Friday, December 31, 2010


So hold me tight,
Hug me just right,
Share a secret whisper
And kiss me Happy New Year.


Thursday, December 30, 2010

Simple rules to a good life.

Since I don't take credit for stuff that is but, unoriginal, the idea of making this list comes from the words of wisdom of a certain someone who thinks she knows the road to well being as it were. So take a look there and of course, take a good look here.

Baba Ramdev would agree with me when he is done breathing like he's giving birth to a goat's baby. No, seriously, I bet you'll print this out and put it up on your silly excuse for notice board right next to that profound quote you copied off some witty quotes site by an author whose book you have probably never had the courage to read.

So, here goes:

  1. Your baggage is YOUR own. Literally and metaphorically. If you cannot carry that overweight suitcase you have filled with stuff you really don't need, it is your problem alone. Take the clutter out of the bag and carry around the new light weighted bad with pride or just buy a stroller that you can slide around. So, if there are issues and baggage bogging your self esteem and sense of self down, shed it and move on. If you place it on someone else's shoulders for break, remember it is only a temporary arrangement. The baggage will come back and this time only seem heavier, because by now you would be used to no weight on your shoulders, remember? 
  2. When in doubt, smile. Works. Everytime. Don't think of something witty to say or try and remember to that which you did not listen to in the first place. Just widen those jaw muscles into a polite smile and a slight tilt of the head. The maximum you lose is that the other person might believe you to be silly. But hey, if you weren't that, you wouldn't be in doubt in the first place, honey. 
  3. Make up creative abuses. It's fun, really. You do not even have to use words that would be 'beeped' off shady reality shows. Just your regular animals and witches and all that jazz. Firstly, the person you abuse will be too taken aback by the new words being used to address him, so he would barely react to the fact the fact that he is actually being abused. Secondly, you can go to sleep at night priding yourself of a great sense of humour, finally. It would be a great feeling to see three people laugh at something you said, because you could not come up with something better. Seriously, try it.
  4. When others think they have cracked a joke, laugh. Firstly because it is ridiculous to not like lame jokes. Cmon, they are the most obvious form of humour, are actually carefully witty and if you don't laugh at them you just have a stick shoved up your backside. Secondly, even if the level of humour being indulged in is too low for your self proclaimed refined taste, for your own sake, laugh, lest the joke 'cracker' decides to start explaining the joke to the 'crackees' thinking the reason for their silence is lack of comprehension. 
  5. When making rules, do not make the fifth rule "Follow the above four". Grow up. Just because you cannot come up with the fifth golden rule does not imply you show it in so obvious a manner. So make all 5 rules. Just like I did. Do I see you raise that eyebrow, now? Don't give me your sarcasm, child, it's not in my rulebook to scorn back, but I can make exceptions now can't I? 
Follow these simple rules religiously, why just like you religiously bribed every God the imagination of mankind has ever created before your twelfth standard board exam and I promise, nirvana will be your thing baby! That or I would have succeeded in bull-shitting across a new medium. 



Cmon now, let's admit it- we underestimate the power of superficiality to an immeasurable degree. We the self proclaimed 'thinking' clan would go to any extent to portray ourselves as rather deep and full of substance. Why, we look down upon them lesser mortals who thrive on discussing everyday issues. We call these discussions irrelevant and stupendously stupid, now don't we? Just an example of the gross bias we pose against candyfloss and all that comes with it.

See, superficiality and substance are supremely subjective. Infact analyzing and over analyzing that has confused me to the point that I'd really like to refrain from labeling others as so. But for me, for the time being, I'd like to change my tone for this post. Let's throw away that thinking cap and that sense of mundaneness that this life has become. Let's pretend, we are shedding some clothes, soaking in the sun on a warm sunny day. Ooo let's add the beach, just for fun and talk while I sit back and sip my blue lagoon alongside.

So I am turning twenty two soon and I'd like to crib now. What's new you ask me? Well the topics I choose to complain about vary from time to time so I refrain from monotony even when it comes to this. ;)
I could be 'out there' on this beautiful Wednesday night intoxicating myself silly and enjoying the frivolities of life. But I'd rather sit cuddled up with my laptop under a blanket writing as if to were an audience of million (while knowing fully well in my head that only two out of the probably three followers of this blog will actually even read the whole post). In fact, to add to the drudgery that has become the routine of my new life, I will hurl a few abuses under my breath and pass a few sarcastic remarks without any real reason.

The power of frivolities is never to be underestimated- they make one smile, make many people nod in agreement, something you would never experience if the topic of discussion was the leftist regime or Obama's debating lessons to the aspiring. You say Mamta Bannerjee and immediately evoke multiple sets of reactions, fierce arguments and an unhealthy exchange of non-pleasantries that eventually lead to no useful consequence, let alone solving the political crisis that our country is so shamelessly faced with. On the contrary, you say "Prada" and you get to see that aspirational, dreamy smile on everyone's face. World peace, anyone?

The seemingly 'lesser' important things in life are in fact the source of the most ridiculous kind of temporary happiness and when the moment passes, why, you can choose another frivolous thing you feel happy about. Bored of the brand new pair of heels you spent half of your painfully little salary on? Not a big deal, really. Just spend a few pennies on a cheap scarf of the flea market and obsess over it till you can afford the next big mistake. Well atleast these frivolities pose problems we can actually solve as opposed to discuss/ debate over endlessly.

While you try to figure, like me the purpose of this ridiculously direction less post, I should sign out now, lest all this typing chips my perfectly manicured nails off.

No, seriously, the post ends here.


Monday, December 27, 2010

The Blog's brand new year?

Brand New-ness is what a new year is all about right?
Resolutions et all? I don't really believe in resolutions. I think they are a waste of time. But that thought still isn't strong enough to keep me away from resolving to lose ten kilos, year after year. Quite obviously, I don't follow it to the T, but what the heck!

So now in this new year, I think this blog deserves to come to life. Purely in terms of the mundaneness of the current posting pattern and content. I'm thinking, let's redo the templates, pump some air into this page, post happier things and post a lot more about candy floss and all that jazz. Let's do the whole entertainment routine, write about issues that need to be written about, promote this page a lot more yet continue with the surreal, morbid posts too. :)

I'm thinking Mistletoe and Wine.


P.S- 20th Post this month. so that's twenty in Dec itself. The lord save my soul! :)

My Sideview

Move along
Will you now?
While I move aside,
Slowly, subtly,
But knowingly,
The entire time.

I like the view from here,
I can't see fully, true
But I can sense all the colours
A conversation long overdue.

This side view is such a relief
A tight smile, the lips sealed.
This side view ever so perfect,
Hides the reality, we unknowingly wheeled.


Monday, December 20, 2010

What really matters.

Mini-disclaimer: In entirety, this post is going to be addressed in second person. It is no way intended towards being preachy or earth-shattering or evolutionarily thought provoking. Heck, I couldn't do that even if I tried. In fact especially if I tried too hard. But leaving all of that aside, let's try and get to the point or continue beating around the bush, as is customary to this blog but well, beat around the relevant bush.

How many times have we asked someone what really matters to them or expressed to them what really matters to ourselves? If you think about it, I am sure you can replay countless conversations in your head that have a mention of "But does that really matter?" or "What is it that really matters?". So I pause now and ask you, What is it that really matters to you? It is not my intention to know what is it that makes the most difference to your life, but it is my intention to find out if I am alone in this confusion. I can't seem to decide what substance really is. Maybe that's why I can't be judgmental about people. Analytical? yes. But Judgmental? only rarely. Ihe thing is I do not know if what matters to another or myself is what really should matter. So it makes the least difference to me!

As I grew up, it was engraved in me that materialism is of no consequence in the long term. Its "how good a human being you are that matters". So I would politely nod, think about it, make mental notes and distance myself from what was considered to be materialistic. But as I grew up I realized that not only was that extremely idealistic, it was also in a way a hypocritical approach to life because lets face it, money matters. So I realized, how much money I earn will affect my life and as long as I can afford the things that "really" matter, it should be a good life. And then again I asked myself, what "really" mattered to me. People, you say? See, now people come and go. They leave behind imprints and images in the mind, but you got to move past that or else you will be stuck in that grey zone forever. But some people should matter, right? They certainly do, but they make everything so tough, I'd rather wish they didn't.

At different points in time, different things seemed to matter to me- memories, frivolity, people, relationships, houses, home, cities, friendships, haircuts and the list is endless, really. And life goes on doesn't it? What's strange is, once you move from point to another, the previous item seemed to not matter at all.

So I've decided to let go a lot more. Maybe some questions really are not meant to be answered. Maybe it's okay to stop searching for a while and just be.

But honestly now, does any of this really matter?



is when you are running away, so long so far

But there's no one you are running to.


Etched in ink

Like pencil marks, them memories
I'd like to keep
So I can erase the scratches,
Trim out the ends
And stare at my perfect piece.

But etched in ink is every wound,
So hard to erase
Harder still to keep,
And etched in ink are the joys too
Never knew, they too hurt deep.

Time can be a funny thing,
For it has it's own ways.
Listen to me, it never would
Yet leave me, but amazed.

You know ink marks?
They fade away, they do.
Leaving behind traces
Of a rather melancholic hue.

And falling leaves,
And rusting iron
And cloudy skies
And you.

And lonely nights
And sultry eyed
And paced breath
My lips blue.

But etched in ink is every wound,
And inked are the joys too
But time can be a funny thing,
Ink marks fade away, they do. 


Thursday, December 16, 2010


This should probably have come in earlier.

So, my dear readers (I am sure I can count that number on my left hand, but am victim of hope), I have been getting a lot of responses to my sudden outpour of activity on this page and while most of you oblige me by complementing my writing skills (which am sure is diplomacy considering this is more scribbling than writing and no, am not being modest, I really do not think very highly of my scribbling skills), you have also asked me if all is okay in my world.
So, for the record, I really am fine. I know ninety nine percent of my posts have a morbid undertone to them and some are even far from subtlety, they are in-your-face dark. The truth is, I write continuously, in an uninterrupted flow of thought. A lot of what I write is pure imagination, fiction, if you want to call it that. Some of it certainly stems from real experiences and then there are parts that reflect others' experience, not mine. I never did expect a common reaction from almost a lot of people I know to be on the lines of finding me a shrink.

Just a few pointers that elaborate the current phase in my life and how/why I blog:

  • Work. Work. Work. there has been a LOT of that. It dies down sometimes, for a week in between, but that's a short lull before the storm. I am certain I am not indispensable to my organization or that they cannot function in my absence. Heck, am sure I do not contribute at all to that large pot of money the owner of this capitalist enterprise sits on. But theres just been a lot of work, weekends in office, work on the mind, launches, projects, confusion et all.
  • The life outside of office has been relatively dull lately. I am  in a sort of self imposed social exile. Reasons aplenty and pretty details, might I add. But in short, I am doing a lot of thinking, I am saving myself up for a trip (Yay!) and I really did need a break from being the 'social butterfly' as one would put it. No, seriously, I am liking the comfort of my bed and super soft blankets and yummy home food for a bit. 
  • So all of this leaves me with blogging as a relief. Also, am pushing myself here, to break away to write stuff different. There are two reasons I blog (write). Firstly, its my constant source of relief, the best outlet to my expressions and the only one I can trust enough, to be honest. Secondly, I really want to retire as a writer and all this while am trying to figure out if I really can write stuff that is publish-worthy someday. I am questioning my ability to actually write poetry and just pushing myself left, right and center.
So all's good in my world, guys. Well at least as good enough. Currently, the mood swings are being a bitch again. My temper is all over the place, really! There are so many different layers of thought and each one is running its own course. 

A need, a fight
Stability, fright
A droplet of desire,
Eyes shining bright. 

Adios then! I better get back to fighting with my sleep to write another depressing, dark and unnecessarily heavy piece on painful memories, having loved and lost, shadows and secrets, lingering sadness and intentional denial as if sorrow is the only emotion I have ever known. 

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Untitled Two

Spread my arms
So wide and so far
Looking up at the sky
Remembering a journey turned sour.

A life left behind,
That life left ahead.
The life I lead now,
The conflict I dread.

Thinking, reflecting
Avoiding; interrupting
Craving, complaining
Needing, deceiving

A shy denial
Eyes burning all the while
Just for me,
Will you go that extra mile?


Salt and Pepper

A distant whistle,
The baby's laughter.

Whimper, whisper,

But let her scream in pain.


When the bubble bursts

     Yet again.


Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Because it's Christmas

You know that part in "Love Actually" where he says everything he wants to (even though he knows he would never be with her) just because it's Christmas?
I'd like to do that here. 

So things I should/want to/ been wanting to say but never really will. But just because it's Christmas and maybe it's time to try to let go, here goes:
  • I am choked and suffocated at times and can get really nasty about it, but it's still the only 'home' I've ever known. And in all likelihood, nothing will ever come close to it. The heart really is with this home. :)
  • I've been horribly hurt in the past few years and every time, I have told myself this was the last time and then proved myself wrong. But a part of me still believes that it's only as big  a deal as you make it and it's only as bad a wound as decide it to be. 
  • Sometimes I really don't mean it when I smile. 
  • I try to forgive but I just can never darn forget. 
  • I know I deny it but I can in fact be horribly diplomatic. 
  • Rebellion is the only way of living I have ever known and executed with almost immaculate perfection. 
  • Most of the poetic sorts stuff on this blog has been written in exactly ten minutes and published raw, without any editing. And this happens only at night. 
  • I do not know what love is. It's as much of a grey area in my life as anything else. But I do accept that I think about it and have this strange little voice inside me somewhere that says I may have been in it but controlled myself in time. But that voice is not convinced enough to be certain. 
  • When  I read this blog during the day time or a time am not writing, I actually wonder how I wrote it. Reactions vary from "Wow, I can write stuff like that." to "Woah. How much of depressing stuff can one produce in a night?" to"Whoa! I wrote THAT *twitching of nose*" 
  • I do walk away from people and cut them off. But usually, am more hurt in the bargain. 
  • I can be horribly horribly stubborn.
  • For as confused, lost and freedom loving as I might be, I like my ducks in a row. But of course, MY kind of row. ;)
  • At times, I really do believe I am not meant to be in a relationship and dying single is pretty much my calling.
  • I have a parallel universe and often get lost in my own world, if you may call it that but I live in no bubble and am as earthed to reality as another. I just don't like to show it and reality is too boring anyway. 
  • I am almost always late to work and I HATE it. I do.
  • I still love rajma chawal and masala dosa. 
  • I HATE waking up in the morning. In fact every morning I really do not have anything to look forward to. I hate them mornings and my sleep is more important to me than anyone or anything else. True story, this. 
  • For as much as I talk, I often don't say what I really want to. 
  • You'll always know exactly how I feel not by what I say, but by the look on my face. Truth or Lies. 
Just because it's Christmas, will you remember to smile too?
Just because it's Christmas, will you take a step ahead and move on too?


P.S: As corny and stupid and cheesy that movie might be, I am extremely fond of it.
P.P.S.: Why Christmas? Because I never thought of this post on any other occasion. Atleast I did not wait till New Year's ;)


A million heads all around,
Bleeding into one another.
Faceless, nameless still bound.
I see them screaming
But I hear nothing
Not one sound.

Am I deaf
Or are they too far?
Does it even matter,
who they really are?

Am I deaf
Or am I not listening?
So I shut my eyes
And hear them whispering.

But with open eyes, I see them again-
A million heads all around,
Bleeding into one another.
Faceless, nameless still bound. 
I hear their whisper
"I told you so", they say
and begin to blur.


I'll never say it

and I don't know why.


She dipped her hands in buckets of paint,
Red, yellow, green and blue
Slowly, she left her hand prints on each wall
And stood smiling at the colourful hue.

Then she picked up each bucket
And twirled around the room.
Scattering, splashing, smiling,
And she did just that, the entire noon.

But when she stood for a while,
There were no colours, no light
Just a million shades of grey all around
And a silent wait for night.


Saturday, December 11, 2010

Let's call a truce

For a while,
Let's remember the dream,
Let's pretend to hope;
Away from this mayhem, let's elope.

A background score to this life:
I chose mine,
What will yours be?

For a while,
Let's talk daisies,
Let's hear those fantasies
Like vanilla- flawless, sweet.

For a while,
Let's forget what's done,
Let's not let this matter
Instead of strife, engage in useless banter.

A background score to this life,
I chose mine,
What will yours be?

For a while,
Let's think of another,
Let's drop the self-pity;
Be whimsical, yet live the reality.

For a while,
Let's embrace spontaneity,
Let's act on impulse
You and me.

A background score to this life;
I chose mine,
What will yours be?

For a while,
Let's open our mind and see.
For a while,
Let's just be.



A thousand times he watched her laugh,
A hundred lies he knew she'd deny.
Times a plenty she caught his eye,
But from this deceit, she will not shy.

A thousand deaths, he silently died;
A hundred times, he too smiled,
Times a plenty he caught her eye,
She knew it was the final goodbye.


Friday, December 10, 2010

Enough of this depressing bullshit!

No, seriously!
No kidding.

Am sick of depressing stuff on this page. We shall start a new chapter in my blogging life. It's called boredom and utter boredom. No wait, actually it's BOREDOM.

and yea, randomness and all that jazz!


Riddle Me This

Why is annonymity more comforting than fame?
Do we walk on a straight road with many speed breakers or do we run around in circles chasing our own tail?
What is it about yellow against black with heavy rainfall that always reminds me of that city?
Why is it that in our constant need to be different, we are in fact displaying a perfect example of the heard mentality?
Why is it that it sucks to be left with the feeling of 'what if?'


Wednesday, December 8, 2010


This, right now, is me screaming abuses at the top of my lungs.


Friday, December 3, 2010

And just what do I do..

..about that shooting pain inside me somewhere?

The pain that stems from memories that will fade with time,
but how they made me feel will remain,
torn and tattered,
they will remain in pieces within me,
in pieces in closed dark drawers in the corners of my mind
in the closed dark drawers in the pit of my stomach
and the ancient cupboard of painful nostalgia that lies within my heart.

Just what do I do when those broken pieces of glass begin to hurt me inside,
hurt me in turns,
in turns in different parts?

Just what do I do when you take a needle and prick me with it,
slowly, painfully?
Like the broken glass inside wasn't enough.


Double Meaning

So first of all, this comes straight after reading a post on the subject on a blog, I now regularly follow. It's strange how Life Itself sums up so many of my thoughts in the most abstract, most random and hence so most comforting way. Now that the credit et all has been given, let me get on with the subject.

It is not less than often, that it feels like that I am having more than one conversation with the same person. There's always that which is unsaid, yet so loudly heard. I don't know if it's all a part of the bigger phenomenon called 'aura'. Quite frankly, I don't know enough on that topic to be able to decipher a sound connection with what am trying to write about here. But, yes, 'vibes' can be a funny thing. We all sense them all the time, at the most basic level of our interaction with people. Just that, more than often we choose to ignore them. We like to mix the vibes we sense or our instincts with what our mind necessarily likes to believe, irrespective of the truth behind it, just so we can add those shades of grey and pull a cover around our precarious, pathetic selves. But enough on this, already.

There are times when I can  be engaged in seemingly the most frivolous conversation with a person, but somehow it just feels like they really aren't listening to the fact that I need to go shopping or my perennial love and hate relation with my birth city. Somehow, I just know that they are listening to what I am really saying to them- what I really should be saying out aloud, what I can't stop thinking about in the present (and will continue to in my future, when this will all be just  the past and nothing else; it will lurk in the dark corners of my mind and help grow my sense of distrust towards people). The strange thing is, it's what I am feeling, right? It's what I can't help feeling, in fact. It's what I'd really like to tell you and it's what I sense you really are hearing. But not a bloody word spoken out loud. So the room is stilled filled with polite laughter, make-believe whining and the sound of what could seem to be the most meaningless conversation to any degree.

It works both ways, now does it not? Because, I see you right then, tripping on the ridiculous stories of my misfortune that I share with you in such explicit detail to avoid going anywhere near what I really want to talk about, but the funny thing is, I don't hear you. I can see you are talking, but just why can't you meet my eye, just why can't I hear those words you are saying? Frivolity, it seems is usually hiding greater substance. Substance, that we may or may not appreciate, may or may not avoid, but substance that remains and very much exists. You don't mean a single word of that, you really don't want to crack those jokes right now and those jokes are definitely not the reason u can't meet my eye. You can hear what I really want to say and you can't face it. That look on your face, is telling me all. Actually, I am certain I can reach that conclusion even without looking at you. Sometimes, its just right there and I don't know to explain what I sense. But this works well doesn't it? This pretense, this avoidance- you see technically I never said it and technically you never heard it, implying technically you could not not face the truth. But if nothing ever was said, why this surreal, tense, heated, awkward air between us? Why this shooting pain inside me? Why do I know that something about this morning, something about the look in your eye is going to stay with me for a long long time and slowly erode whatever trust I had left in you? And just why, may I ask will the memory be erased of any of these jokes or frivolity that we seem to be enjoying to the umpteenth degree?

It happens all the time,with different people for different reasons. The secrecy could come from either of persons involved in the dialogue. It could happen because I am hiding something or it could come because you don't have the courage to say what you really want to. It could happen because there is something unsettled, something hanging in the thin air that separates are past and present. The double meaning could bt nothing but fear or the future, nonacceptance of the past or just downright avoidance of the present.

Sometimes, I really do reflect on it again and again and question as to whether these are just figments of my imagination run wild. Are these just assumptions I make because I seem to have learnt to like to hurt myself? But I can't be doing that so often I can't. And if all this really was the consequence of my overactive thought process, it wouldn't always be proved true now would it? If it really was just me, then you'd look me in eye.


Sunday, November 28, 2010

White Lies

Harmless? Yes
Do I tell them? Yes
Can we survive without them? No
Can I stand being on the receiving end though? Never.

Don't ever lie to me. Don't ever pretend.
It may not seem so, but I really can handle the truth.
Well, atleast, I can handle it better than lies.


Sugar and Hope

That little girl we often see,
in dreams alone and memories sweet,
That little girl who looked up at the sky,
soaked in the sun and flashed so radiant a smile. 

That little girl who dreamed those dreams,
When she laughed, so shrilly she screamed.
That little girl who did believe
In pixies, fairies and the unseen. 

That little girl who was called hope,
Tasted like sugar and knew how to cope.
That little girl, we used to be. 
Who tried and failed but still believed. 


Saturday, November 27, 2010


Every dream, every tear
Every laughter, every sneer
Will one day become a memory so dear.
Like a shooting star,
So distant, so bright
Like the first drops of rainwater
Or the comfort of the night. 

You'll hold it close, 
You'll hold it tight. 
You'll protect it with all your might. 
But, she'll be gone,
She's very wise.
Leaving you with thoughts
That will hover every night. 


Friday, November 26, 2010

Living in the shadows

The unsaid,
The eyes often speak
The often heard
The mind seldom believes.

The shadows, they play games
The shadows, they remain
Lurking behind 
In some distant memory lane

Bruised, bleeding,
Staring, mocking
They laugh in my face
These shadows, they have no shame. 

For while I thought
Broken memories haunt, 
These shadows of mine
Don't forget to taunt. 

The shadows, they dodge
The shadows, they steal
Away from me, sanity my own
For these shadows aren't mine alone

They were ours to keep
They're shadows of memories, bittersweet. 
Subtle? So to speak. 
Ha! They're abrasive.
They leave me weak. 

These shadows have a life of their own
These shadows, that I live in
These shadows, you left alone
Rot in your absence, as I silently moan. 

The in-between

There never is a black or white,
There's only grey and off white. 

I'd like to write about ambiguity, about vagueness. Today however, in a very unambiguous manner. Atleast, I will attempt to. Self reflection in abundant quantities has led me to one definite realization- we underestimate the existence of 'in-between-ness'. (I said i'd be unambiguous not articulate, so making words up is allowed). This is probably not the most desired conclusion of my eccentric, overbearing, why, even annoying thought process, but this is well the only 'definite' conclusion I could draw. Simply because everything else lies scattered in pieces, everything else is uncertain, vague, caught between a million shades of grey.

No, I don't intend to sound preachy or pseudo intellectual. And no, am not nuts. It's a tough deal to explain. While writing this, I can think of people (friends, if I may add) who will read, roll the eyes and brush it off saying it's Riddhi (Infact, that happens a LOT, about too many things and I will elaborate on that in another post). But I want to give a concrete shape to these scattered, indefinite thoughts about indefinableness itself and what better way to do that than dump my pretty page with details.

Let's start with relationships. Specific to my case, my relationships with people are seldom 'defined'. There's a close, a really close, a not so close, a socially close and the shades of grey are endless. I can count using fingers of one hand people I would actually bare all to. Yet, relations with people, experience, memories have this innate ability to stay with me. For a very long time, if not forever. Since I don't always know how to address these relations, they are tagged as friends. There is family too. In the case of family, it is all defined. I think before I could learn anything else, I learnt how to talk and the second that happened, I had relatives teaching me to address them in a special way for each of their 'special' relations with me. But, you know thing is, these definitions were forced upon me. Who is to say i followed them? Family comes under one big block for me and all the members of it form another million shades of grey. Darker maybe, but still grey. No black, no white, no perfect circle, no edges. Just fluid, not concrete.

I have begun to realize it is a conscious effort- maintaining the in-between. It's so much easier. It's non committal and free and oh so very spacious! I think maybe I fear 'concrete' in itself. Definitions can be suffocating, they imply limitations, restrictions and no scope for imagination or the unexplored. The grey on the other hand leaves room for that which is undiscovered, that which is a risk, but that which i yearn. So I go on, moving from scattered memory to another; one incomplete ending to another; asking questions; exploring variety; all this time knowing fully well that the path i tread lacks stability. Still, atleast it quenches my thirst for freshness, newness, even though am fully aware that all that is new today, will one day be boring and all that seems interesting today, will one day be annoying.

Maybe for all my courage, so to speak, for all my extrovert nature and social outward-ness if that that's what you want to call it, there is a part of me that will always hide behind the curtains. That's the part of me that still keeps me going.


Monday, November 22, 2010

Saturday, November 13, 2010

The Story of a Girl

Slowly, one by one
She let the memories burn.
But the ashes were all around,
The conscience, yet to be found.

Those noises were deafening her. 
The face in the mirror, but a blur.
When she tried to listen though, 
She could not hear those screams, no. 

So fiercely, she rubbed her eyes,
While in her mind, still rolling dice.
The odds, they seemed to favour her tonight!
She'd killed the man, with all her might. 

The blood on her hands remained.
She stared at it, only slightly pained. 
But those noises? They were here to stay
To remind her of the storm at bay. 

Bloody, Blurry
The emptiness so noisy. 
In the shining armour, her knight. 
She'd stabbed him with all her might. 

Slowly, one by one
She let the memories burn.
But the ashes were all around,
The conscience, yet to be found.

(to be continued)

Monday, November 8, 2010

So you think you can tell...

and Swords.

and Ghosts

Sudden Blows.

Laughter unlikely,
Laughter so tightly,
Anger, just rightly.

But never seek.

The knees weak?

You'll never see.

Let it be.

......heaven from hell, blue skies from pain?


Friday, October 22, 2010

The real deal

So, I've always been vague, beaten around the bush and sometimes to the extent that I end up running around in circles without any recollection of why am doing so in the first place. I am not referring to my thought process or actual physical activity but this blog. I write in third person, use the closest I can get to poetry to simply express that which I cannot or actually never will otherwise.
But I've been doing a lot of thinking and I think a post like this is long overdue. No, I am not going to give an honest description of my day or write about hurtful incidents that leave me a little more than sour. I would like to write about all those things, in fact I can write volumes on those, but not here, not now. This, right here, is where I let go. But subtly, indirectly so I can still live in the cocoon I pride in having built around myself. This right here, is where I mask my thoughts and more importantly my feelings and wrap them like Christmas gifts and put them up for display. It's safe that way.
The strange thing is, it relieves me. It takes this burden off my shoulders- this burden I seem to carry around all the time. I realize, I like to keep the anger within me, I protect the hurt, the sadness, build a wall around it. It helps me write. Or actually, I consider writing to be the best means of expression. No, I do not address myself as a writer, far from it in fact. But, I like this random scribbling. It eases things and I can actually sense my shoulders broaden out and relieve themselves off burden and backlogs.
Backlogs can be scary things. They are like inventories, you really never meant to maintain, but somehow before you know it, they appear before you and you realize they had been saving up all the while you thought you had 'forgiven and forgotten'.
The irony is, I earn my living out of 'communication'. I've been told my skills in that area are pretty much what will get me through life. But when it comes to really expressing what I am feeling, I draw a complete blank. I can feel myself choke and somehow it just does not get out of me. \
So I hold it back in, smile, turn around and walk away. And once I have walked aimlessly for a long time, I begin to write...


Tuesday, October 19, 2010


right here, is where I let go....



Fade in.Fade out.
Keep smiling throughout.

Don't tell them what it's about.
Derive pleasure from their doubt.
Flow in. Flow out.
The tears flow endlessly,
But keep smiling throughout.

You're hurting,
Your ego shouts
They tell you to sing, out loud.
But you keep smiling throughout.

Fade in. Fade out.
There you go, you found the easy way out,
Didn't forget to smile throughout.


Wednesday, September 22, 2010


Is it the warmth of this hug,
The smile on my face?
Is it your breath in my ear,
Or that despondent gaze?

I don't know what love is
But I know what it can't be.
Love can't be all the lies you say.

Is it your arms all around me,
My shoulders bare?
Is it the way my nerves tremble
When you so much as stare?

I don't know what love is
But I know what it can't be.
Love can't be when you just don't care.

Is it the giddiness within,
With the world unaware?
Is it the way I look at you,
Or all the things that I share?

I don't know what love is
But I know what it can't be.
Love can't be this pain, this anger rare.

Is it the grasp of your hand,
So perfect, just right?
Is it how you fall asleep,
Holding me tight? 

I don't know what love is
But I know what it can't be.
Love can't be waking up to a fight. 

Is it my face in your hands,
Your face in my hair?
Is it the things you say to me
When nobody's there?

I don't know what love is
But I know what it can't be.
Love can't be you walking away


Sunday, September 5, 2010

Things to do.

Like I told someone a while back, the checklist keeps getting longer, but I can't remember ticking anything off it.
Nevertheless, we are souls that live in hope. We don't like to see what 'can't'. We will go on and dream. :)

  1. Write a book. I don't know if i will ever want to or will publish it. But I have to write at least one good book. The problem is that my chain of thought is so random. All that I will be able to manage will be a collection of few random snippets, that I am certain I will never be certain about. 
  2. Learn the salsa (Atleast am on my way here :) ), waltz and tango. 
  3. Politics/Government Service. I don't know how just yet. But this has to happen. 
  4. Impact rural education situation. I know how to, just waiting for the right time. THIS I know I will do. 
  5. Have the perfect dance. Yes, perfection is over-rated. But, move on you cynics. There never is harm in hoping. ;)
  6. Start up my own enterprise. 
  7. Spanish: Well I have learnt it. Just need to get back to it. Take the basic level exam and brush it all up! 
  8. Fall in what they call love. Hopelessly, mercilessly. I'd like to know the feeling of being helpless and crazy. Just because it will be too unique an experience to miss out on. What would it be like to just let go? 
  9. Read everything, anything, just absolutely everything- fiction, politics, history, poetry. Okay, science fiction and the likes of John Grisham are not included. That shit is just out of bounds. 
  10. Script and direct my own play. I am 21. This was supposed to have happened by now. Really. 
  11. Become financially independent- afford the lifestyle I want to lead, buy my own house (pretty one that I know how I am going to do up), investments, fund my own education, everything. 
  12.  Go to sleep with an empty mind. Sigh. 
So that is tata, until I wake up 6 months later and make another list with a few common points and some hopelessly contradictory. 

If I got paid for thinking, there would be very few richer than me. I swear.


Saturday, September 4, 2010


The mirror cracked,
The shadow screamed
The laughter died,
The green eyes did gleam.

Neither friend nor foe,
Can help one save his soul, no.
The war with the self
The mind is unsure.

You can't undo what's done,
The drama's just begun.
Reasons plenty to lie.
But from yourself, away can you shy?

There's a song in your head,
But the music is dead.
Only shadows screaming
And those green eyes gleaming.

You can't turn around and walk away.
You can't sit down and start to cry.
So you shut your eyes
And say it's over.
Knowing fully well, that the cloud of thought
still hovers.


Thursday, September 2, 2010

Living in the Shadows

I cannot believe I had not heard this song until now. Considering the title of the song, of course. 
Hey, I really thought "living in the shadows" could be the original phrase I coined and I will make famous. Looks like Billy Talent is already all over the place. 


Constant quick fixes, don't make no sense
Hop on bandwagons, they make me sick

Don't you tell me, what you think is right
[When you're living in the shadows]
Close your eyes and you will lose the fight
[When you're living in the shadows]
Don't you tell me, what you think is right
[When you're living in the shadows]
I can tell that, you have lost your sight
[When you're living in the shadows]

Distant loud chuckles, keep me awake
Awkward instances, won't make you hip

Don't you tell me, what you think is right
[When you're living in the shadows]
Close your eyes and you will lose the fight
[When you're living in the shadows]
Don't you tell me, what you think is right
[When you're living in the shadows]
I can tell that, you have lost your sight
[When you're living in the shadows]

We've said this all before, your shadow's at the door
We've done this all before, your gun is at the door
There's darkness in the hall and we won't take the fall
And we won't take the fall

Don't you tell me, what you think is right
[When you're living in the shadows]
Close your eyes and you will lose the fight
[When you're living in the shadows]
Don't you tell me, what you think is right
[When you're living in the shadows]
I can tell that, you have lost your sight
[When you're living in the shadows]

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

One needle at a time

When the curtains fall and the lights go off?

She sits alone on the floor, holding her knees close to her face, her arms wrapped around them. The silence around becomes noisier by the minute and she shuts her ears with her hands to avoid hearing it. But the silence only grew louder. Inside her somewhere, she felt heavy. It was the kind of weight, she'd been carrying for a while now but could never quite get used to. She wrapped her arms around herself again and pulled her knees closer to her face so she could rest her nose on them. This cocoon made her feel safe. She would to cocoon herself this way for this lifetime, at the very least.

Slowly, she used her right hand to reach out to the shiny metallic ray of hope that lay next to her. She picked up the needle and jabbed it into the wrist of her left arm, releasing spurts of red that were strangely comforting. She continued to poke herself, one needle at a time.

She watched closely the redness of the blood. Closely, but expressionless. Inside her somewhere, the weight didn't seem all that heavy now. The red comforted her, one needle at a time.

She could sit here in her cocoon for a lifetime, one needle at a time.

Until the lights come on again and the curtains rise and no one will ever know how she lost a part of herself every day, one needle at a time.


Wednesday, August 18, 2010

You know what I'd really like?

To walk in rain.
Rain that is pouring.Hard
So hard that the water can hurt.
I'd like to walk in rain like that, all alone.
No, please keep those trees and lonely woods crap to yourself
I'd like to take the main road, a straight road
With people and cars and the sound of angry horns and people shouting
It won't matter, any of it.
Because I wouldn't feel anything.

To be able to laugh
Really loud.
Like a child.
Like it's from the heart
Laughter that comes from happiness, not humour.
Why, thank you for your time and wonderful articulation
But, really, I don't appreciate humour that much.

To someday be able to explain that I do live in memories.
I preserve them.
Sometimes I choose not to, but it doesn't work.
They are so well preserved, I can keep going back to them.
I really begin to doubt the 'present'.
Because I can go back and forth and live a moment again and again and...
(this has been happening way before inception, the movie has nothing to do with it. But i could relate to the movie. in fact a detailed post on this is due.)

To destroy the battlefield that my mind has become.

I guess am back to being cryptic and sometimes using poetry/ fiction as a cover. 
This feels good though. And somehow safe
No prizes for guessing who's not a risk taker after all.

Go on, you'll find nothing here. I promise. 


Tuesday, July 27, 2010


Don't look at me the way you do,
I fear I'd tell you all.
Don't smile that smile
And tell me what's true
I like the safety of my wall.

Don't hold me tight
and let me be
I still fear I'll fall.
Don't hold my hand
or let it go,
Trust is still a distant call.

Don't leave it unsaid
because I can still hear it all
Don't be so far when still so close
For my doubts stand very tall.

Don't always know what I'll say
or what I'll do
Because you don't know me well at all.


Monday, July 26, 2010

Another Blog.

I'm trying something different.
Something that may or may not be more productive than this one.

This blog very much remains. Of Course.

The Other one is impersonal and the kind I'd like to 'brand' as someone put it today. ;)


Tuesday, July 20, 2010

On a day like today

I have been unfair to this page. In all certainty  and absolute shame, I have been mean and why my dramatic self would say even ruthless to this page.
I only blog when I am sad or the closest I get to it. Period.
By no means does this post imply that thins are about to change. But this post is up to break the monotony, because that is a phenomenon I refuse to associate myself or my life with.
So here I am writing, on a day like today.

On a day like today, when I was engrossed in work and numbers and excel sheets were all that I could think of. On a day like today when it rained. It rained and I smiled.
On a day like today, when I got back home at a decent hour (comparative basis of course) and did nothing productive at home.
On a day like today, when I had no extraordinary thoughts, no striking realizations, no painful memories; just a few regular laughs and the usual insanity.

A day like today, that is nothing exceptional. Just what they call 'normal'.

But a day like today that feels good. A day that is no associated with any earth shattering difference or sudden bliss.

On a day like today, I just feel calm. And calm is good. Very.

So here's to the other side of life that I kept hidden from my own page, The side of my life that's just regular.


Sunday, July 11, 2010

Spring Cleaning!

It's not exactly spring-time, not even to the most optimistic souls who would perceive living in this oven a way of experiencing 'sunshine' and the 'pretty' things that come with.
But it's cleaning time. THAT it is. Thanks to a the entire physical space of my house being repainted/whitewashed/ other things I don't know how to name, I have had to re-arrange all my things. And, I mean ALL.
There is a lot left to do. I wouldn't call this the real 'cleaning', but thought i'd post  little something anyway.

I had all my stuff around on the floor and thats when it hit me, how I save the strangest things. I refuse to part with my college books. Reasons being many. I regret not having all of them and it's not like i used them too much in college, but there is so much economics inside them. I just can't give them away. So there lies that pile reminding me, I have a subject to get back to and theories to some day, uncover.

After more than a month, I finally opened the carton containing my well, almost recent life inside it. Out came notebooks, projects and sheets of paper filled with absolutely unnecessary content that have flown all the way from Bombay to Dilli- with me (and some with my father, because I had way too much luggage). As I opened my notebooks, I could see that movie flash before me- the kind they all talk about. Honestly, I did not have the courage to go through those notebooks. I am afraid every page has  memory with it. You know the thing is, I will never part with these because this is knowledge. But, my reasons for attachment go far beyond that in this particular case. Every little page has a memory of the other things we did during class. The day I really open those books, I'll put up a LONG post here. I know it. But not now. Not tonight. Now is not the time to go through that carton in entirety. Now is the time to hold myself together and move on. So there lies a collection of sheets reminding me that once upon a time I had to run away in order to stop running away.

Out of some hidden corner of my house, came my little box of letters. Just when I was about to open this, I discovered yet another box of letters ans my packet full of cards. Considering I did not have the courage to go through my notebooks of last year, these letters seemed like herculean task, to say the very least. I still went ahead and read one though. You know what I asked myself? What are the bloody odds! This letter happened to be from the only person I would have wanted to carry with me from my school in New Delhi. A letter summing up 6 years of a friendship that was my school life. 6 years of a friendship that ended and how. You know what sucks? It still hurts. So there is one packet, 2 boxes and a little slam book reminding me of the person I used to be.

My biggest learning? Don't save stuff if you will not go back to it later. If you do however go back to it, try being happy for once. If you are someone who associates the very word 'memory' to pain and a certain sense of morbidness that you will later pass onto your blog, then just bloody avoid accumulating so many of them.

Oh and there's one more thing, being emotionally cautious and guarded is not a recent phenomenon for me, it turns out. Infact, I used to be worse, or I've learnt to hide it better. Its uncanny, how the most important relationships in my life end the same way. Well almost. They don't really end, but they never stay the same. I hate it when that happens. I wouldn't tell you but I do.

Right, there's one last thing- Weekends in this city give people a lot of time to think. Not good. Not good at all for me.


Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Montage of Memories

Night; still I walked a while
The rain; It was teasing me, I  knew
So I could break into a smile
While tears rolled down my cheeks
And inside me, I felt the cold and the blue.
I looked down the road.
I always did, you know.
There was so much noise around
I couldn't hear a thing though.
And then you held me
A way I never thought you would.
And when I looked into your eyes,
I could see you look into mine.
In the movies, this would have been it.
But in my montage, I can only feel the pain.
When I heard him choke
Or saw his eyes well up,
Something inside me tossed.
It tossed and it turned.
It tossed and it turned.
But I stood smiling.
So, he told me am stone hearted and cold.
We stayed up the whole night
Just she and I
And our bottle of rum.
Talking about the times that were
And the ones still to come.
There's a window sill there,
To which, I owe a goodbye.
I din't think life could get any better.
Just all of us around
Engaged in useless banter
Boxer shorts and many a jester
Did we know then, how life would alter?
Left, Right, Left
Or was it Right, Left and then Right?
They zoomed past, while I thought
I'll be under one those
That will be reason for my death, I propose.
I looked up to find you smiling
And realized am already on the other side of the crossing.
Why did it comfort me so much,
This hand holding?
I lay down on that bed the whole day
Wishing it were a little wider
Or maybe just a little longer?
The window should let more in too, you know.
And why, just why was the ceiling fan noisy so?
For all the chitter-chatter
and loud laughter
I know I owe them a letter
Hell no, the cat too?
Never; I don't miss it
And it was never cute.
I was in high spirits,
Quite literally so!
But I could see their faces all lit.
I din't deserve all this.
Not one bit.
Surprise, affection, hugs, et all.
I cried because I was having a ball!
Twenty one I'd like to be again.
If only these memories wouldn't cause so much pain.


You know what's amazing?

That there is so much I should want to express
However, quite naturally, I draw a blank.

These days, I see everything in snapshots. My thoughts are in the form of a montage. A montage of memories.
I see flashes, images. These flashes are constant but short. My mind does not spelll out essays any longer or play a movie with that soft background score I usually find comfort in.

My thoughts have a mind of their own. I cannot control them or make them continuous. They have a new soundtrack, one I have not learnt to classify yet. This novelty is striking and slightly uncomfortable.

I will write another entry on this montage of memories. Some of them are probably just figments of my imagination.

But I've reached a point where I no longer know what's real and what's not. I just know what's on my mind.

And sometimes, not even that.


Friday, June 4, 2010


"I'd love to look into your face without your eyes turning away."

- "grey or blue"- Jaymay


Tuesday, June 1, 2010

A Bullet Pointed Life

I could start another blog on this.
What happened to that continuous flow of random yet enviable thoughts? ( lack of modesty remains the one thing that's unchanged, though :P)
You see, we need to achieve those big words these days- 'precision' , 'clarity', 'effectiveness' and of course 'results' - anywhere and everywhere. So we condense the expression of every emotion and bullet point our life and its products. Damn these blood sucking capitalist leeches.

It is amazing how capitalism has become the system. Make humans machine to increase productivity. Yes, that is all good and am all for it. But what do I do about that thought that keeps popping in and out of my head. The thought that says to me " You are doing all this to make sure there is enough money in one manipulative, son of a very respectable lady's bank account". See at the end of it, it all seems so useless. Because, in the bigger picture, Am I solving any problem?

Now, I like the idea of creation of nurturing what has been created. I think we all need to sell ourselves all the time, forget the brands we work for. I like those concepts of marketing and advertising and branding and what not. I comprehend them easily and can't wait to see their application. But again, all this for what? To get more involved in this world of consumerism.

This is how it works-

I want pretty stuff.
To obtain those, I need money.
So I need to earn money.
To earn money, I need to go get my blood sucked at some capitalist establishment.
I let them suck my blood till I turn pale.
They reward me with less than one millionth of their actual 'revenue' or 'profit'.
Now I can go buy the pretty stuff I want.

But you know what? This pretty stuff is the result of another capitalist establishment. This is pretty stuff that you don't necessarily want. They just make you want it so they can make money off you and buy other pretty and non-pretty stuff that they assume they cannot live without.
It is a vicious circle, all this and if you step out and examine the happenings, you will not find value in any of it. It seems so pointless. It thrives on the innate greed in humans. I have put this is extremely simple terms (because I refuse to fall prey to the need for complicated words- at least in this post). But this what it truly is about- nothing.

I would like a life that is random, very random. A life that does not entail me to summarize my expressions, instead make them detailed. A life that is continuous and free flowing, where the cause of sudden happiness in my life is NOT the new pair of earrings i bought.

Yet, as I write these profound words and make theories of my own, I continue to live in my little bubble- let these capitalist leeches suck my blood and wait for the golden date of 26th, so I can get my first salary. Why is that so important to me? Oh because I HAVE to buy myself a pair of pretty sunglasses and a nice new pair of heels ( I still don't have the red pumps I really want).

Tsk.Tsk. Shame on you Riddhi Kapoor!


New and Improved

Dear Riddhi,

Welcome to your life- its now NEW and IMPROVED. Yes, you do not believe the two words can be used simultaneously, but hey, this brings about the point just perfectly.
So, this new chapter starts in a not-so-new-to-you city: Dilli :).
Yes, you have despised it for long enough, but this time the city is going to grow on you. Just calm yourself down and go with the flow. This phase your life entails you start "work". Well, at least you go to a workplace. How much work you actually do or get done shall remain a mystery for a while. You are now no longer a student. You are expected to get up in the morning (the morning before 12:00 PM you lazy moron!) and go to an AC workplace where you will sit at your workstation and 'work'. In case you realize you actually don't have any 'work', you are expected to keep sitting and pretend like there is. While putting up this act of providing substantial contribution to the organization as well your own thick brain, you have enough time to wonder as to why they hired you in the first place- it is not like your indispensable to the growth of their organization. In fact, beep that, it is not like you provide an value addition at all.

That aside, you will like your new life. You will like your workplace. You will like the luxury of what you can actually call your home. You will enjoy the journey back and forth everyday because it will give you the opportunity to stare into space and at the pretty roads. As a matter of fact, there will be a lot of pretty-ness all around you. Your new life will bring to you more stability and enough time and space to plot your next steps. You have missed plotting haven't you? Well now there is enough time for you to continue plotting your revolution. You can get back to reading too, for fear of reaching a stage where you would call yourself illiterate, if nothing else. Oh! the opportunities are unlimited.

Beware of claustrophobia though. That phenomenon has always been associated with this city and you are allergic to it. Why, you believe it is a disease, don't you? So don't let it catch on to you for the consequence is prolonged illness apart from of course, losing the plot, messing up your thought process and urging you to pack your bags and run away. So whenever you see so much as a symptom of this dreaded disease, hush yourself up, take a bath and watch Big Bang Theory.

Your new life is not all that bad, just accept it as yet another phase and do what you did with the last version of your life- treat it like a passing phase of one year and live it to the fullest (very much like those cliche motivational speeches). It worked once, it will definately work again. Even if it doesn't, it is worth the shot now, isn't it?


Monday, May 31, 2010

Confused child, where art thou?

I was once asked by someone, who is actually my namesake, "You are always confused aren't you?"
I could only smile, nod my head and sigh "Indeed".
Most of us do look for that perfect phrase or word to describe our lives, I guess "Perpetual Confusion" would define mine.
It is funny to an onlooker, tiresome to a friend, a characteristic trait to my family but nothing less that unnerving to myself.
My astounding levels of confusion startle my own self. I reach a new height every passing day and life has come to a point where there is no looking back. Its an irony to say the least. Am I not the same person who is perceived as organized, focused and 'in charge'? I stopped trying to demystify this a while back. Now I just accept it as yet another paradox that is my life.


P.S: Random? Yes. But I am just glad this one's not morbid. :P

Saturday, May 15, 2010

All over again

The pain, the confusion, the love, the hatred, the uncertainty, the aggression, the calm, the tears, the laughter, the joy, the memories..

I experienced all those things all over again. Only, this time I am trying not to succumb to them.
I made a choice instead- a decision some call sudden, some call strange and some think its downright stupid.

I think it is all those things. But in entirety, I know its right.
I do not know if it what I want, but I know it is what I need.
And when you don't know what you want, what you need becomes the 'right', the very right.

So there I go again. I think I am getting used to being erratic.

Riddhi Kapoor, stop thinking so much and just jump right in!


Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Poems that remain with you forever :)

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

- Rudyard Kipling

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

I'm thinking..

Should I be lesser vague and more detailed on this page?

I use this page as a source of relief, so most of the posts happen to be morbid types. Mostly because I really don't 'update' the blog per say. it doesn't record any recent happenings or for that matter happy times (and there are so many!).

So when I was reading through the other day, I realized there are phases in my life I have just missed. Using the medium to relieve yourself is all good, but there is SO much more one can do with it!

I should re-read the blog and update it more often. make it more detailed, more relevant. Write about the issues I have always wanted to. Most of my 'revolutionary' ideas remain in my head. Atleast, expressing them would be a start.

Also, i am considering starting a diary- like everday types. That should be fun!


Saturday, March 27, 2010

Shakespeare Sonnet 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds   
Admit impediments.
 Love is not love  
Which alters when it alteration finds,  
 Or bends with the remover to remove: 
 O no! it is an ever-fixed mark  
 That looks on tempests and is never shaken;  
It is the star to every wandering bark, 
 Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks 
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom. 
If this be error and upon me proved,   
I never writ, nor no man ever loved. 

       William Shakespeare         (1564 - 1616)

Saturday, February 27, 2010

Just Deaf

I want to write about the voices I hear, but I've nothing to write about.

The only voices I hear, are the ones in my head. These voices are so loud, they are drowning out the ones I really want to hear- the ones outside: a stranger's laughter, an old man's abuse, a child's cry, the rustling of leaves, the sound of the sea bathing the rocks at marine drive, the sound of the bell on the chaiwaala's cycle, that road vendor calling out to me, my mum's sniffing, the black car screeching to a halt.

These voices outside are not always pleasant, yes. But they are real.

The voices inside my head betray me at the most inappropriate times. When I try hard to listen to them, really listen them, only silence greets me.

Then am left deaf. Infact, that is the word I've been looking for. I feel deaf and my mind draws an empty white. Just deaf.

If I was still as articulate as earlier, I would have expressed myself in the form of poetry. But that doesn't come to me anymore. Even sentences are difficult to form. Its all bullet points and short phrases now. Shouldn't that be a good thing? But more on this later.


Sunday, February 21, 2010

puzzles you can't fix

Am feeling that feeling after really long.

There are puzzles around. I'd fix them
But I can't find the missing pieces.
I looked around all I could.
I searched everywhere I could.

I tried until I could not try anymore.

"But I still haven't found what am looking for..."


Saturday, February 13, 2010

Lost the plot now?

A friend of mine asked me a few weeks back "Riddhi, have you lost the plot somewhere?"
It made me think.

I've been happier. Certainly. I've been going with the flow. The cheesy phrase that mentions spreading your wings to the fullest would apply here.

But there's a brevity of thought. There is a block in the process of penning what am thinking down. Theres a loss in the fluidity of my expression. But there is a sense of calm, a sense of happiness I enjoy.

It is mighty strange how that fluidity of expression comes when i feel something close to morbid.

I don't know if i have lost the plot somewhere. Because frankly, I don't think i ever made a plot i'd want to follow.

Is it a phase or change of thought process? But suddenly, I want to go with the flow. I want to run around, in different directions. I dont want no pattern. I dont like no pattern.

But the thought is still in my head, is there really a plot that I have lost only mid way?


Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Just like that!

I am twenty one.

And thanks to some people, i realized its not so bad. Infact not bad at all. If you get the kind of surprises i got, I'd want to turn 21 again and again and again.


Sunday, February 7, 2010





Its amazing how you don't always need to be articulate to express what your feeling :)


P.S- am growing old :(

Thursday, February 4, 2010


Some great conversations can remind you, to know people who know you really well, you don't have to look too far.

Now too close either.

Does it matter how much I hang around with you to know how well you know me?
You can predict me, yes. But to know how well i know you or you know me, a conversation is all we bloody need!

I dont need to be with you all the time to know you the way you want me to.


Monday, February 1, 2010

Friday, January 29, 2010

500 swords and 2 bad words

Friday Night.

Media planning exam in a few hours.

Actually it already is 4:11 Am- so Saturday morning technically.

My mind is wandering again. Theres a lot going on in there. There is a lot am masking. I know i dont want to, but i know i have to.

Sometimes, many things go wrong together. There are so many of them, it is difficult to gauge which one of them we are really worked up about. And then one day, the stray ends of the puzzle fall back into place. So you've been waiting for this day, haven't you? Strangely enough, the puzzle you were trying to fix wasn't worth it anyway. When you see the result, when you see those stray ends all in place, you realize it was not even worth the effort. Din't you intend to form a different picture?

Yes, you learnt a lot, helluva lot while solving it. But then, that is the only consolation you have for the enormous amount of time that has practically, in all means, been wasted. So you smile to yourself and take the learning with you, like you always do. And then you promise yourself, this is the last time, knowing fully well its not.

Do you choose to face these bitter endings or are you just born that way? A question you ask yourself all the time. You believe in practicality. You believe life is about the choices you make. Things don't just happen, you 'make' them happen. But that would imply, you make the wrong choices, every bloody time.

The world is a strange place alright!

but as long as we continue living, it all really is worth it isnt it?


Tuesday, January 19, 2010

And then there are days...

Days you feel it all coming back to you- the pain, the hurt, the anger- oh! so much anger.

Days you one thing ticks you off and you remember so many other. You remember the time you had done something you weren't really proud of. It hadnt been easy. But oh it was painful- so very painful.

And there was a certain sense of pleasure you derived from that pain. Pleasure that is sinful, apart from other things. But you miss that pleasure. And you want that pain all over again.

Because there are days when everything just really bloody matters.

Monday, January 18, 2010

The numbness that has set in

Its a strange sense of numbness. I wish i could write a song on it.
Infact I wish I could just write.

Its a task these days- to put together in complete sentences what I want to. Its a task to think straight. And when I think of what is bothering me so much, My mind feels blank, like memories have been erased. erased in a horrible way so bits and pieces loom behind, still stuck in corners, refusing to get out, but the large parts are deleted.

I hate finality. Theres something about it I just cannot accept. My relations with people in general are never complete, final or full. Theres always clutter in my brain which is quite ironic if one would consider how controlling i can usually want to be. Sometimes, i want to hold that brain of mine and squeeze it so hard that the thoughts should not be there go pouring out. I wish it was physically possible to plant thoughts out of the mind.

Other times, I just want to think about these things even more. There is a certain sense of pleasure one can derive out of pain. A friend had once told me long back- Pain is the worst addiction and your capable. I should have listened. When i look inside, I feel pain, a lot of it.

But on the surface there is a numbness that has set in. its almost like plastic. On the surface there is a lot laughter and shallow thoughts. But there was a time, I knew the deeper ones that lay within. And now there is a time when I avoid anything that lies within.

Since when did I become so comfortable running away from my very own self? Comfortable would actually be the wrong word. But habitual is probably correct.

You think so hard, you go crazy and when you still cannot sort it out, you ignore it. This is basic human nature- atleast thats what a lot of people belittle it as. But something is bothering me.
Something intangible, something that is an accumulation of more than one feeling, of more than one thought. I cannot pin point what it really is.

Until I cant figure that out, I guess I will just continue running away.


I'm Just wondering...

"Koi to rokey, koi to tokey
Iss umar mein ab khaogey dhokhe
Darr lagta hai ishq karne mein ji
Dil to bachcha hai ji
Dil to bachcha hai ji
Thoda kaccha hai ji"
- Gulzar

"Main toh hoke kisi ki hoke
Ye bhi Na jaani
Rut hai ye do pal ki
Ya rahegi sada "
- Javed Akhtar