He has let himself go only once: it was an emotional moment, getting to his first hundred before his adoring home fans. But his celebration after he got to his first double-hundred, a landmark he sought and will cherish, was far more subdued. There was the raising of the arms and the acknowledgment of applause from his team-mates and the crowd. But then there was also a series of little pumps of the fist, and a waving of the helmet. Those were for himself. There was an air of fulfillment, of a man celebrating privately in public. His smile touched a million hearts: his struggle to regain his place, and some would say his honour, have been among the most stirring and uplifting stories in cricket.

A silent sob, an illusionistic life and a few moving seconds.

Torn between misery and resonsibility, men walk upon this soil. Clouded by unambiguous desire and deep-rotting fear, the pair of eyes seize to capture every oppurtune moment. Where there is wind, there is no water. Where there is sun, there is no enlightening light. Left to themselves, everything rots. Moth-eaten and thought deprived, the human form transcends itself into a dangerous clawed animal bereft of any reasoning power.
Impassionate flames reduce themselves to cold ash. So cold a vapour does it effuse that the eyes feel no fear, skin feels no pain. The flames that once blinded the ever growing sky, have now left the vision clear. The vision of the blue horizon merging with the crimson clouds, but is it what we craved for ? Wasn't it the flame that made us hope for the sanctity of the sky. But then, the brain has become so thick that every emotion has turned numb.

A drop of sweet, elixir of wine has fallen into our tastebuds. Deceived by the soul-filling poison, we have chosen to be lost in its taste. Our eyes have been turned blind by our own foolery. A silent sob, an illusionistic life and a few moving seconds. The shadows have crept across the gardens, the towers, the roads and amongst hearts of men. All sets of eyes have become fearsome and fearful. Deceived by the beauty of those eyes, we haven't yet realised our folly. We now walk upon dead corpses of a land that was. Or is this my nightmare ? Or was this the way the world always was ? Is my eyes the culprit, giving me a picture of a serene landscape ? Did it never exist ?
The tumultous uproar of the sky bursts down shards of the sea. Drenched in the realisation of a mistake, a mistake we committed when our hearts dreamt. All that remains is a wet pool of mud, swivelling and spiralling amongst itself, without a beginning nor an end. The sun has been blotted out. The sky has been draped over by the consequences of our desire, the nights have become darker. A cold shrill that wasn't there before, settles into pure hearts. For others, it is an unrealised epitome of life's greed.

I used to by my own protection
but not now
My path has lost direction
somehow

And the clouds above move closer and closer
looking so dissatisfied.
And the ground below grows colder and colder
as they bind me inside.
But, the heartless wind keeps blowing and blowing.

I close both locks below the window
I blind all the light and turn away.
Sometimes, solution aren't so simple
Sometimes, goodbye is the only way.

Trying to be genuine, its not as easy as it seems
Somehow I get caught up in between.
Trying to be someone was easier than it seemed
Somehow I still got caught up in between
Between my pride and my promise
Between my lies and the truth

The vacancy these words reveal
is the only real thing that I am left to feel.
And I've got nothing to say

:D

Walking, without a compass.
Walking, with two legs.
There are only two things.
A sky above
A sky below.
Winds do blow
and I keep getting blown away.
I tried to stand tall amongst the ruins
But found that I was also amongst ruins.
Now I smile at myself.
There's Nothing to lose, or to gain, in this world.
Lets walk forth.
And enjoy walking.
Let's share our misfortunes.
Let's forget about the past.
Let's forget ourselves.
Let's dwell in this world.

A labyrinth

A lot of pages have been left unwritten. A lot of words have been left unsaid. All that was there was a mirage. A mirage formed from the heart's ever greedy desires. The day is over, mist and dew have fallen, cold-blooded night has descended upon me. I can't see myself. Vast stretches of sand move beneath my feet. My legs feel the ail of the tiring exercise. A purposeless, hard walk on sands which do not know where they are going to. I kneel before the stars, the night-sky, the cold-blooded night, the mushy sands, I kneel before myself. Show me light. Show me what I have to do. What does free-will have to do in this intricately planned out world ? I let you have your choices because my choices are heartbroken.
A few good moments on this soil is all that I ask for. The fresh air caressing my cheeks in the dawn, the palms waving under the half-knitted moon and a reek of absolutely crystal water, that shines diamond in the noon. Hand me these and I vow never to wield this pen again. For today, I am broken. I am shattered by my own treachery. I no longer have faith in myself. I am not me. My actions have no control over my thoughts. I have degraded myself into a non-humane form. So self-engrossed that there is no place for this world. Not even a sincere thought has cared to ripple across my brain. All have been in the hope of fame, admiration or sympathy.
But today, while this tap, mercilessly, lets the water flow and the pen, unthinkingly, lets the words flow, I sit. I sit, looking at mankind, looking at myself. So accustomed to the each pixel of my tiresome features. I do not weep for my heart is no longer alive. Only a being with claws on his hand and hard-toothed canines on his mouth. Ready to bite a sweet bite upon men who have walked alongside.
Where are we ? Why does it have to be so beautiful ? Why are we here and nowhere else ? Why am I falling under the weight of my own feet ? Why am I hiding myself ? Why is it that thoughts aren't transparent ? Why is it that emotions are so afraid to show themselves under the sun ?
I have answered these questions a million times over. But then, we move on. Time is like a river which keeps flowing towards the eternal ocean. The ocean is unseen. But the dipping blot of fire in the horizon tells me that the ocean will always be there. And it too dies.

Of paradoxes, emotions, life, the self and me.

It may well be just a glue of dread and drum, but it certainly is something! Paradoxes in every vision, every moment levy me with a disbelief in the whole.....thing. A sort of skeptic whom I didn't know to have existed in me before. And in this big spoof of paradoxes are put in an unexplainable thing called emotion. I don't know how emotions came to exist, or how the genes control the brain's tiresome work. But nevertheless, emotions drive man. A human is what emotion is. An individual becomes an individual only when his range of emotions and perception of emotions vary from each other, which basically means that their genes are different. This teetered dread and drum along with the quotient called emotion, minister the master paradox of all paradoxes in this conceptually paradoxical Universe, that is, time. With this newly mentioned paradox, we are able to obtain a situation where all other filthy paradoxes can interact with each other in odd kinds of permutations and combinations. And finally, we come to the word 'life'. It can simply be defined as "sigma Paradox". I won't call it as the master paradox because I have already used that adjective for time. I don't repent it either.
Onto a more philosophical and fucking viewpoint now; In this odd system, where perception is clouded by disbelief, we are meant to move forth till the paradox time no longer continues to suffocate us. By the previous sentence, I meant that we would eventually 'die' at a point of 'time'. But then this is where the emotion quotient springs up. Guided by these ticklish things found in the vacuum of the brain, humans drive forth all sorts of impish fantasies. The very fact that I consider human actions as 'impish fantasies' is an outcome of the emotion that I am experiencing now. Sages have, in the past, successfully overcome emotions and spent their 'time' plucking flowers, which sort of gave them a serene and contented emotion, which, according to them, is not an emotion.
Before further idio(ma)tic expressions, I would like to dwell more upon the meaning of 'paradox'. The simplest example of a paradox that I can think of is :
The Below statement is true
The above statement is false.
Many beautiful paradoxes like the self engrossing videos, that is, when a mirror reflects the reflection of the reflection of the .... infinitely, the reflection of you. The creepy and mindblowingly beautiful thing about paradoxes is that it sort of makes you crave to know the end of it and you tend to believe that there is an end to it, while it just loops on and on. Such is the case with Universe and atom. I used to wonder the Universe, which we are a part of, as an atom. The same atom which makes up this sheet of paper or this hands. I mean to say that we are a part of each atom present in this "Universe" and that each atom is a 'Universe' of which we are part of. I abandoned this view since I had to do my chemistry assignment.
Finally, we come to the I, the thing, the self, the me, this 172 cms of space. The feeling of entity is simply indescribable because I am me. How much ever I try to communicate how it is to have a feeling of 'me', I will never succeed, neither will you. Is it a paradox ? I don't know. Douglas. R. Hofstadter believes that 'I' is a sort of another self reflecting paradox but he wasn't able to drive any point. Nor can I be expressed in mathematical terms. 'I' just exists within the paradox of time. The 'I' might have been weaved in by a rather forbidden combination of paradoxes within 'time'. And I was born.
The 'I' weaves by itself, rather complex network of emotions, which tends to make the 'I' waste its time on this beautiful paradox.But well, its the 'I' whose got to decide which paradox he is more comfortable with, the paradox called emotion or the paradox called time ?

A theoritical explanation without using a word that comes after D.

Its too hot up here.
With all emotions churning in and out and in and out.
Put a sieve amidst all this
and be asked to sieve them off.
And sieve starts to churn along.
(chorus) Churn Churn Churn

A biology record and a clock
A chemistry record and a torn off page
A Physics sir and lots of pages
A Maths sir and 'imposition'
(chorus) Balle Balle Balle

Memory uproots and flies off
Consciousness remains
without any purpose.
Tried pushing it away,
But the rope wasn't enough.
(chorus) The ceiling is too high, The ceiling is too high

Put the opposite sex into the equation.
And what do we get ?
Life
(chorus) Life Life Life

A directionless Vector

Now, I've got to do
What I've got to do.
What I've got to do,
is the question that beats me.
There is a lot of time remaining, to be spent
And time isn't a commodity that comes with a discount
So,practically, it means I've got to live through
'To live through' - seems just three words,
which,it, infact, is
But that is not the point.
The point is that,
it is pointless.
I have kept stressing on this point,
for the past 365 days,
inorder to convince myself,
that it is pointless.
But time and event made me stray away
into an improbable arena of pointfullness
where stars are red, girls wear churidars,
boys trip you over with legs, infact, leg,
And head stays out of coverage area.

Suddenly, the light comes back on
and I am on a white room.
Alongside God Himself, snoozing in his chair
In my hand is a pen and paper
Croak! God gets startled and wakes up
And I ask for an autograph
The white room dissolves,
along with me,
and here I am
thudding away As and Ws and As and Ys
just to stress the point
which, still, continues to be that
it is quite pointless.

Did you ever think ?

When the main question of existence is asked
And the answer is found
You don't feel the need to blog anything
Thats the reason why I guess I ain't writing any stuff of recently
And mind you, this wasn't,rather, isn't a poem
Just thought of writing line by line,
To avoid the monotony.

Anyway the sun still sets in the east
And things aren't the way they should be
Well, atleast the bonds are quite volatile
with my mind doing nothing to make things simple

In your head, in your head they are fighting,
With their tanks and their bombs,
And their bombs and their guns.
In your head, in your head, they are crying...

It's the same old theme since nineteen-sixteen.
In your head, in your head they're still fighting,
With their tanks and their bombs,
And their bombs and their guns.
In your head, in your head, they are dying... .

The sun may set in the east but atleast its a fine location
Though a little off the block sense of direction.
Who knows if the poles didn't switch positions while we slept.
Space may be the final frontier but it was made in a hollywood basement
Go "big bang", you hear much sweeter sounds these days

The moment you are concerned about being not concerned
You start to fear life and death
Which was the revolution that kept the humans move forward
What makes them think we went forward
Couldn't it have been a little to the left ?

Bloody fools seem to think there are only two options
If it were so, I wouldn't be alive
nor would this computer
which indeed, is classified as a non-living thing.
coz it doesnt exhibit any metabolic activities resulting in growth
But it certainly is hearing, or taking in, what I have to say, rather, write.
Which is what I want, at the moment.
And certainly, non-living things are sometimes affable.
Especially a Sony Playstation.
Whistle on.

Run, fall down, smile, be jolly, get hit on the head,
be serious,get depressed, be cared for, get over
stop the story

See what you never chose to see
Enjoy on
Laugh and term it "an extra-ordinary bit of wit and acting skills"
Be alive to say those.

Love life.

His palms are sweaty
His weak arms are heavy
..............................................
I think I'm having amnesia and deja vu at the same time.
I think I've forgotten this before.

Deviod of expressions and imagination, I sit. Been watching the sunlight get flooded in the room and slowly retrace its path. Been hearing the fan swinging swiftly.
Oh crap! I have kinematics+vectors test today. And I dunno any bloody thing about it! Just been doing perfectly nothing for the past two months. Sitting idly, waiting for some non-existent thing, bidding away my time by sleeping and indulging in troubles.
Been looking at things both from damn serious and damn jolly outlook. Fed up of both. Bereft of any other perspective.
The going has been rather tough. Compounded by my lack of interest in academics, life has been taking the shape of a rather aggressive crocodile.
Don't even have the patience to write gramatically correct sentences. Can't even bother to look up the notes. Dunno where all this is heading to.
World is now a very small corridor where I cosily settle around for a chat, over a few drinks, phone calls and maybe pranks of a larger scale. Dunno what had been happening in the world since Saddam was executed and Ganguly got a 79 against England.

Being myself

Two eyes that sees colour,
And a head that seeks trouble,
Two hands and two legs, that exists,
Just in case I need to run.

Its funny being me
Because life's just a fricking movie
And I love playing the hero,
the villain, the sub-hero and the anti-hero
Why ? I dunno.
I don't get paid for it
But do get beaten up from time to time

Still, I refuse to learn
Coz learning is such a waste of time
I fall into the same hole
and I yell for help.
People always give me a hand
Why ? I dunno :D but they do
To them, all I have to say is a "thank you"

If life's a fricking movie
Then, I might as well be the director too
Where to, direct to ? :-??
Hehe, till I cease to be alive, I guess.

Time reads 23 05, before going onto 23 30

Overcame by a storm before I knew the existence of a storm
Someone told me its called 'storm'
Then, I came to term the storm as 'storm'
And took up the dictionary to find out its meaning
they told me that it was;
"a disturbed state of an astronomical body's atmosphere, especially affecting its surface, and strongly implying severe weather."
bullshit :-j

I have no more blood,
what was left of it was consumed in adrenaline
and in learning the visceral peritoniums and oritalagus cuniculus.
I thought of becoming what I am, for a change.
and stopped visiting http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=19445877 .
And 6 hours before the next tuition,
10 hours before the oral questions,
18 hours before another set of the above mentioned
24 hours before I repeat the above three lines,
I sit here.
I dunno what it means. :-??
Prolly, a spurge of adrenaline.
Consuming more blood out of my eyes.

World is a 360 degree nothing
We come around, no matter where we go.
unless someone pulls off the trigger of a gun
or if the world just decides to flatten out.

Kurl on – Sleep well.

Dig dig dig …. Chainsaws ….dig dig dig….ambulance ringing….dig dig dig….beheaded heads….dig dig dig….wakes up.... dig dag dig….tuition @ 6 am…. Digggg!!! Its 5 40…. Dig dig dig…. Chainsaws ….dig dig dig… ambulance ringing…dig dig dig…. beheaded heads.

Voice

Centuries of the future, here is my century, solitary and deformed - the accused. My client is tearing himself open with his own hands. What you take for white lymph is blood. There are no red corpuscles for the accused is dying of hunger. But I will tell you the secret of these multiple incisions. The century might have been a good one had not man been watched from time immemorial by the cruel enemy who had sworn to destroy him, that hairless, evil, flesh-eating beast - man himself. One and one make one, there's our mystery. The beast was hiding, and suddenly we surprised his look deep in the eyes of our neighbours. So we struck. Legitimate self-defence. I surprised the beast. I struck. A man fell, and in his dying eyes I saw the beast still living - myself. One and one make one - what a misunderstanding! Where does this come from, this rancid, dead taste in my mouth? from man ? from the beast? from myself ? It is the taste of the century. Happy Centuries, you who donot know our hatreds, how could you understand the atrocious power of our fatal loves? Love. Hatred. One and one... Acquit us! My client was the first to know the shame. He knows he is naked. Beautiful children, you are born of us, our pain has brought you forth. This century is a woman in labour. Will you condemn your mother? Eh ? Answer! (Pause) The thirtieth century no longer replies. Perhaps there will be no more centuries after ours. Perhaps a bomb will blow out all lights. Everything will be dead: eyes, judges, time. Night. Oh, Tribunal of the Night, you who were, who will be and who are; I have been! I have been! I, Franz von Gerlach, here in this room, have taken the century upon my shoulders and have said: I will answer for it. This day and forever. What do you say? Eh ? Answer! ( Jean Paul Sartre)

Nothing much to say, except for that, we wasted our time doing whatever we did now.

My first look at Science

Science is all about where we came from, where we are and where we are going.
In 1936, Albert Einstein said " The eternal mystery of the world is its comprehensibility". Yeah! the one that makes you exclaim at every discovery " How obvious! How stupid of me not to have worked that out for myself".

Ernest Rutherford once said " Science is divided into two categories - physics and stamp collecting". Such was his disdain for other sciences that he was eventually awarded the Nobel Prize for Chemistry ( 1908, for his work on radioactivity and what-not)

The fate of specialists in any one area of science is to focus more and more narrowly on their topic, learning more and more about less and less, until they end up knowing everything about nothing.

What I have learnt from the past 16 years about Science :-

Gravity, as it happens, is a very weak force, unless you have a lot of matter around.

This is a brightfully good place to be in, well, atleast on weekends.

In 10 days.....

I realised the following things.

1. I don't want things to happen as meticulously as planned. Rather, I want things to happen and believe I had planned meticulously for it.

2. The first realization took a long time coming

3. There is possibility of me inventing a time machine, but the only drawback is that it moves only in forward direction and that too by about 8 hours or so, well, depends on the size of the book.

4. The more I think about writing more, the more I feel of sleeping face down on the bed.

5. I want to sleep badly.

Suicide

A menagerie of little white flames burst into the horizon,
A wide frequency of drums thud on to my ear hole
A little dark smoke consumes the drunken shadows
Air in plenty, pushes the nose into pain of exhaustion
Slimy frogs creep the jumping piece of ground
Red mud gives away its brief life to the black
Time for the red soul to consume itself in its power
Twitching caution arises from the ashes,
alighting the fear for caution.
Liquids enrich the hydrated exterior.
My last glance is blinded by the pyre
Words are no more, only the I remains.

Serotonin

Beneath the sky,
Lies the sun.

It hangs there all by itself,
Which makes humans sometimes wonder
If everything is actually alright.
It falls into the big ocean at night, though.

Beneath the sun,
lies two twigs and a broken branch.
They are
Stretched across a number that would make you dazzled.

Nothing exists across that vast number
only a few shadows that move here and there.

There are different shades of shadows
Some are giant-scorpion-like, formed on the walls
of literature texts of some things.
Some are white and invisible, formed
everywhere black and visible.

Besides there is nothing else,
only a few unwanted mosses.
and some moments that keep passing on

On on on and on,
From the time Coleridge
used 'awn' instead of 'on',
to the time he was buried
underneath his own lawn,
with men all tied-up necks.

Time was a word they discovered
They called the language by its own way
as English.
In such a way that English can be spoken
only in English.


These blokes with tied up necks
go on tying it up until they suffocate
and end up the way Coleridge did

That remindes me, besides shadows
there are men too.


:)

Some words are never meant to be understood.

govind v (4/4/2007 2:04:28 AM): One fine day, I find himself pushed into me. I din knoe I was him, I din care I was him, I... I..... I.. don knoe wat? why? hoe? wen? I dont knoe why I am sittin here? I dont know what all this means.
govind v (4/4/2007 2:04:56 AM): I dont know anything about any bullshit
govind v (4/4/2007 2:05:14 AM): but all I knoe is dat
govind v (4/4/2007 2:06:53 AM): all I knoe is dat, there are always words in your head that can be typed. all I knoe is dat there is nothing that stops me from being happy. All I knoe is dat, I dont give a damn abt anything that presents over me.

A pair of feet and hands

Gases of clouds ghosted the moon. Black tars walk beneath my feet. Dark houses lulled itself into sleep. The mechanical watch hides itself from the reality. No more ticks, just a decayed stretch of abandoned roads.
Ruffling papers were dragged by the forces of time. I see the light that has so far seen me. Each quiet word I utter echoes through the silence. Each breath is smelled by the mankind, in its sleep.
A lonely piece of dust. Thats what I am. A dust that settles in everything it finds comfortable, till someone shrugs it off. To fly again in search of better settlement. Never cleansed, never noticed, never free. Perfumed by the forces of nature, it has been lost in the passage of time. But still remains a dust, invisibly. The light stares at me with responsibility of a CFL that lends vision to a student. A student of life. El Eye Ef EE. Four letters for the people in Oxford. Struggle, for a family man. Blunder, for the youth. Regret, for the old. For the ceased, a disease.
The reign of the ragged light have been reinstated. A circle that stands far away. Yet in my palms.Time has distanced it from me, scattering matter across infinity.
The division bell has struck my nerves. Thoughts that had conquered me long back, ceases to let me breathe easily. Steps taken forward start walking back again, dragged again by the force of time. A long abandoned road that has already felt my feet beholds me again. I have no option but to tread it again.

March 2, 8, 16, 20, 24, 28

The ceiling becomes hot at noon
Unleashing mirages in this loon
The blackboard swirls in mid-air
held aloft in the palms of examiner

And words seem to spit at me
at it being so uninspired, devoid of reason
The pen nods in agony at the thought
but it is trained to write and think-not
Buses and cars brush by the ears
and nails and prods bite my back
Endless lines stretch till my death
waiting for it to be filled by reason.

The reasoner has lost his will
And thinks about his phone bill
which has set upon scaling heights
With unseen calls on late-nights

Those that fade, appear in dreams
so sweet a pain, but not in the dawn
Screams and screeches wake up the alarm
Torn pieces of paper ruffle by the eyes
till it is shut and safely put away

Private Investigations

Behind every trouble, there is a solution
Behind every solution, there is an effort
Behind every effort, there is a need
Behind every need, lies a pair of chromosomes

Illusions

Denying what I want, I seek refuge in the fortress of happiness I built out of imagination. The imagination falters, so does the fortress, slipping me into a battlefield of torture. I remorse at what I turned myself into. The set of people that pass by my eyesight fade with time, but I refuse to let them go without having a good word about me. In this yearning, I lost myself. I became what each of you wanted me to become. Today, even I don't know if my hands touch the keyboard with intent or for sympathy.
A Broken jigsaw puzzle called life keeps on staring at me. I really don't know what I did. I tried not to care but then again it comes back to haunt.
I try to resign myself but unconsciously push myself to find out. I want to work out the possibilities, which seem to stretch as far as the Universe. The jigsaw puzzle seems to make more weaves around me, strangling me onto death. Every time I resign, there seems to be an unearthly power that tells me " All is lost. Nothing more", instills hope and pushes me onto victory. Then things start afresh, I lose myself and let it be weaved into me again. I have never seen the end. Maybe because I never believed it possible. The process will end someday but after that I won't be alive to be happy about it.
I don't know the reason for mankind to crave for anything. But everyone does, subconsciously atleast. There is a million people out there in the sun, I can't make everyone happy. I have to select a group of individuals that I can and leave the rest. Smiling faces are nice to see. But when someone frowns at me, I become restless, eager to establish my intentions and dig a hole into my own grave.
Let go mate. Let go. I am what I am. A word that doesn't make sense and that isn't supposed to. But whatever it means or doesn't mean, all I care about is that, it gives me confidence. The puzzle will become enormous. I can't afford to go head over heels, already. Lets enjoy the puzzle and never try to solve it.

This isn't a poem.

As long as we are alive we shouldn't care
At death, we don't have to
So, as long as we are what we are, we are what we are
which means we are what we are
What we are is what we really dunno
And u really shouldn't care, u know
This is a brightly good place to be in
Dun think therez much variety elsewhere
Why not look at it in awe, because
Therez nothing else to be in awe of.

A lane in the dark / Pulp Fiction

The pistol had two bullets. The man had the pistol.
He saw a movement in the shadows, down the lane. Rechecking the reserve, he set his eyes on the prey.

------------------
A quiet lantern-lit pavement. Pools of muddy water swirled around the drains.
The breath smelled of calmness, of hatred and of urgency.
Kitchen knife was all that he had, all that he needed.
Muffled footsteps reached his ears.
The shadows enveloped him.
--------------------

“Sorry” He smiled

--------------------

The car screeched through the wet road. The driver stepped on the gas. Trees, posts and houses flew past him. Signboards tripped into lawns. The road had become narrow. The door thudded shut. He dived into the lane, briefly pausing to feel his pocket.
---------------------

The drizzle stopped. She walked briskly past the signboards that led her to the G-lane. The roads had become wet. The night-sky was unusually bright. Moonlight descended into the lane.

------------------

The knife tipped off into the lawns as the brakes screeched again.

------------------

The shot was fired at a closer range. Clouds roared again. The water swept the blood into the drains. A brief moment of lightning shone her bloody freckles. More rain

------------------

The knife was stuck in his stomach. The screeching brakes alarmed him. The cries of pain were indistinguishable with the growing drizzles. The knife was disengaged from the torso. The pistol was removed from his hands. He looked at the .45 ACP. Two bullets.

-------------------

The shot was fired. The victim had his hands on the pocket. She was smiling at him in ecstasy. He gazed at her absent-mindedly.

-------------------

Vita e bella

BOY! Who would have thought that 41 hours before the Boards, I would be sitting here, typing into my own doom.
I am really excited. How I want that clock to turn over these useless 41 hours.
This day, next month, I would be in some cinema-hall, booing Mohanlal's antics. I have been thinking on the things I have to do after the you-know-what.
Gotto study guitar
Gotto go to Waterworks every morning,
Live on Medical College ground,
Once-in-a-while enter home,
Watch Ganguly hit centuries against Bermudians and Scottish ( they say some can roll their arms over these days),
Cycle to beach every evening with pals
Films, parties, living in friend's houses, freaking out with bro when he comes...er...if he comes, that is. Do they get cheap MP3 players in Goa ? Hmm.... need a playstation or two.
Oh Me God. Half an hour gone. Ney, I am not tensed, am I ?
Been wandering pointlessly for the past almost-16 years now. It was a thoroughly heartwarming and emotionally enduring experience. A special vote of thanks to those who decided to put down their knives and revolvers n let me on.
So, this is it, then. Finally, I reach the cross-roads. There is the road less travelled by and the oft one. Either I study or I don't. Either I suffer or I don't.
I am not ready to suffer and am not ready to study. Day after tommorow, here I come.
By the by, I like banana peels.

Confession of a schizophrenic

Rewinding to the instances where I went wrong,
I realize where I went wrong
The wrong foot and the wrong glance
I shook the wrong pair of hands
Flirted with danger till it fell in love with me
God pulled my leg, Satan saw it fit
Life is, was and will be what it ever was
What it ever was, beats me

I took comfort for granted
Constant change deceived me

I cried out loud, shouted into the night
to take me away from the mess

I have changed myself into a shadow
of mankind; that found woes in every pain
I have things to do; but I can't
I am in an eternal dream called life
A dream that kills me, inspires me
A dream that tells me of after-life

I am confused,
I am pathetic

Crudest thoughts conquer me
I am reminded of my own lines
" I am dead but life is beautiful"
I waited for it to make sense
It eluded, my own creation.

Why am I still here ?
Why ?
Life, I guess.

Devil is no competition

Give me Satan, I want to hug him
Give me God, I want to kiss him
Give me a slap, I want to wake up

Devil is no competition for us
God is no fear for us

Give me a Benz E class,
Give me a beautiful lass
Give me all that you want to

Why make me wish? I am fed up -
of you giving me all that I want
For once turn your head
away from me and live on
Oh! whom did I address ?
Satan or God ?


;)

Aged calendars grow yellow, brown and die. New ones replace them.
Life peeps through those square blocks, never giving everything, but enough to hop from one square to other.
I tried to hop back to the square I came from, but found it improbable.
There seemed only one thing for me to do, jump forward.
I stand, sometimes, on the boundary between the squares wondering whether there is anything worthwhile in the next blocks. Then, a tide cascades over me, I drown and when I get up I am so far away that I can't see where I had been.
One day, they removed the calendar. No ruffling papers, no moth-eaten squares, no boundaries. I was helpless. They took my life away. Behind, there was nothing. Ahead, more so. I tried walking but didn't know if I moved at all.
There was no point crying for there was no point in being pointless about being pointless. What was left with me was a tuned brain accustomed to the square blocks and a little bit of wit unaccustomed to the tuned brain.
These 2 merged.
A new vision enveloped.
Doors. Open it, you get another one. I know everytime I push the handle that I am going to see a replica of the same door. But everytime the door knob clicks, there is a rise and fall of the chest which enlivens me.
I was the creator of the pattern. If there is anybody who could change it, it is me. As if I bother to....

Runaway theory.

Insults and angry voices drive
Sanity to the edge and beyond

I feel decoration on top of condolences
Lessons that you taught were never true

Another wave of tension has filled me up
I want to know the answers, no more lies

But they give me what I really want
Keeping me once more, one more breath

Broken walls of trust hang in the air
I stand on top of the debris
Smiling with full confidence

The devil inside lurks
lashing a glance at my mirror
And now, you've become a part of me
I know, you were always here

Sometimes I have a memory
Of what you are changing me into
Sometimes I trust you with life
I pretend that you don't exist
Somehow I want to know who you want me to be
I let go watching you, I can't fail

On a notepad in dim light.

Her voice trailed off. The last of her words faintly echoing in my ears. The world has returned to a standstill. Silence creepily envelopes the light. This time, I am alone.
It was not a writer's block that had settled in my eye but a delusion that my imagination is failing me. In the end I am the only companion I turn to. Sweat of passion trickles down my brow. The fire exists.
I have things to lose but balanced against those to gain. I am moving forth not caring to glance behind for I know my heart is weak.
I see dust coming off from my exterior. I stand bare, the true me, against all well-wishers and back prodders. There is only so much a friend can do for you but eventually you are the one to jump off the cliff.
Parallels between life and films have a line between them. In films, you know who you are as but in life, you don't. She is the only thing that separates me and the board exam. I have a choice. Everybody has. There is only one board exam but many more shes'. I am choosing the latter.
A slip between the cup and the lip?
Who cares.

I was trying to study

When I turned around, there was nothing. All the excitement was just a mirage of my own dreams.
Torn leaves kept fluttering under my feet, waiting for me to let go.
I ruffled my hair in the stupidity of those dreams. What was left with me was a textbook that gave me unending woes. I entered it...... But this time, with a smile.

aankhein teri , kitni haseen
ki inkaa aashiq, mein ban gayaa hoon
mujhako basaa le, inme tu

mujhase yeh har ghadi, meraa dil kahe
tum hi ho usaki aarzoo
mujhase yeh har ghadi, mere lab kahe
teri hi ho sab guftagoo
baatein teri itni haseen, main yaad inko jab kartaa hoon
phoolon si aaye, khushaboo

rakh loon chhupaa ke main kahin tujhako
saayaa bhi teraa naa main doon
rakh loon banaa ke kahin ghar, main tujhe
saath tere, main hi rahoon
julfen teri, itni ghani
dekh ke inako, yeh sochataa hoon
saaye me, inake main jiyoon

Life never made sense. The moments that didn't make the most....was the best. There was no point in me telling these things to the science text. What it told me was all about mechanical energy getting converted into electrical. In life, who cares whether they get converted into anything watsoeva, excepting about 3/4th population in the world.

If it was a thing I thronged for, I would have not ruffled my hair. Indeed, it was a thing. A thing called heart. I wanted it badly. From the time my hormones started functionally normally, I wanted it.

Oneday, the dream flew off with wings. It was a dream no more. Yet I had dreamt it.

There is no music. There is no sense of purpose. There is no silence. What there is, is me and the keyboard. The state of permanent elation that had settled around me for the past six months ceases to exist. Back to the brooding self. The primary objective had faded off into darkness unseen. I don't care to go back to pull it back into blinding sunlight. There is no secondary objective.
Purposelessness of my existence nags my innermost feelings. My feelings itself seem flat and dead. A sense of immense despair. Everything I am seeing seems to have happened before. Somewhere, some other time. What I am is but a bit of what I say by saying " I am". I don't want to talk sense. Hatred ? or is it that? What do you call hatred ? Why hatred ? Why not ? Yeah! Why not? Why do I hate when I feel that I am in despair? Why do I think that I am in despair ? Why should I be? Yes, there are reasons. But are they sufficient to prove that I am in despair? Why prove? Why not? Why am I trying to get back to being joyous? What is the point? Why should I be happy ? Yeah, Why the HELL? What reason do I have to be either happy or sad? Or why can't I be feeling both?
Guts................................................ look eye to eye, what do I have to lose ? Yes. What??
Nothing. Simply nothing.

Knock knock

Who's there?

Reality

Oh! you again..

(shuts)

" To top it off I was mad even before I wrote this"

An extract :
Life was pretty much boring till I found that life was pretty much boring.

The moment I found it out could have changed my life or, rather, could have ended it.

I was not dead. It was only a mere possibility of what could have been.

The driver stuck out his head in considerable anger.

" Evida nokkiyaade ottikana"

These words had a warming effect on my cheeks.

The roads reminded me of day-five test match pitches in India. Kumble would have jumped in ecstasy at the sight of tracks like this. But not my Glider.
The cycle moved on, perpendicular to my thoughts. Fort Bakers neared me with utmost sympathy.
***************

One of the things that attracts me to Government Model Boys high school is the way in which the sun always seems to set above the main building.
I pondered for sometime, in its premises, about life and everything else in it. My thought had struck a new line.

Life is not about geometry, gravitation or geography. Rather, it is about everything else other than those.

The fact that my shadows stretched reminded me of the reception I would be getting on getting back home.
But still, philosophical thoughts can't be stopped in the middle.

I couldn't lie on those grasses. Civilisation didn't permit me to. If somebody would have struck up a pleasant tone on the guitar, it would have perfectly conveyed my being.

I was fighting with myself. It was about what I wanted to be and what I was.
I was having a difficulty finding out the real myself in the midst of all this. That was when I reminded myself that I was me and not what I was taking myself for.The funny part was that I was not taking myself for anything.....which meant that I was everything other than anything.

There were a hundred other houses beside me. Little kiddos were hanging out in the balconies along with big kiddos, old hags were basking in the dark, stray dogs were staying in the roads. I lend my eyes a glimpse of the sky.
"How would your life be if you had a female company at the moment?" I asked myself.
" Bad. Infact, Very bad. Half the time I wouldn't be able to think. The rest half would keep reminding me to think" the second personality that I hid in the cerebrum voiced to the first.

I hate going back to home. With the possible exception of a shower, there was nothing exciting to do.
Still, civilisation popped its ugly head again.
****************
There was a particular tune to which the alarm struck.

" Humpty Dumpty had a kiddo up his sleeve.
It was then he realised he was on leave"

The point is, it didn't.

I don't know why I do it. It is instinctive. It had always made my father to wince. I screeched out "Shiiit"

Our van's students are accustomed to seeing me running half-dressed,though.

"Ek mein aur ek tuu hain" ran through the stereo. Mahesh had recorded it specifically to my wish. The small kiddos danced with their mouths making as much sense as a dolphin wouldn't make if it would have heard it.

Arya Central School was the place where I was destined to go. A place which I had been seeing for the past 11 years. I don't know when I fell in love with the place. It might have been when I was thrashed by my mates outta my stocks or when I had to pull up a rather pretty-looking junior when she fell off or when all the english teachers took up a resolution that they wouldn't award me with anything less than the first or when I found that you could sleep in Deepthi teacher's (chem) classes and escape unnoticed or when I greeted Rekha teacher the first time, an innocent 'gud morn teacher' to which she replied " The News reader is absent. Go n fetch the paper frm the office n go n say something in the assembly"
The undeniable fact is that the place rewarded me with a whole lotta emotions, to cherish for a life time.

8:25 sees our van parked on the imaginary parking-lot. Usually, the time also sees the arrival of Kiran's van. These days the coincident timing of the vans are proving to make life a helluva time for me. The point is that most of the guys are envious of the fact that I don't woo behind a single gal. Inorder to 'de' my worth, all of em have started the tendency to make fun of me with ..blah blah. You know wat. The pitiable part is that the whole lotta guys have started to poke me on the back with her name.

If I haven't forgotten my history note or my record, I would be in the drawling assembly. Else, in the autorickshaw.

The classes are quite interesting. Half the time I would be sleeping with my eyes open. The other half, with my eyes closed.

**********************

I have brain-tumour :((

I reel in reel, but not anymore real
I have dipped myself so deep
That I can't see the shallow part
Hmm...well what am I trying to say ?
Yeah,
I am so far away, in bliss
Give reality a miss
I hate those who give it big fuss
Take things in stride, don't bother
'Days of vitality' are playthings
Roll it up, bite it,
Play paper ball-throw with it
Just fits it when you see it hitting bulls' eye
Don't just dream, coz you may have tumour
It would be too much for you to humour
So, close your eyes, and enjoy
Do whatever you wished to do
Don't ever care about the aftermath
Coz it brings you back to wrath
Mate, if I ever had the chance
I wouldn't have done what I had
But I like the way everything shapes up
For the last, the very last
I really believe I have tumour
Becoz the way I live fits only for tumour's
Fairy tale has to be stopped in between.