Profound conversation and random thought

Varun : (in Bed with one early morning resolution.) I want to write again, don't what about!

Inner self :(Enthusiastically) Type something!! May be you'll come up with something to say and astonish the world and make it sit up and look at u in new found admiration!

Varun : Scratches head, yawns and looks around the room.

Inner self : Well said ! Your work is done! You have changed the world beyond repair.

Varun: Grunts in satisfaction, turns over in bed and before I could go to sleep.

I Hear 2 pigeons cooing off happily on the window beside my bed, I suddenly started humming the tune of this long lost song ... was wondering how many people still remeber it.. it goes like this..

"Gutar gutak , gutar gutak!,

Chad gaya oopar rey... atariya pe lotan kabootar rey!!

Gutar gutak, gutar gutak!"

I really dun recall the composer nor the movie .. all i remember is that the song involved one busty female in the loft with lots of hay in the middle of lots of eeky white pigeons....singing and doing some gyrating movements involving lots of butt shaking and pelvic movements rivalling even Govinda (thatz something!)

I cant seem to get the song out of my head .... sigh!!

I love myself!!

well..some one has to!!

Love ,

I, me, Myself!

-p.s. incase u are wondering whatz the point of the post ...DUH!!! appretiate my talent(or the lack of it!)

There's no doubt about who I am I always have tomorrow.

He doesn’t wait to listen to the verdict. He already knows that he is out. He packs his bag and starts walking back to his home. He concludes that he couldn’t possibly feel any worse than he did now. He reaches home, dumps his bag in a corner of his room and falls on the bed, ignoring the shouts of his mother. He turns to look at his shelf full of books. He turns away and smiles. Sadly at first, the smile slowly grows larger and brighter. Suddenly, he gets up and stretches his body and jogs his way to the kitchen. He is very pleased with himself now. He had just realized that he no longer cared. He no longer cared about the shit that kept him awake for last one month. Munching on the Chips and just having a weight cleared of his mind, he took his camera, came out from his home, plugged his ear phones started walking as he listened:

Looking back what I have done
There's lots more life to live
At times I feel overwhelmed
I question what I can give
But I don't let it get me down
Or cause me too much sorrow
There's no doubt about who I am
I always have tomorrow

Writing always makes me happy J

Just because it's been a while!!

It's overwhelming how a child-like inhibition stops me right now. Even though it merely involves a tap and a click of the mouse. Rediscovered a friend after ages out of the blue. She is my first memory of a best friend. The one with whom you share that big pound of secret 'you'. But time fools us all. She left; while I stuck around. 

While I write now, I realize that I have become my own mental block. I am not only not ready to accept change, I live in a ferocious fear of it. I probably don't need to invite her back to the folds of my being anymore. I am content in the memories of a long dead friendship. But what causes me unease is the terror of what I may discover if I befriend her virtually. My collection of an idea of perfection has become so contorted that a challenge to a mere strand of it might make my mind unravel. 

Weak is what defines me now. To think I childishly feed myself with the complexities of the world still. Literature has become my myth now where my mind unravels into the depths of distortion.

From our birthday, until we die, is but the winking of an eye;

You are supposed to believe that 26 is just another number. But is it? It takes you one year closer to 30 than 25. How does that matter? Well, isn't 25 like the ideal age? The age where you are permitted to do everything and anything but have no responsibilities whatsoever.

The years do go faster as the number of years increase. Clearly that is because there are fewer fascinatingly new experiences and also because, the brain stores lesser snapshots of life as the years pass on. However, such medical wisdom serves no purpose when one is in the whirlpool of nostalgia, getting sucked in by one memory at a time...

Obviously, it is best to just enjoy the present than to wonder about its preservation.

Of course, stuff of various colors and varying concentrations consumed in order less fashion does make you want to write spontaneous blog posts.....

Below are some facts about Age buckets:

Zero-teens = you learn about the world.

Early-teens = you intend to change the world when you grow up.

Late-teens = you realize you can't change the world, ever.

Early-twenties = you intend to direct your own life as you want it.

Early-thirties = you realize you don’t control your life, rather it controls you.

Late-thirties = you vow to direct the life of your children.

Early-fifties = you realize you can't control your children's life at all.

Sixties and later = you give up all hope and continue living.

Of course, I am just guessing, but I feel it’s true: D.

I will again repeat the name of the post because I am in love with this line written by William Butler Yeats "From our birthday, until we die, is but the winking of an eye.

Thousand pasts and no future.

These days there is no more a sense of pervading happiness. As I am consumed by the everyday, it has become more about the toil than the pleasure derived out of it. There is a vague sense of fulfillment somewhere, but it is a disengaged perception of having moved a step closer to the smaller finite. The larger goal still remains elusive. Everything is tangible and everything is fleeting. Emotions more so.

Ireally don't know why I sound so low whenever I am writing. It's just weird. I am not such a sad person generally. I really have the ability to cheer people up. But I think I fail to cheer myself up because I want so many things at the same time. I want to imbibe so many things in my words that the true intention gets lost. I really need to make up my mind about a lot of things. Stuck in a limbo far too long. I am an optimist just as much I am a cynic. I just need a better social life to do well.
No, I think I need more hours in my day to actually feel alive. I want to study and gather knowledge, laze around, go out, make out, travel and discover, and spend time with my friends all in one day. It is asking for too much but I think last year I did manage to achieve something similar to it. 2014 feels like a fake hourglass. Because there is never time! I am stuck doing things which doesn't keep me happy.
To speak of dreams, I want to travel. Alone. Or with a ghost of a company; to have people who are there with me but more so, lost in their own world. But every clock that ticks is a reminder of the recklessness of my dream.
Sometimes I really worry that I live a thousand pasts, and no future. But I humor myself with the thought that many of us live the same bewitched life that I am living. And this is my tonight's show. My tonight's story

Till reason rescues me..

Sometimes I like to dig up my past
And find reasons to become a mess
Nibble at my mistakes
Forgive some at the end
Try to learn a lesson
But leave trying.
Revert back to my old own self
And keep backing up again
So the lessons keep coming
Again and again.
Lose the old refuge
And find a new temporary solace
Till reason rescues me once again.


-
This poem has practically lived a shelf existence for the past Six months or more even though it was complete the day it was written. I don't remember what prompted me to never publish it till now. Because this poem talks of grief? Or because such revelations are best kept a secret? I will never remember.

Travel, and travel young!

Recently I have discovered an aspect of life which seems so fascinating to me now that it seems reprehensible that it was not an integral part of me earlier. The urge to travel, discover new worlds and reap all the benefits which come along with it is endearing. Beyond the obvious, there are so many things which you learn when you travel.

The point I have to make is that travel young. People often give various excuses like the lack of time, the need to save at a particular stage of life etc. However, the world is littered with cases where people end up not travelling at all, even when they have time and money on their side. And that, is such a pity.

The youth of your life is when you are forming a view about the world, opening up your minds to different aspects and growing. Travel at this age does something very important to you- it gives you an opportunity to grow. There is nothing better than travel when it comes to discovering yourself and what better than youth to do that? I would go as far to say that travel can actually help you figure what you want to do with life.

Discover the Himalayas, swim in the Indian Ocean, party hard in Thailand, bingee in New Zealand, soak in the culture of Cambodia & Laos, hike the mountains of Mexico, safari in South Africa, cross the European borders by train, learn Mandarin. Life, after all, is so beautiful!

Travel young because:

It helps you open your mind to the world and forms views in your head

It helps you discover yourself and your purpose

It teaches you how to live with the nature, its children and eccentricities

It imbibes qualities like independence, and gives you a great level of maturity

It improves you as a person

You are most energetic when you are young!

Udaan..

After almost 4 years and watching this movie for the 8-9th time, I realized that my blog is incomplete if it doesn't  have anything on my all-time favorite movie. Bit late I Know, but as they say better late than never.

Udaan really makes you think. Without being spectacular, Udaan sends across its message. It’s not your movie where you have stand out scenes, but one which slowly but surely brings out some ideas. A movie which grows on you as time goes by.

We’ve all had dreams in life. We’ve all had passions in life. But how many of us have chosen to pursue our passion in life? How many of us have had the courage to build our lives around our passion? When I join that consulting firm paying me an eight digit figure, is that what makes me happy? Or rather, am I happy doing that job? Is there a spice in my life apart from the job? Why did I not pursue something I wanted to? Does one have to compromise with such choices in life?

These and many more questions run through your mind after watching this movie. Writing is just an example. The crucial aspect is being passionate about the thing you love. About pursuing your passion. And Movie brings about this aspect in a way which no other movie in recent memory has done. Movie goes a long way in showing how listless a passionless life can become. Ah… The actors. They were all brilliantly effective. The music and the lyrics are still In my ear, like a magical elf.

Some of My favoutire lines from the songs

Aazaadiyan

Subah Ki Kirno Ko Rokein Jo Salaakhein Hai Kahan

Jo Khayalon Pe Pehre Daale Woh Aankhein Hai Kahan

Par Khulne Ki Deri Hai Parinde Udh Ke Jhoomenge

Aasman Aasman Aasman

Geet

Dhool Jami Thi Aankhon Mein

Khwab Khile Ab Lakhon Mein

Naya Kuch Naya To Zaroor Hai

Dard Ki Baatien Kal Ki Hain

Aaj Mein Khushiyan Chalki Hain

Naya Kuch Naya To Zaroor Hai

Jebon Mein Hum Raatein Liye Ghuma Kare

Fursat Ke Yeh Mauke Sabhi Jhuma Kare

Haan Yeh Umango Se Poora Hua Seena Hai (Seena Hai ..)

Lamha Yeh Maanga Nahi, Isse Humne Cheena Hai (Cheena Hai ..)

Yunhi Jeena Hai

Naav

Rakh Dega Jhakjhor Ke Tujhe

Tufano Ka Ghor Hai Dera Ghor Hai Dera

Bhanwar Se Dar Jo Haar Maan Le

Kaheka Phir Jor Hai Tera Jor Hai Tera

Hai Dil Mei Roshni Tere

Tu Cheer Daal Sab Ghere

Lehron Ki Gardan Kas Ke

Daal Phande Re

Ki Dariyan Bole Waaha Re Panthi

Saar Ankhon Pe Naav Hai Teri Naav Hai Teri

Udaan

Nadi Mein Talab Hai

Kahin Jo Agar, Samandar Kahan Door Hai

Damakti Garaz Hai, Sone Mein Agar

To Jalna Bhi Manzoor Hai

Ik Udaan Kab Talak Yun Kaid Rahegi

Roko Na Chod Do Isse

Ik Udaan Hi Sapno Ko Zindagi Degi

Sapno Se Jod Do Isse

Movie is more than close to my heart. It depict something have always fantasized, sitting along the railway track/ beside the river bed with notebook and pen, observing the surroundings and writing exquisitely conceived sentences with words, immaculately strung together, I don’t think anything else in this world can give me equivalent bliss. Even the thought of this makes me smile.

Crux: So, are you ready to pursue your passion in life? Are you ready to rediscover the spice in your life? Or do you even care about it? Think about it.

Kahani Khatam Hai Ya Shuruwaat Hone Ke Hai

Subha Nayi Hai Yeh Ya Phir Raat Hone Ko Hai

Aane Wala Waqt Dega Panha Hai

Ya Phir Se Milenge woh Raahein

Khabar Kya, Kya Pataa

Glass half-full.

I am not sure if it's a good thing or a bad one, but the (for sure) baffling deal about life is that it can always get worse. No matter how much of a pickle you are in, life is mockingly creative enough to slam in another one at you. It's true to the extent of being funny, really, and the worst part of it all is that it comes with the realization that, 'Oh Dear God, I was so much better off before.'

I would so want to be the person, who sees the glass half full, who finds happiness in unfavorable times, all rosy and peachy, but sadly I am not. I am also not saying that all the misfortunes of the wide world have been thrust upon my feeble shoulders, no! But there are times in my life (and the frequency now seems to be increasing bloody freakishly) where just about the time I try to reason my way out, telling myself, it can only get better from here, life is sadist enough to prove otherwise.

I am at a place in my life where I have no clue where I am, where I am heading to, and whats driving me... this is one of those times, where you feel a million voices rambling inside your head, so much so that it eventually becomes a constant droning buzz of absolute nothing.

I want to be a spectator and watch my life over again, there is a good chance I might be able to figure out where I left that behind and more importantly… what it was!!

I am feeling like this because in anticipation of big things and big events in life, I am ignoring the little grains of delight that are all around me. Sometimes they are really insignificant to notice, or I am too preoccupied to acknowledge, sometimes I am just too burnt out to give it a thought, but  i guess they are the things which matter the most.

Have to start seeing the glass as half full!!

From the vella dimag!!

Over the past few days, I've often been coming across people in their twenties, early or late, who are trying hard to carve a niche for themselves in the professional and the corporate worlds.

Well, today the world is full of these people.

Almost everyone you meet in that particular age-group falls in a similar category, trying to prove themselves in their chosen respective segments of the corporate circus. These people that I have met, have been Analysts, Engineers, Marketing professionals, financial advisors and the like.

Peculiarly, very peculiarly indeed, I have found a common thread running through them, all of them. Almost all of these passionately driven, smartly dressed and appropriately conducted young people, have had a history of artistic inclination. All of them, yes. And this comes out of them accidentally almost.

Something being talked about, or a song on the radio, or some place they visited, or any such nostalgia-evoking occurrence takes them down the memory lane, and the reminiscing of the good old college or school days begins, which does not, nearly ever, stop immediately. A few pegs down, and you can't rule out a full-fledged performance out of them. A few more, and the nostalgia might just become too strong to handle, often making people break down, or at least romantically muse over the days of beautiful art gone by.

And more often than not, in good measure, these people hardly carry many regrets about not being able to visit their respective revered arts more frequently. It is almost as if they are happy saving their best performances for such drunken moments, or moments of nostalgic gatherings, and once the reminiscing session is over, they're back to chasing their professional goals passionately and cheerily.

Such encounters have, lately, left me wondering. Are these people better off than the ones who recognize their love for the arts early on and direct all their energies towards their chosen and accepted calling? Because clearly, the former are the ones enjoying the best of both worlds. Okay well, not the 'best' of the other world, but still...you know what I mean !

These people, who tread the socially acceptable and respectable professional paths, do good for themselves monetarily, and still manage to keep bits of their art alive within them, which shows up at social gatherings, have earned my respect of late.

making things look easier for his corporate clients, and dealing from his suite in the city's swankiest luxury hotel. A painter creates wonderful creations every Sunday after working hard in the University all week, while a poet gathers applause from his colleagues over cups of coffee and cigarette puffs at work.

I can't say this about everyone else in this context, but I, for one, sometimes do miss the academic competitiveness I possessed as a student. The urge to learn more and more and to display the power of the intellect in academically inclined circles, the proving of superiority through meaningless scorecards, the primness and the decor of corporate social behaviour. This makes me wonder, isn't this other breed enjoying more, being able to live both lives alternately.

The vella dimag, as is its convention, plays games with the self.

Confession Time!!

1        My temper fuse is very short. I do not get angry quite often but when I do, all hell breaks loose. I stop thinking. I say such mean and nasty things that I wouldn't have said otherwise. I even start using swear words. Having said that, I do not and I repeat DO NOT get angry without any rhyme or reason.

2        I secretly love the fact that I am not fat and that I do not gain much weight inspite of eating the oily, deep fried, junk food everyday.

3        I love compliments. Like really. But when someone compliments me, I just can't take it with a simple 'thankyou'. I have to try and deny it, make a joke out of it or change the topic.

4        I am very uncomfortable around people I meet for the first time. Sometimes, they get the impression that I don't like them and sometimes it is true but most of the times, its just because I am a very socially awkward person. The truth is - most of the times I want to talk to them, I just don't know how to.

5        I have a very readable face. If I do not like someone, it is apparant on my face and if I like someone, it is very apparant too. Similarly if I am in a bad mood, pissed off or angry, you can see it on my face. You just have to be a little 'observant'.

6        I live to eat and do not eat to live.

7        I love the smell of new books and paper. It is probably my favourite smell besides petrol, turpentine oil and paint

8        I am the most annoyingly opinionated person ever.

9        I associate certain things with places. Like momos with Dilli haat, golgappe with Bengali market, rains with Cherrapunjee, cheesecakes with Big Chill, intellectual and interesting conversations with IHC, shawarmas with Al Bake.

10    I cannot stay at home. It depresses me. I love to go out. Discover new places, meet new people,  eat at a new restraurant.

11    I have sudden midnight cravings for dark chocolate, cream and jelly, gulab jamun.

12    My ego is huge and very fragile. If you mess with it, I am going to hate you forever.

13    If I had things my way, I'd record every interaction I've had with people and then sit with a tub of hot chocolate fudge and cheese popcorn and watch it.

14    I am probably the most impatient person in this whole freakin world. I hate waiting for others and try my best to not make others wait.

15    Surprisingly, I've been brutally honest in this post. Generally, I'm a  closed person. Writing is easier I guess

A Conversation.

Why is it that most people I meet have such a vast understanding of society, and virtually no understanding of the individual? Is it that hard to understand what to say so that you don't disturb another person's peace of mind? It doesn't matter that no harm was meant, but we owe it to ourselves, as intelligent human being to act in ways that will cause least unease to others, while ensuring that we are being true to ourselves.

I've noticed that the strongest thought that strikes me while talking to someone, whenever it does happen during a conversation, stays till the end, and defines the conversation. There are a million distractions along the way, all adding to the joy of sharing, but disconnected. To me, good conversation is not the one during which you touch upon, sometimes discuss in detail, about the ideas and happenings, and in the end are left with nothing to take home.

Good conversations make me smile. I laugh a lot these days - as do so many people I see around me. It is a good thing - it lightens the heart and reminds one of the importance of ease and cheer. And then there is the smile that I don't see as often - one that draws from the intensity of the heart that is accompanied by a catch in the throat.

Good conversations make me want to write. They almost always catch me criticising myself for not having a notebook and a pencil, and at times that I feel that adventurous, even running to get them and record thoughts that I think deserve to be jotted (with due credit to the original thinker, of course). Then I'll say - I'm done recording for today, and be told how it wouldn't be surprising if those were to be my last words. Good conversations help me regain peace, stay connected to myself, and among other things, finish incredibly discontinuous posts.

From subconscious mind.

Maybe there is a subconscience after all, maybe it only comes alive when you are not consious enough to know better, maybe I am drunk when I am writing this, but the truth that I see right now is that things and events become relatively clearer( for lack of a better word) when you are more in touch with your sub-conscience, aka when you are drunk.... Events seem to explain more... things seem to start making more sense... and theories of what is, what was and what is to be start making a tad more sense!

Its wierd but so true, fellow happy drinkers would like to agree with me, a lot of hypotheses and logics suddenly start making sense under the influence of something greater? weaker? (I can't really be a judge of that) but 'intoxication' as one might like to call it.

It's sad that it is so. I don't know why it came over me to try and write this right now. I just felt like so I gave it effect. Hope to make more sense when I can.

yOurTrUly,

Subconscious Mind.

Eyelash.

Pensive sadness is not what he would have called his state of mind. Sadness always suggest a cause. But in his case it’s deeper. The metaphor about a stagnant ship in the middle of the Atlantic somehow didn’t exactly reflects the pensive sadness that has been all over him in these times.

 

He was having endless supply of pensive thoughts but the Irritation in his eye was distracting him. He finally gathered courage to walk over to the mirror and looked at himself. He avoided looking at all of his face and so moved closer to the mirror to focus on his eye. The problem was quite prevalent, a single eye - lash lost its position and was irritating his eye instead. He carefully pulled it aside. The escaped eye – lash now calmly lay on his finger. Just then he recollected, though it’s silly but why deny opportunity of hope? So he closed his eyes, wished, and opened his eyes to look at the tiny eye – lash and softly blew at it. It didn’t moved. He was about to harder when he recollected that eye – lash is supposed to be blown from palm for the wish to come true.

 

Slightly relived. He placed it on his palm and repeated the activity again. Then he blew at it hoping the magic to happen. But again it didn’t budge. He blewed harder and harder and every attempt increased his anger. After 10 attempts, he was dejected with the whole process and shook his hand to escape from the vicious betrayer. But the eye lash still didn’t left his hand. Finally he threw up his hands in anger and walked off

 

Apparently, it isn't so easy to regain hope ... ;)

Six Degrees of Ignorance

1. Initially you are not really aware that you are ignorant.

2. Next you feel that you are ignorant but that everyone else knows everything.

3. Then you think you know everything and that everyone else knows everything too.

4. Later you realise that you know almost nothing.

5. Following that, you discover that everyone else knows nothing much either.

6. Finally it dawns upon you that all this knowing and unknowing doesn't really matter. It is all just blah.

Women - my classification

Now, let me classify Women based on my (.ahem!!)... experience in attracting the other species-

1. Women, who are worth looking at and sighing - those on televison u can see them many times ,but can never even dream of having them (I Love you Scarlett Johansson).
2. Women, who are extremely good looking, sexy, smart, magnetic and more importantly those I can never have coz they are either already taken, or they dun even look at people like me.
3. Women, who are of the above type but major fault - they are Lesbian!
4. Women, who u try and line- marofy but they never fall for you.
5. Women, who like you but never thought of u "that way"!!(bahh!!)
6. Women, who line marofy you, but you never thought of them "that way" !!
7. Women, who are pretty but are really dumb, who will make your life so miserable and colourless that you might even consider suicide ;)(Have a good experience here, please avoid this category ;))
8. Women you are going around with but u realize this act isn't going to last too long.
9. Lastly the miscellaneous category, this totally depends upon individual preference like, height issues, irritating voice, long/short nose, big/small eyes, To fat/ to thin and other blahhhhs of the world.

At this rate, losers like me and if u are, are never going to find anyone. Enjoy while it lasts -coz someone might snatch it all from you!

love,
The Stereotype loser ;)

Ignorant faith..

There was once a woman who married in her prime, a good man. She was unknown to the dynamics of marriage but that man made her believe that marriage was easy. She trusted him and they married. Then she came to his home and they lived together. And then she became a good wife. She cared for his mother and for him. She loved them, she had to. That's what everyone told her. Be a good wife. Be what you are expected to be. And that is what she became.
She then bore him two children. A young girl followed her elder son. And she thought she had a happy life. He ensured that she believed that. She now took care of a family of five and she was happy. Her son grew up and was fast becoming a young man. Her daughter was growing too. She was a proud mother.
And a proud wife. She knew the family was going through some trouble regarding money. With the bills to pay and the children's education to look after for. But her husband was a good man. He didn't let her worry much. He said everything was okay and that it was. And she believed him. Why fight the man who knew better? He had after all ensured their safety before. All these years of marriage and there was never much trouble.
One day he left for work like usual. She was busy running after the children making them eat. Then she went to her mother-in-law to check on her. And she spent rest of the day working like a good wife and mother. And that is when she noticed that he had left his wallet behind. She then found his phone. And then his car keys. Only his umbrella was missing. A clear deviation. But he would return. Like he has been doing.
Evening sneaked in through the door. She waited. Half glanced at the road outside. Night came and went by. He was not home yet. Morning came. And many mornings went by. But she waited some more. With tears. With hope. So did her children.
Her husband was a man of words and a father. Such men do not deceive. They are men bred of virtues. And she understood her truth in that. So when men clad in uniform came to ask her about him, she faced those questions like a woman scorned. No. They never fought. No. They hadn't had money problems. At least not any to concern people outside their marital bonds. Yes. She knew he was happy. And many such questions came. And many more uniforms.
Three months have gone by since I heard of this woman. And of the husband who deserted her.
She now has dry tears running down her face. She lives in ignorant faith. Even though her son is angered at the man's cowardly desertion. And the girl, she fights to keep memories. But the woman, she still waits in vain for everyone told her he was a good man.

Life, shife and some other stuff..

I'm often amazed at how amazingly different people are from each other.

The way they think, the way they behave, the way they react to situations, the friends they make, the values they have, the priorities they have, the way they treat other people, even the way they treat themselves. The way they live their life.

How does a person decide how to live his/her life? Is there a formula to it?

Perhaps there really is a formula. Each one of us has a formula by which we live our lives. A formula derived over the years by “N” no. of observations, experiences and experimentations, “N” no of mistakes and “N” no of lessons learnt from these mistakes. And the most amazing part is -- this formula keeps changing as the years go by. And no two people have the exact same formula.

It's a continuous process of improvisation. We add certain ingredients, remove some, some work out, some result in explosions, and then finally we come up with a suitable formula. Suitable for our life at that particular moment. Because come tomorrow, it may change. Heck, it will change.

Here are a few ingredients that go into the present formula of my life, that I remind myself of, now and then:

•Accept people for who they are.

•Take your job seriously. Some day you will want to look back at it and be proud.

•You can't possibly love everyone on the planet. It's okay to not like some people.

 •There may be certain people who dislike you and piss you off, but for each of them, you have ten others who love you.

 •A smile goes a long way. When you smile, do so from the heart.

 •If you love and trust, do so completely.

 •It's okay to be angry, hurt, jealous and negative at times.

 •Invest in your friendships. They are precious. And you have to work at them to make them work.

•Travel more. There's a lot to be seen, and there isn't enough time.

•Money is important. So spend it ;) 

•Be polite.

•Take time out for your hobbies. They are an important part of you. If you neglect them, you lose a bit of yourself.

•If you are in a position to help someone in need, don't think. Just do it. You have no idea how fortunate you are just to be able to help.

•Love people around you, but be prepared to steer your ship alone in a storm.

•If you don’t know where you stand with someone in a relationship it’s better you walk away

•Regretting is a waste of time. Every day is a new beginning.

•Don't hold grudges. They will only fill you with negativity.

•Never lose your sense of humour.

•Be tough in the face of adversity. Remember "Tough times don't last, tough people do."

•Take time to dress up. Pamper yourself now and then.

•Look good to feel good.

•Feel good to look good.

•Never miss an opportunity to surprise a loved one.

•Don't let anyone hurt you without your explicit permission.

•Don't ever forget how special you are.

•Life is short. Live it up.

It's true, no one has yet discovered the one magic formula that would be applicable to everyone to live that 'perfect life'. Perhaps because there is no such thing as a perfect life. Perhaps because we need to create from scratch, our own little perfect lives, with our own little imperfections.

 

When Words fail to soothe me..

Writing doesn't come easy anymore. There's an abundance of thoughts and memories and opinions in my mind, but they refuse to share themselves with my pen. The moment I try to untangle a sense of linear meaning to try form a logical sentence, the thought abandons me.

I envy people who can write at the drop of a handkerchief. It scares me but part of it also bemuses me. Do these people write because they care too much or do they write because they need that escape?

I think my incompetence lies in the fact that I want to remember what I write. I don't want to go back to my blog many years later and not recognize my own self in those words of mine. I have been afraid of change. At least of the kind that involves a greater loss than gain.

When I see people writing, especially churning poems like chickens churning eggs, I wonder. I wonder whether they remember it all. What prompted them to write that poem? I secretly feel that people indulging in poetry have forgot emotion now. Poetry has merely become that means where one strives to parade his/her grasp of language.Why, you ask? Part of it is a sly dismissal of jealousy that arises for these women and men of words. Another part is the realization that I will only be able to write once I strip language such that only my emotions and memories stay. That involves the fear that my words would never see the light of the day then. Why would I need to write if I could feel the emotions before the pen hits the paper? These fears have been my stasis for a long while now. I do try to slowly let go of these comfortable fears of mine. I also fear that what I hear happening around me has the tendency to affect me. In terms of the pointlessness of it all.

I do have issues. I knew my ruin was near when words would fail to soothe me. And I see myself becoming a man, a person who cares in this ruin perhaps. Perhaps...

From the Blank Mind!!

My blogging time seems to have shifted from 3 am to 5 am. Well, this atleast allows me to witness the sunrise. These being chuttis, such days are going to increase.

Lets try something different today...

She looked down the road. The wait hasnt yet ended. She is still there, on the pavement, all alone. All alone among a million people. People moving everywhere. People moving in front of her and behind her. People walking across the street, people sleeping in their rooms in the buildings lining the road. People sipping coffee and reading the newspapers.

Anyhow, lets get back to the her. In her red dress, she looks up the street forlornly. When will the waited come? Someone taps her shoulder from behind. She turns around slowly only to face a rag doll. A rag doll with a hand stretched out. A rag doll with expectant eyes looking up to her, hoping for some coins. A dilemna now adds onto her burderned mind. Should she give or not? The heart says "Give, she really seems to need some money, poor hungy girl". The mind says, " No, unless we stop helping these people, they wont start to help themselves. The parents conveniently send their sons and daughters to beg and then use that money instead of working hard themselves. Shouldnt encourage this practice." Before the fight between the heart and the mind ends, the doll makes its way towards better prospects. Thus, not taking a decision also turned out to be a decision.
Relieved, her mind gets back to the prime concern. How long shall she be waiting for her dear? Maybe some trouble has befallen. Maybe she should go get some help. Maybe she should just be more patient. Every passing second makes the dub-dub louder. Her gentle heart is overworking itself. Come soon, she pleads. Someone pushes her on his way to reach somewhere quickly. She murders him with his eyes. Fortunately for him, his back was facing her. Had he looked at her, he would have instantly turned to ashes. She wonders about these people. Each busy in his own pursuit, with not a thought for the people along the way. What do they do once they reach their destination? Run after another one. Run. That reminds her. And she looks up the street again. Willing an appearance, materialise into view at the peak of that slanted road. But all that appear are minute droplets in her eyes. She didnt even realise that her eyes were moist. She closes her eyes tightly. She shouldnt let anyone see her now. Atleast not her teary eyes. She should be strong. Or atleast act strong. Thats what she is has been told time and again. Be strong. Dont cry. But why? When crying can peel away your grief, why shouldnt she cry?

She seem to be loosing all hope. Just then, through her closed eyes, she experiences the pleasure. The pleasure of that familiar touch. That familiar sound. She opens her eyes. The eyes now filled with tears of joy. She bends down and gets her face licked. Who was more joyful, its hard to say. She hugs her Tequila. A hug that communicates all her love.
Picking up her puppy, she heads back home. Its almost time for school now.

Can't think of a title for this one!!

Aren't there occasions when you suddenly get this urge to talk to someone? Not someone in particular but not any-every-one either ... just that you feel a need to talk, about nothing in particular but not too inane to be ignored either. And, as it is bound to happen, you would not find anyone worthwhile to talk to. You can't call anyone reachable at the time without mildly upsetting them or making them question your sanity. The adjective 'worthwhile' does narrow down your choices quite considerably. So, you think, what the hell, just go to sleep! But you can't! As a result, you decide to have a monologue ... via your blog.

However, the point of contention then is that since you had no particular topic in mind to carry out the much wanted conversation, what would you start blogging about? Yeah, you can just type what you are thinking. And some thoughts ramble out.
There is as much mystery outside as there is inside .... both literally and metaphorically. Isn't it much tougher to figure out what you want then to actually obtain it? Even when you think you know what you want, you cannot be completely sure, since there always exists an uncertainty. It can get more complicated if the only way to know whether you want it or not is to try obtaining it but you cannot risk not wanting it once you obtain it leaving you are in a catch-22 situation (that reminds me, I still need to read that book)

Sometimes, you wish your mind would stop all the pondering and contemplation and give itself a break. You try to bring about the break by watching many hours of gripping drama or hilarious comedy but as soon as you stop, the mind jumps back to the same old state ... just as I am typing this, the song 'comfortably numb' comes out of the random selection on my phone... how ironic.

I know I am confused, but about what? No idea. Lazed around trying to figure what was wrong. The result.. nothing. Why is it that sometimes everything is fine, no troubles, no problems, no tensions, yet you do not feel good. You are surrounded by people, but you seem to be lonely. But no one can tell that anything is wrong because there is no change in your behaviour. Everything is fine but you arent.

Life is good but can be better :)