What's the point?

What interests you more?
The comeback, or picking up the old fragments of what you were years back?

We start something. We think we will stick with it all along, through everything that will be thrown at us. And then while we are tottering our way through the thick fog of everyday life and viewing the world through the smokescreen, we forget our old muses, promises and our images. Before we know it, we do evolve into completely different human beings, made wiser by the mistakes, blinded by new pursuits, smitten by the temporary dazzle of fresh people we have come across. Soon, before you can sense it, such things will be routine. Somehow, everything that has ever been precious to me has always slipped into the background , as if to protect itself against the onslaught of the on-the-face present.

And the best quality to seek, find, nourish, teach and learn is how to forget everything and keep moving. What matters is what we need to do to the ones who we are leaving behind, what stories we are going to stitch with them, how reassuringly we are going forward. It's the look in your eyes, that's the only thing that is going to stay with the ones behind. The stories, the graceful exit, the silent signs and promises of possible comebacks. 

Silent nights.

It's a mixed feeling. It was raining for days at end, to the point that I grew sick of it. All my washed clothes fell down and got drenched all over again. Initially, it seemed to be a refreshing change as the sky darkened and cool gust of wind started bringing the smell of earth to every seeking nose. But then the accompanying channels of water all over the place spoiled everything for me. To add to my misery, I found a cute pomerian hovering around a market, looking for a shelter from the pelting drops. Looked like it was abandoned by some rich family and some other canine had annexed its coveted kennel. It was a sorry sight and as I pencil in my thoughts tonight, my mind is consistently being drawn back to that poor dog. How desolate and lonely it would be now!

There is a little kitten that loves to stay in our dormitories. Her was a classic case of separation from her siblings and her mom. Her other frolicsome and perhaps more naughtier sister was run down by our relentless bus. But the fortunate kitten that our little one is, she was saved by our guards. She is as intrepid a cat as you would ever bump into. She has taken a liking to humans. She lifts her paw and chases your fingers deeming them to be some insect or her eternal foe, a mouse. If you are daring enough to get near to it while she is a bit sleepy, you can make out how much she loves being caressed or how she curls into a ball in your lap shedding all her fickleness for an hour of beautiful and rare peaceful sleep. I am a little worried about her. How would she survive the dreary winters and aberrant spells of rain? On second thought, every solitary kitten in the jungles or our gardens fight all odds and grow up and so our kitty would too! I hope she will.

For me years have worked the other way around. When I was a kid, the very sight of a dog appalled me. I steered safely past them and could never quite pat,caress or fool around with them. To me , they were a mad lot chasing rag pickers and suspicious men who never liked people drawing close to their meals. Cats were more deceptive and seemed more shy. They walked gingerly and were always on the prowl for milk or anything they could lay their whiskers on. As I have grown up, this sense of unfamiliarity has been replaced by a feeling of curiosity. I want to know them. Although I am yet to lift a dog/cat on my lap, there is a surge of love and satisfaction which holds me whenever I find a dog/cat engrossed in its own world chasing imaginary preys or enjoying forty winks on the beds of my friends. To them everything seems new and filled with possibility. They don't get bored walking the same lanes or sniffing the same soily corners. To them a park never grows old or a house never seems bereft of enjoyment. They would always find something to indulge in.

In a way, life too is a quest for that elusive thing that would keep us engaged all through. That one thing which we must seek all our lives without getting tired or bored. That little thing, procuring which, our faces would give the widest smiles of contentment. Take your pick. Live for it. Forever. Until you find it. And then rest in a benign way like the kitty on your lap.

The past is well past us!

A dry spell again! A rough patch or a sudden aversion is all it takes to stay put in the cocoon where I find solace and silence. I am not a cynical man. For that matter, I have loved life with a vigor which surprises me. But I am just sick of routine. I am not tired of the darkness that seems to envelop the world. I very well know that I am also a part of the gloomy picture. For some, I am the most sinister of minds that they have ever come across. I want to extend my apologies to such souls. If I had a device to turn that angst you feel when you bump into me into something lighter , I would have done that straightaway. Alas! I can't.

There is no need of remaining crossed with the state of things, forever. Every other day some ugly situation would arise in an unprecedented fashion to give you a bite of reality. Sometimes your worst dreams would come true. Friends on whom you were relying all your life would pull the rug out from under your feet and leave you deserted. Life treats you shabbily at times. It is a blunt truth. The sooner you realize that, the better.

What then remains to be done? Unwarranted outcomes, deliquescent relations would always remain there no matter how earnestly you want them to wane. It is very natural to get disillusioned in the face of such adversities. It is perfectly normal to shed some tears and shut all windows. But for how long? Invariably I have felt that eventually your heart settles down, starts gaining the poise and it conforms to the bad realities of life. Then it sends you a silent omen that signals that it is high time you started looking for newer options and broke the shackles of the past. And that is when you should cease the moment, kick the past in the butt, make friends with immutable truths and set out on achieving something more realistic. This time don't stake everything you have on one dream or even worse on one person.

The past is never past us. I may serve a thousand diktats here and still you would cling to it. You won't forgive people who ploughed through your heart. It is impossible for most of us to accept that our trust has been met with outright treason. But is past that precious as to barter all your happiness for it?

No body can improve the things for you. If you are in a pickle , you have got to pull yourself out of it. The past is like that creepy herb that would impede your progress by entangling you in it. How long you want to be in its captivity is entirely upto you. Every one has an innate machinery to deal with the ghosts of the past and come out shining. It might seem flimsy but losing your ground to old mishaps ain't the way.



Being unhappy forever simply doesn't sound right.

Enough is enough

Am I obsessed with myself? I only dish out angry, silly rants that no one even bothers to entertain. I am tired of writing about myself now. For a change, I want to stop patronizing all of you with conceited shit. Now, I would offer everything under the sun but myself.

* A philosophy is not philosophy if every one swears by it.

All of you are encouraged to halt my train of thoughts and opine in whatever way you can.

Silence is deafening

I have never known why silence intrigues me so much. Often when I stop by a famous book-store in Pune, my eyes seem to hover around for someone who is all engrossed in herself and perusing through some unknown novel. Fixation doesn't stop here. There is a certain charm in silence which words, somehow, have never been able to tap. I have lived alone, with a thousand thoughts bustling in my mind and but still have managed to look calm on the outside. I have celebrated alone and have adorned silence as a coat to hide my earnest desires of being loved/ cared back. I have always loved silence- but somehow I have never volunteered to smear myself with it. It just so happens-that life makes me a loner, murders my will to talk and a sudden huss replaces all the silly blah-blah that was rambling across my head. Sometimes, silence is thrust on us. At times, I have nursed a desire to sit besides my friends and talk to them about everything in this world, but I have found no one willing enough to listen to me.

I have always impressed people with my glib conversations- some have just marvelled at my never-ending zest for life, some have grown tired of my voice and have distanced themselves from me. A particularly sad incident happened a few days back when a summer intern at my place summoned enough audacity and darted straight to me and said," For all your wisdom and nature, I find you irksome. Your talk bamboozles me. I can't stand it.". It was so straight in the face, so brutally honest that I wasn't even able to respond properly. There are a thousand answers I have with me now but the sheer honesty of his confession is what has held me back. Why! I can't be interesting or engaging for every bloke on this planet. All I managed in retribution was , "It's ok". That was all I could muster and then silence prevailed. If I was a shadow of what I was some months back, I would have issued him one tight slap and would have not thought twice before doing so. But silence has conferred me that humility to inhale the severest of criticisms. Voice, on the other hand, has only earned me flak from everywhere. I am a terrible speaker, it seems.

So where I was? Silence draws me. There is this one particular intern, this time a girl who has captured me. She is so calm, diffident and drawn to her books that I can't help but admire her. Sometimes I have this strange urge to go upto her and listen to what she has got to say. I am sure her silence has got something more than what meets the eye. An agony or a broken dream, who knows?

I am still at a loss of words. A part of me wants to hit back at the impostor fella and let him know that I ain't a sissy if I haven't answered him yet. A part of me wants to embrace silence so that no such guy ever-ever comes to me with such blunt truths. The road to recovery seems to be a weary one.

Quickfix

Ok. The hiatus ends . A calm resides in my life after a flurry of upheavals. Life is so transcient. After long contemplations, battle with thoughts, turmoil, isolation...I feel like a pariah who has just been inducted back into his native village.

How is this summer treating you , pals?

Late addendum:: I visited someone's blog today. It was so full of wisdom, strength that it reminded me of a time when even I emanated that vibe. Well, he goes beyond that.

The art of rediscovery is something you pick up when everything you have learnt or believed in over the years , goes for a toss.

Fare not well! Fare forward, Voyager.

People often complain that I tend to be very mundane and preachy. A sermon is the last thing one expects from someone like me. On the surface, I have always been the one with life trickling down his eyes, all embossed in festivity and never letting sorrow get the better of me. It's time to shed that cloak forever. I have put on that veil of happiness long enough . Deep down , I am dying. A slow but certain death. I am dying with every passing minute. The falseness of the world is killing me. And the worst thing is that the dome of situations encircling me has led me to condescend to such a low standard that sometimes I am ashamed of myself.

I am only a shadow of what I used to be. Anger, Jealousy, hopelessness is turning me diabolic. All of you would pour sympathy on me and drench me with your concerns. Or even leave me unscathed inside the refuse of my own being.

I am retiring from everything. In the lookout for my lost soul. Till I find everything that eludes me now, I won't return here. A prolonged wait in store? May be... but sometimes it is better to stop than to keep moving into the shallow marshes.

Adios.

written on April Fool's Day!

"The page was lying lonely, blank
Until I decided to play a little prank! "

Back then on that day, it sounded stupid and just made-up. On a second read ( in fact several!! Poets always love their own creation..:P), I think fate metes out the same treatment to each of our barren lives. It always comes up with something that would knock you off, stir you back to action.

Q&A

1. Were you named after anyone?
No. Mom was doing her masters in sociology and I happened. She and her friends sat down and christened me over a cup of tea and samosas. A name to carry all my life was given to me in an evening roost. The word, as mom explains, kept recurring in her textbooks...it just got stamped on me.

2. When was the last time you cried?
It is plain clockwork. I see something sad and tears roll down. In my moments of quietus, I weep over a whole lot of things. And only strong people cry. Weak people swear and yell.

3. Do you like your handwriting?
Absolutely!! Cursive when I am all on my heels... when I am not listening ..I don't write at all.

4. What is your favorite lunch meal?
Any chicken delicacy. I would have loved to be a pure veggie..but the yummy chicken won't ever let me do it.

5. Do you have kids?
Nah!!

6. If you were another person, would you be friends with you?
Hell Yeah!!

7. Do you use sarcasm?
Have been caustic in my old times. But then figured out that sarcasm is just a cloak for the cowards who know not how to say things directly and with apt conviction.

8. Do you still have your tonsils?
Yes. And they trouble me with the slightest hint of weather change.

9. Would you bungee jump?
Chicken-hearted..(!!!)... me. Nope.

10. What is your favorite cereal
Bred on hay(!!) and bread. Never really liked the idea of cereals.

11. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off?
Depends on my level of energy. After a hard day's cricket match, I never feel like taking them off in a routine fashion. I toss them ..as soon as I can.

12. If you were to pick your own first name, what would it be?
I love my name. But if I were to change it willy-nilly, I would like to take one of Lord Krishna's names.

13. What is your favorite ice cream?
Anything involving even a crumb of chocolate. Also pineapple cake is a favorite.

14. What is the first thing you notice about people?
Just listen to them. Lend them your voice when they want to hear you. That is the only attention you need to give to the other party.

15. Red or pink?
Dark Red has something very sensual about it.

16. What is your least favorite thing about yourself
Perhaps I don't take criticism in a proper way and get all fumed.

17. Whom do you miss the most?
Friends. Family. Loneliness. I never leave any of them alone for a long....somehow they always find me.

18. Do you want everyone to complete this list?
Yep. That at least would test their patience, if anything!!

19. What color pants and shoes are you wearing?
Blue Denim and a dark green shirt.

21. What are you listening to right now?
Learning to Fly ..Pink Floyd.

22. If you were a crayon, what color would you be?
Blue

23. Favorite smells?
The aroma of the soil after the first shower, flowers and colognes. But I wish I was programmed to take in even the obnoxious smell of poverty inside me. That would have been something. The smell of the masses.

24. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone?
I think it was mom.

25. How do you know the person who sent this to you
Actually...I got myself tagged from Snow.

26. Favorite sports to watch?
Lawn Tennis...Football and t20 cricket.

27. Hair color?
Pitch Black.

28. Eye color?
Black

29. Do you wear contacts?
Nope.

30. Favorite foods?
Chicken.

31. Scary movies or happy endings?
Happy endings. At least ..in movies endings must be beautiful In real life, things end on a sad note.

32. Last movie you watched?
Slumdog Millionaire. For all the buzz it had created. I wasn't disappointed.

33. What color shirt are you wearing?
Green.

34. Summer or winter
Winter. For all its warmth and time it gives me to think and introspect.

35. Hugs or kisses
Hugs. Never been kissed. Never have kissed. Although I have had pretty warm hugs in the past.

37. Describe your pencil cup
Its a steel one. Gifted by two of the best buddies on my b'day.

38. Favorite artist(s)?
I am not an art person. But Leonardo Da Vinci was a genius.

39. What book are you reading now?
Two simultaneously. "Chicken soup for the soul" and " Gone with the wind"

40. What is on your mouse pad?
It is a plain black mouse.

41. What did you watch on tv last night?
All the news about the Oscars. And the Slumdog's juggernaut.

42. Favorite sound(s).
Songs hummed by me in my moment of solitude. Otherwise Pink Floyd and Kishore Da have me spellbound.

43. Rolling stones or Beatles?
Beatles.

44. What is the farthest you have been from home?
1776 kms to be precise. From one corner of my country to another.

45. Do you have a special talent?
Everyone has a talent for survival.

46. Where were u born?
Muzaffarpur, Bihar.

47. Favorite piece of jewelry?
Oye..I am a boy.

48. How did you meet your spouse/significant other?
It's a catch. I am not answering this. Lets say it was a sublime moment.

49. Favorite song?
Hard to zero on.

50. Favorite musical?
Certainly not Yuvraaj. :p
I have not been to any Broadway show yet.


Ok. I tag Vivek, Afaque.

...Pointless...

* The boy is safe. And my friend is all smiles. The lever malfunction was coolly treated by the docs. Here is a high five for you docs.

*This is one of those dry patches which hits every blogger. Dearth of ideas, lack of drive, shortage of words. I have very queer notions about this phase which many of you might even find derogatory or plain rubbish. Whatever..but there's gotta be some way to come out of this. Please drop in your hands in the river to save this drowning man.

*Studies are going okay. So all those ballistic and terrifying names of courses Quantum Mechanics, Non linear Dynamics and blah blah.. are on my plate this time. And they don't seem too unpalatable as they are made out to be.

* Had a low key class presentation today and it went well. So what's so peculiar about that? Actually from now on , every little success would be celebrated. So I am taking some friends of mine for a coffee at the BARISTA's. All these little things which we forget to rejoice ... in our life-long trail of the eternal joy.. really should not be allowed to slip past us... get hold of them and kiss every joy that comes your way.

* This calls for a hurray. Finally I have incorporated neatness and organization back into my life. Although I miss my shabby clothes and cluttered table like anything ..still there is a certain divinity in being clean. Scheming things well in advance leaves you asking for that thrill which uncertainty throws at you ... but at least all the uncalled for sorrows also get a good bye. Its real nice to sleep on a clean bed without a pen pinching against your back all night!!

*Caravan ..our Annual one day event is due and I am eager to get a seat and enjoy it. A bit of hooting.. some melodrama.. some perky numbers being danced upon..it makes at least one gloomy evening..... Okay.. Musical..is the word.

New Year....Really?

Sorry people for this long an absence from the arena. Actually all my ideas have dried up and my thoughts have locked themselves in some closet. How can someone spill with an empty stomach? But much like those waves that hit the shore and return to the sea...I keep resurfacing and vanishing.

Although, I had thought that 2009 would start with at least some optimism and hope, it has been no less a disaster. Little mishaps, huge mistakes and broken dreams. Apart from a new habit ( of washing linen.. and folding my clothes crease per crease ..), which has been picked up because I want to see if I am the same hostel guy I was once ..there are no positives to be had from the first 20 days of January.

As always, I have a line of goals filling up my journal , some crying out really loud to be realized and some pretty sure of themselves never coming to fruition. 2009 , has started up with fraud cases. Moral decadence is on an all time high. And as I am writing, boyfriend of one of my closest friends is struggling in a Lucknow ICU , battling a lever gone awry. Resolutions are already being broken everyday!!

Never really intended my first post of the year to be such low key and morose. All of you, like me, are fond of flashy beginnings. Also a silent end is what we normally anticipate. So, I must not flee without offering you some hope.

While Obama churns out his rhetoric speeches day in and day out ( God!! He must be speaking the truth..) , I would only say that nothing stays. Be it pain or some joy.. things once started have to have an end. So while we lie down and let out a groan which dies in the pillow... while our tears roll down our cheeks in memory of loses and harsh words of love-never-to-be reverberate in our ear canal.. we should only remember that all these things would pass. And one day when we would look back , we would only find that there is no reason big enough to shed your precious tears for. If need be, weep for the masses. Personal deadlocks and crises need to be dealt with fortitude. At the end of the day, endurance fetches a smile. Good times don't last but they never go too far from you.

Enough of humbug. I have no idea what I have written. I seriously think that whenever I go back and read ...correct for my mistakes , cull out a sentence or two.. or may be tag some ornate line..I am being manipulative. And a writer even if he writes awful, should write the truth.

I was pretty much out of the scene and so missed out on so many interesting posts which you might have put up on blogosphere. Perhaps now... I would read ....Lets see!!

On Allahabad...

So where was this mouse all these days? Hibernating? Perhaps. Thinking? Sure. Holidaying? What? Who does that in winters? Well, this mouse does that. Even if it takes a "Science Conclave" to entice my parents in letting me loose. Even if that means skipping an odd hour discussion with Nobel Laureates in Physics and scampering in the streets of Allahabad.
Allahabad is a "[i]town". Coz it doesn't have plush hotels, posh localities, glittering roads, girls in skimpy skirts and choking tees.. In India that is just a way of demarcating "retained" culture from a lifestyle gone awry. But I like this city( if I may call it)!! Centuries of antiquity runs all through the veins of this ancient place. Our group skipped the morning jargon due at the Conclave and fitted in an auto(somehow!!) and headed straight to sangam. For those who may not know, Sangam means confluence. Here Ganges, Yamuna and Saraswati mingle. Although Saraswati is not traceable anymore. But you can easily make out the two sacred rivers from their colors. Green Yamuna and placid white ganga make quite a sight. A morning boat-ride to their meeting place is a fantastic experience. Gust of wind across your face, a cool caress of water when you dip and sway your hands, flight of the seagulls....someone like me would surely get a high!!

And then I went to check out Anand Bhawan; the residence of the NEHRUs in the yesteryears. The antic was sublime and everything seemed to have been painted with poise and grace. I could almost fathom the Congress meetings, hear those momentous decisions. How young Indira Gandhi must have frolicked around in the lawn..everything seemed swirling before my eyes. On a light note, how can you live among the masses despite living in such opulence? But the NEHRUs did that. With their lives.

* I am over the moon having received an award( Ok...I can hear your claps..) .Not a glittering trophy.. not a certificate with my name scribbled so ornately that I can hardly make out my name!!...It's just a warm comment. Somehow words are still the warmest things you can give to someone. Words. They can make your winter warm. And your summers cold. Thanks Afaque for the honor. My lips have carved one of the widest smiles.. in years.

*And I shall resume my blog-role in full swing , January onwards. Its Christmas,New Year and Resolution time. Once again bring forth your palms and swear. Run to a gift shop and buy a New Year Card. Or look for socks containing gifts. No matter what you do, just remain happy. That's really all you gotta do.

Ciao.

..Of Bombs, bullets, blood and break

** First things first. The Mumbai carnage has completely knocked me off. My favorite place, going all bloody, turning so ugly. A bunch of brain-washed youths, went berserk and brought the Momma--I--won't--sleep city to a standstill. The majestic Taj Hotel, that orange-domed beauty.. home to those pigeons..the dream elements that complete the picture of Mumbai. If you were ever to dream of Mumbai, pigeons would come there...flying and pecking on the grains strewn on the ground before the Gateway of India. Now that orange globe is all charred. From being an eyecandy to an eyesore. It's has been a disastrous metamorphosis. And all that brought about in some 48 hours!! I was so shocked by the whole development that I remained glued to the TV the whole day. For the first time in my life, I prayed for the death of someone. Yes. Call me a shrimp for that. But I want those terrorists dead. I know I am not the one with the gun in his hands. I, for that matter don't even have the power to sustain the recoil. But I am angry. And proper anger is all you need to hold a gun, for the right reasons.

** Exams were on. And the computer center remained occupied all through the day. Given that I had played truant and had killed time while all were pulling every last bit of hair out of their scalps, I had tons of notes to go through. In limited time, I had unlimited things to do. But I managed to do something, somehow. A friend of mine often reminds me of a way to turn even a dead fish into a pro- swimmer. When you know that an alligator is after you in the pool, you automatically start to swim!!!

** Home, here I come. On 2nd December, I am all set to dash to my place ( Ok. Don't laugh. It takes 33 hours by train. Every journey is supposed to end.) . I got to meet mom, dad and friends. I am very much a momma's kid. I pester her for money. I buy vegetables and all the groceries while I am around. There is a fun in doing that.

** It's quite possible that I might not be around to blog or converse on Orkut, this december. But, I hope that I won't be forgotten. Some might even miss me!! ( See..that beam on your face..!!).

Till then go for a different movie all-together. This theatre is closed because the owner hasn't paid his taxes and is absconding. Probably I would resurface when the time is right.

Chao. Have a nice time.

On "losing" and "winning" ..

It has been a busy time for me. Packed with daily bull-shit, diurnal chores and overnight slogging out and mugging. Obviously, in these terrible times of grime and sweat, the "bloglobe" ( a new word??) got left out. But, now I am back, at least for a while to keep turning the wheel. There are some stories to be told, again in bits and shreds. But, tales for tomorrows. Today, its sermon time. Not teaching per se, but some thoughts strewn on the fabric of life. Here I go jotting. And you? Well, if you have come this far, I hope you would go a li'l further.


The title itself is a giveaway. "Winning" / "Losing". The two proverbial verbs that have had the world reeling and vying to pull each others pants down. Everyone trying to outpace his opponents. Grab collars, warm palms, swear, abuse, curse, sweat, conspire, reach for your sickle, clench your fist, slit throats.... Victory. Whatever it takes. Wherever it takes. Whatever it means.

Loss. Absence. Sweat gone in vain. Hopes flung brutally to the ground. Dreams shattered. Jibes of the cruel world. Evil smile of the victorious. Stupid, malicious consolations coming from happy-deep-within-but trying-to-be-sorry people, your conscious attempts to hide yourself from the world. a bitter pill to gulp. We put so many things at stake that losing becomes a disaster.

Whenever I lose something, I feel small. I feel insignificant. Coz, in your state of loss, the world acts cold and leaves you to your own elements. Coz, then, even your most loved ones look at you with unforgiving, accusing eyes.

.............................................................................................

I have seen many defeats in my little life. You can say that my journey has been stuffed right up to my neck with tears, moans and moments of bitterness. And so ,few have savored victory in a way , I have. Coz, a victory only tastes sweet after you have had enough of chillies. Tell you what, try to lose. Sometimes willingly. For that smile on the victor's face. For that look of relief, for that sweet bow the lips carve after moment of victory arrives. For that joy which a prolonged wait for victory holds in itself. For that tapped frill in the expectation that a win is possible even after you lose most of the time . Lose. Believe me , you would only emerge a winner that way.

At least, I did.

An Old Man's letter

This is not the first of the string of the letters I have written for you, written to you. Nor is it any different in its content. If I carefully search the stack of papers lying in the drawers , I am sure I would find at least a thousand of them gathering dust in there and aging. Nothing has changed. This boy is same and the girl is same. Perhaps there is a gradation based on the “yellowish” tinge on these letters that has intensifed over the years. Some letters are more brittle and too old to last another sad season. From each issues the same smell of young love. The same old lines, oozing of boyish restlessness and ready-to-take-world-by-storm dreams fill all of them. What should set this one apart is perhaps the way of narration. I am not so young now. Back then, I didn’t find it necessary to jot how I caught a glimpse of you and how you never left me from there. You followed me everywhere. In my dreams, in my wide-eyed meetings, in my games, in my tense moments of truth and lies. Practically everywhere. Like half of my colleagues, even I found you in school. One thing about school romances. They always stay green in your memories. Now, when I lay my back on my Lazyboy and see my grandson hovering around the house , pestering his mom for pocket money or her persuading him to eat at least something, I relive all my moments. Even I was a tough child to tend to. I never found anything too sumptuos and hid the pieces of bread in the crevices of the sofa. I am sorry. Back then I never maintained a notebook… I didn’t have the faintest idea that some 30 years hence , an old man would sit in his courtyard and reminesce. I don’t remember the date. But the scene is vivid to this day. You, like all those Hollywood sweeties, entered the room with an air of nervousness. I was biting my nails and foolishly looking here and there. Call it chance or a boy’s knack of spotting lovelies, I spotted you. My eyes followed you all the way and they did that pretty fearlessly. But once you took your seat and got settled, you too looked around , only to meet my whacky-onlooker’s eyes. But I just couldn’t get them off you. I nearly got myself killed.

It has been years and I haven’t heard a single sentence , no not even a broken one, addressed to me. When we bumped across each other, I was too afraid to begin the proceedings. I have a feeling you were no less uncomfortable. Why is it the most difficult to talk when you know all you have got to do is just start with a “hello”? Some say that “sorry” is the hardest word. My money is on “Hi” and “hello”s.

And now you have been silenced forever. I can’t even eavesdrop your silent conversations with yourself. I would make an exit without a single syllable of yours to treasure. Between you and me , lies a big fat book. Blank pages are all that exist. Thoughts and murmurs , raring and crying loud to be written upon these pages. But who would write them? You are dead. And even I am on my way to funeral.

I know , these letters , are all that this world would know about us. And one day, even these would succumb to the moths. But what can we do? Sometimes, silence is not very golden.

I am ending my cameo tonight. Enough of this yearning. Enough of pain and just too much of waiting. I hope, that one day when someone stumbles upon this letter, he would know that being silent is not always the right thing to do. He would make a dash to his love and let her know. Good-bye, World. I am done.

some mirage ahead?

Again, I would hide things from you all. Only I would seep in my word that the sun is smiling at me now. All of a sudden, good times have returned and I can't help but beam.

* I have made out with two best friends of mine. No explanations, no grudges. I think that's the perfect way to patch up. When you grope for answers as to why things went brown in the first place, you jeopardize your present. It's light for both sides if old things are not dug out.

*I have started clicking pictures for the forthcoming competition in my college. Call it mean or whatever, I hovered around the shanties that look like mushrooms bordering the glassy building of my college. The children were so happy to pose.... some of them even risked breaking bones trying to be shot midway their flight ( a jump from a high area..)... It was a revelation for me.

* Bleh:D got a new cell with a 3.2 mp cam integrated with it. Calls for a celebration....not because we are party-mongers.. ( Yep, I am) but chiefly coz she is the one who could click and click if she were to be left to her own devices. Because she googles the best pics from the redundant string of snaps spilled on the web-floor here.

*Deepawli is at a stone's throw and I am on a high. I just love the festival. Although I left bursting crackers long ago.. still memories of it are very green, even to this day. I pestered my father to shell out a good amount so that I could have my crackers well in advance. ( The list was always ready.... !!!). Once he gave in and the crackers were home... I laid the whole arsenal in the sun and safeguarded it from other zealous and jealous children in my locality. I find the encasing of crackers very colorful. It always made me sad to see the tatters strewn everywhere , the following morning. A lull was felt after the boisterous night of the diwali. For all the smoke and noise, Diwali remains my favorite. Light and sweets do the trick for me.

*I am zeroing on a cam. It has caught my fancy.It has a huge line of takers...and with the Diwali rush , I am afraid that I might not be able to grab it on time. I am down on currency and I have to wait for Dad to melt again. A child never stops troubling his dad.

---------------------------------------------

Vivek ....once stumbled across a piece...and I had kinda shrugged my shoulders on listening to it ,then.


"After a while u learn that even sunshine burns
If you get too much
And you plan your own garden
And decorate your own soul
Instead of waiting for someone
To bring you flowers"

but now, I am afraid that this might be true. From whatever li'l I know about life, bad things always strike back. and with vengeance. I know I am enjoying my bit in the sun. But am I in for a dry period soon? Pray for me that my back survives the fiery globe. the rays always leave me tanned:(

Sailing in between extremes

*sobs* the holidays are over. Abhiket would be heading back to Kolkata and all that partying and purposelessly hanging around would meet the full-stop. We fished every visitable corner in Mumbai and like always, the air down here didn't disappoint us. I think Mumbai survives , wtf it even scurries ahead, simply because it keeps changing. It is speedy, lustrous as well as lacklustre. Mumbai is gruesome for logs. Out here you have to make haste even if you have all the time in the world for things. People would run around to catch locals even when it is scheduled 1o mins. hence. They would alight midway, dangerously tossing themselves, while they know they would have one minute of halt soon. Mumbai respects turbulence. If you are slow, it is wise to head home.

*Mumbai is spanking clean. It is full of stench as well. 

*Mumbai is awfully rich. It is precariously poor as well.

*Mumbai is serene and beautiful. Esp.the shimmering sea and the wind. But at places it is very ugly. Your eyes burn at such sights. 

 

     At times you would think that a lifetime in Mumbai is not enough to explore. Facing the sea and feeling the wind across my face, I grimaced that my whole life would be blown away in one blink. The sea is so vast that everything seems very mundane before it. The mumbai skyline seems to be a spot on the cheek of eternity ( *plagiarism!!!). Also, speed is not always welcome for me . A pause, at times, is the need of the hour. But here...you got no rest.

*Mumbai is stylish. Sprawling malls and a cool crowd. But visit the flea markets. Style can come cheap. 

  Mumbai is a marriage of opposites. It is a supreme example of oxymoron. Heck!! It is awfully awesome.  

 

 

back from the hiatus!!

Sorry people....I kept to my blanket for this long. I was not sick or preoccupied. I ran out of fuel and the drive to keep writing here. Partly because I have few readers and I don't like my efforts going down the drain. It's wrong to expect my writings hog the limelight... but words are costly things. They need their oxygen to survive.

Internet is very humbling. In the end, I would have a great degree.. a cool gf ( I hope).. smart cash..still I would be a nobody. An entity, few would be aware of, a personality who would seldom be read and much more poorly heard. Recently I was going through the blog of one of the super-famous Bollywood actor and I was taken aback. Even if he sneezes, he gets a 1000 electronic hankies to wipe his nose. I don't think most of us are less special than he is. Most of us have excelled in the fields we charted for ourselves, we have time for our loved ones ( at least we try to make up for it in our own ways!!) ..we have had our place in the sun. The glory and shimmer have embraced us too..though those moments were way too short. I don't know whether anonymity or being commonplace is a curse..but being on top and in spotlight is a recipe for future disaster. Every sun sets at the end of the day. My skills might not blossom as they would have under the warmth of several onlookers. May be they would die in the lack of appreciation. But I won't be a fallen hero. I would be like a soldier who fought well, even won the war but the king walked away with the glory ( only to earn infamy in future!!!). I would have to pay the price of anonymity but when stakes are high, gambling is much more fun. The roulette of fate rolls on. The winners and the famous near bankruptcy and in one stroke all their cash is gone.

Anyways, I would return back and join the stream again.

Abhiket is in pune. And I am wafting in the breeze thinking about the sunny days lying ahead. There are places to go.. we would be earning precious moments. The trunk of memory would collect some really cool Kodak anecdotes. The only pickle in the whole menu is that Abhiket has left his handy-cam in his house itself. Surely there's no escape from Murphy's law!!

Exams are over. Time is lying junk and rotting. I have no idea how I am gonna utilize//fritter the days.

That is the thing with exams. It is such a grind to run into them and come out smiling. But once they are over, the mind is so used to the struggle that the after-days seem very drab and event-less!!!

Why is it so silent after the storm is over?

the past catching up-- 1

people, there are lot many things happening all around me. Commonwealth Youth games( some 26 days away...hell..I am so bad at calculations!!); repair of roads ( ain't very likely to happen..now with pebbles and rubble all around, it looks all the more worse..), the clearing up of shanties and roadside fruit vendors.. and the most troubling of all : The Delhi blasts ( nowadays ... there are always pluralities existing in their number...the miscreants aren't satisfied with one thud and boom...).

Also, the blog got rechristened, and revamped in a tinge of placid blue. I am in love with blue( Gives me blues... ahh no!!). . I am hooked to the blogger but I must admit that I am not very fond of templates here....

OK, now I must return to where I intended to start from. I have a bad habit of thinking. Doing nothing but lazing around with a thought playing in my mind. Always giving you a feel that I am at peace when deep within I am as turbulent as a torpedo. Couple that with a stack of pages and I would jot unnecessary stuff. The lines may come out good or terrible. But they really won't make any sense. Well, at least to you. I have been waging a war with myself. Its like a turncourt going on inside. One part says," Go and Talk. Do something. What you waitin' for? Things are not meant to last this way. If you are ending something, do it properly. Give it the end, it deserves." Other part insists on keeping numb and drifting with the tide of the times. Good things too, have not been far behind. Good people have turned the sun ( for a change !!) on my life. And pretty much like a sunflower, I am basking in it. Not knowing or perhaps trying to ignore the fact that the sun sets someday. Then the yellow flower droops and goes down. But while I am out there in the sunny times, I would soothe any on-looker. That is one promise I made to all my fellow travellers. Let not the light , but the will , guide us ahead. The sun can't be trusted. It would go down. And the night is always dark. We have our mutual joys to buoy us high in the sky of life. Keep floating, all of you.

So now? This time on, I am in an old and forgotten territory. I trespass here quite often. I overstay but I have never been stopped from doing that. So prolonging my stay has become my habit and also a mode of killing time. It is the luxury I have. Else the time is busy killing me. Minute by minute. Second by second.

I am cruising ahead notwithstanding the long queue of people vying to pull me down , dark situations vouching for my fall....Like Frost, even I have got promises to keep. Promises I made to myself long ago. Promises, I never intended to, was forced to make , to my loved ones. Ages ago. If not for these senile promises of mine , I have to just move for the sake of moving. Staying at one place is an open invitation for the evil forces to run all over you. You gotta make these creatures toil . If eventually they would catch me, why not make them sweat and pant for breath. They getting me easily would rob me of all the fun!!

Many of you won't be knowing that my caravan got rolling after I joined a boarding school in grade sixth. Before that I was gathering stocks of food , barrel of liquor and other ingredients that I thought would last long enough. Enough to see me through the whole distance. I thought I had them aplenty and once laden I won't need to stop and load myself again. Burdened with hope and some apprehension and fear, which perhaps every traveler setting on a journey feels, I stepped on the road. A road that looked straight then but made too many turns as I moved on. Ok, so the time at school went flying. Like all the good times, they flitted like the supersonic planes. Just saw them going, I never got to hear any sound. Journeys are deceptive. You start happily. You look around and see beaming fellow travellers. You see all of them mingling and leaning over their loved ones talking and chatting. You have a feeling that the long journey is just a matter of time. You got people to talk to, you got a cosy seat to rest. You got food and everything. Then gradually things start getting real. People start drifting apart. Journeys of some end before you. And some get tired and leave the caravan midway. The stock starts getting depleted and you become fed up with sleeping the whole day through. What do you do then? I don't have an answer. Perhaps bid your time and just pray that the train doesn't run out of fuel. So as the clocks ticked and I neared the first milestone, I knew it was time for many of my fellow students to get down and bid me farewell. I saw their disappearing torsos. Their alighted and waving hands got lost in the crowd. I had to move on. And I did.

Funny how, people forget faces of these small bundles of joy. The fellow travellers who dilute the boredom of the travel by their sheer presence. I admit, right now, I am putting my best foot forward and walking ....alone down the road. But I look back often. Not for remembering the grease and the gruesome details of my travels , but for cudgeling my brain so that I can remember those hideous faces. I still ain't able to recall. Amnesia, ah, it sucks.




P.S : Don't read anything. But please give a round of applause to Palvi who is as close it gets to spontaneity. An unfeigned and unadulterated source of laughter and joy. And then three other suns in my life, my sis Pallavi, my best friend ( Fiend?) Abhiket and Shruti ( The name spells her!! ). I am smiling you four. Thank you. Palvi spruced my blog all ends up:p. and actually ended up getting bored doing it...:P

This might be the first bead in a string of recounting-n-writing posts. Well, lemme see. As of now, it stands that way.

( Thanks should always be coated with a corny line. Ahh, just a passing, naughty thought!!)

I forgot Saurabh? I, be damned!!

stuck!!!

Buses will ruin me one day. Like every other morning , after having my breakfast, I got on the bus that heads straight to the academic building from my hostel. But looks like, I am destined to either miss buses or end up getting hooked in jams (even if I somehow manage to board one...) , all my life.

There was a big ditch in the middle of the road, thanks to the ongoing reconstruction... Result being the never ending queue of cars ( big and small), bikes ( flashy and rugged), cycles ( emphasing that size really matters..to the envy of my eyes, one cyclist even managed to race through the furrow between two standing trucks!! ) and the street flooding devils in yellow and black , the tripods .."Autorikshaws"!!

There isn't much one can do when your luck relishes playing foul games with you. It had rained the whole night before and this morning, I sat on a seat that was wet from inside but looked perfectly dry from the outside. Deceptive looks indeed!! Now I am wearing a wet jeans and am shivering under an AC.

One of my friend had taken to the back seat and he was praying that the jam lasted till eternity. The "why" here has a simple answer..A bus-full of girls was also stuck besides our own ...and my lucky friend was savoring the view to the optimum.

Two thoughts raced across our minds..

1) What if you are with a beautiful girl and it starts raining incessantly.. ( In Pune and Mumbai, that's not an impossibility!! ). Till now, this has never happened to either of us.

2) Being stuck in an elevator with a girl. Now as times have advanced, this dream has faded into oblivion. The apartments have generators to fire capsules up and down. There is an alarm which you can press if such misfortune ( hell, its a fortune !! ) befalls you.

While in a jam, people would droop to any level to pass the time.

.................................................................................................................................

And here again I see, the beauty of jams. No matter if you are a corporate honcho or a young turk or a prospective waste like me...A jam always mellows you.. It brings everyone down to the same level. You have to inhale the smoke if you are on two-wheelers or just listen to numbers in your car .. LUMAX red lights and horns hardly work then.. All you are left to do is to just stay seated and sulk. How humbling!!

I was ruminating and in due time , the driver was busy curbing the vehicle to places of less density of vehicles . He pulled it off and we reached the Institute some 50 minutes late. But we made it.

Where there is a "WHEEL" , there indeed, is a way.