Just so you know

The lonely effigy,
A borrowed dream,
Myriad fantasies 
That shameless scream. 


Crash or burn?
Mock or murder?
Seduce with subtlety
I'll keep your ashes to celebrate. 


~

I've been noticing...

1. When the going gets tough, the so called tough weaken. 
2. To be in a loving relationship, one needs to be dumb oneself down 2 notches or more. 
3. We like to believe and convince others to believe that 'whatever happens, happens for the best' because it's more painful to face the fact that we may have made the wrong choice. 
4. Our parents treat their interns like garbage, yet always encourage us to get internships as they provide us with a great 'learning' opportunity. It is after all, the only way of learning how to serve coffee, take print outs, make photocopies, chase couriers and follow up with the clients' receptionists all in one. 
5. The editorial hates the marketing. The marketing doesn't get the editorial. Everyone hates HR- This one's by a girl named she. 
6. When you're not thin, it's easy to blame the world's problems and almost all of your own on your weight- My love life would improve if I lose weight; my sex life would exist if I lose weight; my boyfriend will buy me more expensive gifts if I am thin; my colleagues won't harass me if I lose weight; I'll be able to bitch better if am thin; The Taliban will leave the rest of the world in peace, if I lose weight; the country's ever increasing economic inequalities would begin to diminish as I start to lose weight; India will be addressed as developed  the day I lose weight. Phew! the list really is endless. 
7. An elevator is just place you'd be stuck in with the colleagues you don't like or your boss on the day you came late and almost always an ugly fat man who doesn't work in your office but likes to burp a lot and very loudly so. 
8. The 'nice' guy and the 'intelligent' women are the most desired species in recent times. Right, that's why they always move into the 'friends' zone. They are rewarded for their desirable traits with platonic hugs and sob stories of how the undesirable partners (and still the only kind that they will all ever mate with) are not nice/oh-so-blonde. 
9. Murphy's is the only law that has no exception, no contradiction and is 100% accurate 24/7. 
10. We're the dandruffed generation: The inefficient nincompoops that govern the nation sit back laughing when the opposition opens their mouth to condemn everything and anything without any substance or agenda. We know we've got dandruff, but we're too lazy to rid ourselves of it so we wear white and pretend like we can't see it falling down on us. \

~

aside, afar

Let me write you a verse today,
A verse imperfect
Call it absurd, you may. 


A verse free flowing,
Of rivers shallow
The used palette
Of the amateur artist. 


The verse of beauty, 
That they'd never feel
of painful laughter
That they ignore but see. 


Let me write you a verse 
That's real 
It's black and it's grey
And it's all the in-betweens. 


Would you listen, though
To the poets of reason?
That alter without caution
Your careless imagination. 


I'll write you a verse
Like never before
But it's not special
The music's faded, sore. 


It's a verse of beauty
A lyric sublime
A song, a subtlety 
A verse, that's not mine.

~

Shine

And just like that,
ever so surprisingly
I smiled when I saw you. 

~

Black & White Prisons

A mind 
whose thoughts flow
Free is the spirit
that angers slow.


A hundred pieces
maybe better than a whole
to the mind that needs not
liberation anymore.


Free flowing
Seas of thought
seldom showing
the storm they brought. 


Like a flickering match
in the windy skies
Still free in spirit
and in the mind.


We imprison our thoughts
cage the spirit
and then stare dreamily
at the painful blue sky. 


Then, one man rises
Ever so suddenly,
screams to the world
Uninterruptedly 


And we applaud in awe
at how he's liberated
Still folding our arms, 
against our chest. 


We're the cause of the cowardice
we mock
we're all the malice
that eats us alive. 


We're the only reason we fall
We're the ones who laud
him who does rise. 

~

Whistle my tune

Whirlwind like,
The souls alike
Touch and go
Let the laughter flow

In the heart
Of the corner of the heart
She whistled a tune
unheard of;
She cried secretly
When he sang to that tune
As if it were his own.

The madness will end
It always did
Endings just as sudden
As the beginnings are
But maybe till then,
she could let go?

For this moment in space,
she'd forget to wonder
For the sake of a moment,
She'll whistle along
Quietly,
Fearfully
But she'll whistle along.

They whistled all night
To that tune unheard of,
But they'd hear it again
In a place somewhere else,
At a time long forgotten
Some where far away
At a time, when they'll choose
to stay.

~

Polite Applause, please

One day
I will learn
To write a Haiku

~

:-p

The best and the worst of me

Inherent so strongly, almost stone-like in each one of us, is the best and the worst of us. The anti-me is as intrinsic to us as the me. And when both these grow in magnitude and ambition, almost parallelly, we build within ourselves, our greatest contradiction- the contradiction that threatens to destroy us, that challenges us, makes us question all it is that we hold dear to our heart , soul and mind and in the process, unknowingly, makes us only stronger and lot less contradictory. 


It's beautiful, I think, how molded so beautifully in our characters are the best and the worst of us. The best and the worst not necessarily on a relative note to the other earthlings, but our own best and worst, in isolation from everyone else. We are capable of doing that which we hate as easily as that which we love. That's why we find it so easy to hate ourselves.

We can be our biggest fans, most generous flatterers and yet startle ourselves by being our most apathetic critics, brutally damaging the ego we took pride in creating.

So we tread the path known or unknown only to collide with ourselves and fall back or be pushed to a new path and then it is our very own self that brings us back to the familiar path. Sometimes, the collision makes us stick to the new path and we carry on, until yet another collision with some other part of ourselves.

~

And that's 50!

So, the manuscript is now ready?

Doesn't matter, I have no money.

Anyone knows publishers?

:P

~

All that glitters

A thin line,
you wouldn't see
for a secret,
it's meant to be
The secret,
that we all know
The secret that
makes me ugly.

A fair world it must be,
in more ways than one
All that's not fair
sees the secret then,
Ever so unjustly.

It's a glowing pain
in their brightest smile
because they know the secret,
all this while.
It's tear tucked inside
Polite eyes
Memories, you'll
choose to ignore.

In fairytales,
we build our demise
Swap fair for fair
Like it's only fair to do so.
The prince and the princess
And a happily after
The fairy with rose lips
and a golden laughter

We carefully warp
the very definitions of beauty
Then we be amused
and scream confused
when the mirror
calls us ugly.

~

Letter to my 16 year old self

Dear 16 year old Riddhi,

The world is not going to end with the board exams.

Yes, you're the youngest in class. Yes, you're the youngest wherever you go. Yes, it can be a bitch. But I'm not going to lie to you, infact I know that's the one thing you hate and always will, so- that's probably not going to change. Take pride in it or learn to deal with it. But the age thing is not going sort itself out. But yeah you got bigger problems to think about right now.

Don't be so worried about losing all those friends, you've made at school. The only reason you're dying to hold onto them is because of your inherent laziness and an unreasonable fear about what's in store for you. Breathe. Let go. Over the years, you'll meet many new people, fall for so many of them, find some great friends and lose some of them. But trust me when I say this sitting from here, each time, you'll be hurt, then let go and learn to love yourself and others a little more.

Life seems pretty messed up to you right now, but you're only 16 and luckily for you slightly nerdy. But the best part about being on an all time low when nothing seems to be going for you, is that from here you'll only rise. That I can say with surety. You're questioning everything around you right now. That's not bad. But don't judge basis your own assumptions, wait for experiences- they equip you with the best judgments. You're resorting to things you're not very proud of. But there will be a day when you will not be able to imagine using that blade on your wrist. There'll be a day you'll look back at your 16 year old self and laugh at this. Laugh, but with a feeling that resembles regret. So to avoid that feeling (because you don't like the very idea of regretting what you do), love yourself a lot more.

Weight loss will come to you too. But you'll never be happy with it. So no point obsessing over it anyway right? But just believe me when I say you're at your fattest best. So from here it only get's better! :)

You're still going to be as confused about the concept, nature, fundamentals and operational bits of love a few years down the line as you are now. Maybe I'll write to you about that later, like a hundred years down the line when I would have established my peace with it.

First kisses are overrated. Don't build your hopes around it too much.

Myspace is awesome right now. But in time you'll discover more technologically unobselete ways to publish your idea of poetry for free online. In fact, you know how your blog is restricted to public viewing right now? Ah, well, I don't want to be a killjoy.

Keep the confidence going, a few years down the line, you'll learn to feel it in your heart and your veins and it will be the one reason you get all that you want.

Oh and about your biggest worry- the board exams- don't worry you'll do just fine. But as is your nature (which people around you will keep pointing out to you, if they don't already)- you will crib about it nevertheless.

Just one thing before I sign off? Never  say never. There are so many surprises for you in store, I feel the excitement right from where I am :)

The big hug you need right now,
Riddhi + 6

~

And just what do i do

about the slow,
sick,
sudden 
pain 
that makes it's way
through my arteries
deceiving the heart,
abandoning the purity
leaving me with nausea
that threatens to consume
all of me-
slowly,
sickly
suddenly


~

A body of thought

And when I delight my audience
with a humour not so profound,
narrate tales of glamour
or that heroic sound
My thoughts stay with me
The truth, the lies, the guilt-
them all

Then when I act upon cliche
and say am that- the lonely in a crowd
you take solace in my lie
And of your incompetence feel proud
because in herds we find shelter
and in herds we cage our comfort
My thoughts stay with me though
The truth, the lies, the pretense-
them all

When I hear the muffled cries
in the strange depths of your soul
but greet you with laughter
and a gaze so cold,
My thoughts are still with me,
the truth, the lies, the cowardice-
them all

When I distance myself
from the wreckage you caused,
play second fiddle
to the memory we overhaul
as if renovation were possible
of the soul so damaged,
my thoughts are still with me,
The truth, the lies, the pain-
them all

When I sit by myself
struggling with a song,
I stare into an empty space
Thinking those thoughts,
all along
those thoughts won't get rid of me
The truth, the lies
the pretense, the cowardice, the guilt
the pain-
them all
~

Breakfast at Tiffany's

You know what's wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You're chicken, you've got no guts. You're afraid to stick out your chin and say, "Okay, life's a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to each other, because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness." You call yourself a free spirit, a "wild thing," and you're terrified somebody's gonna stick you in a cage. Well baby, you're already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it's not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas, or in the east by Somali-land. It's wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself. 


~

Of being good

The greatest sign of goodness,
is the one we rarely see
We lay down rules so stringent,
not letting a man breathe

We talk of religion and goodness
and worship an image of idealism
But when the time comes to act,
Our souls are locked in a dark prison

In prayers, we find wisdom
As our conscience bleeds
Then we judge and we hate
Oh how humane, indeed!

You can't kill a man,
they say all the time
But for the conscience you murdered
There's no defined fine.

We sing out so loud
With the priest and the choir
then we hate and we hurt
and place our love on the pyre

We speak of goodness
while we're still callous
Shun those who don't fit in
Aren't we all paupers,
filled with but, malice?

We all think we're good,
the man who killed
the man who lied
Because, as long as we sing to the priest
Our cold souls will be redeemed.

~

Free Falling

I walked like am flying
to the shores of freedom
away from the chains
that bound me
Only to be tied down
yet again,
by a new set of chains

~

Bombay 2.0

There are atleast 3 other posts saved in my drafts and I don't know when they will see the light of the day. Slowing down on the blog posts is sadly, only the tip of the iceberg. I taste the salt in the water as I welcome myself back to Bombay.

I love this city- as I never tire of emphasizing to myself, my friends and family as well here, on this page. But things have changed. Prima facie, the city is just the same- traffic at wee hours in the night; humidity that causes one to look deranged, if nothing else; people, oh so many people, caught up in their everyday lives such that struggle becomes normalcy in this city- a status quo of sorts.

Maybe, it's not the city that's changed. Maybe, it's me. As I walked along these fancy streets outside my new home, I realized, this time round, I really am here to stay. I will cry and I will crib and I will vent to anyone that can listen, but this time round, I am not moving. It's not a decision or a choice- it's an instinct.

The only fear I have is of getting consumed. It's a whirlpool of a city and it can consume you without so much as a warning until you find yourself uninspired, exhausted and unable to bear the stench of the sea. It's irony at it's very best if you ask me, because in its truest form, inspiration is all that this city is about.

So that's a cheers to the new life, the new chapter in the old city and a future whose components I know not of!

~

When I bid goodbye...

They watched me,
Just I watched them-
Amazed
Amused
Altered
And in some place,
that they couldn't see,
Afraid.

 ~

Vindictiveness

A throbbing pain
That starts from me
And ends with your end. 

~

Who are we?

We underestimate our power to restrict ourselves. We underestimate to a larger degree, our power to break out of our own mould.

As we travel our lives armed with what we believe is a clean heart and an intelligent brain, we seldom acknowledge some else's belief of the same things for themselves. Principles are overrated and so is the concept of a 'character'.

How often have we felt that what we did was not like 'us'? How often have we slaughtered someone else's behaviour and called their actions 'unlike them' or 'so out of character'? Well, if it really is not like you to do what you did, why then would you do it? Characters and our definitions of ourselves are derived from our ideals, thoughts and ambitions. Our definitions of others are the consequence of a combination of our perceptions, assumptions and our expectations from them. But, what really makes an individual is his actions. I smile with guilt as I say this because I like to judge myself by my thoughts too.

I am not trying to downplay the impact of one's thoughts and intentions. They are infact very important in the process of making an individual. I simply want to point out that we need to stop glorifying the concept on restricting ourselves to what's like 'us' and what's not. We laugh at the teenagers suffering from serious peer pressure issues and constantly trying to fit in. But subconsciously, we are doing that our entire lives.

If you've bribed a priest to get a better view of your favourite God, then don't justify it by saying that you don't usually bribe and are in fact strongly against corruption. Heck, you took this pilgrimage to 'cleanse your soul' didn't you? You clearly needed to make that bribe to clean it properly. If you are speaking ill of someone, don't start with 'I don't usually bitch but..' Well, you're sure as hell bitching right now! If you've cheated on your partner or broken someone's heart, don't try to justify it by saying it was your first time. The point is, you've still done it.

Everything would be so much easier if we just led a no holds barred life. Why do we try to reduce ourselves by bottling our free spirits only to suffocate them so they eventually, do break the bottle, defy the rules and attempt to break free? It's like when you're parenting- you know fully well that the moment your tell your toddler to not touch something, his curiosity increases even more and he'll touch the object given his first chance. We never grow up about these things. Imposition of rules by others is another thing, but imposition by oneself is an entirely different ball game altogether.

The reason we end up in phases where we find freedom and peace elusive by all measures is simply because we are responsible for binding ourselves by unnecessary rigidity only to eventually indulge in a few acts out of the rulebook.

But even as I write this and feel this, I know that I am going to get back to making rules for myself, holding myself back and calling some actions out of character.

Is this the way we're raised or is this just a more comfortable way to be? A narrow mind, conformism are often the unexpected rescue for the rather lazy ones.

~

A dusty door

The door, it creaks
Even though unopened
Maybe it's the life we hide behind it
Maybe, it's just a broken door.

Shards of the innocence lost
Reduce to dust, now
Dust that settles on the eyelashes
Maybe, it was there all along,
Maybe,that's why I couldn't see.

Inklings of the life I knew,
Fade away into a dusty hue
A blinded vision alike?
Maybe, it's a falsehood so perfect
Maybe, it's an impaired soul.

Damaged dreams so painful
Anger,
Akin to the spirit so fiery
Maybe, it's a broken memory
Maybe, it's just a fairytale on hold.

The heart, it's bruised and how
Fluttering eyes
That couldn't stop blinking
The mind's a rueful mess now
Maybe, in vanity they found solace
Maybe, it's just a life of pride

A long time ago,
They had grown old together
A time in an alternate space
Maybe, it's a farce- this reality
Maybe, it's just a dream gone sore.

But we'll never know, will we now?
The specks of dust are all I see
Like spots of blood on her soul
Maybe, they cried all along,
Maybe I should have opened the door

~

Killing my favourite love songs

So, there is something about a good old love song that makes the even the most cynical heart melt and the not-so-cynical ones? Well they dance with a joy so profound, you'd think world peace was overrated.

For all the brutalities that I might have subjected boy interests to, when it comes to music, I do love love songs.

But, when you delve deeper into these songs, actually screw that, when you so much as just read the lyrics without the music, even the most popular songs have some ridiculous undertones. Some examples, as you'll find below. What I'd really love, is additions to the list.

One more book idea- Killing the top 100 love songs. I should get paid to think, I'll then pay others to execute.

1. "Love of mine, some day you will die.."- No seriously, why would you ever say that to someone,  especially the girl you love. Yes I know the song is all about how he shall not part with the girl even after she dies, but what the heck, that's not making either of their lives simpler. Firstly, you write her a song and begin it reminding her of her mortality. Secondly, how is any of the after death assistance/guidance that you offer going to help her pay her rent and live her life well? I see this as a lazy excuse to get away from buying her dinner. 
2. "Oh yeah I'll tell you something, I think you'll understand.... I wanna hold your hand"- Before I say anything further, I heart Beatles, I do. This song is a personal more-than-favourite. However, just read the lyrics again, without humming them in your head- read it like prose, actually. It's horribly pansy. You build it up so much, make the person think she's going to get some serious insight into your emotions or maybe discover some secret ingredient to solve the volleyball between Jaylalitha and Karunanidhi (I would have ideally used 'finding Osama's wear-abouts' as the perfect example, but Obama has already stolen my thunder) and then you tell her this? You want to hold her hand? Seriously? It almost sounds like a little child's plea- the one who can't cross the road alone. I don't  get the anti-climax, the constant obsession with the hand. With a song like that, I doubt you'll ever go beyond the hand. What would be funnier would be a girl who takes you by your word and promises to hold your hand gaze into the sky, counting the stars with you the whole night. Your hormones can go for a coffee break. 
3. Your body is a wonderland- Yea, I could not choose any particular line- it's the whole bloody song, that's the problem here. Firstly, this is not a freaking love song! It's  lust. Wait, let me get that right, it's LUST. Pure and simple. What I don't get is why women like this song and then claim to get offended when someone comments on their body parts. Women, and for good reason, do not like to be objectified- Love us for who we are, don't compartmentalize our body and comment on it- they say all the time. But the very same women melt in the knees (where they also hide their brain), listening to a cute white boy describing their skin and their tongue. Is it because he says 'you tell me where to go and though I might leave to find it'. Err... so men and women want the same thing eh? If you want love, we'll make it, as it were. Why the fuss over emotional bonding, man? 
4. "Wondering in the night, what were the chances. We'd be sharing love before the night was through". Sinatra came to Delhi before he wrote this song. There's no better explanation. Let me first highlight that this ever so famous classic piece of brilliance sugar coats racing hormones in dire need of a one night stand. Nothing about the entire situation is romantic or warm or fuzzy. About Delhi- while you hum this song in your heard and imagine yourself (and here I take it you're a woman) ball -room dancing with an extremely attractive looking, impeccably dressed man with a great body, the truth is, you're most likely fatter in real life and the guy you'd be eyeing after a couple of drinks will not be half as good looking in the morning. The song here is trying to pacify you about drunken mistakes. Especially the time you really wanted to make one but noone was willing to make it with you. I think you should lend some hormones to the guy in point two
5. "Wise men say, only fools rush in. But I can't help falling in love with you." - Read those lines again, sans Elvis, sans the heart melting voice. For those of you who are listening to UB 40 or Buble sing it, please shut this window now (I Like those guys too, but you gotta imagine Elvis on this one). So when you read these lines carefully one last time, you'll find them familiar. I'll tell you from where. This is a forty five year old man taunting his late- thirty-something wife. For the sake of simplicity, let's imagine them to be Punjabi (I'd rather make a mockery of my own community than take the risk of offending another). So what he's trying to imply is that falling in love with you is the stupidest decision he ever made. It makes him question his on wisdom. Actually, he even doubts he made a decision. He couldn't help it he says. It sounds like coercion, to be honest. So ladies, the song that spells romanticism to most of you is actually an exhausted lover telling the girl that falling for her was the biggest mistake of his life and he's ready to acknowledge his character to be that of a foolish dimwit just because of you. The very same line at 17 and 37 can mean such different things, no? 

I shall add to this list, when I think of more. For now, that's enough fodder to ruin some more love lives. 

~

Only Yesterday

Fly,
Across or away?
High
Leaving behind lies,
and tears dry

Only yesterday,
there was me
and there was you
and there was you and me

Lie,
Secretly deny?
The tight smile
The eyes, ever so shy.

~

Sweet Revenge

Since am venturing into becoming the candy floss seeker's be all and end all solution to crappy literature, here is some more food for thought. Now, at one point of time or another, we've always wanted to do nasty things to ex boyfriends/ girlfriends or just the crushes we could never convert.With excellent inputs from friends, I have compiled a list of absolutely immature ways to get revenge. Move over dartboards and crying in the bathrooms, we're now onto better, more dangerous stuff. I've given people credit wherever required, lest they try some of these stunts on me. Now, that would not be funny.

1. Burn the effigy: It's extremely wise. Anti-establishment people do it. The makers of the establishment do it themselves  In fact, our good old movie fans indulge in a little fire game too. So why not take out a huge photo of the boy/girl in question, walk around the streets near their home in a crowd and burn their effigy. For better revenge, one could resort to dancing around the fire too. While the ridiculous exaggeration to the deed is mine, the title itself comes from a parrot. 
2. The AIDS rumour: Before any activists (I doubt anyone who actually has the energy to sue, reads this blog, but nevertheless) get all worked up. I know of the various stages of being HIV positive or the fact that it does not spread by basic physical contact et all. But see as a weapon to destroy the ex- this is just too damn powerful. Writing to your ex boyfriend or girlfriend's current lover that he/she is HIV positive will ensure you wreck their life. Well maybe their new lover is in the deep kind of love and decides to stick with them, so what, you damned well know the sex life is over. Also, in case you're a girl, I'd recommend telling your ex-boyfriend's current girlfriend that the boy has erectile dysfunction. You could stoop even lower and spread a rumour about infertility too but that would not be as effective, in my opinion. 
3. Host their condolence meeting: This is for those who do not need to scream in anger. Instead, they look like they chose the high road, but are secretly, excellent schemers. So what you do is invite all your close friends, all his/her close friends and the common friends you're bound to have and now get awkward around. Be dressed in white/black or the most suited tragedy struck attire and carry on the entire meeting. Yes, it would be really lame but it will also be extremely funny. Imagine the ex's expression. See, now it all seems worth it? You could be lamer and call it the 'mourning of the death of his/her soul' or some jazz like that. 
4. Publicize horrible photos of them: Now, I don't mean the secret revealing kind of photos that should not have been taken in the first place. I do however mean crazy, random funny pictures. Like, if you have to annoy a girl, put up a picture of her eating a pani puri or gulaab jamun on a social media platform where her friends can see it. She'll want to shoot you. Infact, forget just social media, ideally, use some photoshop to make the pictures appear more horrible than they are, enlarge them and put up posters in her street or near her place of work/study. If you're a photographer or an ad-maker, you've plenty of opportunities to publicly humiliate the person in question. You can send the ugliest photographs of the ex to awards and the lonely planets and national geographics of  the world as your piece of art. You can also use ugly, horrible pictures for a print ad for some really shady product. Imagine the horror on the ex's face when he/she sees his ugliest photo in ad across a national daily or on an international website! Case in point, the smart sibling of a friend of mine, once printed copies of a photograph of my friend brushing her teeth and distributed it school. See, younger siblings are evil, we should learn from them. 
5. Date them: Yes, sounds bizzare, now? So firstly you can't do this unless you're completely bitter and want to actually poison the person in question. But think about it, if you manage to get the ex to get back with you, you will actually be dating them while being completely disgusted by them. Which means, you can now embarass them in public as their boyfriend/ girlfriend. Use their parents to take revenge. Imagine going to that party where you're going to meet those friends of the ex you absolutely hated but still pretended to be able to tolerate. Well, now you can drop your drink on their clothes, step on their feet, laugh inappropriately as they tell you a painful story, go to sleep in between a discussion- there is a lot you can do when you date a person you don't actually like. 

So are any of these mature solutions to 'relationship problems'? Hell, no! they are crappy statements a bored mind like mine comes up with when am procrastinating about ten other things I really should be doing. But the thing about these five simple activities is they give you a feverish happiness that you thought wouldn't come back to you since you turned 16. They also make great stories for later, especially the kind you tell your grandchildren when you're old and boring and trying to find a subject to strike a conversation with them on. 

Do let me know what happened if you decide to follow any of these. I'm terrified thinking about the outcome. 

~

Three types of Jerks

They are all around us- even where we wouldn’t think. They spring up so suddenly and randomly. One can never be warned. However, since philanthropy is but my nature and documenting the theories I derive from experiences, a hobby, I choose to enlighten my audience about the various types of jerks around us. When you see the symptoms, run as far away as you can or you might end up with a broken heart, confused mind or just cynical sense of humour. As for them, while they do not feature on the most wanted lists that get talked about in newspapers, there are enough people out  there who picture disturbing images of broken limbsand bruised eyes of them jerk people.

1. A.      ‘I’m a jerk, I told you so’ type: This is the classic jerk. He walks around flaunting his jerk powers. In fact he uses it as a way to please the ladies. What’s surprising is, the ladies seem to be mighty pleased. They discuss what a complete non-dateable fellow he seems to be and how capable he would be of leaving a heart broken, yet they fantasize about him all the while and clearly dig him. They land right into all the mines he’d warned them off and end up with not only a broken heart, but also a lower level of respect for their own brain cells. This guy is a jerk and he never denied it. He told you about all his ‘ex-flames’ and the horrible things he’s done. You laughed at those jokes with him, teased him about being angry, called the broken hearted girls silly, all the while thinking in your head, you’ll change this man and this will be your story to tell. Well, Ha! with this type of jerk, I really wouldn’t say it is entirely his fault. He’s a jerk, you always knew it. What ever happened to your intelligence though?
2. B.     ‘Jerk in disguise of a best friend’: So you’re crying yourself sick about dying single. You’re girlfriends are not helping you with consolatory (not) remarks on the lines of “don’t worry you’re not the only one’ , ‘join the club’, ‘who needs boys anyway?’. You decide to vent out on your guy best friend. You know, the guy you can call at anytime in the night to share a random story, the one you meet almost every day, the one you know you take for granted, the one whose annoying but ‘such a nice guy’.  So in lieu of consolation, he tells you you’re not going to die old and alone because a ‘guy like himself’ would totally dig you! Suddenly your vulnerable self loves the attention and sees the boy next door in a different light.  It’s all mixed now- the love, the friendship and the bond. You’ve found the boy who wipes your tears and all is well.  See, he uses your vulnerability has a weapon to make you dependant on him and then eventually well, show the jerk side. The thing about being on the receiving side of this jerk’s jerk-ness is that this time you are left with a not a broken but an out and out bleeding heart and an absolute lack of respect for your own sense of judgement of character.  Was he always like this? Did you not see it? Was it you? Was it him? You then go back to the girlfriends and say “You were right ladies, we are in this together”.
3. C.       ‘Pseudo romantic who is actually a jerk’:  So this type is the toughest to uncover and also the smartest of the lot. Let’s say you think you’re done with your share of being err, jerked around (no pun intended, seriously)  and you think you will stay away from everything for a while, lest you land yourself up in a soup again. Along comes our classic type C jerk. He usually springs from nowhere and suddenly seems to be this magnificent physical representation of your dreams, desires, thoughts and ideals. You are scared, cautious (in reality you only think you are cautious by the way) but you still want to ‘give it a shot’. The world now becomes a happier place and you could use Disney’s famous tagline as a summary to your own life. The stars and the moonlight seem to be knitting a beautiful sky, just for the sake of the two of you and the broken and bleeding hearts seem so far away. This time though, the jerk surfaces, just when you’d least expect it and that too, out of nowhere.  At first, you think it’s just a nightmare and you can pinch yourself back to reality. In retrospect of course, you belittle your initial reaction as juvenile. But this kind of a jerk leaves you confused, puzzled and all the possibly related words you can find to these two. Forget about your heart, your instinct or your judgement of character, you’re left feeling downright stupid. Stupid, not because you did not see this coming but stupid because the pseudo-ness that you realize in retrospect was so obviously, well, pseudo. So you put on your brave face, look at the mirror and decide to put a little more kohl into your eyes. (why? I don’t know, women do strange things).

The thing about jerks is, they come in different packages and shapes. However the above three are broad categories you can classify most of them into. How many have I encountered, those of you who know me are thinking. Those of you who know me too well are already smiling with what you think is the answer. But I’ll be honest, I’m just bored. Also, I try to be funny to then document my attempts at humour. Who knows, someday I’ll write a book on jerks. If ‘One night at a call centre’ can sell, it is God’s way of telling mankind that anything can sell. True Story!

P.S: Up next, will be a post on the strange things women do. If not next, then soon enough.  I don’t know how honest I can be on that one- I do love my life. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned- it’s the truest statement I’ve ever come across!

~

Her secret lyric

"This is what you'd dreamed of"
he whispered to her
she smiled back-
distantly, longingly

She watched her hands in his,
She watched her tears too
How they landed on the back of his hand
Uncontrollably, silently

In another world, she thought
This was rapture indeed.
In another world, she reminded herself
Painfully, loudly

The other world seemed dead now
Murdered, almost
Just traces of blood to wipe off the heart,
Slowly, painstakingly

She looked up into his bewildered eyes
How flustered he must be
So she walked away and bid goodbye
Secretly, suddenly

~

The thing about memories is

they fade away but never really erase themselves.

They linger on in some part of the sub conscience, shape our reactions to situations and suddenly, out of nowhere stand right in front of you reminding you of a time you had chosen to put behind yourself.

The thing about memories is, you believe you're done with them, but you know you're really not.

Tragic, no?

The insignificant post

Laughter,
Light
Love
Life


But why do I fear then? 


Maybe, am tired of the old fight

Inspiration

I've been thinking on this subject for a while now.The term is often used loosely, but never explained enough. Inspiration is extremely subjective and even more personal. But we hear so many stories of what's inspired people through generations, that as overdone as this topic might be, it is still discussed with a tinge of novelty, excitement every time.
So what is it that I hear inspires people? Love seems to be the most common answer. Then there is family, a romantic involvement, a heartbreak, nature, the sea, mountains, beautiful locales... the list, not surprisingly is endless.

I'm a beach person, through and through. I love the sea. I can just sit and watch it for hours, listen to the slow rhythm the waves knit and just the very sound of water. I like the mountains too, for the calm, the serenity they have to offer- a complete contrast to the stormy sea that I personally favour, yet a subtle sweetness in its own way. But you know what really inspires me? People.

I could sit for hours facing the sea or spend a lazy morning on a hammock in the hills but I wouldn't know what to write or even think about if it wasn't for people. I like peace and I like the sense of isolation- infact it is more than necessary at times. But I draw my inspiration, my challenge, my love and my hate from people. Not to say, that I love their company at all times. However we underestimate the power to be social and yet be, but a mere observer to society's way of life. You know when I think the most? By the night, in the complete darkness of my room; on the road with heavy traffic while it's raining cats and dogs; in office while working on an excel sheet and talking to ten people at the same time.

This is the same reason I choose to spend fifty hours a week being a corporate slave (corporate whore, some might call it, but this aint a good time to be brutal). Everyday,while I tick things off my joblist, I acquire skills- these skill sets that are essential to a good life- marketing, working with people, management, leading, being led... oh there is so much to learn. Everyday, I interact with a large number of people- each of whom I wouldnt exactly name my 'loved ones' , but each of whom open my eyes to new reactions and expressions, without fail. And well am a marketeer- consumer behaviour is my be all and end all and I guess that's just why I know I'll stick to this line for a while.

I love people, I live on their reactions. I can go back to so many instances where I've said stuff only to get a reaction out of people-  to shock them; surprise them; thrill them; excite them. The variety of emotions are aplenty and the variations of expressions just awe-inspiring!

I like to be in the middle of the drama, the crowd, the party, the not-so-much-party, enjoy it, live it to the very fullest and then suddenly retreat, back to my darkness, to the comfort of my room or a windowsill where I can feel the rain and open my parrot green laptop and keep writing.

Its funny how the anti-society moods are driven by society and yet the anti-society moods are but, for the sake of society.

People- my challenge, my inspiration, my reality but the catalyst to my imagination.

~

Sepia Printed

A wooden frame that rots
Because of the memories it holds
Rusty ironed
Sepia
Of Stories, you'd once been told.

Black and white glimpses
Of a childhood gone and how
Do you believe in magic, still?
Do you fear the local clown?

For all those years,
You heard fables
Of talking dogs
And nomadic tribes

Did you ever think,
those years too,
Will become but a witch
Teasing you with memories sly?

The wooden frame ,
has more to tell
Unknowingly, decades had passed by
Slowly in the photograph,
You see your grandmother's eyes dry.

A clot in the heart,
as you remember her smile
And the little pranks you played
How she always liked your new sun-dress
Or the way you made your braid.

Through sepia and black and white,
Through childhood and gypsies,
Through fables of nomadic tribes,
You knew you'd lost that innocence, little.

~

You know what?

I am exactly 7 poems away from my final "manuscript".

So my target was June but I think i'll get there quicker and then wheeeeeeeee - send the final works to the "publisher" and we get rolling baby!

Personal target? I publish a book before October and then go for the Lit fest in Bali, this year. So what if i missed the one in Jaipur? I shall be broke but I shall go.

A very heartfelt thank you to people who actually care to read my stuff and who've literally threatened me to publish. I would have never  come out of the closet, otherwise. Errr..he writer's closet, not the other kind. Sick minded fools. ;)

Love and a lot more love.
~

The writer's song

She sees a whole new world
From somewhere inside of her
Reality spells boredom
But from the ordinary, inspiration she will spur.

She walks in the city,
with the traffic upbeat
But her mind's in the mountains
And her heart's with the beach.

She types away to glory
On machines named fruits
But there's ink on her mind
The sacred pencil, so divine.

Machines and wires
How unimaginative could those be
So she lives in her dreams
And dreams of what could be.

She talks with passion
About both politics and love
Secretly she slaughters
Your reactions to each of those above.

She'll tell you she's sorry
When she won't really be
But she lives on your reactions
So she can write about them in glee

She weighs her every word
With caution she speaks,
But you'll think she's so simple
Manipulated, you shall certainly be

She will kiss you with maddening intensity
Enamored, you feel?
Well, she was just knitting poetry
She didn't mean to sweep you off your feet!

She'll smile when you hurt her
Or indifference it could seem
Act upon all those contemporaries
You'd think she believes

But at night, when no one's looking,
she'll weep to her pillow
And her heart will ache,
A frightening deal.

She's a writer to herself
And her temporary muse you can be
Don't judge by the surface though,
There's volumes that you don't see

She's a poet in her head,
You don't know all that she can be
She'll trick you into anything,
Elusive? Ah well, she's a writer, you see.

~

Pause

Pause
Now, right here
Can I capture this moment
In just memory alone?

Memory that fades not
from the mind so selfish.
Memory that blurs not
But still has blunt edges.

Pause,
Cmon, stop thinking
Distractions, so many?
watch closely as my eyes
Pierce yours, so blindly.

I stare so curtly
Straight into those coal-like eyes
Brutal, they call my glance
But I'd given you many a chance.

Pause,
with me,
as I run my fingers through yours
And slowly, secretly let my mind wander off...

~

Train of Thought

I picked the last word I read before I opened this page and decided to document my train of thought. It's an interesting exercise because when I look back at this, am sure I'll be amused if not surprised. Next time, I'll do this in a perfectly peaceful environment with no background disturbance like today.

scared ....fear ....courage....copy.... originality.....distraction...the tv.. interruption in between as the tv was loud....scream at the sibling....family...anger...childhood...loud...loud..loud...frowns...tensed eyebrows...mother..laughter...warmth... love, maybe?....ahh sweet love... but other love?...no love...lust...attraction...seduction?....smart...intelligence...insane intelligence...long nails painted off white...preppy wear...bohemian, but?...yellow.. so much yellow... my room's yellow wall...i glance sideways now...see the wall and smile.....they were going to make it pink...but am glad i fought for yellow... brighter than sunshine....memories.. i cheat now and dont mention names... all the names come back... bittersweet endings.... new beginnings? ..but still bittersweet....running away..escapism... sarcasm... contradictions...me... peace... writer... nature...beauty...white..pure....but there's no peace, there are just machines...technology- necessary but uninspiring... 


~

I don't know what to name this one.

Written a while back, this was never intended for the blog. But as people become but memories and memories become distant, the intentions tend to be forgotten and pieces like the one below become, but, another attempt at poetry put on a public portal for all to see. :) 

Chitter, chatter

Some rather useless banter.

Did he too think it is beautiful,

So random, this laughter?

For all the digs,

And the sarcastic humour,

Little did he know,

How she smiled, when he saw her.

~

Starry eyed

There is this ache inside of me
I wish I could write about it
It would make a painful song
The one to which they'd still sing along

There is this child in the distance,
I wish I could write about him
As in his mother's hair, he entwines a finger
And stares at her face in pure wonder.

There is this little girl I see
Oh, how she reminds me of well, me.
If I write about her,
Would you just name it as useless banter?

There are fireflies and trees
You'd rather I write about all of that, no?
How I watch you embrace with love
The stars, the moonlight and the open breeze!

~

And I declare.

Post some thinking, reflection, looking back in retrospect and all that fancy jazz, I've nailed a few realizations. My language seems incredibly popular culture influenced, you're thinking? I write in either complete abstract or in a manner similar to those "celebrity" bloggers whose life particularly revolves around the number of "followers" they have. Good, at least I got you thinking about the same shit, my bored mind is wrecking itself over. I love poetry, but there are times I want to shake people up. Times like right now. What I wouldnt do to go around bursting bubbles- metaphorically and otherwise too. My mind wanders off to India Gate.

Sigh...

As usual, we digress. Let's get back now to my super intelligent realizations. Ah well whom am I kidding! They're not particularly intelligent (though, in person I'd never admit that). They are however bizzare, amusing and almost definitely bloody bang on!

1. When you're out at night- alone, defying all the rules a girl in Dilli is supposed to follow, trying to prove to the world that you will punch any man who attempts to get cheeky, prove to yourself that you don't need anyone to drop, pick you up or be concerned about you, your phone always and mark that word- always  runs on low battery. Not amusing, not in the slightest degree. 
2. Days that there is a lot of work, the head aches and you curse capitalism and consumerism and the boss and the boss's boss. Days there is no work, the head aches even more with boredom and you curse louder. 
3. Facebook is a great temptation only when you're avoiding a task. At a time, when there really isn't anything to do- its just an annoying community gossip mechanism taken to the internet. 
4. When you're with a smart guy, you wish he was just a little prettier; when you're with a pretty boy, you can't believe you're with someone whose not even smart. When you find someone whose both, he is almost definitely a figment of your imagination. 
5. In an interview, every candidate is always hard working, smart, analytical, passionate, committed. Once they start working however, they all become lazy, lazy, lazy, uninterested, complaining and oh lazy. 
6. Single people hate their friends who have boyfriends- especially the best ones. Un-single best friends always want to set their single friends up, that too after a one hour rant about how all men suck and they wish they were single themselves. 
7. Self- deprecating humour is never a sign of low self esteem- it is infact a courteous way of telling you, you're not even worth a good laugh. 
8. Pseudo people will never tell you they are pseudo. But it sucks when you find out. 
9. Sex has to be the single most popular subject of discussion across all ages, genders,sexualities, regions, communities. And yet we make a hue and cry about it. 
10. Yellow is the best colour... EVER. 
11. Most people who are upset, have nothing else to occupy their mind with. 
12. Illness is in the mind, mostly. 
13. This new generation, needs  to read some good old literature and get a grip on their vocabulary. 
14. Everything is awesome and just what you want until you get it. Oh make that everyone too. 
15. It is only human to be sickly attention craving, power chasing, anti-authority and shamelessly hypocritical. 

Happy working! :)

~

A trip back to childhood

I wish I'd taken pictures.
As always, I did not.

The best memories are those that are in the mind alone. But, off late I want to buy a dslr. I want to capture what I see in more than just words. But that's for another time and another post. This post is about a trip away from home, after really long. A trip back to my childhood- the childhood that seems like a dream now, a memory from another universe, another time, a long long time ago.

Madras never can disappoint. This time, it was just that white spot after  series of grey. I dont want to sum up the specifics of the trip- they are too personal and too beautiful. But this trip soothed me- I think i really needed this calm. Life's been a havoc lately. Am back to grind, but I feel so refreshed.

I love the beach.

~

Fatigue

And then there days like this one, of complete exhaustion.

It's not just about today, it's about all thats been going on. I need some fresh air, some perspective. I need some change, some inspiration. I need some dreaming, some imagination.

Everything that can go wrong, is going wrong. Very much so. I'm suffocated, but there's little I can do about it that an overcome my claustrophobic tendencies. It's been so long since I've even reacted. Frankly, I'm too tired to react.

Then, when all's wrong I remind myself- I've always struggled and had to put in extra effort for all that I've ever achieved. I've always dealt with my shit all by myself- alone and sometimes even lonely. I've always cleaned up my own mess. So this time too, it shall be the case.

But what do you do, when its just fatigue you feel? Today, I actually told someone I'll give up. It feels strange to feel these things.

Rock bottom can be an awesome place to reach because from here you can only rise upwards. But you know what? I'm tired. Period.

~

Whirlwind Moment

Steaming coffee
A conversation or two.
The laid back laugh,
That reminds me of you.

And then when I look up,
The ceiling's gone away
Them stars and the moonlight
To a new rhythm they sway.

I laugh so loudly,
I make them stop and stare.
While they frown, unamused
I could barely even care.

But when I look up again,
It's the ceiling, all white.
Then I dream of the abstract
Because I don't like what's in sight.

~

The whiny post

It's been a long time since I whined. No, seriously, it has been a while.

The year started with my decision that I'm going to be happy, come what bloody may. However, it's not an easy decision to act upon. I know happiness is a feeling, a state of mind and jargon like that. But well, like most other things, I decided this is the way to be. So, no am not miserable, am just annoyed. Extremely annoyed. Annoyed to the point that I am hurting my keyboard with the force I am using to type this post. This is not good. See the number of times I have used the italics to emphasize on words? I'm slowly losing my marbles.

In case, you're still reading this post, let me first pity you for being so bored that you're clearly willing to read any amount of crap. Now, if that wasn't powerful enough a tool to cheese you off, then here is another warning, I am going to bullet point my whining and attempt at amusing some extremely bored lonely soul by declaring the most ridiculous reasons or worry, as has become my life.

So drumrolls, applause and those loud punjabi cheers that sound like horrible abuses, here goes:

1. I absolutely  hate Delhi. I hate it to the point that it's not even funny anymore. I think I should get out of here soon, lest I stop loving those very few things that I do about the city. The city suffocates me. There is zero inspiration, people have the most inconsequential reasons to worry and everyone judges. It makes me judge too. I judge all those judgmental, narrow minded, hypocritical, uncouth people. I hate this place. 
2. Even though I like my job and my team, sometimes, I want to burn the building down. Its annoying how my work can range from some big awesome responsibilities to running to the ground floor with a pen drive for a senior. Some of them here need a lesson or two on leadership and well management. Turns out an MBA really does not imply managerial skills. I can start another blog on this- it will be called jerks at work. But, once i leave this place or maybe this corporate whore lifestyle altogether. 
3. I want to publish. Yes well, am not saying I haven't started. I recently gave out samples of my free verse poetry, let's see how that turns out. But I want to publish a compilation of short stories and a book- which I've already started. But it's so difficult to sit down and keep writing. It will take me at least a year to get done with this book. I am SO slow. This sucks. 
4. I am most certainly incapable of being in a relationship, or for that matter falling in love. I'm at peace with the fact of course and mostly it's not an issue, but at times theres this strange feeling inside- how detached am I? I fall for them men easily, mostly because of my love for novelty and then I snap out of it just the same, because of well, my dislike for boredom. But ah well, sometimes you make decisions when you decide to be no damsel in distress. 
5. Everything in life seems so pointless lately. Just about everything. 
6. I am nowhere on my five year weight loss plan. 
7. I am sleepy all the time, but I can't sleep. 
8. I really need to stop thinking. I wish I could switch my brain off. 
9. I am cynical, so cynical and as it turns out not even by choice. 

I'm tired of telling everyone life will be okay and jazz like that. So sick of listening to people either breaking up or getting married. I don;t know which is worse actually.

I have now completed, easily the worst post on this blog. Seriously! See what this city is doing to me? I'm worried about inconsequential bullshit. Soon you'll find me cribbing about a chipped nail with a bunch of blonde-brained, snow white skinned, ironed hair sporting factory made barbie dolls. 

It's almost as if my dear Delhi collects people basis their lack of intelligence and more importantly creativity. 

Balle Balle, it most certainly is then!

~

P.S: If I've hurt the sentiments of any Delhi lovers in this post, I am sorry or not  being apologetic at all. If you're a true Delhite, you'll never get the humour, so please feel free to abuse to hell out of this delhi-hater, like you roll down the windows and hurl those shameful abuses at the guy who overtook you (did he not know it is your birthright to speed outrageously!). 

If you're actually laughing, you're a poor soul stuck in this dreadfully uninspiring city, just like me or you're in a state of inebriation. Either way, you're better off than the other guys. 

 

Broken hearts and harem pants

The madness sings its perfect song
And how mad would that be
This madness has a mind of its own
And no method can it ever be.

She's racing ahead and racing strong
But her thoughts, they speed like light
Cloudy thoughts and broken hearts
Seldom feel right.

She runs along anyway,
So scared to ever stop
But her breath, it runs out and how
Just an inch away from the ladder top.

You see broken hearts and wicked brains,
Seldom ever mix
So, a part of her ran far away
While a part of her still awaited the tryst.

The madness crazed her heart and soul
But her mind was in a different fix,
So much to do, such little time
Weary, she was of the old tricks.

Peace was the elusive partner
To her exhausted, cynical soul
But her heart, it had a mind of its own
She tried to suppress its role.

Was it one straight line, she ran along
Or three sixty degrees of craze?
How did it matter, she asked herself,
There was no destination either way!

A part of her made bullet points
Of every hurdle to face
Then the other part splattered paint all over it
Naming it pointless, this mad mad race.

The mind it sang its own sweet song
And how perfect that would be
But her heart, it had a mind of its own
And no method could it ever see.

~

Why grow up

I spent the day playing with clay.

After months, today, my head does not hurt from racing thoughts. Turns out clay never ceases to be fun! Also, i found the remedy to put my brain to rest. Green clay and back-to-back movies.

I don't like facebook.
I don't like gtalk.
I like blogspot, only because I can choose to talk to it without being talked to.

My sister is a nutcase. There really is no better way to describe her.

I have random, interrupted, disassociated thoughts again. It's a great feeling. Welcome back yo! :)

A perfect end to the day will be making prank calls, telling random aunties on the line to go 'catch their refrigerator' when they say 'yes' in response to 'is your refrigerator running?'

When did life become about all this adult (no-pun-intended) stuff anyway. I still like lemon flavoured lollypops and choco-bar!

~

What an idea, I say

How about a little game to test the writing skills?
I am thinking, I should pick an adjective/verb/emotion everyday and weave a story/ snippet/ poetry around it. A piece that would bring out that single word emotion to the best degree possible. Everyday is unrealistically ambitious, but atleast as often as I can.
It will help streamline my own thoughts and the consequence of thoughts too.
I recently woke up in the middle of the night to realize, the only reason I do everything that I do do and the only thing I probably even want to do, is to make those around me think. It's ironic because I can be pretty impulsive myself. But what I mean is, to get them to just pause for a moment, think and question themselves, their beliefs, their ideas, contradict them, argue it out maybe and then well, they can move on. Just that one moment, is all I need, a moment that they use to shake up, loosen up and question everything they are being rigid about. So vague a dream, you say? But it is the highlight of who I am. It is the reason I am contradicting and contradictory all the time, but more on that some other time.
So, if I can manage to convey a single emotion so strongly in one piece, I'd consider it a victory in its own right. You know those little victories you do crazy happy dances about in your head? That kind.

~

Dreams

I hold my dreams so close,
Because I fear I'd lose them all.
I wrap them up in polythene
So they're lifeless, like a doll.

I whisper to them at night though,
With a heartache, not so small
And when I put on those running shoes,
I still hear their call.

But so long as they're a secret
There is at least that ray of hope, tall.
So I'll let my dreams be dreams alone
They never see the light of the day, at all.

~

P.S: We are often so scared of our dreams, we underestimate our power to execute them. Execution is a boring affair and barely as romantic and exciting as dreaming itself, but it's braver, no doubt. Is imagination best left unexplored? Should dreams really be left as dreams alone?

Agony

A million little pieces of me,
Lie scattered here and there
Come, take your pick.
Hold the piece you find dear.

Smile at your little piece
If you love, then do tell her.
Hold it close enough
So you can hear her silent whimper.

~

My childhood nightmare

I will never forget this nightmare. It haunted me for a large part of my childhood and is still stuck in my memory. I   think about it sometimes and I think maybe it had  a message or some strange meaning...

The dream is about me, but quite obviously I do not see my face. I see my house though- the old house I was born in. That house was in exactly the same place I am now, only that it was broken down to build this new one that I don't particularly like, this new one will never be like my old home. So yes, that was a big house with 2 floors and a terrace and it had spiral stairs of sorts. The dream starts with me running into the house from the gate at the back of the house. For some mysterious reason am wearing only my under garments (I was like 4, so it's not so strange). This big, rather muddy monster follows me into our home. Everyone panics and runs away in different directions. I take the stairs and start to climb. Somehow I manage to hide myself in the staircase and the monster follows the children of our tenants who lived in the room on the terrace.

And then it's just me running. And running...

~

Updates and Upwards

So, I realized sometime back, people actually  read this blog. I mean am sure they aren't great in number but the ones that are, follow it and get it, and the ones I know of, do matter. So first up, for once I shall be modest and non-pompous, why I will even go out of the way to be humble and grateful (if I use one more virtuous word in this post, noone will believe i wrote it, so let's stop here) to all those who read.

I've decided to go public now. More public than online. I've been meaning to publish  collection of short stories and poetry for a while now but could never really make up my mind. But, thanks to some people around me, I am sort of convinced to give this whole commercial thing a shot.  I mean being a writer can't always remain a dream can it? So there is nothing substantial in place yet. But, the decision has been made. I shall first show a collection of these poetic scribbles. I've already written the rough draft of the prelude to the collection. Will hopefully get done with all the editing and getting opinion soon and then start the tedious task of publisher meetings. In fact, if you are reading this and you think you can/want to help in anyway, do drop me an email. I'd value your view/opinion on the work as well if you could suggest the way forward. Am new to this world. Clueless as can be.

Can a burning desire  and that strong will and passion to achieve, actually be enough to achieve? Maybe not, but it's always a good start.

Lots been happening. 2011 has been rather eventful. Surprises, novelty, frivolity, discovery, inspiration, euphoria, pain, suffocation. It's only the third month and I already feel so lost. I think it's the uncertainty, the wait, the fact that I am out of control. The fact that I know something good is going to come of this because I have to get my way. But, the wait..oh the wait..

In other news, I am getting a paranoia of sorts with respect to my health. No, really. It's funny because I am usually suspicious of medicines and doctors and believe sleep can cure anything and everything. But, offlate I've addressed myself as  bi polar, schizophrenic, OCPD and well some other things which are actually too embarass to put up here. The funny thing is how I drove certain people nuts about those things, but lets leave out the specifics, as always. Besides, as is life, the specifics important at one point of time, slowly lose relevance over time. See why I never mention names, real incidents or an honest update of my emotions here?  Writing is what I love the most in the world- it is a means of self expression. However, I can never write a diary because that is a scary memory book of people and experiences you might want to  erase out altogether. In my case, the erasing of experiences happens almost as often as new experiences themselves. So yea.

I must end now. Running around in circles never results in a solution.  It results in a freaking headache the size of the giant monster whom I used to dream about in the early years of my childhood. It results in fatigue and that incessant, urgent need to break bloody free.
I should know.

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City-wise

I've been meaning to put my thoughts together on this one, for really long. But for some reason, morbid poetry always beats the other ideas and ends up seeing th light of the day before others. But anyway, let's not drift again.

I love travelling. Well, technically I hate flights and have road sickness so a journey by rail is usually the preferred medium. But what I actually love is going to new places. I know traditionally, if you are in a new city, you see what it's famous for, eat what it's famous for, click what it's famous for and then go back with happy memories. I don't intend to make myself sound too cool and different for those things. I do them too, yes. But what really sticks with me is the sense of the city. Time passes by and the city becomes a faint memory with a certain background score to it. The people? Yes of course. But people come and people go and they leave you with beautiful memories too, but that's for another post, later sometime. The thing about a city is, it changes the way you feel about yourself and why maybe even someone with you.

I've lived in Madras, Bombay and Dilli. Yes, this is the way i prefer to address the 3 cities and that shall remain. Associated with each of these are hazy memories of people, incidents, experiences with a faint background score. But you know the things I see in my mind when I think of these cities? The roads. It is certainly not intentional and in fact a rather startling discovery. I see those roads with clarity, you know? And then there are colours, like Dilli is always green, Madras is yellow and Bombay just has to be red. Everytime I think of each of these cities, I go back to the way they make me feel or the person I used to be in these cities.

Dilli is home. Its where I was born, brought up and its where I came back, every time. I love and hate the city. I love the citty only little and hate the city beyond measure. But it's home. And nothing can ever take away from the first city that's your home. I love the infrastructure, the pure beauty. I've seen this city change and oh how it has changed. I love the urbanization accompanied by the history associated with it. It's the city where on my way to a monument more than 100 years old, I see spoilt teenagers driving their fathers' cars to impress another daddy's little rich girl. It's the city where women dread getting out at night alone and still the city with the prettiest roads. It's the city of loud people, unrestricted road rage and abuses and then its' the city that you can wake up and go for a long walk in the morning all by yourself. The city is beautiful. The people are a different story altogether. It's a city that spoils you and then it's a city that makes you strong. But it's a city that for all its spacious roads and lavish greenery, suffocates the hell out of me.

Madras. I lived there for 5 years and what beautiful memories that city did give me. It's my yellow. I associate the happiest period of my childhood to Madras. In a way I'm so glad I spent my early years there because it has come a long way in shaping who I am. Everytime I go back there, its only happy. I can't remember specifics ( even though I actually know  my way around in the city!). It is the city with faint memories, the smell of musk and the sound of laughter- innocent, unknowing, shrill laughter. It's the city where I made my first set of "best" friends- the friends I can still write 'letters' to. It's the city of the first crush and all those fancy things bollywood movies associate with childhood. And then, my city of beaches- the city that is responsible for my love for the sea. I used to love going to the beach- and it left behind memories of just me and the water. Its overdone and cliche but for a reason- very few experiences can beat sitting in from of the sea watching the tides rise and subside and then feel the salty water on your toes and just when you being to love that feeling, the water resides only to return back later and leave you thinking, leave you wondering...

And then there is my favourite city so far- Bombay. It's my favourite of ALL the cities I've ever been to, every lived in- in India and abroad. The city is romanticized, talked about, visualized- its called the city of dream, the city that never sleeps. But, all for a good reason. There's something about that city. Even for someone as descriptive as me, I run short of adjectives to describe it perfectly. Its crammed and its crowded. It's busy and it's dirty. But why then is it so free, so liberating? That's the irony I am unable to grasp. Bombay breathes inspiration. Even in the daily tedious routine of life, I would feel so inspired. Everything about that city is worth clicking and being written about. Be it the over done Queen's Necklace or that man I saw walking in the subway- I can't remember what he looked life, but I remember him, the anger in his eyes, the urgency in his walk and the sense of fatigue on his forehead. It's a magnanimous city and crazy one at that. It's a city like no other and it will be the city I move back to eventually.

I need to live in many more cities though- for atleast a year. It's like a volleyball of sorts, but it's worth it.

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For love or for hate

For love or for hate,
I make your dreams my own.
Then I laugh carelessly,
As you struggle with them alone.

For love or for hate,
I hold you close as you scream
But, I smile at your fear
And of revenge, my eyes gleam.

For love or for hate,
I write you a song.
Then I cry in my sleep,
Because I know you lie all along.

For love or for hate,
I tell you I care.
Then, when you look at me helplessly,
I remind you, life is but, unfair.

For love or for hate,
I watch the world spin on
And when I see what I shouldn't
I call it a mere twist of fate.

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