was granted..like it had been for the past 3 months of his life! 36 hours of journey awaited him. Tucking his suitcase under the seat, and covering himself in is warm blanket, he made himself comfortable. The train moved in the typical suddenness. A suddenness that somehow complemented the darkness out of the window. And the chilly cold inside the A/C compartment. The sound of Nickelback greeted his ears as he put the headphones on. With cute kids playing around, and this beautiful girl buried consciously in her Robin Cook novel, he felt it. Its going to be just about perfect. Like The Beginning, the journey was surely going to be one of his best...

PS: I write here too.

The Unexplainaible

2009-04-17T21:50:00.000-07:00

A man started penning down his diary entry as usual.

"Dear diary,
This would be my last entry.

"Lift the lid. It would be underneath my plate..yes, that one. The brown one." His cracked voice seemed to consume all the breath he collected the 2 struggling hours. Shivering hands, and an impregnable desire in his blind eyes, led me to do what he requested. I picked it up and blew off the dust from the hardbound cover. There it was embedded in bold magenta, the words, "Diary 1958".

The sounds of the vintage cars, the wailing of the kids in the market, the beer cans on the streets and the trucks thumping up and down the lanes... Germany was full of life on a sunny October afternoon. His hair and the sunlight were true lovers. They could not be seperated. There was this peculiar yet familiar zing around his character. He possessed a very prominent spark in him. The one which you get when you feel that you are the happiest...you are on top of this materialistic world. When you achieve something as rare as true peace. It was this spark that drove me to him. Everyday at 2pm. Regularly, now...for the past 12 years.

I looked at the rusted clock behind me. I can look now, was a random feeling that arose. Its been 9 years since that smoke made me blind, and I underwent an eye transplant. But this random feeling arises in me very frequently now. Flipping through the pages with sheer disinterest, I glanced at him. He was smiling. I wished that I could ask, "Do you realise I have other patients to attend? Can you be quick?" But I couldnt because i just couldnt be rude to him. So I asked,"Abel, which part do you really want me to read out to you?" He replied in his broken, husky, and now typical Abel Goldstein voice, "I wish you could read all of it out to me, but now as you can't, read after March 1979. And be loud."

He said that like a weak command. But I began. With the doubt-"why is he making me read aloud his own diary?" I could not decipher the logic. Ignoring the desire to decipher, I started reading. There were mentions of his new job, the new apartment he bought, his first self paid trip to Frankfurt, his first love..every random incident of his life was inked in blue on those dry parchment like pages. As I reached September 1979, I started feeling awkward. Terribly awkward. I felt immobilized.

I read something:

"September 18th, 1979.

Today you gave birth to my boy. I am so happy! I want to fly! I cannot control my emotions when I touch his pulpy head, see his engrossing stare! I thank you, Samantha, for being my wife. I love you like anything..Today you gave me the most precious gift of my life. I wont forget bed No. 312 on which you lie right now. I promise I would die on it. I am so happy for both of us. I know you love me a lot. I so wish your father accepts us. I know thats not a possibility, as I am a doctor, and he doesnt want a doctor as your husband. I know you must be having thoughts troubling you in your mind about deciding not to drop the child and bring him him to life without marrying me. But I promise we would marry. Thank you sweetheart. I love you."

October 21st, 1979

This would be my last entry. Samantha, you promised you wont leave me...I never imagined this would happen. Your father didnt kill YOU, he killed both of us. I have no strength left to write anything more. I would just like to say one thing. I named him Ron. Ron Baker. I donated him to an orphanage 20 days back. I dont know why I did that. Maybe because I had to marry someone else. But I promise I would be around him always. You would always be my wife, and he..my son. I love you both."

I read this sentence and he asked for his diary. He kept it upside down on himself and placed both his hands on it. I froze on the chair I was sitting on, and kept staring at him...lying there unmoved.

Next morning, HE died of unknown reasons. And I witnessed his death with my eyes....rather his eyes. And this was the game.

Dr. Ron Baker
October 21st, 2008."

US!

2009-04-17T10:36:00.000-07:00

Where the door is not shut, instead it is slammed,
Where the most important thing to us is our CS Clan,
The day always starts after dinner, and ends in a "Damn!",
We call that place a "Hostel", where life always hits a bang!

The eyes struggle open two minutes before class,
The hunger is excruciating, we can agree to eat yellow grass!
Still we get up, and wear a week old uniform,
And run to class to face a sleepy storm!

And a realization gets born, in our half asleep conscience,
"This is the last day, from tomorrow all this should end",
And the moment we step in our actually filthy but "clean" den,
The resolution decays like Uranium as we pretend!

And the days fly by, and we forget whats a breakfast,
Movies are our food for soul, 3 a day, or 1 on a fast,
Pranks become a way of life, the musics on 24hours,
Undisputed freedom lies within, restrictions become a thing of the past...!!

All goes well till the time arrives,
4 days for the first exam is what we are supposed to realise,
"Ho jayega, tension nahi leni",
Chanting this mantra, we absorb fake respite!

Now comes the memory unbound,
Of the moms food, and dad around,
Home seems the ultimate breather,
And nail biting the activity around!

Phones switched off, even for home calls,
We holds hands together, and face the course as it stands tall,
Maggi at 2:00 am, and quarter soup at 4:00,
That is the saver staple for us all...

Last exam is always a pain,
Homes calling once again!!
Widest smiles can be seen that day,
And faces read "Here we go away!"

Life in a hostel rocks alive,
In such few lines, it cannot be described,
Friends and politics, live together,
But what we hostelers live, is called LIFE!!!!

PS: Cross posted on the Lounge

The Solitary Ring

2009-04-07T02:52:00.000-07:00

Hi ppl... been such a long tym since i posted last... busy with exams(yuck!) and other stuff... I missed writing a lot! but then now i am back...and this time with a poem inked on the paper of reality.....

Hope its a reasonable return!! Enjoy.. ;)

Burdened and strained my sight wanders,
Lands upon the cold night crescent,
Eyes close and twitch..with a sought after wish,
To restore the sanctity....and once again, not to face the end..

They were several, the months of jeopardised existence,
Spent alone, being friends with walls
That moment was one hell of the demons claw,
The one in which you disconnected the 'final call'..

It fell apart,
I was stranded on an empty road,
Left alone with that unbound restiveness,
And the broken ring, to coruscate it more..

But safely I hid the broken piece,
In the mud..out in the field,
So i could take it out the day i see,
The sunrise on the beach, with you besides me...

Hope was all that was left,
A strong belief that you will return,
Hours and days nd weeks and months,
Time stopped, My wishes didn't...

Then a day came, infact 'THE DAY' came,
Despair got flogged by the hands of hope,
Though we had started talking a fortnight ago........

That night LOVE triumphed.....

You said "it", and the ring emerged,
Through the wet sand....and life eloped!

Or so it seemed?? Cause' the demons are here,
They go nowhere,
Mistakes were realised, but still were repeated,
Frustration surrounded,
The purpose defeated!!

Alas! It was an illusuion of the desire,
A week to bolster the "fall" a bit higher!
You were not the defaulter, neither was I,
But now why do "I" feel, the urge to say goodbye???

What not i did?
What not i sacrificed?,
For us to see the sun together,
Of what not i got deprived?

Now I hold the Solitary Ring,
Isolate and and desolate, in the dead centre of my palm,
I know not what the truth is, I know not how to get you along..
You havent changed so your silence will doubtlessly repeat
At my every question, so i already comprise inconceivable defeat,

It has not yet reached the end, You are not yet gone,
I am puzzled to solve you, been through hell and beyond!
Left again with the hope to get reborn,
and too many questions......and the fear of the next dawn....

Its Not Our Fault.. (Part II)

2009-01-08T04:39:00.000-08:00

No we don’t have to. But the question is, what is there that we can do? And the painful but ironical answer is Nothing! Nothing until the Law wakes up. I wonder, and present one question in front of you:

What will you do to stop the incidents of rape by setting an example if a convict is handed over to YOU? Completely. Without any restrictions?

If this question is asked to me, I will transform from what I really am. The people around me know I am a person with not a single violent bone in my body and that I also don’t support barbarism. But if I would have been given an opportunity like the above one, I would have surely done something similar to the movie Gangaajal. Yes I would have, with not even a single regret. I would have made him feel what PAIN feels like. And not only the physical pain. The pain of facing the society. The pain of seeing your scarred soul in the mirror. The pain of that girl who was raped by 10 men one by one, and then left desolated, the pain of her family who is expected to answer questions charged at them while they fight the trauma they are facing. I would surely try to do what I can to set an example for all those criminal born minds out there. And I expect that every single person reading this should feel the same. The problem is that, I would never be allowed to do it. None of us would.. The only issue is that we are JUST NOT ALLOWED and to the government, STINKING VOTE BANKS ARE MORE IMPORTANT THAN THE LIFE OF THAT SIMPLE MBA GIRL STUDENT WHICH IS NOW SCARRED FOR LIFE. Thats why I say, its not our FAULT. We have empty palms. We are just expected to sit in hopeless rallies, to give empty speeches, to pay donations major part of which goes to the safes of those characterless, stinking and corrupt termites who are eating up the inside of this country to fill their stomachs. We are just expected to be mere spectators of the felony that our own people face, which we are indirectly made to breed.

It would be really disturbing to even IMAGINE one of our own family members going through something unfortunate, wouldn’t it?

So to prevent this, we have no flipendo sticks with us to do magic. It would consume time, but it needs to START. We need to stop giving rallies on child abuse, and start with HOW TO TERMINATE IT!

We need to enlighten our government, not the public!

And if our giant infected embodiment of corruption does not have enough ideas to execute, Ask us! ASK THE BROTHER OF THAT GIRL! Ask the father of that girl! We will provide you ideas! We will show HOW, if one convicts goes through something barbaric and horrendous just ONCE, by the hands of public or the government and if this is aired on LIVE TV instead of our so loved scripted talent shows and utterly uninformative news of earth ending in 2013, or a buffalo flying...............the next criminal would probably think a hundred times before risking his life under the blades of unhuman and barbaric treatment.

...and soon every child would feel free...

...and soon every elderly would live free...

...and soon every family would celebrate freedom...

Oh yeah....

...and soon...

“ladkiyon ko kisi se bhaagne ki zarurat nahi padegi..”.

PS: cross posted on weandwords.blogspot.com

Its Not Our Fault..(Part I)

2009-01-08T04:38:00.000-08:00

I recently saw Ghajini. To be true, according to me, except aamir, the rest of the acting looked like being really untrained. I mean, the policewaala runs, then Aamir runs behind him and then Jiah follows! What idiocy? But yes, even though it was a remake of Memento, the story somehow managed to leave a little bit of impression on me. Anyhow, I am certainly not here to portray my critical abilities. Then what made me describe this? Yesterday’s headlines.

To start with I would like to share my immediate reaction to the text i read. Owing to the inherent monotonousness of the event, it did not provoke anything in me, except, putting it down in words. I am confident about my assumption, which is that this very same feeling would have been there in many psyches who would have read those unfortunately familiar words. Its not at all rare! Its really common. Probably so common, that even if a grotesque and monstrous image of it appears on any of the news channels, we dont halt anymore. Our souls are not hoicked. Our mind is so preoccupied by the worries of the latest brands that we have to buy today, or by the meeting with some international big shots who have managed their nation so well that they rarely come across events like this, or by a social party we have to attend in the evening...we are so accompanied by these “essentialities” that the echoing holler of the half naked and severely bruised girl lying on that pavement or the dirty gutter, not dirtier than the Indian pervert psyche, goes shamelessly unnoticed.

I glanced at that text , “A 24yr old MBA student raped in Noida”, and immediately that dialogue by this new actress Asin, in Ghajini reverberated in me- “Kin kin logon se bhaagengi ladkiya..” As I had mentioned earlier, it really did not jerk me. A thought, or half, would have struck me and the next moment I was reminded of an important call that I had to make. And this very news faded away in the already populated (read: polluted) conscious of mine. But something did make me think about this for long and arrive at a very obvious conclusion which needed to be highlited. The next day, i.e. today, that news had been allotted a small corner of page three in the main newspaper, but the shocking part is, it contained something really horrendous. An aged man, probably a mukhiya of the village where the incident took place, was highlighted making this statement, “So what? The girl was JUST raped. Its not a big deal.” This was something really dismaying. That too, coming from an elderly!! This statement baffled me to a very unexpected extents. I was shocked. In fact, for that matter, I still am. My mind could not arrive at anything but one statement, “Its not OUR mistake”.

Yes its not. Its not our mistake that we do not pay any attention. Or we do not act much except for expressing our grief and commenting on events like this and then forgetting about it. Its the mistake of the Indian Law enforcement agencies, and the government, or in the words of a layman, the RULES which are there in India. I quote another example from the Indian cinema highlighting my point. The movie Gangaajal. I know..whats the first thought that would come to anyone reading this. No! We can’t be barbaric! I know...even I used to say such things. And I know myself that I am not a person who has a violent bone in my body, or supports any kind of barbarism. But I have a few questions to everyone reading this:

How much PATIENCE are we supposed to keep and how much BELIEF are we supposed to have in the authorities’ perennial hollow promises?

How many times do we have to stray ourselves away from this bitter and ghastly truth that The Indian Law and Order is a perfect embodiment of WASTE OF RESOURCES AND BRAINS?

Are we supposed to nurture these rapes, and murders, and child abuse etc by just looking “away” from them accepting the fact that we can do NOTHING?

(contd..)

PS: Cross posted on The Lounge

Rendezvous 2009

2008-12-31T09:59:00.000-08:00

Dedicated to all those who are incomplete this new year...being my last post this year, I wanted to concentrate my attention to those who are less fortunate and are missing someone.

He was well aware of this in his subconscious. He knew this was going to turn out like this. And he was certain; it wasn’t going to be good. The icy wind of the last night of December 2008 slapped his dry cheeks while he stood at the rooftop. Alone, in barely a matted black tee, and thin carbon black jeans, and a pair of slippers, he leaned on the wall. The chill was biting him to the bones, making him shiver, or for that matter shudder. But he just wanted to be there. Unaccompanied. Leaning to the extent of touching his forehead on the wall strip, he saw the fracture on the wall. Between his palms. It had an incessant fragrance coming out of it. It was pleasant. A smirk was all which he could manage at that agonizing moment. And then, the agony led to a drop, expanding in the crevice, filling it to the top.

Never did he want it to happen this way. In fact, he never wanted it to happen in the first place! Less than 24 hours and the world will transcend in a new set of 12 speedy months. Celebrations, happiness, joy and glee, and a whole lot of delightful emotions would be there in every psyche on this earth. He desired to be a part of them. But he knew it was unlikely. He may reflect it through his face and gestures, but truth would nibble him...each and every moment, scraping his inside to make it a void. He just couldn’t be elated this New Year. No matter how much he tried. He knew it. This New Year would be an encounter with his own soul to keep it from scattering into fragments.

“...chand lamhaat ke vaaste hi sahi, muskura kar mili thi mujhe zindagi...” He heard the song being played at a distance of few hundred metres and slammed his cold frozen palm on the wall strip. Yet another instance when Simar (name changed) was dragged back in the beautiful past he spent with her by the deeds of the humanity (here, playing the song). It was a dismal situation for a guy who was considered the charm symbol...and now, who had malformed in sheer silence.

It had been 3months when he was left in a situation where zillion questions were incorporated in him and he had answers to none of them. Where every step he took reminded him of the bliss of time that they spent together in the past 2 years. Where he was left alone to face the brutality of the New Year. Where every sighting, whether it be a baby, a flower, a torn parchment, his own hand, a song, a statement, a joke, a breath, a touch, or even a damn stroke of wind would remind him of the beautiful time they spent together! He glanced towards the sky and it fell on a group of stars they talked about once!!!! Every damn thing around him would make him recall his commitment and the beautiful relationship that they shared. Her damn voice would resonate through his ear drums to his body which made him feel like getting pierced by a million knives all over him. He tried to contact her after it happened, and all that he was gifted with was, “Why don’t you understand? I just DONT WANT it now! You cant see me happy can you?” That excruciating moment was embedded in his deep inside forever. Considering the fact that for their happiness, for the relation, he travelled 4000 miles just to meet her, he never imagined that he would be slapped with these statements ever till he was breathing. He knew his slip-ups too. He knew where he was wrong. He knew where the loopholes were created by him. He had apologised. Not once but trillion times. A promise was made by Simar’s heart that everything would revolutionize. It wasn’t that it was one sided mistakes. Both of them were involved. He had promised her things would change. But all the promises fell on deaf ears.

It wasn’t what Simar wanted. He still cared. He still wanted it back. He still wanted to make her realise that she ended something which was supposedly eternal! He still had not forgotten her. And their love. He wanted it all back and a fresh start. He wanted her to talk about it! He wanted to discuss it out. He wanted to just talk to her! He had restrained himself from doing so after she asked for her “happiness” in his non interference. He wanted her to realise how insane a step she took. How both of their lives were parallel and in need of each other. He wanted a lot to happen! He wanted somebody to do something for them, to suggest him, anything that would even hope to work. His desperateness was trapped inside his heart like a man tied to the earth trying to escape a meteor about to fall bang on his forehead........

The nail came off. It was 2:50 am from 11pm. Sitting on the cemented stairs, he had been draining off his thoughts, his frustration, his agony through the nail underneath the cold cemented surface Simar had more pain inside him than on his bleeding fingers. Through the foggy Delhi night, he could read out, though minimally, a big banner of “Happy New Year 2009” being transported to somewhere through a loader. Another pang of crucifying grief smeared all over him. His eyes accompanied the banner till it vanished in the fog. He rose and decided that he’s gonna keep everything inside. And, atleast for the outside world, be the same Simar who is known for his charm, his strength, his enchanting personality and his respect for his parents. Parents who took care of him as a child diagnosed with severe PPRP in his left limb and cast him so perfectly that he became an inspiration for others.

Limping down the stairs he thought it wasn’t less commitment from any side. In fact he knew she loved him more than anything. But what she did because of her childish brains had cost him LOVE. He approached the roof door, and before closing it down behind him, closed his eyes, wished her a very happy new year and just murmured, “As usual, bless you...”

PS: Wish all you guys a really happy and prosperous 2009. May all u guys accomplish ur dreams......have fun ppl....chao.

What should I do...

2008-12-05T23:40:00.000-08:00

I dont know what to write..I really want to write something but it seems my thought station is too clouded. But i want to get the rains in it. I really want to empty out something deep inside me....deep inside.....and i want my pen to be the channel of it.

But its refusing to give me ideas..Excessive thoughts, i guess, might have lead to this. But thats what i wanna get rid of! Its too frustrating...I have got my exams in a week. I have to study. I have to work hard or else my GPA will sink to the very bottom of what it is already now(its already on the seafloor). But I just cant ignore this away, avoidance has become one of the most tough jobs.

I really wanna write something......But i dont know what...and i dont know how. Its just too tough to pick up your textbooks and think about studying. But theres a war going on. Between the two cerebral lobes residing in my cranial box. Wtf should I do then!!!! I cant sleep...Coz i woke up just now..

Its really taxing. I guess i should close this or else i'll end up openig up the lid of my laptop through a complete 360.

Like I Do Often...

2008-11-04T22:12:00.000-08:00

Why does it happen to me,
only me,
The signs of association with you,
The memories
In every inch I walk,
In every letter I gaze on,
In every fragrance I smell,
In every bit I eat,
In every thought.

I am not a poet, still I write,
The memoirs of our life together,
I am not a scientist, still I analyse,
the reason for this unwelcomed agony,
I am not a painter, still I paint,
on the torn pieces of the parchment of seperation,
I am not a pessimist, still I lose,
the hope of beginning after the END.

And the question is born,
as to WHY?
Why do I act of what I am not,
Why does my soul echo in the dark and lonely graveyard,
With my name etched on every grave of your insanity?
Why has this numbness crept into you,
that you've become blunt towards all the humanity?

Life rolls on, getting undone every moment,
Wishes, hopes and desires buried under the sand,
I walk along the roadside and wish you were besides,
But all I hold is the broken wall with my empty hand.

Yes, I am smiling, I am satisfied,
I am waiting, I am terrified...

A coalescence of these thoughts,
A blend of various emotions,
Is what makes me,
and my silent desperation.

I hear the sound of your favourite song,
And my memory shells out infinite moments,
Of bliss that we shared in those precious years,
Why cant I just accept this decrement.

I try hard to move on,
I try to throw you out,
It fails always,
My effort to silently shout.

Its just the questions I am living with,
I am naive, I am simple,
And i loved you....

Why is it then I still remember you every time I hear a laughter,
Why is it then I cry every time, I see a rose,
Why is it then I ponder over for hours, over what the hell went wrong,
Why is it then I....and YOU are not US??

I seldom wonder alongside unparalleled desires,
If you would be crying for me, for US,
Like I do often,
If you would have that hope of getting things back on track,
Like I do often,
If you would pray every moment to reincarnate the LOVE,
Like I do often,
If you would be desperate to hear my voice,
Like I do often...

I search for answers, all alone...
and just wonder again....

If you would die every moment,
Like I do often........................................

The Diwali of 2008: A Chapter embossed in the subconscious...

2008-10-28T12:52:00.000-07:00

Sitting at the drivers seat, my eyes land upon the lights decorating my house. I put the reverse gear and decide to leave. I look again. This time I stop and keep staring through the depth of each bulb hanging up there. My tears turn, blue,red,yellow,green,violet...absorbing every colour my eye lands upon. The setting sun transcends its light all over the streets and makes an impeccable impact on my memory reservoir. Diwali 2008..something is different. In fact, a lot has changed.

Last year too I sat in the drivers seat and was about to leave. I looked at the lights. The tan of the setting sun was similar, if not same, and as I put the reverse gear, my phone vibrated with its unique style. I pulled it out of my pocket, with utmost frenzy, and there was the call...it was you. I smiled and picked. The voice is still crystal clear in my mind. The face I carried while driving afterwards was easily readable by anyone walking on the roads. I had a constant smile planted on my face. I reached my destination and put you on a hold(some services are free, so it was not an issue...like hanging up and calling again....). I took out the red and blue packets of sweets and slid it under the door of the relatives place. An act, for which I had to bear a long torturous "words of wisdom" from my parents, but never thought of it at that time, as some free services were going to waste...an excuse to hearts desperateness to talk to you. I jumped back on the seat, put the first gear, and reached back to my place. The lights were shining even more as dusk had faded away into darkness and the essence of the Diwalis festive spirits had taken over.

Still gazing at those bulbs, I notice that the dusk has already faded into the darkness. But my phone hasnt rung. And i know it wont. Its 2008. I reach my relatives place, and instead of sliding down the gifts, I knock. And sit inside. Though not at all interested in talking elderly stuff, I sit amongst 3 elders and try to give them company. Actually, try to kill my time. My mind constantly going through the hurdles of expectations of a call, I again realise...its 2008. It wont happen. Losing hope once again, I manage to avoid those 3 faces and leave. Heads down at the steering wheel, I try to analyse, once again. What went wrong? Why did you do this? Every question, brings an excruciating pain with it, which tears apart a zillion neurons in my brain. I reach back at my place, my mind forcing me to look at the lights, but I avoid. Sometimes its too tough to compromise with life.

Seeing my mother gather the accesories for the upcoming puja, I change to a traditional look and sit down in the small yet elegant mandir. The whole family present, my father starts with the puja. The typical sandalistic aroma of the "dhoop" engulfs each of us sitting there. ESPECIALLY ME. My mind suddenly appears as a kaleidioscope of the various moments spent with you. And of one major question, as to WHY? Why did you do this? Why are you making two souls suffer? I try an idea...asking God. When someone is just stranded theres no option left, other than GOD. So with all my zest, I try to initiate a heavenly conversation. I realise, its not easy. Thoughts of you were the ones boggling my mind. GO AWAY! GO AWAY!! I clenched my fist and shouted these words silently inside me.

I started the conversation with God. I put all the questions right on table. He never answered. I tried. All in vain. It felt like the last hope going down the drain. It made me weak. Actually.

Taking a heavy deep breath, while concentrating simultaneously at my fathers instructions, to touch the "thali" with the right hand, I tried once again. I felt some response, but could not decipher it. That last hope got reborn. Though not too fruitful, atleast there was a satisfaction that I have something to hang on. Still.

Leaning on the smooth iron railing of my balcony, I observe a bunch of small kids, jostling with a pack of crackers in a corner of the street. Everyone of them dressed in the best and the loveliest of outfits which their families purchased for them on this festive ocassion. They are happy and celebrating diwali. Though maybe not even knowing what is the history and why Diwali is celebrated, they are celebrating. Maybe because they do have a reason. Why am I not celebrating? Even after posessing the knowledge of the history behind celbrating Diwali? Because I dont have you.

Because we dont have each other.

Because theres no point in celebrating a loss, which i know is common to you and me, though presently you might be in an illusive world of freedom and enjoyment.

Because maybe the lights are the same, but last year they soothed the eye with their tinkle..in 2008, they tease the eye with the remains of the memories.

How I wish I could be with you this Diwali, to tell you that whatever you are doing is simply obnoxious! Insanity prevails your mind at this time and you are murdering the essence of a beautiful plant which we watered together!!

How can you not remember the good times!?

How can you not feel the specialness now!?

What in the world has conquered your heart and mind so bloody drastically that every moment, every step of ours together, my tears, every thing we shared, the first touch, meeting after a complete long year...............that every thing is clouded now??

How are you unable to feel the Diwali of last year? How are you unable to feel my sadness this Diwali? Are you not lonely like I am? Don't you feel incomplete like I do?

Lost in the canopy of these questions, and struggling to get out of this forest of uncertainities and incompleteness grown by you, I still wish you -A Very Happy and Love filled Diwali...DIWALI 2008.

Alpha-209: A Changed Life. (Part II)

2008-10-23T11:18:00.000-07:00

The sky turns burning red as I walk down the pavement of the Chitrakut block, observing indivuduals with their unmanaged practical records walking out after going through a gruesome practical exam. How unconnected these people are, yet they seem to be linked with each other since eras undefined. I sit down near the red pavement and rest myself against the cold wall behind me. I reciprocate the warm greeetings and the exuberant smiles which I recieve from people who know me, even after knowing that the smile is the only thing they have for me at that moment.

I walk back with heavy footsteps to my hostel. The guard greets me with his peculiar style. I reciprocate with mine. The smile is still there on my face. And the FEAR still inside. The fear..the fear of facing the walls again. The fear of fighting with my thoughts, trying hard to stop them from engaging in a merciless encounter with me. The fear of arguing with the inscrutable shouts of the air. The fear of facing the mirror and avoiding to see myself. The fear of getting my expressionless face readable by one and all and then answering the queries which seem more like evil taunts. Its THIS FEAR which has become a part of me. I FEAR TO ENTER ALPHA 209.

Just because as soon as i look towards any corner of it, a strong happy reminiscence associated with it takes birth in my mind. It grows develops, and ends up in instilling a painful memory. Just because as soon as I look out of the rusted window I imagine a ME smiling and inhaling a big volume of positively energised oxygen with a stretch of relieved smile on his face. And as soon as the imagination dies out, there stands a quiet, sober and an unreadable ME, looking out of that bloody rusted window, expecting his imagination to have lasted just a bit more longer.......just a bit more.........just enough to spend a lifetime.

But it doesnt. As soon as the air strokes my rough skin, it wakes me up to the reality. And there comes my friendly thought...."Why the hell did you even STEP in this room?" A room which seemed to be full when I used to be in it. Now it has become a four walled quizmaster ruthlessly torturing me. A room which had catapulted me to various levels of feeling lucky, now, disgraces each and every moment I spend sitting inside it. I had a "Life" before entering Alpha 209..a relaxed one. Now its a fight in there always..Me vs. the sheer unpredictability of the appearence of the thought and its kind.

I just need one answer from YOU,

"WHY WAS I MADE THE HANDICAPPED PAWN IN THIS FIGHT??"

Alpha-209: A Changed Life.(Part I)

2008-10-12T00:38:00.000-07:00

"Niiikk!" and i know im being called with this peculiar style of calling my already murdered full name! But i like it, my NEW name. "Did u sleep last night?"
Every one reading this would have thought what a weird question..every one, except the people around me. "Haan soya tha yaar, 2 ghante soya tha..(Ya i slept, for 2 hours)."

"Anyone in for CS? Just for half an hour, then we'll study"As the clock strikes 3 in the night(in the morning actually), u have r3g00(pronounced as REGO, the kingpin of the game CounterStrike among us) with his goan lower swinging all about the air, storming in your room with this proposal of playing CS. "Ya sure, make the server." Thats the common and the most probable reply of any soul sleeping, or talking on the phone, or walking, or doing any thing around.

"Oye proxy maar diyo..." ("Do a proxy for me") And i leave the class. Walking at my ease according to my own style i cross the library gate. Library...hmm....I used to pay homage here!
Its been around 11 months now that i stepped in this place the University created for her so "loved and stduious" students! As these thoughts fade away from my mind in a just a second, i too move away and reach the inclined grasses. On my right are people like me, in groups, who have arranged for their attendance in their respective classes, and are trying hard to kill the time with the help of the CREATIVE ideas their grey matter suggests them every second. The ideas, which are a common sight on the pavements of the University.
Like, for example, the most common statements include, "Chal nescafe chal rahe hain" or "PMC pe baith te hain". No one can account for the blessings that soul gets on an hourly basis, who came up with the idea of opening a Nescafe outlet in the University campus.
And on my left is a half sunshine covered grass. My mind starts working..as usual on a simple decision as to whether i should sit here or not. And as usual, its the toughest job for me-decision making.

That done i slowly embrace the sun rays, which started to touch me on my shoulders, and now have engulfed the full me. And here i am, sitting, 'not in a group', at the inclined grasses.
All alone, i take out a page from the register and start writing...actually penning down. Penning down what?

Even I don't know.

And then its 5:30 pm. Its time . To leave for my second home. My hostel. With a tired feel, i get up and walk towards it, with my pelvic joint suddenly making me realise that i had walked enough today. But still, i go on. And again, not in a group. 800mtrs is what i have to cover to reach the hostel gate. Not a small distance, atleast for someone like me. But still, i go on. 10minutes passed away in a jiffy, without even letting me realise them!
I reach the hostel gate.

AND THE FEAR ERUPTS INSIDE..YET AGAIN.

"Niiikk!" I try to get distracted by the call but it seems my mind doesn't accept it. And ignoring it ruthlessly, I reach the building. "Niiiiiiiikkkkkk!!!!!" .. This time it was stronger and a bit more effort on my brain to attend the call......but not enough to attend it.
The eruption takes a severe violent form inside me but my face is as unreadable as always, fooling the unaware world outside....