Scars

Silvery lines, traced with a finger,
Smooth, crooked, they still linger.
Constant reminders, of pain withstood.
Gentle hope that at least I could.
Do they remind you of pain and dread ?
Or like me, of the courage it bred ?

Smooth, silvery lines, a part of me.
Not ugly, they were worth the fee.

Tagged :)

1. Pick out a scar you have, and explain how you got it

Mmm. I'll pick the one on my right knee. Football, efficient forward. Because theey were too darn chivalrous to tackle a girl *wink wink*
Okay so maybe the big bulky one wasn't. Scramble, she falls, rips her jeans straight through the knee. Blah blah tetenus shot and all that jazz. I haven't been allowed to play football since. And oh, we won. And the jeans look super cool.

2. What is on the walls in your room?

There shall be many things. In the next coupla weeks. Give me time :)

3. What does your phone look like.

It's called Ottakkannam Pokkar. It's a Sony Ericsson K500i. It's silver, and grossly abused. From Scooty accidents, tuition antics, tossing games. It has a nice screen.

4. What music do you listen to?

The kind Rudy plays to educate me ;)

5. What is your current desktop picture?

This one :





6. What do you want more than anything right now?

Do you really want me to begin all over again ?????

7. Do you believe in gay marriage?

Why the question ?

8. What time were you born?

Night, 21.30 hours.

9. Are your parents still together?

Yeah. And pretty good in teaming up to torture the poor soul of their daughter. Sigh.

10. What are you listening to?

Keep On Singing My Song. Soon Clocks.

11. Do you get scared of the dark?

*whimpers*

12. The last person to make you cry?

No matter now.

13. What is your favourite perfume/cologne?

Davidoff Cool Water Woman

14. What kind of hair/eye colour do you like on the opposite sex?

Mmm. The colour's immaterial.

15. Do you like pain killers?

*surprised look*
They exist ?

16. Are you too shy to ask someone out?

I don't think so. Too shy, no.

17. Fave pizza topping?

As long it's not alive and doesn't have mushrooms.

18. If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?

NOT again :D

19. Who was the last person you made mad?

Rudh. 5 minutes back. Hmpf !!

20. Is anyone in love with you?

Err. *careful silence*

Gnnnnngggggghhhhhhhh

This has gotten monotonous. I’m sick of exams. I want to go to CP and eat ice cream. And sit in Central Park with the gang. And go to Café Coffee Day with the other gang and drink four Devil’s Owns. And I want to paint my room with two of the most important people in my life. And then make Maggi with them and go skateboarding at two in the morning. I want it to rain really hard and then dry real fast. I want to run with a friend who I’ll now never see again. I want to tell him that he’s the nicest guy I know, and that I love him dearly, and he shouldn’t go away. I want to sit and listen to all the songs on my player again and again. I want to forget its Sunday night, and my course is far from over and the exam’s on Tuesday. I want to play Scrabble with Baba, and then pound on a set of drums until I’m hot and tired and want a nice long shower. I want to get drunk on chocolate mint vodkas and then dance crazily. I want to learn how to swim. I want to listen to silly jokes all afternoon and laugh hysterically. I want to fly to Chicago to kiss my 21-hour old nephew. I want to eat Slim Jims and watch A Walk to Remember. I want to cut my hair and have them grow back in a day. I want to pour water over some dirt and make a cave-maze. I want to hug someone really bad. And go to sleep, content.






Update : I've done 11/20 things I listed here. YAY !!!!!!!!!

Tippy tippy toes
Frequently dancing
Merry music
Says the card.

The hand that sows
Efficient gardener
Hungry heart,
Quiet disregard.

Quell my thirst,
When I'm undone.
I shant.
I shant.

Moody musing

I think for once I shall take a gamble
I think for once I shall see what follows
I think for once I’ll join the mad scramble
I think for once I shall not mind the gallows

My car shines with brilliant polish,
Carefully driven in rush hour
Through empty roads
In between reckless cars.

Mad mornings, reverberating screams
Punctured tires which I stop to glean
Careless drivers, ceaseless traffic,
Narrow alleys, busy streets.

Sometimes a sudden lull
In the afternoon heat
Rearview mirror dusty,
I wipe it clean.

Cars whiz past me,
Spraying putrid steam
I gasp, cough
And blink.

Revving my engine
To a tolerable pace
I inch steadily
Unwilling to race

Yet this pace bores at times
For a spirit like this
It stifles me fine
And one day it breaks.

Breaks free ?
Or ruptures ?
Plunging downwards
In an unceasing void ?

Or does it escalate new highs ?
Defy gravity
Defy rules
Defy signs ?

Or does the defiance bring a crash
An accident,
A shattering collapse ?
How shall I know.

No, it’s not a question.
A question seeks an answer.
It’s a debate
That seeks no resolve.

Launch

I’m sorry.
It’s true,
I’m bitter,
I’m angry,
But I’m sorry too.

Sorry for not seeing
A few things I could have
Sorry for being shortsighted
And cryptically following a meter.

But I’m still sorry
That I didn’t see
What I had to see
See the real that I look at,
Now wondrously.

It’s a pity,
That you suffered that way,
And yet surrounded by what
You’ve always deemed necessary,
It prevented me from probing towards
What could’ve been home to me.

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

I’m working to better it,
In whatever ways possible,
But it’s not through you
That I’ll achieve that fable.

I have to stay away,
I’ve caused enough harm
Though you called it an anchor
It was just a further crippling arm.

I hope you would never see it,
Never see the final aid
Because if you do
The earlier endeavour shall fail.

It’s a horribly vicious circle,
And it never stops spinning
You have to step outside it
To fight the dizzy feeling.

And now that you’ve been forced out,
Though you’re unaware,
I pray for your feet to steady
You’ve tottered enough here.

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

Maybe you’d still argue
That the decisions were wrong
But there can be no more questions
Because the curtain’s been drawn.

Just... wrong.

It's true. People are selfish. In myriad ways. They inevitably always want something in return. And it doesn't surprise me anymore. I flinch, but it's momentary. Metal has it's benefits. Except dents weaken.

It surrounds, and sometimes it's not so crude. Sometimes it's so gentle that you never know until you've examined the damage. Or when it hits you brutally, one day. You've to ready, expectant. It's wrong somehow, this constant alert. It takes the pleasure out of things, or atleast lessens it. It makes me cautious, and I tread softly. Almost too softly, and one day I can't take it anymore and go back to striding. And then I recede in horror, inevitably. Sometimes I'm surprised, pleasantly, and it's almost a reassuring feeling. Almost. I hate being aware. Actually I don't. I just hate the ugly truths. They shouldn't be truths. They don't deserve to be. They should be done away with, and I'm not wistful of any sort of utopia. It's just that I know that things can change. Have I not lived that difference ? Am I not living it, in so many ways ?

Everytime.

It's a pretty feeling, this. When you look at a rotting apple and your nose scrunches in disgust and then the slow realisation where you look at it in wonder and realise that it has seeds. Which breathe.

Clean

I have a picture. It was taken last year in February. I've just come back from the conti the juniors threw us, and its about two am or so. Baba's wearing my sash and crown and looking at me, with his glasses askew. Ma, bleary eyed (the only one who learnt to follow the "early-to-bed-etc-etc-etc" rhyme) is the photographer. Though the combined truth about her sleepy countenance and photography 'skills' have resulted in quite a funny angle of the photograph in question. Behind us is the big wall covering bookshelf, which is, at the very least, diagonal. I'm staring at the lens with a wide smile, baba has just said something that has caused it, and the result is like that of a moment frozen in time, a giddiness in the air, that presses itself sharply as I look at the picture, over a year later. It makes me laugh. Aloud and clear, again and again.

Poisoned Rationality

Dusty, in the heat,
There’s dust in my face,
Dust in my gullet,
And dust in my clothes.

There’s dust around me,
Rising like a whirling cloud,
Ready to engulf me,
In its dusty clout.

And my legs weary,
Trudge through the dust,
Every step resolute,
In their ever moving thrust.

There’s dust in my shoe,
Dust in my pane,
Dust in my self,
To the very vein.

And then there’s the sound of the cloud,
That seems to rear like a horse,
And bring with it rain,
That washes my very soul.

The rain washes my eyes,
It washes my face,
It washes my lips,
It washes the pain.

But o dear rain,
You halt my steps,
You make it all the more difficult,
To walk the bit I’ve left.

Your force so strong,
And tender to boot,
It washes my fears,
But cripples me soon.

For the rain once gone,
Would leave me wet,
And the cunning dust
Would stick to me instead.

Urgent

Tired, dusty, silent, furor,
Sagging load carried forever,
Like rotting thoughts
That seem so clever.

Denial, logic, cracking voice,
Faltering air of assumed poise,
Accumulated mass of nothingness,
Trash, if not anything less.

Disconnected acts,
Stringed together,
Sordid facts,
I seem to gather,
Disconsolate yearnings,
The living proof,
There's something burning
Smoke's never aloof.

Flawed, blemished, inconsistent, unsound,
Something’s wrong, I’ve found,
Parched thoughts in the dusty clout,
Sometimes a drink of water’s the way out.

Disconsolate

Fidgeting, squirming, yearning, sighing,
Doubtful wanting, apprehensive reaching,
Hesitant doubling, denial, reasoning,
Weighing every side, to cancel with a pencil,
For I can’t decide; the same old stencil.

Sudden remonstrances,
Uttered in need
Elicit disbelief
Battered lies in a new canvas
Will this never end?
I wait, not in vain

Dialogue.

How differently people react to the same things. What you told me meant the world to me. It gave me a sense of empowerment. And the same made another cower so weakly. At one point of time it would have invoked contempt, or pity in me. Now I feel just a strange wonder. It’s like seeing different endings.

That’s true. It’s funny how even two people who are extremely close can react vastly differently in the exactly same position. Who’re you talking about, though?

S__. She says she wants to go back to school. How everyone knew her and understood her. Just because she doesn’t get her way like she used to, in school, where everyone indulged her because they had grown up together so they could make allowances for her. She says that she has always chosen to be the sufferer. Which is in no way true. Because she’s always been selfish and people have seen through it and not overlooked it because she has never earned it. Harsh, but true.

Lol. Yes, well, some people are weak. You can’t inspire, or motivate them because they wallow in self pity all the time, and are destined to lose.

These were very harsh truths which I wouldn’t care to explain to her. Because she wouldn’t acknowledge them nor have the insight to realize their weight.

Its like what A__ says. Survival of the fittest, eh, what ? Saale kutte =)
Oh fuck, you know. This too, shall pass :)
Don’t brood over a weakling. She’s not your type.


No, I don’t agree to THAT doctrine :)
Who decides who’s the fittest ? It sounds so… Wrong. I meant those who will NOT be helped, try as one might. They are just… Just masks. And the only reason I’ve stood by her for so long is because I think Darwin is wrong. Yeah she’s not my type :) You’re too cute :D

My seduction style ? :O

WHAT ????

...

Words so hollow,
That they echo in their blankness,
Unsought by me,
Uttered in vain.

Brings a lethal dread,
Of other artlessly spoken lexis
That they make one tremble
At their venomous vein.

Clenched

Slowly, the moments slip,
Slowly, the potion drips,
Unhurriedly, bit by bit.
While I moodily sit

Restraining and waiting
To let go of restrain
Controlled refrain,
Or uncontrolled release.

Phew... And the epiphany that comes with it.

Lately everything was getting to me. REAL bad. Random, transitory things that seemed horribly permanent infuriated me. Things that I could handle, had been handling for years suddenly seemed terribly tedious and tiring. Arbitrary things that would make me lose my cool and snap at every living creature who so much as joked around with me. I was suddenly this tart, acerbic female who couldn’t handle fleeting situations that needed almost no effort. I could no longer mechanically distance myself from harmlessly meant acts that should have excited no other response than amused laughter or indulgent rejoinders. It was exactly that; I could no longer be mechanical anymore. I was tired, almost tragically defeated in a way. Except it made me angry, and so it was anything but heartrending, or the like. It was annoying, and cumbersome. I wasn’t used to feeling that way, I had no right to. And yet I was, and it puzzled me no end. And suddenly, yesterday, I snapped out of it. Like that. Over a chance remark. It was bizarre. But thankfully now I feel more in control, and powerful. And it feels good, and I value it more, now that I’ve seen how it is to be the other way. Control lost can be quite sucky.

Potent.

They were building a nest. The red one would keep going back and forth looking for the precious pieces of rubbish that would make their nest. The blue one would pretend to be sick and escape the work. Red was healthy, so it didn't matter much to it. It was capable enough to build the nest by itself, or at least it thought so. Blue was quite encouraging of red’s efforts and it made both very happy. The nest was beginning to take form. Red was quite proud of it, and happy that blue seemed to start feeling better too. Things were falling into place (pun intended).

But the continuous toil was making red tired. Sometimes it would flop down, tired, and slightly dizzy. Then it would suddenly see blue looking poorly again, and it would redouble its efforts for blue needed the nest to rest. Work went on. The praises helped. But it was getting increasingly hard to look for the pieces. The people had begun to use dustbins conscientiously and red had a tough time looking for bits. It had to circle around the whole city looking for a bit of scrap to complete the nest. One day, it started feeling very sick. Its wings wouldn't flap anymore and its beak hurt from clenching scraps while it flew miles to drop it into the now-almost-complete nest. After much effort, it dragged itself to the nest. When blue saw red coming back without a scrap, it demanded an explanation. Red replied, explaining how tired it felt, secretly wishing for comfort. But blue was furious. It hopped on one foot then on another in rage and shrilled at red. Red listened, wretchedly, and tried to reply. But blue had flown away to the nest and shut its eyes. Red picked itself up, to slowly hobble away.

At first red was angry. It had been wronged, and it had suffered. It ranted and raged and vowed to never build a nest for anyone again. This went on, and red was content. Then one day it remembered blue’s praise. It had decided on it’s own to build a nest for blue. Blue had only wanted it, and red had agreed. So what was red complaining about? Then it spent days mourning for blue. It flopped around dejectedly, wishing it had been wiser. Then one day it decided to go back to building nests, but protecting itself from another blue’s anger too. But now it tired very fast, it had used all its energy on building blue’s nest. It was sickly now, where it had once been a young sprightly bird. It talked to purple, for it was wise. Purple gave it a big beak slap and told it to not to be a pansy and nudged it to stand straight. It told red to puff its breast and sing like it used to, in its strong and clear voice, without the doubt that had crept into its melody. It sang till it took flight and soared in the clouds, flapping its wings to the music. Suddenly red didn’t feel as tired anymore.

But anger suits some better. And it necessarily isn't always tiring.

Utopia

I think I’m on a celebrate-the-self high. I’m quite kicked about it. Suddenly I see all the good in myself. I’m feeling immensely proud and pompous. I know it’s big-headed of me and not doing me much good… But what the hell :)

I still see all my faults but I’m suddenly proud of them too. Proud of being the person I am, no matter what my shortcomings. Arrogance, I might call it. But no… Not quite exactly. It’s more celebratory. Triumphant, the feeling. The euphoria one gets after riding in a bike with the wind in one’s face and the exhilarating laughter that accompanies it. When you find a sloping piece of grassy land which you can run down, arms flailing all directions. You can’t stop yourself from running down, and neither do you want to. We used to have that thing, in school. There was a massive tree there too, which split into two great branches and two could sit on either branch, and talk endlessly, secluded in a private world of their own.

I wonder how long this feeling would last. How long I’ll keep smiling to myself for no reason at all. How long I’ll keep skipping from one room to another and hug everybody on the way. How long I’ll greet everyone with an enthusiastic ‘hello!!’ How long I’ll look around and feel content, and blessed.

Mounting discontent

They call 'em mood swings. I used to like swings. I liked going higher, higher, higher until the structure groaned with the motion. Sometimes I would stand up.

I'm restless. I'm sure it's not because of the impending exams. For weeks I've been feeling that something's just not right. It should be August right now, just near my birthday, with Durga Puja to come soon. We should be planning the trip right now. The weather should be hot, and wet. I should be in Saket. I should be painting my room. I should have finished buying all the stuff on the list that's pinned to the board. The board should've been replaced by now. I should've let the potion spill by now. And after that, it should be summer.

I want. And I want NOW.

Heady

Sometimes I feel especially strange. Like right now. When I think I’ll blurt out things that I don’t want to, do stuff that I’d regret later. And I have virtually no control over myself and the only thing I can do is shut up and stay away from people. But then what if one day someone probes further? I’m weak enough at those moments to succumb, and I always dread it happening. Usually people feel odd prodding too deep so I always escape, unscathed. But what if one day someone who knows me better then I think or just innocently queries further? What if one day I cannot restrain myself anymore and explode? Everything that’s always been carefully arranged so that it lies in safe corners covered with deceptive veils would disintegrate in a second. Ruptured, I’ll be bared. I shudder. What baffles me further is that sometimes, in these moments, I'm not so sure whether it would be such a bad thing after all…




Update : Ignore this. It was one of my lunatic moments.

Pregnant

She was stirring the mixture in the cauldron. At intervals she would suddenly throw in more nectar. And then let it swirl. She stirred and stirred and it smelled sweeter with every turn. Everyone wanted a sip. But she kept adding more and stirring, letting it churn. One day, the cauldron began to overflow. It would brim over and she would desperately try to keep it from dripping. It was getting increasingly difficult to prevent the special blend from spilling over. But she had to keep adding the nectar; it just wouldn’t stop generating. If only she could find a worthy taster.