Hope is unreasonable, illogical, stubborn..

Tonite I am a self proclaimed star. No, I am not drunk. Nor have I won anything due to my talent/attitude. Most of the time I am pretty sure I don't have either. But there's a reason behind my self proclaimed stardom. There has to be.

I have had a decent share of rejections in my life so far. That's the victory I am talking about. Living despite these failures. Learning to deal with them, learning to be indifferent to them, is what I have in my kitty today. And I swear these are hard earned.

Everytime I fail I have wanted to be alone. Hell, I never analyse what went wrong. I just vent it out, I scream like there are no walls. I despise company, even in good times dude, in bad times company is evil, fatal. I deal with life, alone. I hate help. Help is pity. Now with time I realise that the number of things that could hurt me that irreversibly has shrunk. The degree too has reduced.  That's the victory, hence the stardom.

I have grown up like a person inside a person, pretty much in isolation. Perfect isolation is my moksha, the light at the end of the tunnel. Insulating myself from everything outside me is the ultimate idea. As long as I am on that path.. sigh

I have won, yeah in this very life. But after being almost choked to death. After biting dust. After having seen my worst fears come true. After having fought & lost, and fought & lost. And I am so used to it by now that winning in the first go is not something I would choose, it's crazy I know. I like to put up a good fight, I like to tread on the edge of the sword. Springing back to life after tasting death. The stubbornness of this hope is resident in me, at least for now. This is the victory, hence the stardom. Sigh

en route

Flying, home bound. Nothing quite like it. Above the earth for three hours or so. Changing cabs, dragging her knapsack, she caught her flight after almost missing it. Home bound, after a long tiring Friday. For a marginally extended weekend, she couldn't make it on diwali and had goa plans with the girlfriends in December, so this time was just about right, to relish home.

Just after the seatbelt sign was no more, she headed for the washroom. In the mirror, she looked at herself, she didn't feel a thing. Couldn't decide whether to wash her face or not. Engaging in silly immaterial questions, she thought kept the serious scathing ones away. Ambivalence took over her and she stood there, staring at her own face, not feeling a thing.

Later, she saw him in the aisle. And lost half of her sanity in just about a second. Was it him? She saw him walk closer towards her, her seat i.e. Why hadn't she met him in the airport, she could've met him in the lounge at least, she could have abandoned the flight, headed back to her dingy apartment. But she hadn't, she bit her tongue. What would she do for these long hours now? She was suddenly getting tempted to hide her face with the newspaper or something. But that would keep her from noticing how he'd changed, in the last couple months. Undecided, she breathed in large gulps, blood rushed into her head and heart and she wasn't sure if she would break down into tears in the next minute or the one after that or was she crying already?

He was a mere two seats ahead of her, she could stretch her hand and touch his hair. That proximity scared her. All the self imposed stability, those no-i-am-just-fine's had just abandoned her. Behind her copy of the Economic Times, she was shivering. Her mind strayed to his goatee again that wasn't there anymore, she had so adored it. To displace people from your mind, you get rid of the things about you that they loved the most. Wasn't that why she never baby-talked ever, after him. 

She was struggling with facts, the next thing. Wasn't he in Delhi the last time she'd checked on Facebook? What was he doing here? And why did he have to go home the same time she chose to? Why did they have to share the same hometown? Why does life ridicule you after breaking your heart, she thought. It never just gets enough, does it. Call it a day now; now at least, she told the forces conspiring against her. Hadn't she been through too much? Thankfully they turned the lights off, and she sighed in short-lived relief.

Had he noticed her yet? Did he remember her? Of course, he did. They'd broken off just about when they were absolutely comfortably settled. Just about when they'd begun shedding their defenses, opening up, sharing nothings, getting used to having each other. They chose that opportune moment to call it off, suddenly, heartbreakingly. She wasn't sure why. She hoped, he didn't know either. It had just happened, and hence the reluctance to look at each other ever again.

When she turned back after picking her luggage, switching on her two cell phones, wondering whether to call up Mom, wondering if she'd arrived already, or was she stuck in traffic, he said Hi. In one go, she realized that her T was pathetically loose, hair shabbily clutched, half of it falling on her face, kohl smudged. And she smiled back at him.

How're you? 

Good, she said between that smile. Dragged the straps of knapsack on her shoulders and left, abruptly, just when he was about to say the next word.

Outside, she picked up a mauve gerbera for Mom. Only if gerberas could buy happyness!


The degree of involvement between two people varies, on a case to case basis. You couldn't tell a more involved couple from a less involved one. Or could you? These things are sometimes very vague. Also, defining right from wrong is none of my business. But sometimes, what I behold is so outrageous that I wish I could make the right from the wrong.

I ain't angry. Adultery isn't punishable by death. Neither should it be. But is that why it is so rampant? What is it that makes it so difficult for people to love the one they love. The one. What is the impossibility that distance brings along with it? Why is cheating on your boy/girlfriend so easy? So much so that it hurts my eyes. Is it love only in the romance of being close and not in the being apart and missing each other and falling deeper into love with each other? Why do people fall apart when they're away? Why do they look for other sources of entertainment to keep their minds engaged when they're away from the one they so loved? Can that ever be justified? Why do people cheat on each other? How much more is being in it harder than falling in love? It shouldn't be like that, right? It all comes together. The pain, the joy. All of it. Is there no guilt? Why is love taken for granted? 

It's not fair. Despite being the uninvolved third party, my heart proverbially goes out. For the one who is so trusting and away and so much in love and is absolutely unaware of what people are up to. Commitment is not that tough, ask me. It isn't. Though it's none of my business. 


Asked to recollect all achievement since my inception, I fell prey to a marathon quagmire. After a few hours of rudimentary analysis, the plummeting trends were clearly visible. If clearly you perceive as an exaggeration, then faintly be it. Faint, but saddeningly understandable trends. Extrapolatable, hence saddening. I explored and found my reason for the same.

Brutal honesty being my synonym, I would tell you the truth.

I was born ambitious. Love spoiled me. In the quest for a complement, I shed me. Shed it gradually, painfully-gradually. Turned into a pessimist from an otherwise. Lost hope. Imbibed sarcasm. Couldn't be a believer anymore. Couldn't afford it. Shrunk into myself. Abandoned faith. Spat at conventions. Began a journey. Some journey.

Love spoiled me. Killed me. Taught me to live after death.

Marooned me in hell. Made me someone I a'int. Forced me to begin this journey. Some journey

rasiyaa aaja
haule haule ras barsajaa
hoton ko, mehkajaa
rasiyaa aaja

baby steps to insanity

to look at the moon 
on full-moon nights
to feel the dark
on no-moon ones
we used to go to a place

in the shade of pines

do you?

birds flew past
they recognized us
the air had unknown smells

under the stars
we used to sit
and tease and talk

do you?

now they're craning that earth out
and making a building there
in our place
where we'll never be
ever again

those smells
are now lost love,
lost love
there isn't dark 
no pines
the moon's gone too

and so are we

that place has forgotten us
just like
you've forgotten me
darlin darlin

everything's over 
now it's no more us
just me
only me
until i can't
hold my breath
sans you

i see that building come up
i try to thrust this belief into me
that you're no more
but can't

no verse
can even begin to convey,
to say
how much 
i miss you
and want you

so much so
that i would rush back in time
to then
just hold on to you
darlin darlin



Everlasting latitude. This was exactly what I had been looking for, for the past six years. And lately, I had been engaging rather irrationally in my this pursuit. My trivial stint must have surprised him, if surprise could be a euphemism for absolute shock. An absolute early morning shock. So much so that I could have looked like a continuation of a dream, with bags in hand, banging his door just when dawn broke. He was half asleep when he opened the door for me, hair disheveled, breathing in between yawns. But not a question was asked.

We hadn't talked for a week or so. And such a thing happens often, no one needs to give an explanation to anyone. Though it had been enviously long, we had never cared to sit down and define our relationship. Draw the lines we would promise to stay inside of. No, we hadn't. He had tried once or twice, not in my fair recent memory though, but I remember him having tried. Like making an attempt to give it a name, make me meet his friends at least, if not parents. But I wouldn't let a thing this holy happen, ever. I was against anything that would make me grow roots, even in the places I loved. So the we kept it on and off, mostly the latter. I would tend towards being a philanderer of the immoral sorts, but somehow at the end of every single fling or romantic get away or soul shattering heartbreak, I would find my way back to him. Tell him my story, watch him watch me sob. Believing that I could never be able to gather myself, yet learning to rise from shambles.

Something that had always surprised me was how alive I became everytime I met him. Never as conscious as then, never as enlightened as then, and that is not an overstatement. So much so that I had begun to take it for granted, finding him at every turn of the road. And this was the reason why I couldn't draw those lines. Love would make me blind with passion, he never did. He opened my eyes rather. So it couldn't be love. I had supposed it to be platonic, but that it wasn't entirely that, we both knew. Ours fell in no mans land. Hence the dearth of lines.

But this was a big leap. Moving in, living-in. I didn't know what was expected of me. Is it time to draw those lines yet? I stood in his apartment, and thought so. Would poaching eggs early morning, groceries and laundry would be it? It? The end of the pursuit of everlasting latitude. I leaned out of his thirteenth floor patio, feeling slightly demented.


I rarely give things more importance than they deserve. I rarely give things even the minimum importance they deserve. Mostly take life as it comes. Many times I have thought about disabling comments on this blog, or blocking it altogether. But then, what the heck. It's not as important, is it. Life should be taken as it comes. I am never more concerned than I should be. I somehow decide that optimum level of concern by introspection.

But now, I am scared of everything. Every-thing. Fear has such a paralysing power, what do I tell you. I am afraid of all my future bosses, all those interviews I have to sit for to get a job, all those future co-workers, all of whom are gonna have that attitude, all those people I would never be able to strike a friendship with because I would never sincerely try to. I am afraid of all those first meets with so so many people. Life looks very uncertain right now. I have no idea where I am gonna land up. I am scared of living totally alone in big cities, staring at choked roads not knowing where to go. I am afraid of living alone, without friends, without love. I am afraid of all those failures that are just waiting to make my life worse. I am so scared, I can't think but cry. I have been needing to cry. All this is happening because I am just pushing things inside me. Deeper and deeper. I need to scream and shout and cry, for God's sake. I do not talk to people because I can't share my problems with them. I know I will never find the one I will share my problems with. They just have a panache for leaving me. My personal problems are affecting me professionally. I absolutely despise myself for letting that happen. Why does life always look like it's at an all time low?

Why? Why me? Why this? Why here? Why now? Why? Will someone please tell me? Please!

Again I thought of disabling comments on this one. But what the heck!


For the umpteenth time Oona stared out of the window. Quintessentially lost. The remaining part of the night looked like a quagmire she wished not to untangle. Twirls of smoke hung in the air, between patches of darkness and smoke, the mirror wouldn't recognize her. She blew on the window pane, wrote random letters. Random letters.

She loved not a vampire. Oona loved a man, almost fatally. The night echoed with pangs of this furious love. She battled brutal truths, till her last breath. Hung to hope, and then killed it herself. Trapped herself in the vicious cycle of loving and hating the same man. Oona loved a man, who couldn't love her back. That was the caveat. Caveat.

As the night deepened, all she did was wait. Nothing but wait. Wait has a venomous bite. It's a slow poison for the spirit. Every minute that passed by, killed Oona a li'l more than the last. Fatal love takes a toll. Unrequited love. Unrequited.

The man, he has long fingers. She knew by heart the shape of his nails, when he did away with stray strands of hair from her face before a kiss. He had an aroma that sat between her nostrils, it never left her alone. Never.

Her eyes began to burn, sleepless and loveless. Buried in smoke, it wasn't her in the mirror anymore. Cold and numb, she pushed the windows open. There wasn't a storm outside. All her thoughts paused at the very thought of the man. He was etched deep within her, she fed him her sorrow and made sure he lived there.

Yet, not much of the night had passed. Has passed.

Walks To Remember-7

I am not good at goodbyes. Often, they carry a lot of awkwardness along. I didn't know what this one was gonna  be like.

The night was unusually cold and we were out on a walk. Our last. Though nothing about it made it feel like a last walk, it was just another day, though colder, rain in the skies had been waiting for long. We weren't clingy or anything, rather effortlessly impersonal, I was my obvious self and he was letting me be. It was way past midnight, must have been. I didn't care to check, wanted to lose track of time, wanted not to keep record. Memory is bad luggage. Old trees flanked the road from both sides, there was not a soul anywhere. Like the night was lost in sleep, pretty much.

Just to remind him that we were still together, I screamed..

'Let's have icecream!'

There was a store at the other end, needed a lot of walking.

'Can you go back all the way..?', he paused
'I could walk till the world's end tonite.'

For the icecream I meant. I din't know what he understood.

We would walk on the right side of the road, normally you walk on the left, don't you? But he wouldn't understand. He'd say, only if you walk on the right side would you see vehicles approaching. If you're on the left, how're you even supposed to know what's behind you. And hence I would surrender and we would walk opposing the whole world. Whenever an occasional car passed us, headlights would zoom right on my eyes and he would place his hand on them, like the light was hurting me or something. There were a lot of other things though, inside and hurting, the ones that he couldn't see and I wouldn't show.

At the store, I jumped at the sight of chocolate. While he was paying I broke the silence again.

'You won't have one?
'Nope, I'm good.'
'Ah what? There is no flavor manly enough? C'mon men too eat icecream!'

He stood there, smiling, letting me pull his legs, letting me be, before picking up a cone for himself. And then we began the walk back. It had gotten colder. I was shivering and licking the icecream, and he was staring, amazed. I wanted to take a screenshot.

'How can you do that?', he said trying to look shocked.
'Do what? I'm absolutely loving this. Cold beats cold.'
'Sorry, I can't finish this, would help you beat it better!', he gave his to me.

And so we began walking again. He lit a cigarette. I had devised this strategy to make him quit. I would ask for a puff whenever he smoked. And he obviously would throw it away. But that one time, he didn't. May be, he was trying to get used to noone stopping him henceforth. He immediately placed the cigarette between my lips and said, take it in.

And there we stood. Me, both hands full of icecream, lungs full of smoke, shocked, feeling really stupid. He was laughing like we'd actually reached the world's end.

Just then the waiting rain couldn't wait anymore. It gave in.



What's with virginity anyway? Why is it that big a deal? Why is sex tabooed? Why is the the truth censored? Why do we not talk? No wonder we have perverts running on the streets. Perverts, right amongst us.

Why is the excuse of culture brought up everytime we sit down to discuss the real issues, everytime we try to adapt to the times, to become more real human beings? Why do we live inside the closet? Why do we banish the ones who speak their mind?

Culture is not what was, nor what its self proclaimed keepers claim it to be. Culture is what is becoming of us.

Why can't sex be just dismissed as just another need of the body and/or mind? What is the big deal?

Did the IIT R student community plead guilty and apologize, I do not stay updated enough, but apparently they did. But why? Why are such undeserving issues blown out of proportion by a grossly irresponsible media? They are consenting adults, intelligent enough obviously, they could make whatever they want out of their lives. Why should they be banished for doing so? Why are they being judged? Is it just because they did it out in the open? Huh!

Here, we have co-ed hostels. Who knows what happens behind closed doors. Rather, we all do! But no way is this being blown out of proportion. It's someone's personal life, and we the people, do not have a say in it. Absolutely not any.

So what's the difference between the two instances? The former happened out in the open and the latter behind closed doors. Is that the big deal? That we can't be more open-minded? Did our culture prohibit us from becoming so? Why are we such parochial a society? Why the hoopla over this trivial an issue? Gimme a Break!