Haphazard

Perhaps

2011-04-01T01:53:00.000+05:30

You know what's the best thing I see about you? That you may be a lost cause but are still a hero for my revolution.

I miss that.

Maybe tomorrow

2011-01-03T23:51:00.001+05:30

It's already 2011. It's going to be an interesting year.

The Frumps

2010-09-21T21:30:00.001+05:30

So irritated. Tired, hungry, overworked. Maybe this is how PMS is supposed to be.

Mangle

2010-08-31T00:20:00.001+05:30

You're not you

I'm not me

Flickered, burnt, erased.

Breakfast at Tiffany's

2010-08-20T01:55:00.003+05:30

You spun me a million stars

And I screamed in delight and rode them all

Until I confused you with yet another of my July loves

Do you still dream by me, in snatched moments of truth?

Well carry on then, because I'm shattering those illusions too soon

And you wail in your wretched loneliness

There's nothing you have anymore.

Rush

2010-04-28T04:19:00.004+05:30

and I feel

like a carnivore

but I do

think you're pitiful

both hands by my side

take me for anything

so why did you hide?

and when I lay down low

and feel like I'm in control

it damages everything

you'd better go

I was everything you wanted

for a while

and i'd like to believe you

but I can't

so i'll leave you

on your own.

What a shock

2010-04-25T21:41:00.002+05:30

To find it in your drafts.

Something dictated to me, one day, an apology? No, I don't know what to call it. But since I know you never read this, it's okay:

"This is not very familiar, you saying "i dont wanna talk to you" and i dont honestly like it very much... Feel sad... They say that you shouldnt convince your friends and enemies. Enemies wont get convinced and friends dont need to. But they also say take no one for granted. I am sorry. I dont wanna push it cause i dont wanna force myself on you in any way. Im ashamed, cause I feel im not the same person you wrote the testimonial about in orkut. There is always been something about you that has drawn me to your company, and it always will. so im never worried that we will grow apart. What further strengthens this is that i know that you wont let go either. You're a good person, and Im not as good as you thought me to be. But im sure i can make that up somehow... Cheer up.. you had worse... sorry. okok no jokes."

Gone.

It's been a year.

2010-04-22T18:11:00.002+05:30

Already.

I wrote you something but can't bring myself to post it. I know that you know that there's no concept of 'going back home' for me anymore. Home was you for me, like it has been for twenty years. And now its just a place where we stay. It will always be empty now. So anchor-less.

And I cant seem to explain it to anyone else, even in my head. So I'm going to keep it with me.

There's so much reproach sometimes, you were supposed to be there.

Ugh.

You have to be kidding me

2010-04-22T03:03:00.002+05:30

A fine situation we have gotten ourselves into here. Now what?!

Ugh.

Back Against The Wall

2010-04-11T00:50:00.004+05:30

Tonight I’ll have a look
And try to find my face again
Buried beneath this house
My spirit screams and dies again
Out back a monster wears a cloak of Persian leather
Behind the TV screen
I've fallen to my knees

I said you got me where you want me again
And I can’t turn away
I'm hanging by thread and I'm feelin’ like a fool
I'm stuck here in-between
The shadows of my yesterday
I want to get away
I need to get away

Blanket of silence
Makes me want to sink my teeth in deep
Burn all the evidence
A fabricated disbelief
Pull back the curtains
Took a look into your eyes
My tongue has now become
A platform for your lies

***

Maybe because I really never had my angsty boy rock band phase. But, I love you.

Confused.

2010-03-26T02:48:00.003+05:30

Space is never empty

Cobwebs find their way inside

And one day when I will come back looking

It will smell of musk and decay like something else I realise

Now.

A series of memories, someone else's

Borrowed perhaps

"Did I ever really do that?"

"Tell me like I said it once more?"

Appearances change

And you have to make appearances

Roles slip in easily now

Or you slip easily out.

Grey spots multiply

There is nothing left to rain on

Decay spreads around

Like some old wound that caught gangrene

And you lay there unaware

Verse is increasingly violent

It is the calm before the storm

One coconut, two coconut, three coconut, four

Gritted teeth

Dimple within

Bared fangs show

Lust mixed with sorrow

Grey with Very Black

Mad hair and flashing eyes

A dagger nursed with care

The ulcer must have burst sir

There was internal bleeding too

The patient didn't feel a thing

And neither did you.

Out of the picture

2010-03-26T02:19:00.003+05:30

Sir, could you move slightly towards the left please. Yes, a little bit further. That's right. Yes, crouch a little lower, yes, your knees to the ground sir, a little further left, yes, yes, that's it. Your face a bit lower sir, no, no, you must remain crouched. Could you just settle the wig, sir, it's flying a bit upwards. If you could just hold your breath for a moment, and keep your eyes to the floor sir. You'd find a remarkable patterning of dust and refuse that has collected over the years, quite fascinating. No sir, this cloak is just to match with the background sir, we wouldn't want you to stand out. Yes sir, a little uncomfortable, but let me just get this right. You must remain nose to the ground sir, or the purpose would be lost. Yes, sir, this is to match with the master's taste. Please don't stir, this is the best we have left for you. No sir, soon this will be over.

Flash.

One more, and we'll be done.

2010-03-13T04:13:00.002+05:30

I miss you in a way that I never want you back. How do you live?

Because you'll never read this and you'll never know this.

2010-01-29T01:44:00.002+05:30

And as I stared I counted the webs from all the spiders

Catching things and eating their insides

Like indecision to call you and hear your voice of treason

Will you come home and stop this pain tonight?

Stop this pain tonight

Don't waste your time on me you're already the voice inside my head

(I miss you, miss you)

Ugh.

Spitball.

2010-01-15T23:40:00.004+05:30

Amusement.

At the pretense of it all.

Anger.

At the nonchalant attempt to appear human.

Rage.

At the utter remorselessness.

Incredulity.

At the actual achievement of self-delusion.

Wonder.

At how one lives like that.

Need.

To forget.

***

Can't seem to resist one (hopefully) last potshot at this.

Knowing yourself and actually believing what you know are two vastly different milestones. One you have always known, the other you may never reach.

Words are pretty. And they make covering up a lot easier. I'm sorry, but I will never again, ever, "understand".

Need.To.Get.A.Grip.

2009-12-04T23:35:00.002+05:30

Wasn't this supposed to happen in class nine or something? Serves me right for having it so easy so far :|

Choke. Splutter. WTF.

NEED.TO.GET.A.GRIP.

Or else die of shame.

Aaaaaaaaaaah! :(

Dance Dance Dance

2009-12-02T01:20:00.002+05:30

"When I was little, I had this science book. There was a section on "What would happen to the world if there was no friction?" Answer: "Everything on earth would fly into space from the centrifugal force of revolution." That was my mood."

Wow

2009-11-18T01:19:00.001+05:30

The first person I'd turn to has just become the last person I'd ever turn to.

Stupid, miserable day

2009-11-10T21:41:00.003+05:30

Stupid, miserable memories.

Things that are supposed to affect you seem to be uneasily easier to take care of.

Things that you shouldn't, wouldn't care for, things that are supposed to be over and done with come back and haunt.

Birth dates.

2009-10-25T01:51:00.002+05:30

Can't believe I'm not even going to say goodbye. Can't believe this is actually happening.

Just re read something. I am not going to be there "without fail" now. Wow. Things sound so much crazier in retrospect.

Snap

2009-10-14T03:11:00.002+05:30

Just like that. No warning. Wow, to think I thought things would never change. There are few times when fundamental foundations shake. And they go such a-rattle then. You would think almost too much love makes sure it never would run out. Except it turns into something else. And its vicious, vile and stinks like crazy.

Its like something's mocking you. Its like Davy Jones' heart that he always thought would be there, safe. Except its gone, and theres nothing you do about it.

Its been so long since I felt like this. Being so perfectly insulated from terror. Three years of fighting against anything that could hurt. Getting rid of people, things, personal traits that could make one vulnerable. Believing, knowing perfect 'safety'. Priding, showing off luck. Being perfectly secure. Laughing at the idea of love lost :) Ha.

In your face, Basu, in your face.

The hunger's never quite gone around here.

2009-10-08T01:32:00.002+05:30

Desperately craving chilli potato fries. The kind you get for a whole bowl-ful when its pouring and you're daring your two chaddi friends to run out and place the order because no one wants to move from the car. And then you go out and they run after you, laughing.

Potato fries and menthol and chips. Damp hair and hot food and laughter. The past's always crystal clear and the future's always dim. And we're stuck in fantasy worlds with prospects grim.

Grayness everywhere. What a pity. The melancholia is pathetic.

Thakurma

2009-09-16T00:48:00.002+05:30

Finally grieved her today. Can't believe it took five months to get here. Home will always be her. And never the same anymore. No matter how much I'm looking forward to going back, I won't be ever going back to her again. It's surreal.

Brighter Than Sunshine

2009-09-03T00:34:00.001+05:30

Glorious. Give me any pick me up, give me this. So. Much. To Learn.

2009-08-27T15:28:00.003+05:30

Just a thought. The 9/11 attack probably wouldn't have been a big thing in itself. But the events that followed have made it a landmark in history. In some ways it is reflective of the effect rather than the act itself that decides it's character.

NB: Need to read up more on 9/11.

So un-glamourised.

2009-08-27T12:50:00.004+05:30

I have realised, I have none of that wistfulness, or fascination for the word/idea "truth". Its probably Foucault, and a number of other influences that have quietly seeped into my general way of perception, but the idea of "truth" holds no great place in me anymore.

Is it liberalising? Or yet another quiet shackle that's realised too late?

We move on.

2009-08-16T19:41:00.003+05:30

When was the last time you finished a book and wanted to kiss it?

“Tamil Nadu for Tamilians?”

2009-07-27T23:44:00.001+05:30

Traveling from North to South India, one is acutely aware of the prejudices that exist of “South Indians” (always in general). Priding myself as one unshackled by such inanities, I arrived in Chennai with a vague idea of a language barrier that could be quickly overcome by the usage of English and friendly smiles. Naivety is fresh, but all too often speedily lost.

What I considered an isolated incident was deeply rooted in a tense historical past. Briefly, a couple of friends and I had fixed a fare with an auto and agreed to pay a slightly higher amount just because the auto driver appeared old and careworn. On arrival to three quarters the distance to our destination, he stopped the vehicle in a slightly darkened street corner and demanded his fare. Confused as to the sudden stoppage, we enquired as to where we were. To which he abused us, ordered us out of his auto and demanded full fare, and double the amount if we wanted to reach our destination. Slowly other auto drivers gathered around, each agreeing with the driver and making threatening gestures as the driver poured profanities in Tamil each time we asked to be dropped to our proper destination. A passerby, himself unable to converse in Tamil but frequenting the city, on trying to reason for us almost got beaten up. On being repeatedly physically threatened by the driver, and aware that it was a potentially violent situation, we paid the fare and quickly walked away as the man continued to hurl insults in the language we could not understand. Shaken, we walked the rest of our way, avoiding eye contact and walking towards a more lighted street as quickly as possible.

As I lay in bed that night my mind screamed unfair. What had we done to receive this? Why had he taken advantage of our vulnerability in a new city whose language we couldn’t understand? I vowed to hate Tamil autowalas forever. By the next morning, when the fever of first anger had simmered down, we discussed possible reasons for the incident. And suddenly the erstwhile “bad experience” gained some light.

In North and South India there is a great divide. Where I come from, “South Indians” are mocked a great deal. They are treated as one unified whole, no different despite their language and cultural differences unique to each state, teased for their “strange tongue” and stereotyped as oil-smothered, lungi-wearing dark skinned men keen on Rajnikanth films and a taste for “idli-dosa”.

In South India the story was no different. “North Indians” were crass Hindi-speaking, Bollywood-watching nincompoops, always posing a threat to what they called South India and attempting to take over their culture; a neo-enemy out to dominate them. So why not mock them, loot them and give them a taste of their own medicine before they get a chance to get you? To an outsider like me, Chennai appears like the same bully who, oppressed in the past, and threatened to be crushed, had decided to lash out so that the first blow was always his, in his own territory.

I have found the older the Tamilians I find here, the meaner they get. Was the auto driver a part of the ‘65 protests? Had he lived through the uncertainty of losing his own language and have his Dravidian culture crushed underneath a wave of Hindi-celebration that found him all too-vulnerable in a nation which valued an alien language over his own tongue? I have no answers for these, only conjectures and guesses towards the cause of a situation I will need to be continuously ready for. For the incident is not isolated, and neither is he alone. We must all live with our ugly past, and continue to see its ramifications on a needy present. ‘38, ‘48, ‘52, ‘65--these weren’t incidents of a past that had been ‘dealt with’ and now over. One should take care not to over generalize from these isolated incidents, but they do demonstrate that language conflict on a personal level is very real for Indians who are away from their own regions.

There is something in nature that doesn’t like walls…

Frost comes uncannily to mind at times like these, almost like a haunting melody that seems ridiculously disconnected with the present. We are all living through shadow lines we’ve created for ourselves, some created by our past that we refuse to break away from. We still converse through glass walls, always watching a slightly distorted figure of the other, filling in words to lip sync with the words we cannot hear and thus imagine. Wordsworth insistently forces his words from over a hundred years past, lamenting what man has made of man, as I every day walk through Chennai in hopes of causing some dent in a mental makeup--theirs and mine--that will take a long time to go away.

BRaaaaaaaaarggghhh.

2009-05-15T00:22:00.003+05:30

I dont even know what I'm doing.

Do I call it inertia? Its not as pathetic as it sounds. I dont want to do anything. I want to sleep, because I seem to never get enough. And I want to read all the books that I keep accumulating, and they in turn accumulate dust.

Why.

I want to watch movies I've been feverishly collecting for a year now. I want to watch I want to watch and its not even that I am being lazy. There is just no time.

No time for anything I actually want to do and stuck in a circle where I keep doing meaningless things and sideline things I would rather be doing. I would say I dont really want to do those things if I havent done those things yet but its not true! So how did I get myself into this! Cant go back, cant cant cant. So, now what?

2009

2009-01-03T21:10:00.001+05:30

A tad bit late, but here nevertheless.

This year is going to be scarier. Scarier than the last few ones anyway.

And my brother gets to eat pizza and fun food everyday at office, whenever he likes. And I dont. Life sucks.

Elfin lafin(e)

2008-12-17T19:44:00.004+05:30

Anger.

The kind that boils, twists inside you until you're left with a coldness that refuses warmth.

Unhappiness.

The kind that leaves you thinking of nothing in particular, except a faint feeling of emptiness which is quickly taken over by a wave of frustration at it's meaninglessness.

Reaction.

The kind that makes you want to punish and hurt until they scream. Except whose punishment, whose hurt.

Anger.

It always returns. Washing over like a wave, relentless, unhappy, stifling.

Strange!

2008-12-17T01:48:00.001+05:30

I never realised. I like talking to my books. Especially during exams. *glee...*

Men.

2008-12-10T22:22:00.000+05:30

Irritating sonavabitches.

I say

2008-11-30T00:36:00.003+05:30

1. I would always beat you at hopscotch
2. I would eat your pasta
3. I would probably feed the seagulls to the sharks and then cook the sharks for breakfast
But I like the sleeping part.
And the painting part.
Not to forget the cheese, the you part.

But I like seagulls :( OKay we'll work something out about #2

I want to learn how to play the saxophone. And I wanna read things to you when you're half sleepy. I wanna lie down on top of you and roll around and pull each other's hair. And most of all, I dont want this to go away.

Ring-a-ring-a Roses

2008-11-09T22:16:00.003+05:30

Looking into the mirror to admire something you've created. Then watch it shatter into a million pieces while the devil grins maniacally at you, scoffing, mocking, pitying.

Strong daydreams woven into a smooth tango of sorts. Continuous movement with a perfect energy that wraps you and throws you up into the air; a giggling child with the assurance that you will be caught, again and again.

Dizzy, dizzy, dizzy.

And all fall down.

I almost sent this to you instead

2008-09-29T22:23:00.000+05:30

But let it remain anonymous.

I want. *gathers up and loves*

I think when I hate everybody, and I would want no one, you'll be still around. To love. Maybe its how disconnected you are. Maybe it would go away if I spend enough time with you. Maybe you are just a construction of who I think you are. Maybe not.

Maybe its only me who feels it. A parallel conversation where we are confessing so much. Maybe it is just my imagination.

Relentless

2008-09-15T20:53:00.002+05:30

A special kind of madness. The kind of madness that we hide everyday, in our little homes, in our big cars, in our little hearts.

It envelops us one day. This kind of madness. We cry out, a piercing shriek resonating loud between our ears which we only hear, we suffer, we live with--day after day, month after month, sometimes submerging in the tiny fragile lives we have created on our own and sometimes we are dead.

How many of us keep living in this shrieking world where there is no peace, no quiet, no sanctified part of our life just spent cluttered with nothing.

* * *

And then at times there is this absolute quiet. No more noise, and dead, deathly silence. Does the silence pound into your ears making this momentary respite from--what do they call it--madness a strange sort of a test? Sometimes they plug your ears with ear wool. Sometimes they put you in those things they call asylums. Special cells, where all that screaming is supposed to stop because they strap you in a straitjacket & give you periodic electric shocks your senses are to be numbed to a sense of quiet. You rant and you scream, telling them its not working can we have some milk in here I'm really hungry and no one cares & no one listens and this dense quiet with the relentless screaming envelops you & soon you become quiet, struck dumb by the constant non-respite.

why would you do that. cant the screaming stop. why. who suffers this much. and the tell you its you, its you and you cant believe them because it cant be, it cant be...

Spinning meaningless tales

2008-09-15T20:47:00.003+05:30

After attempting a conversation for a while, both of us relapsed into silence. We couldn't find out if the silence was strained, there was no opportunity. People thronged around us as we desperately tried to find words that had always somehow never managed to find their way up the ascending wall of unfamiliarities that we had created for each other and ourselves. Sometimes its the finest thing to be stuck in an over loud, over crowded public function. Atleast it saves you from finding out uncomfortable truths about erstwhile close relationships. Sometimes things left in a closet serves best. Sometimes silence is best.

05/02/08

2008-09-15T20:43:00.002+05:30

She smelled of cheap perfume and sweat. The sickly sweet kind, with the sour, decadent odour of real, human sweat. It filled the air around her, causing people to wrinkle their noses as she hurriedly elbowed them out of her way. This was not her time. Her black purse noisily clanged against its metal strap as her heels clattered to the rhythm she walked to. She looked around once, twice, decided something, shook her head and hurried on. She paused by a corner tea shop, glanced at the surprisingly expensive looking watch on her wrist and turned the corner.

****

2008-07-10T14:21:00.002+05:30

Can I tell you that I really don't care? That I'm a monster without feelings or do monsters have too many "feelings"? Hide, cover up with a politely enquiring face. I think I'll burst.

Death.

2008-06-05T20:17:00.002+05:30

Dying, everything is.

Muted noises, the sound of horns, a sudden wind. People talk. On and on and on. Smile, click click brb. Someone called me Mary Poppins once. I can't believe someone called me Mary Poppins once. It's dying. And for some of it... I think its for the best. Atleast its not a slow fade away. A sharp chop; thats all I always ever needed. Maybe the time is right. And even if it isn't, what of it.

***

And Jimmy said, "They all want to escape from the pain of being alive. And most of all, from love."

Online Petition

2008-05-27T21:53:00.003+05:30

On the thick attempt to scrap the English Entrance Test. Pooh!

http://www.dubeat.com/?p=108

Please sign if you agree. And spread the word.

2008-05-26T22:59:00.000+05:30

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

-W.H. Auden

Grunt.

2008-05-18T22:24:00.001+05:30

A frame empty? Nah. I consume all. And destroy. So much blood. Happiness.

Rush

2008-05-18T22:22:00.002+05:30

Things that make me scorn you.

"Take care of her"
"Thank you"
"Something special"

Fuck you.

And cookie said 'pooh'

2008-05-18T21:40:00.005+05:30

Maybe its gone. Maybe its over used, over hyped, over wanted. Over. As if an innocent bystander pregnant with over wrought meaning and increasing liability.

An uneasy laugh escapes. What do you need to do? believe? Believe in what? Ha. Doubt. Suspicion. Mixed with just the tiny suggestion of deceit. Spun strings in a kaleidoscope of...ugh... reasonable wants. Desires. Whose a tiny voice asks. Forceful suffocation. We will know only when the rest of them sing it together. Then we shall look fondly at the world at large and the spotlight that is too carefully, glaringly, suddenly focussed on you and pretend pride that I scoff at. A finger in each pie and you are happy oh so happy and you pretend. Bitter, bitter pretense.

Anger. Bulbous, screaming, shuddering anger. Slowly red to a steady, dead white. White hot coals. Always sounds so fascinating in print. Maybe its a loss of cocky swagger. Maybe its the final setting in of your surroundings. Maybe its a realisation of sorts of things that you have and do not have because of so and so. Maybe its a final anger directed towards the "unfairness" of it all. Ha. How neatly escapist.

Maybe I need out. Out of this, out of work, out of longing, out of impulsive fireballs. Need. Maybe I need to need. For a change.

***

Postscript: Vexation. Ha haha. Hahahaha. I wish I was Mojo Jojo. Atleast it'd be real.

MB

2008-05-13T02:23:00.003+05:30

No no no no NO! Shut out the noise and stop the caps. we will have some peace tonight. hammer jabber the way you stop talking to people just because they cant respond anymore atleast not respond the way the next in line would and so you move on and learn to shift buttons and thoughts and words and people and translate it and mould it to suit you and not them anymore. "too much noise i think." haha... what a perfect excuse. surprised and confused and quieted all in one go. wonderful. but the questions keep coming. why when how whywhenhow and you deal with each one their own way. you let one of them keep talking and reply vaguely to the other convincing them but leaving them with an uneasy dissatisfaction but i dont know if i care anymore but yes i probably do and i hurry to delude them but atleast not that never that. Criss cross cancel ping. Quick delete. Would you get hurt if i dont want you tonight? maybe want is the wrong word. Gnite.

The tag thing :)

2008-05-04T20:19:00.005+05:30

Last movie seen in a theatre:
You Me Aur Hum. Today. A few hours ago. Argh!

What book are you reading?
Artemis Fowl; A Suitable Boy; Che's Diary, the Bolivia one.

Favourite board game:
Too many! I like! But they always cheat in Scotland Yard :( And no snide comments about how I always lose please ;)

Favourite magazine:
Um.

Favourite smells:

Wet earth, sigh. What a high. Dad. Panther Boy. Sometimes some books. Subu on most days. oh! oranges! hehehehe :)

Favourite sound:
sometimes, no sound. and sometimes so many. oh so many :)

Worst feeling in the world:
Aaki said it. I dont like :( Not her saying it that is, lol. ;)

What is the first thing you think of when you wake up?
Mm? Its time to get up already? Already????

Favourite fast food place:
Mm. Stupid question.

Future child’s name:
I think I'll let him/her choose theirs =/

Finish this statement, “If I had a lot of money I’d…”
blow it. On good food, on trips, on massive bathrooms like Hogwarts' Prefect's loo.

Do you drive fast?
When I'm alone. Which is not exactly a good thing :S Literally that is. Metaphorically... Well I've begun. I dont know if its a good thing or not?

Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?
Nai. I once slept with a huge dog someone gave me for my birthday that day and I had a nightmare about it. It was terrible. I dont like stuffed things in my bed :S Except pillows.

Storms - Cool or Scary?
Oh VEVY cool ;) ;)

Do you eat the stems on broccoli?
I dont waste food, so I probably would, except I don't know if I would ever order broccoli. Or cook it.

If you could dye your hair any colour, what would be your choice?
Purple! Blue! It keeps changing! What I want that is. Never my hair =/

Name all the different cities/towns you have lived in:
Delhi. Oh and Delhi. I would say damn but I love the place. But I will live in many cities :)

Favourite sports to watch:
Almost none. I would much rather play. But tennis I guess.

One nice thing about the person who sent this to you:
Aaki! The weird fellow blogger thing is not enough to know a person well. But I love the way she can write, I love the way she lives. And doesn't just exist.

What’s under your bed?
Okay no jokes about monsters. Not cool :S

Would you like to be born as yourself again?
I love living as me. But then why would I want it all over again? Another thing, which I should love almost as much, if not more.

Morning person or night owl?
I would say neither, but probably the latter.

Over easy or sunny side up?
Over easy now... Used to be sunny side up since forever.

Favourite place to relax:
Different places at different times.

:) I just had a series of photographic clicks sort of things of the places I would like being/have liked being in. Happy :)

Favourite pie:
Heeheehee. This is not fair!

Favourite ice cream flavour:
Coffee. Sometimes a bit of everything else :)

You pass this tag to –

You, you, you and you. And You!!!!

Of all the people you tagged this to, who’s most likely to respond first?

Lets see :) I like not to be presumptuous. Nah. I just hate being wrong ;P

Casino Royale

2008-04-25T21:53:00.002+05:30

He sighed. Women were for recreation. On a job they got in the way and fogged things up with sex and hurt feelings and all the emotional baggage they carried around. One had to look out for them and take care of them. 'Bitch.' said Bond...

Haha...

2008-04-25T21:49:00.003+05:30

Decoding a long diplomatic message written in eloquently pleasant and peaceful language from a neighbouring kingdom to Planet Terminus by the use of symbolic logic:

"You give us what we want in a week, or we beat the hell out of you and take it anyway."

Christie, ha!

2008-04-23T21:52:00.002+05:30

Never worry about what you say to a man. They're so conceited that they never believe you mean it if it's unflattering.

-The Murder Of Roger Ackroyd

Pithy

2008-04-19T18:41:00.003+05:30

I think one of these days I will end it. Sick. Weary. Enough. Maybe just because I am curious. If I can.

2008-04-15T22:59:00.002+05:30

I love sudden clear-headed moments. The so obvious in your face ones that they make you laugh out loud. Grinning ear to ear :)

All good things can go horribly wrong. But they're usually good things because they can be put right again. With a little bit of anger ;P

2008-04-15T00:36:00.002+05:30

Sometimes I wonder when I would trust things a little more. Be a little less of a cynic. Maybe doubt is just a way of dealing with things. But it comes so naturally. Suddenly, I don't care.

Gay gay ___

2008-04-14T13:59:00.004+05:30

Days spun in meaningless responses the night runs by with the nightmare that it would be another day gone another day short another day left another day needed another day wanted another day closer another day another day another day, yet... Reflections of an earlier self not so long ago and suddenly a million images accost me and whirl and I wonder like someone else did and someone else is probably doing and the million others who probably will that is it still the same fire is it still the same circle round and round and two tickets for a ride, except never is the circle by the same person but when you go round it again its like a spiral away from it but with the same center so you always know who are the ones coming in and you never look outwards to see the ones going out but theres still the ones who are in different spirals and you are caught between the spiral you are and the spiral you strive to be and its giddy this spinning and spinning and whee you spin with someone from a completely different thread trying to enter another spiral. Are we all in spirals and are we happy. And then bam the spinning stops and you jump and suddenly you're in an elevator that takes you far far far away... Shooting up or plunging down and you come to an alternate universe. And it begins all over again.

Promises made promises kept? I will I will.

In Memoriam

2008-04-03T15:40:00.000+05:30

They strangled him. Little by little, they sucked the living breath out of him as he watched on, face taut, mouth a grim line. His head was always bowed; no one ever knew what went on beneath the unassuming stammer of his. He would come when bidden, finish his job faithfully, and go back, empty handed. They never noticed him, except when he went away. They drove him away, the same people who spearheaded the new world. The others complained, their light bulbs needed fixing, their TVs showed disturbance. Then a new man came, and he was forgotten. Some still waited for him, sure he would come back; this was just a temporary replacement. Years went by when temporary became permanent, and permanent became senior. And one day he returned, drank his cup of tea that looked watery when he sipped it. Head lifted a little in the exultation of the moment, to be bowed once again as he stepped out of the little world they had constructed for him, the world he deserved; the world that he would never find, once he walked out of the house. It took ten years of merciless strangling… and then the worst of it all; leaving the kill panting in the semi dark, forgotten, cast away in the indifference that finally killed him.

“What are you thinking?”

“No… He must’ve a really strong neck to survive for so long…”

No, come to think of it, his neck was really insignificant… It was his shoulders. Square ones, that never sagged.

He died, and they sung sorrowful songs and conducted memorial services that lasted for an hour, where they had tea and snacks after it. Of course, no one was really hungry, but who else would finish all this food?

He died, and he had a quiet funeral while pretentious mourners wrote pages of memoriam with their afternoon cup of coffee. But then, he never protested.

Hehe

2008-03-31T18:19:00.002+05:30

I think, every once in a while, all of us can be excused to be a little... self congratulatory. No? ;)

Dessert.

2008-03-26T18:42:00.003+05:30

Oh hell. I've just realised how at times I despise women. And how at others I adore 'em. Men are either boring or very very interesting. I think I'm going to attempt a blog where I'm a man. And nobody would know. Glee! Of course I'm not giving you the link. Potential Party Pooper. :P

2008-03-26T00:10:00.001+05:30

Forgotten mirth

And ill gotten peace

Jumbled up anger

Mischief, mischief.

Mixed up fear

In Hateful lies

Claustrophobic nightmare

Little do you realise.

Hell Yeah.

2008-03-24T15:35:00.004+05:30

I suffer from a very bad disease. Its called Irrationality with a capital EYE. I'm bosom friends with Irrationality, I play with Irrationality, I draw circles with Irrationality and I obsess with Irrationality. It is really driving me mad. EYE AM IRRATIONAL. And I hate it.

Oh, and read this. Everyone should've friends like these.

And... Oof

2008-03-24T15:35:00.003+05:30

Life... Can be quite irritating at times. A bitch of a mood, clubbed with a super annoying birthday boy and a supremely selfish best friend and her super sad boyfriend clubbed together do NOT make for a good midnight conference. Plus if two out of the three of them be intellectually inordinately wanting, it can be quite exasperating to keep one's patience.

I felt like banging my head against the wall. Oh lord.

So today was Holi, and I did not play. Funny, probably the first one when I've declined all that glorious muck. Oh well. Someone's 'friend' (read sexually desperate bugger) sprayed her with a aerosol car paint. Black. Muhahahaha. The sight. Am I glad that I declined the invitation to go meet that friend.

Colours are lovely and I like multi-coloured bodies running around splaying water. What I don't get is how the colours don't come off! Scrub behind your ears, underneath your chin, the gaps of your fingers, shampoo your scalp. How hard is that? And all that tosh about it not coming off... Well, do something about it!! Okay now I sound like a grandma... But it is distinctly lurid to see people in brand new clothes and pink eyebrows walking around with no shame in their souls. Fie!

Its funny when you hear your parents giggling over not-so-whispered exchanges at three in the night. Slightly unsettling, but somewhere pleasing. Especially when you spent a sizeable chunk of your childhood acting referee for their fights and constantly dreading them deciding on a divorce. Of course, it is definitely not comforting when one of them tells you about how it'd have been possibly true if you hadn't been so actively involved in making peace. Leaves one to shudder to think what if you had actually let go, like your elder sibling chose to.

I wonder if this is how it would be, when you'd be dead.

Today is a strangely uphill day. Of course things like shammi kebab and snatched conversations make it happier, maybe its just my cynicism today thats making me throw away things I think should be amputated now. Probably the fact that I'm too much of an egotistic fool that I expect things a certain way make me shrug away the same things I get in a lesser way than I had assumed I'd get.

I can't take a little. Too much of a regal, well throw it away even if I'm a beggar. Stings, fallen scraps. Like a well fed pet who can't survive on the garbage dump as one after another stray pup finds their own jackpot there.

One day I think I'll be truly unhappy. Then I'll have no father to crawl next to, no friends to tell me I'm being silly, and one day, they'll all see that I was right, there is no reason to love me at all. And so begins my night. A Discourse on Satire tonight, how amusing. *clink*

Hee :)

2008-03-17T18:28:00.004+05:30

"Holi Saturday ko nahi hai??"

"Haan..."

"Toh?!?" (eyes her drenched pink self amusedly)

"Woh teevee waale aayein hai na..."

*giggle*

Experience

2008-03-12T21:16:00.003+05:30

Maybe thats what is it. Maybe its one of those things you put on a big glass jar and forget about it. To use it you see. Detached. Collect the colours of the rainbow and finger it later. Stone cold. Cut out a part of you and let it swirl in the misty drunkenness of a past thats a present now.

Cut to see if there's actually anything to feel. The ink runs over, from these blue lined veins. Splatter. Drip. Stop.

Nothingness.

I need a change

2008-03-05T23:18:00.002+05:30

Red button green button blue button stop. Won't. Won't tell you that is. What did you expect? Bah.

Sometimes I wish I could be Nihilist

2008-02-26T20:33:00.003+05:30

It came to me suddenly one day; I'm not what I thought I would be. I saw myself growing up differently, maybe I didn't know exactly how, but definitely not the way I am right now. I thought I'd always know what I wanted, I would have everything perfectly in control, I'd never let myself be unhappy, I'd stop myself if I knew I was doing something which would ruin me.

Funnily enough, I'm none of the things I thought I would be. I like being alone after being surrounded by a staggering number of friends, I like pushing people away who seem to love me, I like hurting those who come to me without apprehension, I like throwing things away and cling on to things that only make me unhappy. It's like building this whole world for yourself, always believing this is how you would like it best, this is how you were meant to live, this is how you should be happy. Except it isn't.

Someone said to me today, Your life is rocking yaar... people dream to live a life like this... shut up and be proud of yourself...

Strangely I don't feel a thing. It's like a dull, numb feeling, as if nothing really matters anymore... As if things I valued and gave importance to had suddenly faded into a background of greys and blues and colours I no longer seemed to care or know about. And I hum to myself and no sound comes out as a hollow silence seems to envelop me in its ruin. I still write in meaningless creative writing competitions about knives and lilac madnesses until my insides bleed in protest. I trudge past smiling faces, nodding as they greet the person they see everyday in me and I'm glad they see no change. I avoid closest friends as they quickly prod me for not talking as much as they usually would want me to, and I complain of a headache which is partly true and they ask me off hand questions and I dutifully answer them and they move off, satisfied. I'm glad to be of help, it takes my mind off over musing what the trouble is, and I hate it when someone asks what is it thats the matter and I come out with a helpless I don't know...

I'm a lot of things I don't want to be, and it hurts when people expect more of you and show their disappointment. I pretend to be indifferent at times but one day it builds up to this whole big ball of filth and unhappiness and hurt and discontentment and then I don't know what to do with it anymore so I hide it in me until one day it becomes too ancient to stink anymore and is stacked up as another dull remnant of 'temporary derangement' that doesn't immediately threaten attack once more.

And its not as if I want a clean, orderly life... I was never under the delusion that I could or would live like that. Its the other thing. The gnawing, pinching insidious thing that I cannot seem to rid myself of. But I will.

Tangle

2008-02-25T23:08:00.000+05:30

She stumbled and fell. After she stopped retching, she wiped off spittle with the back of her hand and coughed. Her head heavy, she willed herself to get up. It was like a dark tunnel, and she was feeling her way about, uncertain where it ended but walking all the same. Atleast she was on her own.

aesuaN

2008-02-25T21:36:00.002+05:30

It's eerie, living two lives.

DAV 870

2008-02-07T23:05:00.000+05:30

The minute I stepped into the car, the familiar smell accosted me sending a whirl of memories rushing past my head. My hand automatically reached for the seatbelt as he revved up the engine— a mileage of 17, I’m told proudly—and I remember this is a vintage car, there are no seatbelts.

It’s been long, since I sat in this seat; there was a time I sat in it almost everyday, traversing all parts of this city I’ve grown to love and watched streets fly by as I was made to learn the names. The car stops, it’s a red light. I shift in the seat, have you grown fatter that you don’t fit in, two whacks while he ducks and we laugh as the signal turns green.

Looking out of the window, the world suddenly seems fresher. I think of times we laughed, not knowing where we would go, would we stay in touch if we left the school hours that forced us together, would we laugh at the same jokes that weren’t funny? We knew so much lesser of the world, we didn’t know we could choose ‘better’, would we choose better and glance indulgently backwards and shake our head?

We’re told we would find our own set of people once we grew older who we would ‘identify’ with more. Sure, we’ve all found people who’re closer to what we are, who’re possibly riding our wavelength as we burst into newer, freer individuals… I leave old memories willfully walking away, but this smell reminds me acutely of times I loved, times I didn’t ‘know better’; times I suddenly realize I miss.

The car turns around a bend, we are talking about the play I watched and he missed. Jam packed, I wish I’d reached in time. We talk of other things, there are things that seemed to need more time, more time, more time. We take longer routes, we ignore commitments, we pretend to be free; we feign ignorance of the late hour. Parked outside the gate, unwilling to be the first to acknowledge the hundred screaming phone calls that beckon us, finally we shift, I should be going… Yeah me too. An impulsive hug, and I hop out. He revs up the engine, I remember something and tap at the window. Puzzled grin, and he rolls the window down. Drive safely, you. Tongue out, I’m happy today.

Fiction.

2008-01-29T00:10:00.001+05:30

"Things were not supposed to be like this. She was not supposed to be like this. Why? Why...
The goddamn world was watching and laughing. While she blundered on, confidently; unharmed."

Closing the book, she bitterly smiled.

End point.

2008-01-28T21:12:00.000+05:30

Bulging, breaking, wonderful joy.
Panting, shoving, thirsting decoy.

Red lines, blue lines, purple, once green;
What joy? Where joy? Dying sheen.

Blue black black blue blending blip
Hopscotch, red frock, neatly clip;
Once red, now blue, cold and clean
Step back, heigh ho! no longer glean.

One day end day unbridled relief
Checkmate haha twist and mischief

Ploughing, paving, careful and proud
Full throttle full circle now look who's caught.

2008-01-28T21:07:00.000+05:30

I wonder. I wonder. I need to stop. :grim smile:

Disconnect

2008-01-26T15:29:00.000+05:30

A white stone bench, a strategically positioned tree trunk. A scrap of pink cloth, dust to be brushed as it falls like a moon shower. The day is wrong, there are things one must do, proposals to write "We are going to marry the college." Gay laughter. I trace my foot on the ground, distracted. "Here, speak to her, we need to finish this." But I want to sit with a book, the sun refuses to glare, we must trudge to a clean office with messy timings and wait for a clerk who will grunt in answer to everything. I look back, the bench still looks the same, indifferent to me as I walk away. There's a hush as we walk between trees; a path created as gravel crunches beneath our feet and I catch my breath. No one else seems to notice. We need to hurry to the office. I will come back, when the day is right.

This one's really just only about me.

2008-01-07T23:56:00.000+05:30

Bitter coffee with no sugar and a good back massage can do wonders to your body. Coupled with jesting with the black sheep of your family makes it quite… interesting. So talking to this particular cousin of mine while feeling the relatively new taste of strong, black coffee touch my tongue and go down my pipe, I discovered a lot of things about myself which I must’ve always known but never spoken out aloud. I never did want to go to school. Till fifth it was happy; school was just an excuse to do whatever you wanted, you just needed to learn the rudiments of geography and evs and those horrendous practical things one has to learn in order to ‘develop’. And then you could do whatever you wanted; you could paint, or read or dance or act or write or just enjoy eating. I liked mimicking Kathakali dancers when Thakurma would switch on the tv and ma saw how much I enjoyed it and decided that I should be trained. I remember thakurma arguing how I should be learning how to sing instead and how everyone in her family had turned out to be brilliant singers, how it was in my genes… and how maybe the fact that I was my mother’s child I had somehow unfairly lost the genes in the process. I remember ma asking me very gently if I wanted to learn how to dance; thankfully there was no pressure to nod a yes just because her eyes shined when she asked me; and I remember grinning from ear to ear and doing another Kathakali eye thing to show that it was an affirmative. I did Bharatnatyam for a month; somehow that’s the first dance form that comes to most people’s minds when they think of classical dance. Then I caught the loo and by the time I was well again I’d forgotten I had joined in the first place. I never went back to the aunty’s place to learn ta-hit-hit-ta.

Then one day I was waiting for another cousin of mine in the place he was supposed to ‘learn’ how to draw when I started scribbling on paper. I don’t remember what I drew but I loved it and since that day our evenings would be spent in drawing while the adults laughed and talked in the other room. We drew Tintin covers, wacky monsters, places we wanted to go to that didn’t exist anywhere except in our heads, action figures, big monster racing cars. Then one day—I don’t even remember when, I started learning Odissi. I loved every minute of it; I don’t know if it was because I loved to dance or because I was good at it or was it simply because I received a lot of attention as a result. But I loved each class and I would be eager to prove how I could outdo myself every new day. I remember the adrenalin rush on the first day we performed; how I loved the lights, the big stage, the audience’s eyes focused on us, clapping, watching, admiring. I was probably eight or maybe nine and my sari came loose while I danced and all I did was bunch it together and stick it somewhere and continue dancing; I would not let anything interfere with this. There were many performances later where saris were perfectly in position, spotlights were on me and I wasn’t dancing in a group anymore, but nothing ever quite beat that first time. I enrolled into a ‘proper’ dance-training school—a choice I’ve always regretted—got degrees, learnt a whole lot of ‘technical’ things… But somehow lost the happy feeling dancing gave me somewhere in between. I dropped out of dance school right when things were gathering pace, right when a New York tour was supposed to come up, right when we were told we’d been promoted to the elite class. I’ve never been more relieved, and I’ve never looked back since and regretted it for a day. Six years of dance school and not even a flinch while I calmly told my teacher I would be not dancing anymore.

I did not like school; going there was the most mechanical thing that I did. Day after day, month after month, and I never questioned it all; I just thought it a routine one is supposed to follow and you couldn’t possibly have a choice in. I remember sitting in classes not listening to a word the teacher said unless it was literature, and then I was all pricked ears and ready mouth. I remember loving PT periods where we would play kho kho or dodgeball or when the stupid boys would allow us, football. Which was rare, and the fact that nobody else was much interested in playing football in any case made me shy away from asking to be ‘allowed’ in the game. The only time they did want to play was when they thought they’d look ‘cute’ and it’d be a perfect way of getting a guy’s (and in some cases numerous guys’) attention. It was all very cumbersome. By the twelfth I’d worked out a perfect system to survive school. I’d calculated exactly how many marks I needed to be a ‘good’ student in subjects I did not like studying any longer and then devoted all my energies towards things that made me happier, and I was content.

I loved choosing to do English, I loved knowing I could choose my college, I loved the people around me, even though I was doubtful the first month if this was how college was supposed to be like. I loved the freedom; I had never known how much I had always wanted it. I loved knowing new things, and I’ve changed a lot, since those first days of walking into college in half pants and a black slogan screaming shirt. I’ve learnt to welcome change, I’ve learnt that inertia did no one ever any good. I’ve learnt getting bruised isn’t that bad; and that safeguarding yourself always is just plain cowardly. I’ve discovered unlimited potential in things that I never knew could have any depth. And I’ve learnt to know that things can be grey, and that it was actually me who believed in binary more than anyone else.

Itsy Bitsy Spider

2008-01-04T13:44:00.000+05:30

Maybe I just need a change. Oh, check this out. Tremendous fun :)

Ugh, the prospect of everyone doing a project on Uncle Tom's Cabin is just dreadful. The :horror:

Sometimes I wonder if fooling people is really this easy.

My Playlist

2008-01-03T00:53:00.000+05:30

Dream On – Aerosmith

I’ve always loved the song. It’s got such an honest, humble feel to it, zero pretence. No preaching, everyone’s at the same level. It’s a together song.

Brighter Than Sunshine – Aqualung

It reminds me of cold mornings with the sun warming your nose and there’s a chill in the air but parts of you are warm enough to enjoy the sting. It reminds me of being given an unexpected present which you hadn’t dared to hope for.

Times They Are A Changing – Bob Dylan

It’s such a forward looking song. My idea of a timeless classic.

Keep On Singing My Song – Christina Aguilera

This is by far the most celebratory song I’ve ever heard. My respect for her went up about a hundred notches. It’s honest and as defiant as it could be. Calm, and resolute.

I believe they can take anything from me
But they can't succeed in taking my inner peace
They can say all they wanna say about me

But I'm gonna carry on
Keep on singing my song

Whoa, & everytime I tried to be what they wanted from me
It never came naturally
So I ended up in misery, wasn't able to see
All the good around me
They wasted so much energy on what they thought of me
Simply just remembering to breathe

Clocks – Coldplay

Come out upon my seas, curse missed opportunities
A part of the cure, or am I part of the disease
You are
And nothing else compares
Oh no nothing else compares
And nothing else compares

You are
Home, home, where I wanted to go

I love the intro to this, even though it’s short. It keeps playing at the intervals between the stanzas, and it gives a lovely, wholesome feel. There’s a lot left pregnant in the song, and the constant repetition towards the end re-asserts it.

Iris – Goo Goo Dolls

And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming
Or the moment of truth in your lies
When everything feels like the movies
Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

The urgent, almost desperate need in the song comes with the repetition of the last line. Sigh.

Boulevard Of Broken Dreams – Greenday

It’s a lonesome song. It’s a self-accusing song. It’s also extremely conceited. I love it all the same.

November Rain – Guns N’ Roses

'Cause nothin' lasts forever
And we both know hearts can change
And it's hard to hold a candle
In the cold November rain

It’s sung in a melancholy strain, but somehow empty. Practical, maybe. But empty all the same. Carpe Diem. Dangerous philosophy, with it’s almost straightforward doctrine. Sung beautifully though.

Lips Of An Angel – Hinder

Well, my girls in the next room
Sometimes I wish she was you

It’s the worst kind of deception. Because you deceive yourself into believing that you aren’t in the wrong, really. I hate the use of “my girl” in these particular lines. The audacity.

Collide – Howie Day

I'm quiet, you know
You make a first impression
I found I'm scared to know I'm always on your mind

Even the best fall down sometime
Even the stars refuse to shine
Out of the back you fall in time
I Somehow find
You and I collide

Fuck. This song scares the shit outta me. It’s so brutally honest.

She’s Always A Woman – Billy Joel

I love the description of the woman here. There’s gentle complaining mixed with love for her, despite the faults he finds with her, perhaps more so, because of the flaws.

She can lead you to love, she can take you or leave you,
She can ask for the truth but she'll never believe you,
And she'll take what you give her as long as it's free,
Yeah she steals like a thief but she's always a woman to me.

And she'll promise you more than the garden of Eden
then she'll carelessly cut you and laugh while you're bleeding,
But she brings out the best and the worst you can be.
Blame it all on yourself cause she's always a woman to me.

Afterglow – INXS

The beginning reminds me of an old Hindi song which I can’t recall now.

Here I am, lost in the ashes of time, but who wants tomorrow?
In between the longing to hold you again
I'm caught in your shadow, I'm losing control
My mind drifts away, we only have today

It’s a sad song. Something hits inside.

Leaving On A Jet Plane – Janis Joplin

Janis Joplin because I like the cover better than the original. I can’t help it, her voice does this to me. John Denver must be turning in his grave, but then my knowledge about music is extremely limited.

There’re so many times I’ve let you down
So many times I’ve played around
I tell you now, they don’t mean a thing
Every place I go, Ill think of you
Every song I sing, Ill sing for you

Somehow this song makes me cynical.

Somewhere Only We Know – Keane

Even though I love the song, these lines irk me.

Oh simple thing where have you gone
I'm getting old and i need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and i need somewhere to begin

It’s selfish. You need to remember things when you’re high, not just when you’re low. No one waits around.

2008-01-03T00:48:00.001+05:30

It was just the kind of day. The lane was empty, and I ran. I ran waiting for the rain to beat down and wash away everything that was on my face. Wipe it clean. The sun shone, and I ran. It still smelt of angry wet earth. It was that kind of day.

Buzz.

2008-01-01T22:20:00.000+05:30

Pretend. To want it, like it, fight for it. Pretend that it hurts. Pretend that things matter, pretend that the pretense is essential. Pretend not to see it, pretend that you are happy, because aren't these things the ones you always wanted and should be content? Pretend that words mean things. Pretend wonder, pretend enjoyment, pretend things that ought to be there, but just aren't. And stare at puddles of mud that always glinted all the colours of the rainbow for you.

And soft echoes of an Elvis song play in the broken gramophone of my muddled puddled mind.

And home is where we earn our grace

2008-01-01T20:39:00.000+05:30

Lets not begin new things today, things that need to end one day.
Lets make resolutions to break new ones we made yesterday.
Lets draw circles in the air so that nothing seems to begin or end.
Lets not forget things are not that difficult to fend.
Lets pretend smoothness where all there left is to grab air.
Lets force us to test if there are more things we can bear.
Lets not follow routines that we willingly make a part of us.
Lets pray for our sanity when we cant escape our thoughts.
Lets close tired eyes which can't hide lies anymore.
Lets seek out pleasures long forgotten in the cold.

Lets breathe out smoke circles that blow in strange new winds again.
Lets not begin something when we know it leads nowhere.

It.

2007-12-23T19:52:00.000+05:30

It was monumentally ugly, the monster. The sly yellow eyes with red pupils, the black gaping mouth with the snake like sticky tongue that slid in and out of the inside of thick swollen purple lips that spread over the expanse of his lower jaw in a sloppy, misshappen mess lent a grotesqueness to it. The head was huge and spread more horizontally than vertically, with a few sparse, straw-like strands which lay flat and fuzzy on the blotched skin. The ears were tiny and delicate-looking, like an artist had drawn them most carefully, intending it for another face. The bits of thick fuzz that stuck out from these ears seemed to restore the demonic stamp back to this characteristic of its body. Thick folds of grey green skin formed the neck and the thick stubby arms were joined to the body by bulky shoulders that rose so high that the neck seemed to be sunk in it. The rest of his body was lost in the darkness that surrounded him. The darkness that he commanded to be his.

An anarchy of alliances

2007-12-16T15:03:00.000+05:30

There is a strange sense of disconnect at times. As if I've been living someone else's life, as if things have bounced off me without leaving even a semblance of a dent. Looking back at things that have happened, that must have happened because I have memories of them, they suddenly seem so unreal. I have to read diary entries, look for tangible objects that signify that events really took place and remind myself of the very existence of thoughts to convince me that it isn't mere hallucination, but an actual real truth. Its strange... It's not as if I cant feel or sense or touch or respond; its just that its like a smooth surface momentarily disturbed by a hurtling objects, causing violent tension at the surface for a minute that seems to agonise terribly... And then its absorbed and the surface is smooth again, unaffected, as if nothing ever really happened. Its disturbing to find that years go by and things fade into a background where nothing seems to hold any importance anymore. Its as if its not a life at all, but a mechanical assortment of events where only the present seems to be of any consequence and everything else is shoved into the past as a dream like haze that might or might not have happened, but its really unimportant, as it doesnt matter anyway. Its strange to live like this, its not living at all, but a numb existence where what is warm and sparkling and real in a sense of the word is just transient. Because isnt what is real what would affect one for all time to come? Things may not be important anymore, but wouldnt events be as real as they were say three years ago? Remembering becomes strange, and I want to get out of the memories which hold no significance anymore. Its horrible to know that you're incapable of feelings that you proudly paraded around with, calling them your own.

Its like you're life is scattered on the roadside, swirling around you like when a gust of wind picks up, and you cant really hold on to any part of it; the only thing you see is sparkling bits of cyanide droplets that cant hurt you anymore, because they dont seem to touch you.

India mein muft ki advice bahaut milti hai :)

2007-12-11T17:14:00.000+05:30

#1. Individual growth should never be neglected, irrespective of the fact whether you're growing in other ways or not.

#2. Happiness is of supreme importance. Ultimately, that is what every single one of us is constantly trying to achieve. Through the choices we make, the friends we make, the decisions that we call correct.

#3. There are things you wish for. And then, there are places where you want those things to materialise from. If that doesn't happen, something is fucked. Maybe its time to question whether you're suffering from a delusion or not.

#4. Neglecting others around you is the stupidest thing one can do. You will never know when those people cease to be around you anymore. Until its too late.

#5. Reciprocation is almost as important as the act of giving itself. Without reciprocation, things cannot sustain for very long, however ardent the giving is.

#6. Never let go of things that come your way. Be worthy of them; thats the only way to hold on to them.

#7. Always listen. No matter how busy you are. There are things that are important which have too faint a voice at times.

#8. Riding a high wave can be dangerous. Especially if you lose touch with ground reality. The inevitable crash will hurt.

#9. Conceit is okay, as long as you know that its conceit and dont actually believe in it. If that happens, :yelp:

#10. Lies have a sneaky way of catching up with you.

Someday

2007-12-11T14:24:00.001+05:30

Change comes slowly. At its own pace, and sometimes its hard to identify until bang! its there. There have been things that have always been taught to us. In thin textbooks, pencil drawings, moral stories. We've been taught to be patient, to be selfless, be humble. We've been warned against greed and explained how to be truly happy we have to give more. We've been told to curb desires, to help others, to be kind and never to hate, but only forgive. Love, friendship, goodness, worth... These are the things that make any man... or woman 'truly' happy, content. Life has been charted out to us a simple way of gentle care, hard work, constant responsibility. Emulate the good and do away with the bad.

We've all begun as idealists haven't we? Learnt to be human, wanted and given love, expected laughter. Most of us have become bitter with constant disappointment. Some of us have become cynical and laughed at the naive optimism of some untouched soul. Some of us have lost the hope of ever getting what we want, and looked enviously at the ones who still laughed, who still seemed to get everything, 'perfectly'. Most of us are more or less lucky about certain things we seldom recognise. We all have something going for us and human nature makes us want the things we haven't or cannot get. Discontent is normal, some people deal with it and push the thought away and some brood and make it worse for themselves.

Everyone has flaws. I've learnt to identify mine and found them to be too many. Comparing people/things is horrible. Sometimes people think too much. They puzzle and agonise, and frustration comes when the thing is belittled to nothingness and the earlier constant perusal seems stupid, if not unnecessary and redundant. Carpe Diem is something that I've always found worrying. It is somehow... so irresponsible. Moments do need to be seized, but we've to be careful that it hurts no one else in the process. Being a little selfish is fine. Being cruel in this selfishness is immature, and brutal.

Stick to your guns and believe what you believe firmly. Not rigidly, being hardened is not necessarily courageous. Things change, but sometimes you're not an individual anymore. If you're a tree with a hundred birds and animals living in your boughs and trunk, you've to think before you decide to uproot yourself and go off to Siberia. The animals might die. Provide winter care first.

Explosive effusions

2007-12-09T21:54:00.000+05:30

Sometimes theres this huge ball of fury that rises within you that just wont remain down. It steadily rises and every passing minute it reaches a new level of violence. Your ears turn warm and the red in your face can almost emanate heat. Its as if your chest might almost burst with the effort of remaining calm as you try to keep your voice neutral, trying to understand, to reason with yourself that now is not the time, later later. But then you reach a point where you can either clam up and bury your nose in your work while talking to people with amazing alacrity, forgetting that you're seething within... or snap.

2007-11-28T20:01:00.000+05:30

Let's call him M. No one knew him really, he was the kind who melted into the background, the kind of figure you saw everyday-- in the cinema, at red lights, in grocery stores, in the parks. His suit was always carefully brushed, his worn boots polished, his tie a thin knot and just a bit crooked. He walked at a medium pace, while the bustling, busy city hurried past him, footsteps that chanted hurry, hurry, hurry. No one gave him a second glance; he was any man, everyman. No one would know what he did all day; let's just pretend he worked for a company that specialised in lead pipes, no one really cared. I am sure he cared though, he spent a third of his day inspecting and testing lead pipes; I am sure he knew his job well.

He would sometimes go to the bar across his office and three paces to the left. The barman said he would always order single malt; dutifully pay his bill with a modest tip and leave. But he might be confusing him with the man from the insurance agency or the clerk from the bank two streets away.

He seemed to have no friends; and no relatives seemed to remember of his existence or vice-versa. No one invited him for Thanksgiving, and he received no presents on Christmas. His post consisted mainly of bills and advertisements sent by companies who sent numerous such letters everyday, to names they associated with addresses and not human faces.

So was M unhappy? There is really no way to tell, what was it that he wanted, what was it that he yearned for; was there really anything that he desired but did not get? We might assume that he wanted friends; he did not want to be overlooked when strangers' eyes glanced his way perchance. Maybe he wanted a dog; maybe he was too afraid of dogs to want one. Maybe a dog had bitten him in childhood and left him frightened of them ever since?

Psychologists declared that all men craved company, and the most solitary of loners had some living being or the other for solace, for company. Everyone needs something, did he listen to music? Maybe he'd learnt the violin as a youth and played the instrument every evening, with the lights out, alone in his room. But say all he did was come home to stare off in space, or worse still, go through a regular routine of odd jobs-- clean the laundry, take out the garbage, wash the solitary plate and scrape the oven which was still surprisingly clean after years of use. What of it then? Did he put off his lights at precisely ten thirty and fall asleep, the alarm set for six a.m.? Did he fall to sleep immediately, did he dream, and if he dreamt what did he dream about?

The evenings did see him sit in the parks at times, he would always sit alone, he would always walk back home alone. Children screeched as they ran after one another, and sometimes a child would stop to look at him, maybe expecting a toffee but run off immediately, because his smile would not change his face, and no one looked closely enough to notice the smile.

Maybe he wanted to be noticed; maybe he wanted to fly, just once, to see how it felt. Maybe he wanted nothing of the above, but if so, he could have remained in his room and 'accidentally' have taken an overdose of the unused sleeping pills in his room, to die a quiet, insignificant death, like the life he led?

Someone said he giggled before he jumped; the woman across the building in her twenty-fourth floor office said he looked strangely exuberant while he squatted before leaping. But the woman could be lying, the building was too far away, and her optician was frustrated with her refusal to wear the glasses she so required? But he jumped, and he died, and the midday traffic stopped for an hour as police personnel took note of the incident. The evening tabloid printed a piece on it, but they couldn’t include a picture, for the pop princess had a new scandal that needed to be written furiously about.

The Random Nishant and his Random Tag :P

2007-11-20T17:54:00.000+05:30

Random Humour

I hate those moments when every joke you've ever known deserts you. =S

Random Book

To Kill A Mockingbird-- It's been three months, I hate knowing I STILL haven't read it.

Random Boredom

I bark at cats. Not that it's really out of boredom.

Random Worries

Deaths. Not nice.

Random Memories

Unthinking act remembered years later to redeem against later hurt inflicted.
A race run with the fastest bully and winning it.
Delirious joy at receiving first glass bangles that broke as I fell while prancing about.
Euphoria when Tushar let go of the back of my cycle as I learnt to ride it.
The first ride in Pari's scooty.
Most comfortable nap curled up against a chest.
Sudden messages, out of nowhere.
Random walk in the darkest of alleys with the unlikeliest person.

Random Realizations

I'm not fourteen anymore.
People might die.
I might be wrong about too many things.
Someone may know better.
Maybe its been too long.
It might be not as easy as I think.
Maybe I'm too careful for my own good.

I tag Sporadicblogger, Hanedin, Hershie :)

To the birthday boy

2007-11-09T00:08:00.000+05:30

There are all kinds of people around you. Some who you love to laugh with, some who you spend almost all your day with and promptly forget about until you meet them again the next day, some who you hardly meet and miss terribly at sudden instances, and some who're just... there. It doesn't matter if you see them everyday, if you don't talk to them for days on end, if they live hundreds of kilometres away in a city you've only visited once for a day and had the most brilliant time of your life. They're the kind you call at 1 in the night and talk till the wee hours of the morning, just because you could not sleep, just because they're the only ones who'd listen and understand when you're at your unhappiest and don't know what to feel anymore. They're the kind who'd order you to call at 2 am on a fucking weekday when you've a paper presentation the next morning and are working crazily to get it done. And you'd call, and you wouldn't care about anything else much.

It's queer to know that somethings would never change. People come and go, crises rise and ebb, and you put out your lights and grin when the phone rings. Some people can't help being cinnamon in your coffee. I'm just glad I have mine. Exclusively :)

My cup runneth over

2007-11-08T20:06:00.000+05:30

I wonder what it is that is in each one of us that makes us choose the way we live. Is it what we see around us, is it how we are taught to think, is it past experiences that monitor our choices, or is it just plain old common sense?? We all do what makes us happy. Ultimately, that's all we want, and like a friend very wisely stated, "It is against basic human instinct to not be selfish."

Pitty pitty pat pitty pat pitty pat and I almost believe it. How happy are you? How happy can you be, when you do something that makes another unhappy, but you secure? Beast, I declare.

Smack. Another sip of this delicious thing you call life. Today it swirled with mint leaves. I will go there again, just for the tangy aftertaste.

2007-11-05T22:31:00.001+05:30

Remember, Remember
The fifth of November,
The gunpowder treason and plot.
I know of no reason
Why the gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.

The calm before the storm.

2007-11-05T20:47:00.000+05:30

Today is long rambling post day. Not just because Nishant seems to almost be readying himself to throw death radars my way, but just because there's a strange sense of disquiet about me. College fest has just ended, tomorrow classes will be subdued and corridors filled with whisphered exchanges of what happened in the three days of the year that some relive again and again till they come again next year. We will trudge towards the cafe, there will be a hurried scramble for incomplete notes, posters will be pulled down to be replaced by new, roughly sketched ones. The corridors will be wiped clean, removing all traces of the rangoli competition, hurrying footsteps will head to respective classes. Soon things will be back to normal, college will be filled with it's infinite activities and other, new events will occupy everyone's minds.

I'd like college quiet again. I had tremendous fun having people come. I liked seeing new faces in a familiar place, familiar faces in a new place. Tomorrow I want to buy a customary cup of coffee and sit in a bench that has been covered by a stall on all the days of the fest. Probably the only thing I don't like about my fest is that all the places that would never be occupied are suddenly hotspots. The campus is suddenly smaller, more crowded. Everyone is extra friendly, extra affectionate. Walking alone means you don't have company and someone inevitably supplements, considering it their moral duty. I love company, but a sudden overdose leaves one slightly fatigued, if not irritable.

But stuff being forced on you isn't always too bad. Sometimes temporary analgesics give you an immense high that leave you giggling for hours. Whats inevitable though, is a crash. There has to come a time when you have to stop to catch your breath. The headrush is brilliant, but not when you achieve it only by trampling down anything that threatens to weigh you down. It inevitably comes back. Lighthearted comedy is easy while it lasts.

I am suddenly hungry, I dont like this post. I received the nicest compliment today. It's surprising how you know what you want only after you get it. And kind of saddening when you wish they'd come from quarters you most want them from. Maybe its time I realised I don't deserve some of these things I constantly hanker for.

Disgruntled. Mmpf. The things you make me do Nimmy :P

2007-10-21T17:23:00.000+05:30

List five things that you want to say to people but never will. Don't say who they are.

1. I wish you'd start looking me in the eye.
2. Thank you.
3. You'd have been much happier if you'd have wanted to be. It's really no one else's fault but your own.
4. I miss you, at times. We laughed so much.
5. You'd be amazed to know how much you wish about me is true.

Five things I’d love to do before I die.

1. Learn how to play the drums.
2. Swim in an ocean.
3. Act.
4. Ride a bike on the highway.
5. Go to jail.

Five things I will not do even if it kills me.

1. Give up and start pretending too.
2. Willfully hurt someone by acting selfish.
3. Eat something that's still alive.
4. Dance naked.
5. Give up on friends.

Five things I do when I'm away from the public.

1. Dance funnily.
2. Pretend-sing.
3. Giggle.
4. Talk to myself.
5. Pick my nose.

Five fave sentences/quotes.

1. “You look hot for the first week. Then you come back to looking like yourself... Oh. That came out wrong.”
2. “Dude did you check if the person I'm meeting tomorrow is likely to kidnap me or not?.”
3. “But we musn't be in a huff. It isn't polite, you see!”
4. “Abbe? Abhi red light pe the auto guy just turned around and said, 'Mujhse shaadi karogi?'”
5. “Yaaaaaaaaar. Take some plimpies and boil them in alcohol. When it bubbles put some salt and your plimpy soup is ready. Do you want? No one in class wants :(”

Five things I'll make you wish you didn't do if you did.

1. Bluff your way through.
2. Bitch about my friends.
3. Ask me for directions.
4. Wag your fingers in front of my face.
5. Not believe in Yeti.

Five people to tag-

1. Koyel
2. Nishant
3. Hanedin
4. Hershie
5. Subu

Unfaithful

2007-10-15T23:00:00.001+05:30

I probably am,

In a million different ways

That you forgot to define

Thinking them pre-defined facts

That I took so long to acknowledge.

You were worried

That I'd be one of them

You warned me against it

I took matters in a different head

I lied and cheated

My way out of things

I thought you saw me walk

Through every one of those thorns.

Believe me, I never knew,

That I would cheat you so.

I thought there were other things

That one had to be wary of

I didnt know things existed in me

That things would grow inborn.

Hurtling.

2007-10-09T21:57:00.000+05:30

The cold glass is smooth. Black, liquid. I peer at it, there's someone standing on the other side, behind it. The figure slouches, and I see the choices the figure makes. Like a horrible nightmare, it is strangely unearthly. I can't scream.

***

Metal balls, melt into the surface, things morph smoothly. Is it possible to be this disconnected and create a facade convincing enough to fool the best? To feel intensely and not feel at all??

***

How does one know? What will ever make oneself completely sure? I've taken these things forever for granted, never known the instability? Maybe cut off the outgrowth? Blood spurts, does it hurt? Strange, I might not feel a thing. Or maybe feel and not know. So that they manifest years later, hasn't it happened already.

***

The muted background suddenly comes alive again. Jerked back into motion. Thoughts shoved back, where they belong.

The Man Who Wanted A Longer Nose

2007-10-02T00:46:00.000+05:30

Hanedin
Did you know about the guy who wanted his nose to be longer?

Ylva
:D
Who??

Hanedin
the guy, oh you don't know the guy? He wears a tweed coat, listens to the blues in the afternoon, middle-aged, feeds pigeons at dawn, has a strange breakfast of diet coke and idli..
oh you don't know the man?
He is the man who wanted his nose to be longer?

Ylva
Did anyone know his name ??
Or what he did when he wasnt feeding pigeons ?

Hanedin
He was content, lived alone, rich..except whenever he looked at someone he always compared his nose to people
of course? Name everybody knew his name, but it's not part of the story? And he did normal people things-walk talk eat, you know the drill. Except that when he ate, he thought about how his nose would twitch a little more had it been longer while chewing..
similar thoughts entered his head, when he talked to people, and he kept staring at people nose's while talking to them...so they got creeped out...but after a point of time..
they let him be
..

Ylva
did they know too ?

Hanedin
he tried everything to make his nose longer, he asked around for adivice, he tried tectonic tonics, he listened to magic charmers, even contemplated plastic surgery..

Ylva
Merely contemplated?

Hanedin
now most of his friends, were short sighted, so did not know that he was talking to their noses..however good advice, or any advice is abundant as you know.
ahh.
yes..merely contemplated..
you see, he was a stickler for original things! the thought of synthetically enhanced nose, made him balmy and clammy.

Ylva
but he wated his nose to be longer ? What did he do ?

Hanedin
So one day, he decided that come what may, he would make his nose longer..
yes...
You see, he had a brilliant plan..
he realized that he had about another 10-15 years after which he would probably fall sick or something..

Ylva
arey ? Why ?

Hanedin
He bought a lot of supplies, which would last him a few years.....
a lot and stored them all in his room, his basement, his entire house was sprawling with boxes neatly assembled and categorized

Ylva
supplies?

Hanedin
and finally after telling people about his master-plan, he locked himself in, ignoring their discouraging shrugs...

Ylva
what was his master plan ? what supplies ??
What ?
What ??

Hanedin
You see he figured, if you can't change something, you create an illusion...he changed all his mirrors in his house, and made them strange concave/convex mirrors that would reflect a contorted image of himself and make his nose look longer..

Ylva
but his face ?

Hanedin
The thing is he had told his friends not to open the door, until the three years ended..
they had barricaded it from outside..
and left him alone

Ylva
but why ?
Why three years ??

Hanedin
the supplies were only enough for three years
now, however when he looked at himself in the mirror he saw bloated himself..
long nose, was next to droopy lips, drippy eyes and a flattened chappati face
the more he looked, the more disgusted he became..

Ylva
why did he need to lock himself away?

Hanedin
his friends had doubted his independence..
they had taunted him and said he would not last, long nose or not
and his rage which was already brimming within him, just exploded like a volcano..
he raged and raved in the house..
kicking boxes that came in his way..

Ylva
boxes ?
Of the supplies ?

Hanedin
uh huh
until one burst and little forks came out..
..
while he was picking up the fork he looked one last time at the mirror, and that was indeed the last straw..
he took the fork
and shoved the first one into his left eyeball
..
he took another, and shoved that one right next to the other
one
..

Ylva
and he was happy ?

Hanedin
and as the blood and aqueous fluids fell down his face..
and across the blunt insufficient nose
..
he grinned
a wide toothy smile.

Ylva
:)

Hanedin
:D

Jaded

2007-10-01T23:40:00.000+05:30

How do you decide what's worth a fight? What determines worth? You could be gritting your teeth and fighting day in and day out for an end thats hollow in it's existence. What if you fight for an illusion, that alternates between visible and invisible and becomes a shimmering golden light that leaves you blind, clutching thin air? What if you remain pumped and enthusiatic for something that cackles at your eagerness, while you smile at the world in that benign way that you seem to have mastered by now?? What if you're outnumbered, like you've always been, except this time you're fighting yourself too? What if you slipped?

Shrivelling

2007-09-30T23:44:00.000+05:30

Maybe it's just me trying to explain my insecurities through others. I'll lash out, accuse, scorn, dismiss. I'll be brutal because I'll be scared. Scared to let lose the hatred that stays, ready to spring forth, desperately restrained. There's a sick feeling in my stomach that wants me to throw up. It's venomous, it shouldn't be there, it screams out. It's not you, it's the thing you drink religiously, everyday, with chemist like precision. Its what that tastes almost sickly sweet in it's quality. It's slowly poisoning you, smoke filling up would be better. This is sly, it creeps up on you. You're shrivelling up, every day, your eyes hollowing, your breath shorter, as you rasp out nursery rhymes. Can't you feel your hair grow rough underneath your touch?

Concentric Circles

2007-09-25T21:53:00.000+05:30

Balconies aren't given their due. Someone's ac drips and the steady drumming on the green roof that covers windows that hide their own secrets is almost black and the yellow light light up patches that are nondescript in the day. A stream of water makes its way lazily to my toe while someone's shoulders shake. It is chilly here, someone wraps a blanket around our bare legs where the mosquitos have left their mark several times in the last hour. Strange, we never noticed. Silence comforts, minds drift in different directions while someone absently hums a familiar tune. The air is colder than usual, but inside they want the ac. A stool in the most inappropriate of places seems to be the most natural thing in the world. Sometimes things consume us. Balconies always need a railing.

Will wonders never cease??

2007-09-16T20:46:00.000+05:30

Ma bought a laptop. For herself. I never really believed that she'd actually buy herself an expensive piece of equipment until I actually saw her writing out the check. Then not until we were walking out of the electronic showroom and hailing an auto did I realise she's taking it home with her! Okay, backtrack. My mother is a hard-worker-who-struggled-her-way-to-raise-her-seven-younger-siblings-on-her-own-passed-her-MA-with-a-first-class-first-and-refuses-to-take-an-auto-when-there's-a-bus-refuses-to-travel-in-a-rickshaw-when-she-can-walk-it-okay-you-get-the-general-idea. She once reprimanded me for going to GK everytime I had a free period and when I asked her what I'm supposed to do, she suggested the library as if it was the only sane place one could ever think of. She refuses to let me buy her a cord for her glasses and makes me make them out of wool for her. I've never thrown away a piece of crust because it's blasphemous to even want to do so. She will make me get her shoes mended and re-mended until they're held together only by the thread and nails the cobbler uses and then grudgingly buy new ones. She'll swear by her ancient floaters and wear them to the university, the local market, the party at the five star hotel her authoress friend shall throw and give you an extremely surprised look if you gently ask her if she wants a new pair. She will sew and darn her apron but not use the brand new one that has been forcefully bought for her. She will hum and haw a million times before getting a haircut just because it means spending a hundred bucks on herself. Meanwhile she'll buy me new clothes, new shoes, new memberships and increase my pocket money with only an appeal to spend it wisely. She'll exclaim how worn my brother's trackpants have become and secretly hand me money to go buy him new ones which he'll never wear. She'll suddenly buy my father new sweaters and explain to a very surprised baba, you dont have many. She'll exasperate everyone around and go on with her ideas about right and wrong and never, NEVER deem it necessary to buy herself anything. So now do you see the gravity of the matter?? She bought herself a laptop! Of her own accord!!

Sigh. Now she's working on it, typing nonsensically to 'increase her typing speed'. I was just called to explain to her the complex workings of the shift and caps lock keys. An excited ma wanted to show thakurma the new laptop. An apprehensive me waited for the anticipated digs at how much she had spent on herself and how things used to be different in thakurma's time. A very delighted me witnessed something completely different. Readying myself to start speaking vehemently on ma's defence about how she needs a laptop, and how she earns more than enough to deserve one, and so on, I came on a complete stop and had to take a double take when thakurma very timidly asked, Nandita, aamayo iktu dekhiye debe, aikdeen? (Would you teach me how to too, one day?). Ma grinned and thakurma grinned and now a Microsoft Word intermediate is teaching a computer-barely-beginner how to work the machine. Life is good.

Midnight blue

2007-09-10T21:45:00.000+05:30

Up and down. Every reason to be down, and we buzz. Time to bob up, a deep plunge down. Hurried steps, a promise to come back. The promise vapourises, something missing, something we left behind. Sudden remonstrances, the skies don't cover you today. Belafonte and rain, throw in a few analgesics. Retch a little, hold back what you can.

Split second

2007-09-06T20:18:00.000+05:30

Live for the moment. I am unafraid. Not a coward, these rare moments. At that moment, i feel. Forget consistency. For I feel. Consistency can be a lie. A prolonged moment, don't hurt, don't promise. Hush.

A proud toss of the head
Unafraid
The stride is surer
Unafraid
The truth, easily asserted
Unafraid.
I live. I breathe. I exhale.

Triumphance is usually short lived. Enough. Carpe Diem. As long as it's only you. Otherwise you don't have the right. Responsibilty, selfish ain't good.

To the nearest extreme.

2007-08-31T22:43:00.000+05:30

I wish you a thousand nasty things. I hope you burn and twist in pain. I hope your skin peels away slowly. I hope it hurts. I want you to bow down and scream in anguish. I hope your scream pierces the air to resonate clearly across the sky. I hope no one listens to your cries. I hope you honestly do despair.

I wish you a lot more spiteful things, too profane to pen down here. I hope the blades pierce your body and you scream with every drop of blood that shed like my tears. I hope it hurts. I hope I see it all, and manage to laugh. I wish I could laugh, but it hurts.