:)

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

~

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. 

Ta

~

Candyfloss

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.

~

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.

~

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?

~

Aimlessness

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. 

~

Disclaimer

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. 

~

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

Scatter,

      gather;

Laughter, 

     anger; 

Monotony, 

     Yet again.

~

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 ;)

Faceless

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.

Grey

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.

~

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.

~

Tolerance

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.

~

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?'

~

...

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

Goddarnit!

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.

~