A latent Dream

I have always wanted to become a news-reader. It could have been just another stunt of a whim to become better known, but whatever the reason, I always wanted to see myself reading the news from God-knows-where. I wondered from where they were reading it all. It was much later I found out how the thing works... I also wracked my brains wondering what it would look like if I had a pang of nervousness showing myself to a billion people in the middle of it all, 
Iwould just get up and run away... 

I have always wanted to be in Venice. It makes me want it more with time. It arouses in me feelings of passion & gay abandon..somehow it does.

I have wanted to become an experimental chef and have wanted to have my retinue of victims to test/taste them on..

I have always wanted to have a night for myself.I would spend it walking the shores and collecting sea shells and chasing crabs into their holes, from dusk to dawn..

I have wanted to run away from home, just for the heck of it/for a short duration of time...i wonder how short../

I have always wanted to have fair hands, nevermind the face, justthe hands/& this is has nothing racist about it /

I, as a child, had always asked dad to drive me to the horizon. I knew it all comes a full 'sphere', even then I wanted to fall off the edge of the earth.

I have always wanted to have the 'exact' pictures to match my thoughts when I write something.

And, of course, I have always wanted to find YOU.

to throw up:-

These days nothing makes sense to me. I feel like an ascetic, away from the worldly because i wonder if i seriously want something right now. When my heart tilts towards a thing, I warn myself. For a second I wonder if I actually need it. The next second I convince myself that I would be absolutely fine without the 'thing'.So the whim is gone in just two seconds. And after this, my mind ends up feeling sterile. 

It's not just with 'things'. I have begun behaving this way with 'real-people'. The moment I like someone, I begin to distance myself from him. I fear becoming an emotional-parasite. I fear losing my independence. Sometimes I ask myself if I want to live by myself all my life? I have so many insecurities about my life that I feel tiny and endangered. I feel everything is but a facade. Nothing is real. and that one shouldn't be carried away. One daren't budge. And I tie the chastity-belt about my neck.

Moral of the story, I feel my life has no meaning. living like vegetable, is not worth it at all. Nothing arouses in me any emotion of any sort. Sometimes, sudden pangs of anxiety have me completely.. they leave me wornout and worse.These days I dwell in my own pathos...

~All women keep score.
Only the great ones put it in writing.~

....

Anecdote-Antidote

Someday I met him at the juice centre. It was one of those days when I didn't know his name. As in I was always confused about his name. As in I messed it up with another guy's.
YEah, so at the juice centre, he smiles at me; I smile back at him as it was the first day of college after summer and we were supposedly wishing each other a warm welcome-back. And then he makes me feel like he would say a word or two. And I am trying my guts out to remember his name. Does it start with an 'A' , a 'T'..what!! He asks me about the registration for the new semester and we talk about how the management has screwed up things big time. We laugh. He leaves. And I still can't remember his name.

The mad-man

Yesterday walking back home, my mind was straying elsewhere. I was feeling low because I had failed to achieve something I should have achieved. Whenever I lose in life, all I want to do is hide my face in my hands and cry till my fill. And being in the middle of the road, that was exactly what I couldn’t do. Just then I noticed the mad-man.

That reminded me of my childhood. Every morning, when I waited for my school bus to pick me up, this mad-man would be around. He would be smiling to himself. There was a huge mess on his head; he had hair like many holy-men do. And had hardly any clothes.

My naughty kid brother would whisper into my ears, “I think he is a private detective, or he could also be from the CBI or something, on some mission, you know. And recently they recovered great wealth from the man’s house who sells eggs at the chakk.”

There used to be a makeshift shop of samosas near my bus stop. The mad-man would stand there, talking to himself, for sometime. On his good days, he would have two samosas thrown at him in a polythene bag, the curry leaking out of it. I used to watch him savor it. Soon my school bus would arrive, and I would get busy with other things in my mind. The mad-man would be out of my mind, until I noticed him the next time.

And so things went on. I was done with school. I did two years of college in my city. And I saw less of the mad-man with time. I went away to do my graduation. Things kept going on. I kept chasing the things I wanted to achieve. Exams-exams; Colleges…Certificates, Jobs, besides the other pleasantries of life.

And in this rat-race, when I failed to achieve something I should have achieved I was sad. And on the road, I met the mad-man again. His hair was the same, like jute in a quagmire. He was smiling to himself, chattering away, making gestures. And walking up and down the same road for the past so-many-years. Many-many years. I always fail to find myself in my past. But coming across him, I felt a pinch inside my heart. What has he achieved in the past many-many years? Where has life taken him? Probably he has walked up and down the same road hundreds of times. And look at his face, he is happy, isn’t he?

So why wasn’t I born a mad-man.

wickedflower

There are certain truths about myself that I might never want to convey. Even though my blog is another me and here I put I put up almost anything, I have certain uncertainties inside myself I would never like to talk about.

Here I have a lot of candyfloss stuff put up. I write about being estranged and lovelorn. I honestly write down my emotions, my passions. Some stories are completely fictitious. Some are nothing else but the truth. And some are in between. The ones that occured to me when reality extended to a somewhere and imagination took over from there on.

But THIS is not I am all about. THIS could be a facet ; or rather a facade!

I have a certain substance in me. And I want to talk about it. Some ambition to win, some to absolutely outstrip the peers. A part of me wants to be barbaric, at times, running like a cheetah and grabbing by the neck anything it wants to possess. At times looking at blood ooze makes me such a voyeur. And then I forget to cry and begin to laugh like an insane. Sometimes I love fire and smoke and darkness. Sometimes I just want to break-free. An sometimes I just go DIZZY!

'hello?
hey..hii
how have you been..all these days..lon time yaa
what? no way..are you kiddin me?
if you re serious..thats great news
who is it? some ol friend? do i know her?
Colleague!hmm..
guess all this happend very fast, none of us even got the slightest hint..
o ya? true love and all..haha!
oh of course.how can i not come to your wedding?
yea..for sure ..'

after the call, i felt like holding my heart, in case it falls off my chest. began crying.

wanted to call back and say

'i m sure ur joking..right..tell me you are
getting married is a serious thing... m sure ur aware
and what makes u think this isn't just a fling/
u knw it could be..give it some more time
give me somemore time
how can you marry someone else but...'

to get over it i took a bath that felt like sauna. and then a cold shower/ and warm again... and it kept goin on that way for around an hour.

Couldn't swallow any breakfast. Walked the roads like a zombie. thnkin of old days.. a terrible pang of lonliness took over every part of me. i wanted so badly to talk.

waited for it to be lunch time. as me and my frappe' sat alone-together on a table, my mind kept ditching me every now and then. my insides were feeling terrible. i was making sure if all that had actually happened in the morning, i might have dreamt of it..or something. i felt lost, orphaned and totally abandoned.

later in the evening i went to the coffee shop. Took one of those chairs they have for singletons, fixed near the glass walls. I stared out and saw the world being quietly engulfed by the dusk. The cofe noir, between my palms, made me feel warm. I looked at the people hurrryin by. and looked into myself. Finished my coffee and ran to the gift shop next door to get him the wedding gift he deserved...

Things I did:

• *There was a certain point on the road where many roads met. I looked around. There was this Raymond board claiming a fabric for every occasion and another a Riya an Abhay smiling on two edges of a bill board,and many others. Also there were many vehicles running past. So what did I do? Idid nothing.I just stood there.
  

• *From nowhere a good looking guy appeared. What made my eyes stick to him for few more seconds was that he bore a stark resemblance to a friend of mine. And there was also this nice girl walkin beside him. Probably they were hurrying their way home. Meanwhile her shawl was slipping down. He help her put it back in place, you know, hide her thin hands from the cold and all. And they continued hurryin their way home. A minute later, I still stood in a corner and kept looking at them till they became silhouette. And till they were completely out of view. Sort of a passive fixation, you know.
  

• *The other day we met some people. A man, his wife and their kid. The man, used to be woman. S/he married her friend. I was wondering if the kid knows about it. Oh of course it doesn't. Only we do. Because some remnant feminine features on his face die hard!
  

• *Alright! I should call it a day. I have been watchin three movies per day for the past three days. And that is somewhat a too much for my below average human mind. And as a repercussion, inside my mind I have these strange voices (belonging to the movie characters) commenting on everything I see, hear, smell or feel. Feels very weird. Feels like I am going mad, gradually, because Ican't think about anything,because before I begin thinking,thesevoices begin to chatter inside my head. The chambers of my mind get so boisterous that today I tripped and fell down in the middle of the road.
  

• *Sometimes my mind wonders to my favorite short story which is "The Babus of Nayanjore" by Tagore in which the protagonist says Kusum is a 'useless commodity in the marriage market' because she is dusky. And later he falls in love with her deep black beautiful eyes, when he sees her crying. Tagore andI connect alot. Smetime back I even had the illusion thatwe shared the same birthday.
  

• *And Iam going nuts about Mark Rufallo. Whoever the guy is, he isso genuinely handsome, man! He has such nice understanding features. An he shows it all right onhis face. He is so completely messed up like me, so completely lostand in search of help.
  

• *I met a cousin lately. I was about to ask her about her kid. I had completely forgotten that they hadlost it a year ago. Strange are the way things are. We humans, come to terms with everything. Well almost everything!
  

• *Am I insane? Well not totally! I will find myself./

A thought of winter

After a string of failures, throughout the whole year, I have come home. The tree trunks haven’t
grown any wider. A soft music fills the air underneath the green canopy in the backyard though. And of course there is the onset of winter.

Early morning the fog tears apart to show long lanes of coconut trunks. Drops of dew hanging from the bark and nascent sunlight.

An hour later the soil is dried up. The trees are out of their sleep and brown dead grass shows itself at a distance.

I sit down and begin to write on a yellowed page of my diary

“I want to die with this thought
clutched close to my heart
that once, through these years
your heart tilted towards …”

I am too unsure of the word after towards. I don’t write it.

This is a letter again, I am writing, from one fictitious person to another. From one girl in the hills to her dying elder cousin, from a mother to her crazy baby daughter, from a wild heart to her lover. I have loved the cover of anonymity. Nobody can blame you for whatever you’ve written because you were but another person when you wrote it all. Sometimes I also felt like a hypocrite, shouldn’t one stand by what someone writes?

But I’ve always hated questions because I’ve been unable to answer them. My palms go sweaty, feet tremble. I felt it all so much all over again that I felt I would fall off my chair.

I opened the diary again. I wanted to write something in it. I wanted to write a book. A book that’ll undo all my failures, this winter.

~Sunrise

"Which mad man opened the windows at this deathly hour...Grr!!!" I screamed hiding beneath a couple of blankets ,"Pleasee... shut them...I'm gonna die of this cold"
"It's six thirty...come on now!"
" I need to sleep for like seven more hours...And what's six thirty? I have never
seen a six thirty!"
"Alright! I will show you what it's like."
"No pleaseeee"

A moment later I saw light all around. The cold numbed my flesh. He'd pulled me out of the blanket.
"My toes will freeze..And what are we dying to see at this hour?"
"You don't need to put your feet on the floor, love."

I blushed but feigned a reluctance.
He carried me to the terrace that way and I was sinking my face into his chest for dear life.

"Now open thy eyes. See how the sun smiles at us"

Orangish red/Reddish Orange? "The light hurts, It's too bright and I'm too sleepy"
"It wont anymore...look at me?"
And then I looked into his eyes...

~Sunrise, Sunrise, Looks like morning in your eyes~
~May we be this way, for now & forever~

~ObituarY~

There was this lazy afternoon lecture going on, the professor gurgled away insignificant notes. And she sat right there, thinking of the futility of it all, learning things that never mattered to her. She wanted to be somewhere else. Somewhere far. Was she an escapist? Never mind.

There was this involuntary process of writing down everything the prof, wrote on the board. She was going a little restless. Looking up the time every five minutes. When was this going to end? Random thoughts trickled into her mind. And she was wondering how many things in her life were out of order. How many did she want to fix? What all she’d missed out, what all fate had denied her, what could be the worst consequences of this clinical lethargy, procrastination…and then she was asking herself whether she wanted to change for the better? And then the answer was a No!

In the midst of all this, there was this thud inside her and also outside. It was somewhat sudden. She felt things stopped working inside her. And then she ceased to feel anymore. She held on to a hand for help. But she came crashing down. A deep twitch of pain had her then…She lay on the floor with eyes open for a second or two. And then died.

~On the 24th of November '08...~2:30 in the afternoon~

Because!

Because you hate life and I don't
Because both of us are in search for ourselves
Because neither has even the time to grab a breakfast
We run and rush

Because, right now I am concentrating on ma career..haha!
Because I need another five years to settle down in my life
And you will need ten more...

Because we need to find ourselves first, each other next, love then...and peace last!

And I would like to unwind in the weekend, lying down beside a series of ghastly movies, go out, splurge on my own money...and dream to make it bigger...but focussing all my energies on just one single person? Sorry, but I am far too selfish for that...

Guess a lot of other things could deserve that hell lot of attention!

And well! This is mere attraction, isn't it? Everything that is, is nothing but a fad, an infatuation.

Nothing is love.
Love is nothing.

And someday in time, we'l outgrow, whatever it was...love/infatuation/crap...whatever! We'l move on...

HAHAHA!

1. favor8 color: Black
2. favor8 vegetable: Tomato
3. woman of substance: Shakira~~~
4. A regret: NA
5. A good thing: Guy I loved, din’t love me back. Would have been disastrous otherwise.
6. Best things ever: Anything that’s soporific and Intoxicating. Coffee being neither is like ma eternal love, nevertheless!
7. What’s on the cards: writing a book is on the cards. *sarcastic laughter*
8. Perfect day out: getting lost in a jungle and rain dancing my way to salvation
9. Thing I learnt: Not all tall guys are good and not all short guys are bad
10. Worst thing about a woman: having to pluck your brows every two weeks.
11. Senility has arrived when: you move on from Garnier yellow to Garnier Red (Only the conscious females would know )
12. Worst thing about me: I chew ma nails!!
13. Favor8 words: “Pathetic!” & “O My GawD-Kill me Now!”
14. Most Unforgettable compliment I e’er got: Can’t write it down here ;). Someone might just know that I considered it o-so-unforgettable!
15. People I HATE the most: Hypocrites! I hate myself when I become one.

Silvy

These days Silvy goes out a lot. Out as in, not outside, but out of her mind for sure.

Silvy...dense woods, dark woods, cool and at peace!
Silvy... rickety buildings and dusty roads, bustling streets and yet lonely streets...

Tossing her hair back, she glanced at her watch.
She was in no hurry.But doing that was to show that she was in one.
Catching up with time every three minutes when she walking alone,was another
way of making herself and people believe that she was indeed occupied and not thinking about the mundane plight her life is subject to, when she actually was thiking about it, and thinking pretty hard at that.

Beside the watch, something that quietly tied the wrist was a thick black thread.
That reminds her of the soothsayer she'd been to, some Sunday.In her mind, she laughed out loud. Very loud.

Sometimes we could be so foolish, so-so foolish to have believed that a thread could indeed change our lives. Our murky lives. And there were also stones and other junk.
Silvy had a box of them by now. She kept them quietly in her closet. Besides the other mysteries. And there were other mysteries for sure.Some between the yellowed pages of an old diary and some between one layer of the heart and another.

Sometimes she took them all out though. To have a good laugh. She would toss the stones onto her bed and laugh again. She wanted those vibrations in her facial muscles to last a moment longer.

And the she would go quiet as she read the pages of the diary. And amongst those dateless entries and faint memories, Silvy would try to remember. Which year was that? What month? Was it by any chance a winter? And what had made those words leave her heart?

And then she would lie on her back and hold them close to her chest. Stare at the ceiling. For sometime, before pretending to be in a hurry again!

~ My life has taken a strange turn. Well it always keeps on taking turns, sometimes fortunate, but more often than not, otherwise. Just that this one does arouse a different feeling altogther. Different because I'm not feeling like a failure altogether. May be I'm feeling more than just that. Or may be I'm least concerned.

Just indifferent to what is happening to me, deaf to my own voice.

It's been a long time that this has been irking me, shaking me out of my otherwise peaceful 5 hour sleep.

And I tend to get worried and the lost sleep doesn't come back to me. I have used this feeling of impending failure to threaten my resources to work the best out in them. And sometimes I have tried to just walk it out. And dispose it off to the misty, dark, frozen, 3 am air!

And the latter is being repeated beyond what you would say is healthy. Because I've reached the borders of my mind. And beyond this is nothinG! ~

$@!) gUr|_ , am I?

I don't know what the problem is, but nothing else does it the way you did. Or more precisely speaking, no one else in the world makes me become what I am, the way you did. It's not in the touch, it's not in the way you say a word or anything else. It's in the look of your eyes. Sharp and piercing, it makes every lost dream of the past look so much more precious than the life I live at present.

It's been years we last met. And there is this surety that we are never gonna meet ever again. But once I close my eyes, your picture appears out of the dark. And no matter what, I just don't want to open my eyes. I'm so immune to the forces that want me to come out of that wicked illusion.

No matter what, I just want to keep staring, on and on at your picture. It's a strange fixation. There is no desire, no nothing. But there is a numbness in the mind. No feelings, nor is the heart crying. Just a weird fixation takes over all my senses. And I want to be carried back to the past, to carry a part of it back to the present.

No! It's not you I want to retrieve from my past. It's those tiny bits and pieces of me that I left behind with you. The part of me I lost while loving you so much. Loving you the way I can never ever love anyone else in my life. And this I say with utmost conviction.

~This one is to all the "You's" ever written in all our Blogs!~
~Zindegee main hai tum bin...Ye Viraaniya~

Mayank

When I met Mayank, every soul told me to keep away and keep safe. He was a flirt. But it couldn't have mattered much to me because we became sort booze buddies. Mayank and I would do things that he did with his friends. We would discuss his girls. And how they didn't get a hint of how many other women shared his heart. I would laugh my heart out. Days were fun with him around.

So when they told me to stay away from him, it never mattered a bit.

We would talk about his every date amongst our varied topics of conversation and about how he tore open his heart to every woman of his dreams. And things would often drag themselves into late night.

And one such night, when Mayank buried deep in smoke, chose to walk me home, I said no. But he insisted. And I joked that I would have to drop him back after that.

Down the road, at the last turn before my place, when I was walking away, Mayank held my hand.

And said, "I have something to tell you."

I laughed. "Not now Mayank. I am rather drunk..."

Last night before I wrapped my blanket and slept, there was a story I wanted to share. When I folded my hands for the goodnight prayer, my heart felt like it was sinking. My lungs were like full of hot air, I wanted to throw out in one gush. So after I murmered the prayer and opened my eyes, I felt two drops of tear sticking to the corners of my eyes. Things that were pent up inside me sought an urgent release. In the dead of the night, at half past three.

So there was the story I wanted to get out of my mouth and so out of my mind disturbed me to hell of an extent. And I almost felt the dire urge to knock my neighbour's door. But I didn't because I couldn't. Instead I just changed sides on my bed.

And after I switched the lights off,I sensed the dark corridors outside my window. I so much wanted to feel the presence of a someone that I tried hard to hear footsteps outside...I strained my ears to hear voices talking. But I couldn't. There wasn't a soul I could tell my story to.

And my sleep was eluding me bad...

Excerpt

Memories of shiny roads wet afresh from mid-monsoon showers are yet to die in my mind.
My eyes, still contained sleep, and I peeped out into the world, drops of rain slipping down the windshield, and found you right beside me, driving into a wild infinity. That was all I could ask from my life. I slid down the windows. Cold wind brushed past my hair. Ah! Must be morning! What time is it? When are we pulling up for breakfast?

~Oh! There is so much love, what do we do with it!~

@ ccd

Sitting snug and smug in rooms with walls of glass and trying to guess if it was actually drizzling outside, or just the day-long dust that caused the haze appeared to be the most practical time-killer for me.

By now I had by-hearted the faces of the people sitting in the table next to mine. The chick had been nibbling something for the past one hour. She was so thin. (So- so thin!)Her hair straight-n-shiny hair fell on her shoulder in an oh-so-enviable way. The guy with her bent over the table to get an inch closer.

Also I had stared at the every possible corner at a stretch of at least five minutes.

I was running out of faces to study, and imagine things about.

‘Oh! This Damned thing!’

‘Nothing gets over in one go!’

‘Why? Is it just me!’

‘Will I get swallowed in a matter of minutes?’

‘Swallowed by forces I never would know?’

It was then that I raised my eyes to look at the person with me. Yeah, did I not tell you, that this rainy useless Sunday afternoon; I was actually not alone, sipping coffee. There was someone sitting right next to me. ‘X’ is preposterous. Let ‘A’ be the name.

Like half an hour ago, A was still busy with the frappe’. Man, how slow can one go about things? C’mon, your life couldn’t have been more messed up than mine.

Since to spark a conversation with A was a far cry, I would turn back to guessing if it was actually drizzling or it was the day long dust that caused the haze.

Time and again, I would turn to my own cup. Somehow I can never manage to hate coffee the way I hate other things. I tried to see ma face in the dark brown liguid.

But I couldn’t concentrate on that either. As in I couldn’t get away and plunge into an irrelevant chain of thoughts again. Because I kept on waiting for the frappe’ to finish. So that we could get done, and get gone.

I would look at the cars on the road for a moment. Dozens of funky people packed, awaiting the last blast of their happening weekends so that Monday morning, they could get back to their lives afresh. Lots of people. All unknown to me, and still I thought about them. People who’d never belong to this city, people, each one of whom had a past. And thanks to the adaptive human brain, each one was at peace, or was at least in the process of finding glee. Everyone in some screwed up race, with no finishing line. Why? I almost said that aloud, “Why?”

/*Three things that I need in life*/
/*I, coffee & you!*/

Hanging out alone on long lonely roads a lot after sun-set; brooding behind shut doors with the lights off is so much me. It’s not that I don’t have friends, but basically I’m a loner. I live a life inside myself. Bending down and looking into the dark deep tunnel that I am, I’m not sure if I would end up with anything sensible after any span of time. But then the end has hardly ever mattered.
/*Thoughts doing rounds*/
/*The thinking-man’s-fantasy is just a hypothesis because the thinking-man is just an oxymoron*/

Love & Peace!

Don’t be so good to me; I just in case could fall in love with you. And then I would have a new horde of problems to tackle. Don’t smile at me, when I expect you to. Don’t hold out your hand for me, every now and then. Don’t pull out a chair for me, before you sit. Don’t hold the door open for me. Don’t make me feel that you’re trying to understand me…always.

Don’t be so good to me; I just in case could fall in love with you. And then I would have a new horde of problems to tackle. Though you’re not that bad, I would have to coax myself day in and day out to believe that you’re not that good either. And that you’re just not the right guy, though you’re good at who you are.

Don’t be so good to me; I just in case could fall in love with you. I would have to stop my head from swinging in music whenever you are around. And keep it away from sinking into layers of mushy thought, with me and you in them. So, don’t try to touch my heart. Don’t dare to disturb my life at present, I’m so much at peace.

Today, I saw three butterflies circle a hedge. They were yellow- green in color. And the hedge was two shades darker. And it was quite a scene for me. Three of them, in a wild frenzy, dancing around each other, in some rhythm I could only faintly sense.

And just a bush away, there was a yellow butterfly, a solitary one doing rounds, looking for a flower.

I couldn’t find a single one that came with those printed wings. The prints that we never understand. Dots of maroon amongst lines of red, a splash of fuchsia here and green there. Green is to camouflage. To disappear into another green.

Then I noticed a flower that had grown out of a creeper, among short grass. The flower looked at me. Mundane flower. Dumb flower?

There are these few things, as beautiful as the dust rising as new rain falls on it, or the smell of the unruly monsoon grass being massacred.

And then I saw a shrub they call table rose. I say, why get it on your table? It looks better out there, in the wild.

And when I was a step away from home, I saw one with the colored wings brush past. It was too fast for me to notice the colors it wore. But nevertheless.

Now that I’ll cease to exist, the question is
if you’ll remember me after I’m gone

Will you remember me?
When failure kills me or a catastrophe swallows me

Now that you hold me in your heart
and call me your goddess

What next, when tomorrow I die
or fade into oblivion

Or dissolve into the horizon
from where I’d emerged

Will you wait for me
to appear as a string in the rainbow?

Will you walk endless evenings
for me to come back as a gust of cold wind?

Will you remember me?



/*I keep the template not anything but black because no other color rescues my thoughts better*/

/*Musical Mood : Ye Tumahri Meri Baatein*/

I slid the key into the hole. Pushed the door open, like everyday, got in and shut myself from everything else.

Should I leave the lights switched on everyday when I leave at 10 am? Because when I come back home, it's somewhat late in the evening and the place is dark. And darkness, if it is the first thing I see, makes me go dizzy.

I run to the other side of the room to switch the lights on. Throw my bag on the floor. And then my shoes. I feel my toes, run my fingers in between them. Open my hair. And simply fall on the couch. I let myself sink into it. I love the depths the cushion lets me into. And then the lights go off and I'm out. Completely.

I wake up. 12:45 and still ticking!

The ache in my legs, fatigued has thinned down into something less magnanimous. I look at myself in the mirror. Black smudge around my eyes. I run my hands through my hair. Not silky anymore. That reminds me of the weekend.

After a shower, let some coffee go down the throat. Stale sandwiches of the morning would have to be my dinner.

Some music eh? I have worn all my playlists out. So switch back to good old Shakira!

Wasn't I working on a story? Stories? Yeah, scores of them in obscure folders. Waiting to be wound up from an eternity.

One look out of the window, I see the endless row of lights on the road, tiny lights, distant lights. I stretch my hands and lean on the window sill. I could just fall off.

There is this yearning to fly, batting my hands through the air. Cold and lonely air. I lean further out, even more precariously, more dangerously. Till more than half of me is in the air.

I have never been afraid of danger. I have never been afraid of heights. Of death. But now...

I Ain't Amused At All

I have seen far too many
So you're nothing new

Think you're too good huh?
Keep your goodness to yourself

Too much of an attitude ain't good for the soul
Get down from the heavens, dumb fool!

You foul-mouthed idiot
Mark my words, you snob

Or they will come to you
Sooner or Later

No matter who you are
And what you do

In the end,
It doesn't even matter

When the sun sets
The bird flies back to the roost, unless you're an owl

Stay away!

Keep your attitude to yourself
I have enough of my own

Look Famous...!

It’s been months when I had last confessed a well kept secret. So, let’s undo that trend now.


I have had an off-beat childhood. I am not to blame anyone for it. But, I have just had one. Fortunately or unfortunately, I don’t know. Now, talking about the off-beat childhood, it was obviously enclosed. I never happened to see things for what they were. All I did was, get up the school bus from right in-front of my apartment, go to school, study hard, come back home, study harder, wait for the tuition teacher, and maintain that rank in class…

I never dared to venture out of this badly crammed up routine thing. Anything different from this would appear abnormal. And I never let anything abnormal happen.

My life was constrained, restricted in every sense of the word.

So I never got to know the world. And the world never got to know me. My mind developed strange patterns and I developed a phobia of quite a large number of things.

And all this happened before the day I stepped into college. College just freaked me out.
I got a glimpse of the things actually. And since I came to know more of the world around me, I wanted the world to know me too.

Yeah, it’s a queer thing to confess, but I genuinely wanted people to know me. For whatever the reasons be. They should just know me by face. I should be famous among whatever people I am.

And I took this becoming famous job, more seriously than I should have. It screwed up my priorities in life. Messed things up, because I thought more about what people thought about me than what I thought about myself.

So, one day, I told myself that I had had enough. I called it quits. Enough of trying to become famous and all. I am what I am.

But then life gives these tiny li’l surprises. I, actually, was famous…well..sort of…!

Intact

All of it still lives
the innocence in my eyes
the undying patience to see you home

i still cage vivid memories of your face
the promises that you silently made

the assurance in your voice, when we met last

the way my heart paced
when your fingers slipped out of mine
the one final time....

nothing's changed, take my word

rub a li'l below my scars
and you'l get wounds as fresh
as you left them

No time can heal them
It's all safe & intact
In the chambers of my heart

 

Victory

One moment I’m basking in glory
And this moment is to last forever…

The Problem of Choice

Whenever life has bestowed upon me the luxury of choice, I
have invariably longed for the one that's not so good.
Way back in school, from I had chosen Oriya instead of
Sanskrit. My excuse was that I actually loved the former.
My love fetched me a mere 83 in boards. Sankrit guys
crushed me with their thunderous 99s.

In college I chose Biology to Statistics for reasons known
only to the holy heavens. I loved Biology? no-no! I took it
because it was tougher. Yah! I'm attracted to tough things
(no pun intended...) But one thing I would remember for the
rest of my life was cramming the morphology of the human
brain on my scooty, on my way to the exam hall.

Later in engineering, I 'preferred' Electrical to Computer
Science. For some godforsaken senior quitely whispered into
my ears that the Compsci Dept wasn't up-to-d-mark! But I
never cared to find out what the Electrical Dept was like

Now, I have slogged for four long years. No, I actually
macerated! Plus, ended up with nothing in my hands...!

So all the conscious choices I made, ditched me. They
ditched me hard & bad. But I was not convinced by history
repeating itself over and over again.

I did it again. I made the absurd choice of love. But the love
dumped me too.

But the most pathetic thing of all things is that I don't have
any regrets. yup! Absolutely none...I have absolutely loved
learning things the hard waY!

Suicide note

By the time you read this, I would be long gone. For long I
wanted to know what exactly happened after death. And
finally I would know...

I have no qualms, I hold no one responsible for my death.
It's all me, me and me. I am my nemesis.

Though I would mention one thing, the world and its people
weren't good enough for me. I was always treated like an
outsider. My expectations were crushed. I was crushed.

So finally I have decided to call it a day. It's been a long long
time, and I have had enough. So we shall finish it once and
for all.

I am not a coward or an escapist. I'm choosing a dignified way
of ending a vestigial life.

So, I'm being rather brave, I don't want to live like a piece of
flesh. My life should have been the way I wanted it to. Or it
would not be at all...

Goodbye all

Love

wildflower

Their eyes met and parted, almost instantaneously
Eyes that know each other, do not look away that fast.
But with strangers it's a different thing you know...

There were human voices, so many that they condensed into a noise that submerged into the back of their brains.

And in a mad crowd like that it's natural for two strangers to fade into oblivion. To never look at each other again.

But eyes met again. And before they were to part, she felt his eyes hold on to her for a moment more. Did he know her?

'No!', she told herself...Nobody here is supposed to know me. I am not supposed to be visible. She laughed to herself.

She was sitting on the stairs...she saw herself in the shiny black marble that the floor was tiled with. Looked up at people walking on that distant road. From where she was, everything looked so distant, so alien to the world she lived in...

She tossed her hair back, the way it brushed her back always felt good, she continued doing that and staring into the semi-lit darkness.

Unconscious of her own existence, her mind stretched into the thoughts of an infinite nothing.

She tried to lengthen her mind's stay in the real world, but she kept falling into depths of an hypothetical abyss. The more she would fall into it, the more lost and free she would feel.

She crossed her legs on those shiny black marble stairs...tossed her hair backwards and it again kept falling on her shoulders.

And the stranger couldn't look away anymore. What was he looking at?

At her soul underneath layers of skin and flesh...?

Her mind juggling between possibilities and impossibilities and his kept sinking into her...

~~##~~

Our feet sink deeper into the sand as we take every new step. You begin to lean on my shoulders. And I feel like I’m dragging you along with me. You’re talking like insane. But I want you to sink into deeper levels of irreversible insanity. I look at the distant waves, layers of white foam emerging out of the sea pitch dark, and then vanishing into the same. And yet again, I look at you. You’ve almost lost it. What could have made you so drunk? Is it the alcohol, or is it something else? Is it me? Can you even walk like a man? Can you even find home?
pic courtesy: internet!

the Jamun tree

I can remember the sickle-shaped jamun tree. Rain fresh. And lush green. I remember staring at it from the opposite bank of the river. Fearing the brown flood waters of the river that kept me away from the jamun tree, I wondered if there was actually a crocodile that lived underneath. And the clever monkey on the jamun tree. And whether the clever monkey had ever asked the crocodile to ferry him across to the other side. And whether the crocodile had asked for the monkey’s heart in return for the ride.

I had been told that the heart of the clever monkey who devoured bunch after bunch of purple ripe jamun was supposed to have a heart with all the coagulated sweetness in it. Or so the crocodile thought. And was hence greedy to eat the monkey’s heart once and for all.

And in the middle of the swirling waters when the crocodile paused for a moment, looked at the monkey on his back and asked for his heart. The monkey stayed mum. The crocodile threatened him.

Then monkey, clever that he was, said that he had left his heart back on the jamun tree. He would hand it over as soon as they reach the bank.

The crocodile readily agreed.

Upon reaching the other bank, the clever monkey shot up the branches and khee-khee-d from up there at the crocodile.

‘How can anyone live without his heart? You foolish crocodile.’

m@D gUrL--PART I

there is this guy in my class. i dont even know his name for sure. it could be some name starting with s. from the very first day when i entered the class, i looked for good faces as i have always done in the past. my eyes froze with his. but somehow i tried not to let him know that i had liked it.

we all know it happens. we all know shit happens. 'so girl, wind up! enough forthe day, shirk him off your brains', i cajoled myself. my friend told me that he had talked to her the other day. now this friend of mine being very beautiful, it's generally the case of guys coming upto her and talking to her and stuff. so i sighed some relief breathing into myself...' oh! just another guy then!'

the class ended. i walked home for weekend. i plugged in my earphones. walked the road, alone in the evening. and to do away with the fatigue, i closed my eyes for a brief while while listening to one of my all time favorites.

and after a minute or two when i opened my eyes, i was aghast. 'o my god! i was thinking about him, what is this? have i gone crazy? o my god, i was supposed to be a grown up by now'

then as saturday ran out, i watched more and more of TV. read a novel half through. and sunday, i got up at noon. ran errands, changed the water in the acquarium, did all sorts of stuff, until one quiet moment i sat down with myself and flashes of his smile ran before the eyes of my mind. and it was then that i couldn't help slipping into some indulgence. ' o c'mon, it's just a face.
mind needs a face to feed upon right? nothing wrong with it if you don't fall for him...carry on!'

monday morning, when i entered class, almost automatically my eyes scanned all the faces and stopped for a second at his. and i felt a pinch at my heart when i realised that he was already looking at me. but then that was quite natural, isn't it? anyone would normally look at the door if a latecomer standing there whispers 'may i get in?' or something like that.

so there is nothing like he-liking-me or any bullshit. i walked to an empty chair straight. and it happened to be next to his. there really was not another single empty chair in the class. or if there was, it was invisible to me.

a minute later even before the first question was written on the board, he screamed some answer. and this shook off the rest of the sleep in my eyes. i get a complex from the people performing better than me. and i find it hard to accept failure.

thankfully, whatever answer that was, it was wrong. i heard him gasp in pain. so i relaxed a little, and told myself, ' what does he think of himself huh!'

but this was not to last. he was the first person to answer almost every question correctly. and this was somewhat unbelievable to me. i would not even try a question or two thinking it to be of no use. anyway he would blurt the answer out in a couple of nanoseconds.

i felt crippled and pathetic. and all the more impressed.

later, to some question, Mr. whatever was obviously the first to answer. But i came out with some answer different from his and shouted it aloud. And then he looks at me. okay, let me confess, we look at each other. our eyes meet for the first time and he smiles and says "yeah..your's is the correct one!"

when the teacher asked who had given the correct answer, he says"yes sir, the both of us."and smiles again.

'what? what did he just say?'

later wherever i go, i find him. and the fun part is that before i find him out, he already would have found me out. the day's kinda ridiculous.

in the garage, he asks me about studies in general. he asks me, not my beautiful friend! how can that be?

anyway, i never let anyone go who asks me about studies. i blurt out all my frustration almost in one long breath. and than after this all he smiles. i hold back, 'may be he would like to ask something else'.

nothing happens. we leave.

the next day, again the empty chair next to him becomes mine. and the entire class i try to concentrate and remove him completely from my peripheral range of view. i had been almost successful.

while we leave, my friend says, "the guy next to you...i guess he's got a tiny something for you."
"err...a tiny what?"
"come on, don't be an @$$. I caught him staring at you almost ten times", she giggled...!!!

And then I got home and wrote two poems f0r him.

It was a black and white picture. Now I have it framed and it sits on the wooden showcase in my living room. To its right I have placed the vase that you’d given me then. It has no flowers. So that just the vase reminds me of you every time I look at it.

There is nothing much around the place such that whenever I sink into the couch and kill a pillow between my arms, all I can see is the black and white picture.

And you are staring out of it. I look at you and our eyes meet. And my mind travels back to the days when we’d just a few days in hand. The look on your face is that of suppressed laughter. You played safe, not knowing when the camera would click.

I look at the glint in your eyes. A glint that sometimes feels like everything to me.

But I can’t look into your eyes for a moment longer. I couldn’t then. And I can’t now. I start shaking and my hair stands up. I lower my gaze.

And there's me. Not looking at the camera but at you.

It was near my computer, remember? I didn’t know when you’d popped up.

‘We’r gonna get our picture done? WoW! Lemme do my hair…!’

‘Please…one minute..okay…fifteen seconds?’

And then suddenly you rushed to my side, asked me to face the cam and smile. In my chair, you standing beside me, I was still looking up at you and complaining, and it got clicked.

And that second froze forever. For me to sink into my couch and stare at it years later.

Your hands quietly lay on the rim of my chair. Felt like you would never let go.
Felt like one dream that should have come to true.

A dusk
Sunset has colored the sky
And we're biking into infinity

A speed so high
That I cant breathe anymore
That the wind pierces into my skin

To breakfree
I let my hands off your shoulders
Stretch them out and scream our names

I wait
For my voice to strike a mountain
And come back to me

But sad
Our names get lost in the air
I bite my lips & you turn back

Your small eyes
A spark of mischief in them
And you gimme goosebumps

I die
When your lips twist
And the smile reaches the whole of your cheeks

Later
I smile to myself
And I pat my back, I've loved a rebel

Dini

“Dini… the sides of your chapattis aren’t baked at all…c’mon this way your mom-in-law will throw you out of her house…”

“And Dini, what is this? You’re getting darker by the minute. I’m getting Garnier Sun Block for you, and you’re having to wear that... okay?”

“What the hell Dini. Facing the computer day in and out, your glasses are getting thicker. I won’t take you to the doc this time around. Nor would I let anyone take you. One should pay for her actions…”

“Be a girl Dini…what is that bird’s nest doing on your head hun? Want to make your hair look like Shakira’s hun? The next thin’ I’m gonna make sure is that poster of hers goes straight to the dustbin…!”

“Wear clothes Dini honey. Not leaves. And I don’t include three-fourths when I say clothes!!!”

“Dini honey, no more chewing gum at home, promise me…sweetie”

“And who is it that you’re stuck to on the phone every night? Not some guy I suppose?”

“Next time we’re having relatives, do me a favor. Fold your hands and utter a namaste before I beg you to. It’s so embarrassing for me to ask you.”

“Dini, leave that paint brush alone, that hasn’t earned you anything in life. And it’ll neither do in future…I bet!”

“Seven mugs of coffee a night will render you insomniac. You know what kinds of health problems await you when you’ll be my age?”

“Your inbox is overflowing Dini. Who’s maddy? And Abby? And all these people I don’t know? Have sane friends please. Call them home for dinner. I’ll tell you which ones not to keep. Bad company is the worst thing that can happen to you now.”

“And stop speaking like Meg Ryan after you’ve seen Harry met Sally for the umpteenth time. We shall have to incinerate the DVD otherwise…”

“Dini…”

“Are you listening to me…? Or just nodding with earphones plugged in? Hmm??”

Alive!

i'l take ma mind on a long ride
chew the stick of that lollipop till it makes me nauseatic
lie down on ma bed, look at the burst of colors in the sky

look at the boughs of the old coconut give up to the wind

watch ma skin go up in blisters as the sun pours down

one vehicle after another, spitting smoke on ma face

tho' i haven' reached a stalemate
life is just a lil sluggish

i'm running slow

breathing slow
...& i'm alive...

'coz that's all one can ever be!

PS: If at all I made you think, that this was just another shitty piece of poetry, you're mistaken

what you read was ma 200th post...!

Not Yet...

Am I calling it quits, finally?
Has rhythm abandoned me?
Am I not hungry for peace anymore?

When did I leave that desire to tip-toe thru’ the hours of dawn, on wet sunbathed sand and again turn back to count the toe prints?

But what irks me is why I did so, so passively, so sub-consciously?

Am I giving mundanity an upper hand in my life?Am I letting life carry me away on the same beaten path?

Whatever happened to the erstwhile me…whatever happened to Wildflower…!

For the girl who chased shadows...

Hey, look at our shadows
Do they look happy?
No, they don't, right?
Or may be they do...

But my shadow looks thinner, hai na?
And an inch or two taller, than I am.
O My hair! It looks like a tree...I hate that.
And you look like a tower.

And this is mischievous yaa'!
You look closer to me there, than you are.
It looks like we are holding hands or something like that.
But we aren't, right?

As we walk into the light
Our shadows dissolve in it
I turn to find you by my side
And see you're not here...
PS: I was sitting alone on that table for two…that sultry afternoon, after a tired day. Sitting alone, not staring at people for a change. I was looking out of the window. At the setting sun from among the leaf-less branches of a tree. I must have had a distant look in my eyes. I wasn’t where I was. So people smiled at me, did I look insane for average human standards?

I had a cup of tea. That couldn’t quench my quest for warmth. I got another. When I left the table, I neatly arranged the two empty cups, and it looked like two people had been sitting there, and talking about life.

~###~

Meek?
How meek?
How dumb?
What handicap can drive you to such horrendous depths of ignominy?
Why are you so shut up?

Have you lost everything you had?
Don' you have the will to survive further?
Tell me, what is it that is so killing you?
O’er the days, but it is…

C’mon!
Make an effort, darlin’
I’ll see you thru’
Try and make it happen

It's time

My life is a hell lot complicated. No, it can be pretty simple. But it’s me who makes it so complicated. I am amidst horrible people. I am kinda trapped here. And every passing moment I realize their worsening standards. I meet liars, cheats. And I have begun to absolutely despise questions. So I don’t like people asking me who are above mentioned exponents I meet. Things I see, I can’t explain. Things I explain, I don’t see. This is because I have, gradually learnt what it is like to pretend. I so have to pretend, it has become a compulsion.

Am I frustrated ? Yes. Am I am lonely? Yes. Am I looking? No! Not at all… (People please take note.)

Hopelessly romantic? Almost. But excuse me, my notions about love and romance would differ from many of you. So keep all prejudice away. It’s a flame I don’t want to put off. A passion I can’t afford to lose. And no person, alive or fictitious, can ever measure up to my parameters in love. That’s the way it is and so it shall be.

Bold? Yes that I am. The way I think is definitely outlandish according to average standards. I am wild, so an outcaste.

I can talk at a stretch. But I believe that spasms of the facial muscles say more than words.

And there are times, I am so dumbfounded that I might not speak at all. I love to dig into deeper depths of solitude and silence. And this might not be apparent. But true, it is.

I know my lacunae, more than I know my strengths. I know what fails me. And I am so aware of my future, so sans glamour. How dark could it be? Would I be able to figure my own self out in that darkness?

I like to have friends that understand me. And, in fact only a few can do that. But then I cut myself off from them also. And shut myself in my room all over again.

And also, I am the centre of the universe. My universe. And I can't care any less about the rest of it. And that's the way it is...

.......... :)

'Your face is as thought-inducing as a brewing cup of coffee on a foggy winter night'

'Excuse me?'

'Yes, it is'

'Excuse me?'

'Ok, it isn't'

'Why, what happened to that yes?'

'Confess it! You like it when I admire you.'

'Huh!'

'You do, don you?'

'How should it matter when you have already done that do thousands of other women?'

'Really? Who told you that?'

'Why will anybody have to tell me an obvious truth? I know, I just know...Do I look that foolish or something?'

'No, you look beguiling, with all that saintly calm coated all over you and a demure demeanor to floor any man that talks to you'

Nobody talks for a minute

Then he continues...

'Err...allow me to say, I also like the way you raise that right eyebrow, the left one intact. It tells me that you can pounce on me any moment'

'PREPOSTEROUS!'

'Wo'? You're gonna call me names for that?'

'Worse, I'm gonna send you to jail, sue you!'

'That's all?'

'If that doesn shut u up, I'm gonna scratch every part of you with these long nails I've got. Long enough, aren't they?'

'Aw! I can't wait to be...scratched'

'You surprise me with your patience. Hadn't I asked you not to try all your dirty trick on me? Why don you get it? It jus doesn work out'

'You leaving?'

'Or should I stay back for more?'

'But who'l pay the bill?'

and they went on and on...!

Memoirs of DnD!

I didn’t even blink before I deleted the last message I had sent long ago. I was trying to get over memories, get over a hang-over…get over all my sleepless nights, all my failures. I wished I could start afresh, start anew, start a-numb. I keep my cell phone clean. There is not a single name in my call-list, not a single message in my inbox. I never cease to delete those names because, when I look at those names, I get a feel that there are other people in my life besides myself. And all I want to believe right now is that there is not a soul around me, and I want to really relish being so alone, so-so alone in this world. This, in fact is, the truth.
To want to be taken on a flight, short leaps and jumps in lustful air…falls beyond my reach, for now and forever.
My body wants to hide beneath layers of flesh and blood, the thousand wishes that have perturbed my thoughts for years now. As she has never been as wild as my mind is. Nor will ever be.
My mind needs to be engulfed in a musical silence, and she wants to be carried away, away and away, into unknown terrains of unchartered glee. Everlasting latitude.
But more than that, my mind wants to be left alone for now and forever. I really really want to relish being so alone, so-so alone in this even lonelier world.
I want to be seated on shiny staircases, throughout breezy midnights, and feel my hair brush my back. I want fingers to twirl around fingers, and love to rise back to life, like a phoenix.
Is this lust? If it is, then I lust for more…!

In Pursuit of Happyness

'How art thou?'

'Trying to be happy!'

'What?'

'I said trying to be happy...'

'What's that? You're either happy, or you aren't. How can you try to be...happy?'

Hadn't cared much about this statement then. That was way back.

But now,

Yes, one can try to be happy. I am trying to be happy. Precisely because there is no
reason to be...not happy, unhappy, sad.

I have been swaying over whether to write this or not. But let me reveal this once..at least some of it.

Have you heard of withdrawal symptoms? -awkay...U have-

There was a time, when there were many things i wanted to have, at one go. And I
had none of them. I just had hints that i would get them some day.

-is this going very abstract?- -do u get me?-

i chased things...i shed my old aspirations for new ones. i was lost in a hazy maze...

People got to know that i am not as dumb as i look. People got to know that i write.

So many asked me to show my skills by writing them gtalk..messenger status
messages...

Some stooped even lower..asked me write for them..love letters...-okay..this one
was absolutely preposterous-

Many asked me just blurt into a mike...i would stutter and smile but oblige...

Some supposed i am insane- am i not?-

I am loner...so very away from the world i am in...i don't know what's happening right under my nose...

And some days ago, the stress just got too much, i crumbled under the pressure...i
had a complete system breakdown. i would call up my only acquaintance, and cry.

Life started gettin bad to worse. I felt I had nothing. And would have nothing for the rest of my life.

I started having those withdrawal systems.

I-have-had-enough-now
I-shall- sit-back-and-watch

Things went on for some more time. And then one day, i cried just too much. I
caught up with the courage not to care, not to think so much. And surprisingly i liked being that way. And there was this mysterious consolation that
things-will-work-out!

And i decided that i would try to be happy. Little by little, I piled up my efforts. I smiled at people...earlier I din't even look at. I tried to befriend them. I tried to break away from the cocoon I had caged myself in.

I looked down the rusty memory lane. I felt happy. I felt sad. I felt happy-sad. Felt satiated with my hyphenated existence. There are no discrete answers to the
questions of life. Things are a lil fuzzy out here...

There is nothing like...if you're not happy, all you can be is sad...

You can always be trying to be happy...trying to chase the illusion, that happyness
is...

-does this post lack focus?-

-yea-absolutely!-

Palash

One moment I felt so very lonely in this big world.But the void in my life began to fill up as thoughts of Palash trickled into my mind. Palash is everything you would relate everything negative to. He is such a cynic, a misanthrope, a sadist…even then he is as beautiful as fresh gulmohar strewn on green grass. One can’t find a reason to hate him.
When did I meet him? I saw him wave at me, when I had no one of my own to see me off when I was leaving for a place far away. And after that I found Palash on the empty seat beside me.
I like his shirts tucked in. He likes them hanging lose. Every time after class I would find him standing outside, waiting, I would raise my nose at the shirt so mercilessly abandoned, and he would tuck it half in and half out!
Would mutter…’this is the way you strike that perfect neutral’

When he would loiter throwing groundnut shells everywhere, I would stamp his feet hard reminding him the one thousand three hundred and thirty seventh time not to do so, he would quip ‘Lady, that’s just organic waste’
‘Yeah Organic waste, all that your skull has got in it’

Shrewd looks, naughty winks, irrepressible laughter and sticking your tongue out at those tiny nothings are gestures that Palash and I share.

SMS’ with just a smiley in them, calls at 6 30 in the morning asking ‘Let’s talk?’ are the pleasantries we exchange. We leave the constraints of civilization way behind, when we are together. Palash is the only one who can afford to see me at my wildest best!

I like to twist his ears till they literally detach themselves…I like to be a kindergarten-goer with him, yet he brings out the lady in me…so well.
When I just don’t get his certain words, I would be consoled ‘Accent problem, Madame!’

‘But yours is an attitude problem’

People say he indeed has one attitude problem. People say both of us are loners. But we are always together, aren’t we? And people say so many things…

But Palash continues to remain all that he is, as beautiful as fresh gulmohar strewn on green grass. One can’t find a reason to hate him.

Looking for an Alternative-Some pure heart emptying stufF

CAUTION:LONG POST AHEAD! :D
I had a brain storming session and everything in life that is like my staple food immediately shifted to a hazy back ground. Love, the lack of it, solitude, sorrow...frustration everything lost its significance for that sometime. The only thing that blinded me was some kind of a professional slit throat competition. I
lost my capacity to think. I almost lost myself. It was not the usual hopelessness that took over. But there was this blockade that occurred in my brain that prevented me from thinking fast or from thinking at all for that matter. For that sometime the silent musical life I lead looked so distant. The new skin I was supposed to wear looked yet so alien. I din't exactly feeling valueless because I was so trying to
improve myself by analysing my lacunae. But then there were so many things I needed to do...my entire thought process in my mind was like paralysed. I was somewhere where my ingenuine spontaneity ditched me, and ditched me bad. Haven't I had enough of being myself? Just myself. Is the time ripe for introducing things that could make me the person that the profession I have chosen should make me? And by the way, what profession have I chosen for myself? Engineering? Why did I do engineering? Because that was what was the normal course of things after twelfth. And after scoring real bad in it, learning practically nothing out of it, I am wiating for someone to
drop down from the holy heavens and give me a job. And what am I upto now? I am giving entry into a B school, a try. A casual try. I try not to ask myself questions. Things go haywire. Because I never know the answer to these questions. I can't prove myself brave enough to fish in unchartered waters. So I never take that unnecessary risk. Because taking a risk so naturally leads to worrying. And I never wanted to add to my pile of worries, as I happen to be a person with an affinity for the darker things in life. And so strong is my this affinity that I almost like being sad and alone. And for the above mentioned reasons I have never taken risks. Also honestly, before my engineering,I had been subject to some kind of a stress to perform,
and perform somewhat, should I say, par excellence. So performing well takes a non-thinking-and-not-giving-a-damn-fellow via a well beaten path. So I never involved myself in stuff that people generally din't do. So this is where I have landed. A place that looks so much like a dumping ground, where the world dumps unwanted hav-nots. I would be a coolie that could do things that almost 80% of the working
class does. I lack class, I lack vision. I am a rote learner. I never had the guts to take out of my way risks. Most importantly, I am hellishly lazy. I am just one smug person who loves herself very dearly.What are the good things about me? I am spontaneous, and sometimes, out of the box innovative. But my creativity doesn stand
me in good stead when I need it the most. It just pokes its head when I am in the middle of a boring lecture I should be paying attention to. And let me not forget. I am honest too. Honest about my weaknesses. I am honest in criticizing myself. But oh I am so running out of my criticism. I need a capsule or two lateral thinking. How could anybody be so screwed up with the Tom-Dick-Harry whatever way of thinking?
This is not an identity crisis. Because an identity crisis is at times at some abstract level. But I am facing bare truths about myself after a long long time.
Should I have taken the other road? Could I have survived had I picked up humanities...literature? May be not...I have never wanted to do things that have been forced down on me. Anyway, everything would have invariably lead to a failure.
It's not an emotional mess I am in. I am not troubled or anything. But I know I am in a mess. I am conscious of this well thought of disaster that awaits me a few months from now.
May I Rest In Peace

Ash Tray

It must have been hours now that I have sunk into this arm chair. I raise my eyes to figure out the time on the clock. 3 30?
There is smoke everywhere.
It must have been weeks now that I have ever been out of my apartment. What have I been living on?
Left out cereal, smoke and you! Remnants of you rather…
Is a new day about to dawn? I don’t open my windows anymore.
I raise my eyes again. What is it standing near the door? Is it a woman? Is it you?
Just an apparition I know. The woman I see there is a figment of my subconscious. A bit of my subconscious, thrown outside my mind which so much wants to see you again. For one last time.
Should I run to you again and try to hold you, and then find my hands running through nothing but air?
Should I try to make myself believe that it was actually the handle of the door that shone like something else, the shadow of the curtain looked like something else. And all of them, taken together, looked like all I wanted to see. And all I wanted to see was you. For one last time.
Should I squat on that floor and moan again?
I sit here and pick up my umpteenth cigarette tonight, as your shadow near the door continues to be there. I stretch myself. I close my eyes and let the smoke out my nostrils. This smoke would burn all my organs a day, you would’ve said. So, I have no one to nag me after you’re gone!
The ash tray is under a heap of ash now. Should everything catch fire and end up adding to this heap of ash? Should it?

forays into the forbidden...

We just drift apart...
Away and away
And one day, we continue as perfect strangers...
Is that it? This is what a break up is?
From today on, we cease to love each other...Full stop?
We separate because, we fail to understand each other, unlike yesterday...
Or was it a mistake that we ever came together...? Was love a mistake?
We call it off...the buzz stays for a day or two, and then fades into distant memory...
The storm ends, the dust settles down.
How feasible is it for us to wipe it all out, and look for new love?
I know a guy who when they split, wished that she find better love...!
He wrote her a beautiful poem , asking her to remember him, whenever she is awake late in the night, whenever she walked alone in the snow...whenever the raw feel of fresh feelings moistened her heart, if ever again..!

And for those who didn’t feel like commenting on my last post here is something...
.
.
.
.
.

Though the love has left… a remnant remains
It continues to live as a part of me
The story that failed to complete, irks the heart in lonely evenings…
And whenever I feel the petals of a rose pressed neatly somewhere in my diary
And whenever I look at the road that looks so empty
And whenever I feel my pulse, trying to find out if I am alive
But now that it’s high time, people say
I should’ve become indifferent and numb
Even then, the numbness remains…
Love doesn die…

Is it Valentine's Day today?

Guy: Two decades antique.
Newborn poet.
Thinks the ones of his kind are rare,
avoids talking
about his idiosyncratic passions.
Crazy in love.
Pities himself, failure in love's
made him a lot
more cynical

Girl: A year elder than the guy.
Almost Beautiful.
Somewhat visible anorexic dark circles around the small eyes.
Sunsilk hair, looks like it's been thoroughly ironed.
Walks with a gait that particularly makes her waist swing
Doesn't understand the existence of lunatic lovers, pro'ly
And allow me to say kinda sexy? Or well the sub-species of
human females, that men like to be around/

Story: The Guy falls in love( you never rise in love, only 'fall') with the girl at first sight.Doesn't even try to find out about what she exactly is like.
Reasons? No reasons...when when your hormones are running hot, there is no place for reasons.She is a Goddess. The stuff his dreams are made off The next thing he does is write elaborate love letters... send roses her way...
The girl keeps mum, keeps him waiting and guessing.
And this continues, till she finds another stud of a man...

Story Further: Guy has stopped roses and letters, it hurts him to see his lady love go around with the other guy
Time hurts, Love hurts, Life hurts
And he loves that hurt
Because, the thing that you still get hurt, proves that you are still in love

Now: This Valentine's Day, he sends her a card that reads something like 'If you turn back, you will find me waiting where you had left me, alone and gazing at the stars...and definitely writing a poem on you'. It doesn't have his name...just says..Silent Admirer. Does the girl spare that a second thought? We don't know...!

Moral of the Story:
Does this sound like a story to you? It's life. Did the guy waste his precious love on a chic like that? And more importantly, the way he thought her to be one piece of art, did she deserve it? The way he spent sleepless nights, writing her poems...love notes...was all that worth it? And all the hurt he got in return...?

Underachievers' Anonymous

Welcome to the world's underachievers refuge!
We are underachievers, We are losers...
We have failed all our lives...
And now we are heavily drunk
Sitting in sleepy solitary corners
Of obsolete noisy pubs
We incessantly clink our glasses
And talk to ourselves
About what could have been
but never happened
We talk about remorse,
about reasons that tied our feet up
We curse spells of bad luck
We envy the winners of the game
We criticize the rules of the world
We are unhappy, and we clink our glasses
We are chattering, and we drink more
And screw ourselves up
We want the dawn to never come
Too shy to face the day light
We are one amongst those people
Swarms of whom throng these places
Craving for hard work, sweat and blood...
Had we sulked and been lazy?
All our lives we have faked happiness
Tonight let's undo everything

Let's wash the shame
Let's be what we are
Let's make ourselves heard
Let our hearts boast about losing
Let our hearts boast about the trials we made
Despite which we lost...
And pep up the mind which still thinks it deserves more & better

underneath your skin

The million dollar question is how frank are we?
How much of ourselves do we show to the world and
how much do we hide? Despite claiming that we are
born free we are actually tied up in chains,
chains that we ourselves have tied up ourselves
with. Is not secrecy about one’s own self a kind of a
limitation that comes in the way of a free spirit?

How frankly do we expose the hatred that we have
in ourselves for people who induce nothing but
disgust in our minds..?

How delicately are we subject to our instantaneous
bursts of whims? How often have you let the bird of
desire fly out of its cage, out in the open? Should
we let that capricious soul within us die an
uncalled for death?

If we love someone, can we uncork the heart
and talk about it? Despite the not so desirable
consequences...?

If we truly deeply madly admire something/someone what
stops us from confessing?

We were supposed to be free, right?
Afraid of shame, are we?
Do we tremble if anyone points a finger at us in the crowd?
What is wrong about standing apart from the herd of normal
humans, even be it for the conventionally wrong reasons...
After all those reasons are ours. We should stand up for our
reasons. If we don't, who will?
Can't we just stop caring about everything else?
It's all about the Freedom Of Expression, Dammit!

Part II

I lay restlessly on the bed. Changing sides for almost half of the night, I had had enough.
There was hardly anybody I wanted to talk to.
Should I rather talk to myself? I ventured into the corridor. I had left my slippers behind and I could feel the cold floor underneath. I was a little lost as always and had no idea where my feet were taking me.
I was tip-toeing quite confidently into the heart of the night until I don’t know what stopped me.
Holy Shit!
I catch him painting…!
And when I look at his canvas…my eyelids refuse to flap.
The victim of his passion leaves me awestruck, gaping for breath.
I never cared to know, but am I like this ethereal?
Is it bits of me that he has scattered with the paint on his canvas, or something in me that is known only to him?
Hell! She exudes energy…


PS: Aman, this one's for you! LoL

hold me a little longer love/let my sorrow sink into you/and my tears mingle with your lips/let me love you more/hold me a little longer love

when i say i have had enough/tell me i need to live/take my hand/lead me into the wilderness/listen to my silence

build me a house/ stay with me forever/never leave me alone love/never!

look into my eyes/say you will be there/nomatterwhat/and say that again/and again...

let me never feel insecure/abandoned, alone/the only feel that may reside in my heart/should be that of love/your love

assure me that/i would never have to be out there/dying in thirst/in the heat and the sun

promise me that i will /always have your arms/to snuggle upto

nomatterwhat/never let go love/never let go

hold me a little longer love/hold me forever

I-am an everlasting dream

I rolled my eyes down my phone book. I saw my call list, all the numbers I had dialed, all the numbers i had got a call from, all the numbers that I had missed. Now I have not a single person I could call. Just call...

Not a single person, I could meaningfully message. loneliness is so out of fashion man. I am either supposed to be shopping crazy,walking into and into the numerous alleys of some eighteenth century market or laughing up and down the escalators of some splendid mall. Or eating out, somewhere...counting my calories and my cash.

I always have loved being alone though, writing things on my computer, listening to my kind of music, staring at the walls, without quite knowing that I am doing so. Sinking into depths of mushy thought; mulling over things. Or flat imagining, of how things could have been, had life been otherwise. But at times, being lonely is so out of fashion it seems, when you see chicks chatting away on that phone thing, getting away for those infinite walks...to the road near the mountain.

When I stare out of my window, the green highs of the mountain are still a hazy, thought inducing extremity; the cloud hidden peaks are a faint hint of romance for my heart, long solitary walks are for inspiring my indolent self, and keeping a track of myself.

For me life is a distant proposition and love, an impossibility.

Part I

‘So how about getting the lady a lovely new dress?’
I would have sprung off my feet at those words.
And normally say something like ‘Fantastic! Let’s go, get it! What are we waiting for?’
But I had to show that I have my own reservations. Particularly with new comers into my life.
So I remember smiling and saying something like, ‘Mmmm…no. I already have so many’
And then his face evolved an impish smile, ‘A girl can never have so-many dresses, I had heard!’
We laughed that away.
I don’t know what for was he so exceptionally amicable to me. He could have simply treated me like a far off relative, here to see his city. He could have put me up at some hotel, called me home for an occasional dinner, and get done with it. But he would rather see me in a room in his house.
Men at an age like his are conventionally supposed to part from youngsters for their highly screwed up generation Y antics. But he would rather spend his time trying to know what exactly was happening within me.
Was all this because he had been alone all his long life? Or was it because he was an artist?
We were having lunch at one of his favorite restaurants. It’s a mildly sunny afternoon. He eats a little and talks a lot.
Does he at all push his glasses up his nose and behave like that I-am-a-friend-of-your-dad and all? No, he so completely stands apart from that category.
We converse like two age-less people. He is pretty deep as a person. When I am not attentive, I get lost in the contours of his face. His eyes sparkle when he speaks, and he folds his hands on the table when he talks to me.
Is this that young girl fantasizing should I say a ‘middle-aged’ man syndrome? Probably no.
He is just another object of observation. And it is now that I can see beyond his wrinkles…