Thursday, July 31, 2008
Friday, July 25, 2008
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Flashes of glimpses. Writhe. A long terrace. Some one at the far end. Vision closes.
Some boy looks on. I mumble incoherently. He still looks on. I yell.
The eyes spring up in life. He comes into light. I smile, and look over his shoulder to where his mom tends to the bushes.
Pushing aside his inquiries, I ruffle his feathery hair. I can tell he is not content with my replies. 'No matter how long I have seen her, she still has that angelic charm, your mother'
We kneel beside her and look across the vastly stretched paddy fields. The sky is as blue as June ever could have hoped for and the monsoon is to set in within three months.
'What was it that you were shouting ? '
I hesitate and tell her that its a bad dream. I keep ruffling his hairs,
'You know, somewhere, someone is not happy'
He looks quizzically. She tends to her bushes.
********************************
Flashes of glimpses. Writhe. A long terrace. Some one at the far end. Vision closes.
Some boy looks on. I mumble incoherently. He still looks on. I yell.
The eyes spring up in life. The bed comes into light. Drowsily, I take the alarm clock and try to settle my gaze on the time. Ma's yells already ring out to me. Burying myself in the pillow, I try to recollect what the dream was about.
A beautiful lady. Me living at my old home. Some stair cases. Now where did the staircases come from ? All the little snippets slip out of my grasp.
" Da, get up, study one hour"
I yawn at her.
"Please"
Of recent times, even while I dream, I realise that its a dream. I sulk a few paces across to get a sip of tea. The mirror shows my overgrown hair stretched across the ears. I try to give it as much a presentable look as possible.
The drenched walls of our neighbour's becomes my new object of interest. Heard some new folk have rented it. A sheepish grin and I leave the room.
Some boy looks on. I mumble incoherently. He still looks on. I yell.
The eyes spring up in life. He comes into light. I smile, and look over his shoulder to where his mom tends to the bushes.
Pushing aside his inquiries, I ruffle his feathery hair. I can tell he is not content with my replies. 'No matter how long I have seen her, she still has that angelic charm, your mother'
We kneel beside her and look across the vastly stretched paddy fields. The sky is as blue as June ever could have hoped for and the monsoon is to set in within three months.
'What was it that you were shouting ? '
I hesitate and tell her that its a bad dream. I keep ruffling his hairs,
'You know, somewhere, someone is not happy'
He looks quizzically. She tends to her bushes.
********************************
Flashes of glimpses. Writhe. A long terrace. Some one at the far end. Vision closes.
Some boy looks on. I mumble incoherently. He still looks on. I yell.
The eyes spring up in life. The bed comes into light. Drowsily, I take the alarm clock and try to settle my gaze on the time. Ma's yells already ring out to me. Burying myself in the pillow, I try to recollect what the dream was about.
A beautiful lady. Me living at my old home. Some stair cases. Now where did the staircases come from ? All the little snippets slip out of my grasp.
" Da, get up, study one hour"
I yawn at her.
"Please"
Of recent times, even while I dream, I realise that its a dream. I sulk a few paces across to get a sip of tea. The mirror shows my overgrown hair stretched across the ears. I try to give it as much a presentable look as possible.
The drenched walls of our neighbour's becomes my new object of interest. Heard some new folk have rented it. A sheepish grin and I leave the room.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
The Lost Letter
Dear Somebody,
I am a nobody. I am so big a nobody that, even now, I think that I am somebody. I have not seen how life is, whether it comes in six packs or not. But I have seen enough of it to rule out the possibility of anyone being sane in it. Okay, I know you would raise a few eyebrows on hearing 'sanity' being mentioned. But I was alluding to the universally accepted credentials it projects. Moreover, I have recently discovered that all that seems is not true. All that seems is just all it seems to be. Nothing more. Usually, sire, I have the habit of envying life-forms who lead a life much rosier than mine. But then, on inquiry, I found out the above mentioned 'all that seems is not all that is' thing.
I am sending this to you to let you know that, at the moment, I am so emotionally and physically drained that I am not able to put in any more an effort to pen out words that look extremely beautiful but make not much of an ounce of sense. Moreover, its this thing, you know, this thing that lives inside me and tells me what to do, what to think, what to write and so on, that is making me do this work. The most wonderful thing about this thing is that it makes you wonder whether the punctuation marks are right even when the whole world seems to be topsy-turvy.
I don't know much about you other than that you have a little bit of curiosity about me. You reading this testifies that much. But whoever you are, I hope you are cheerful. Probably you could lend a bit of it to me. I am desperately in need of happiness. Amidst the rolling days and nights, I wondered if I would ever meet some one like you. Then, when you didn't apparate, I traversed feminine worlds and found the odds slightly lesser. So then, I decided that you are here, amongst all this airs and cars.
But, mate, I had made a big mistake in passing through the female corridors, for some memories remain like those sands that fail to get lashed back into the oceans. And most mornings I wake onto half-finished, snobbish dreams that I finish later while brushing my teeth. Most evenings are spent in morose, half-sleepy guilt that arises from obtaining rather odd red figures on odd white sheets of paper. Nights ? aah! they go this way.
I hope you realize that I wasn't extremely personal to you. Otherwise you would have seen that I am far more emotional than what I intended myself to be. Its with this place you know, rather, its with this thing called me. Excuse it. Some one in Australia called it a 'complex' of some sort. Anyway, I have to ask you only one thing before going off to another round of sleeps. Do you exist ?
I hope I do receive an answer to it, if you do, that is.
Yours timidly,
Entity.
I am a nobody. I am so big a nobody that, even now, I think that I am somebody. I have not seen how life is, whether it comes in six packs or not. But I have seen enough of it to rule out the possibility of anyone being sane in it. Okay, I know you would raise a few eyebrows on hearing 'sanity' being mentioned. But I was alluding to the universally accepted credentials it projects. Moreover, I have recently discovered that all that seems is not true. All that seems is just all it seems to be. Nothing more. Usually, sire, I have the habit of envying life-forms who lead a life much rosier than mine. But then, on inquiry, I found out the above mentioned 'all that seems is not all that is' thing.
I am sending this to you to let you know that, at the moment, I am so emotionally and physically drained that I am not able to put in any more an effort to pen out words that look extremely beautiful but make not much of an ounce of sense. Moreover, its this thing, you know, this thing that lives inside me and tells me what to do, what to think, what to write and so on, that is making me do this work. The most wonderful thing about this thing is that it makes you wonder whether the punctuation marks are right even when the whole world seems to be topsy-turvy.
I don't know much about you other than that you have a little bit of curiosity about me. You reading this testifies that much. But whoever you are, I hope you are cheerful. Probably you could lend a bit of it to me. I am desperately in need of happiness. Amidst the rolling days and nights, I wondered if I would ever meet some one like you. Then, when you didn't apparate, I traversed feminine worlds and found the odds slightly lesser. So then, I decided that you are here, amongst all this airs and cars.
But, mate, I had made a big mistake in passing through the female corridors, for some memories remain like those sands that fail to get lashed back into the oceans. And most mornings I wake onto half-finished, snobbish dreams that I finish later while brushing my teeth. Most evenings are spent in morose, half-sleepy guilt that arises from obtaining rather odd red figures on odd white sheets of paper. Nights ? aah! they go this way.
I hope you realize that I wasn't extremely personal to you. Otherwise you would have seen that I am far more emotional than what I intended myself to be. Its with this place you know, rather, its with this thing called me. Excuse it. Some one in Australia called it a 'complex' of some sort. Anyway, I have to ask you only one thing before going off to another round of sleeps. Do you exist ?
I hope I do receive an answer to it, if you do, that is.
Yours timidly,
Entity.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Some Douggy words
For Children: You will need to know the difference between Friday and a fried egg. It's quite a simple difference, but an important one. Friday comes at the end of the week, whereas a fried egg comes out of a chicken. Like most things, of course, it isn't quite that simple. The fried egg isn't properly a fried egg until it's been put in a frying pan and fried. This is something you wouldn't do to a Friday, of course, though you might do it on a Friday. You can also fry eggs on a Thursday, if you like, or on a cooker. It's all rather complicated, but it makes a kind of sense if you think about it for a while.
About Universe: If the Universe came to an end every time there was some uncertainty about what had happened in it, it would never have got beyond the first picosecond. And many of course don’t. It’s like a human body, you see. A few cuts and bruises here and there don’t hurt it. Not even major surgery if it’s done properly. Paradoxes are just the scar tissue. Time and space heal themselves up around them and people simply remember a version of events which makes as much sense as they require it to make.
About self: If I ever meet myself, I'll hit myself so hard I won't know what's hit me.
On Politics: To summarize: it is a well-known fact that those people who most want to rule people are, ipso facto, those least suited to do it. To summarize the summary: anyone who is capable of getting themselves made President should on no account be allowed to do the job. To summarize the summary of the summary: people are a problem.
About Universe: If the Universe came to an end every time there was some uncertainty about what had happened in it, it would never have got beyond the first picosecond. And many of course don’t. It’s like a human body, you see. A few cuts and bruises here and there don’t hurt it. Not even major surgery if it’s done properly. Paradoxes are just the scar tissue. Time and space heal themselves up around them and people simply remember a version of events which makes as much sense as they require it to make.
About self: If I ever meet myself, I'll hit myself so hard I won't know what's hit me.
On Politics: To summarize: it is a well-known fact that those people who most want to rule people are, ipso facto, those least suited to do it. To summarize the summary: anyone who is capable of getting themselves made President should on no account be allowed to do the job. To summarize the summary of the summary: people are a problem.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Click the refresh button
Come on, the world's full of assholes.
They get up, eat and go to bed
And keep doing it until they end up dead.
So why be different ?
Sometimes, I get weighed down by people
The insensitivity of mine towards their existence,
thwarts me, catches me unawares.
The guilt surges and sympathy resurfaces
Giving birth to a good being,
which gets killed again by flattery and misconceptions ,
Blinded, again, by the fortress of pleasure and leisure
Well, all the life's ironical
You end up doing things that you would bet you wouldn't
Moreover, the assholes that rule this place
have made a word called 'civility'
to make sure everyone follows a mechanical life
robbing it of its very essence, the individuality.
In awe at the beauty this place has churned out,
so many truths left untold.
And those that raise their hands are shrugged off
with obvious embarrassment ; yet none admits.
Many times I thought of standing up
But the coward (in me) asked to stay shut
and move on....
And I moved on, pursuing the inevitable journey
without apprehension, without comprehension,
Marauding this place's wonders and agonies
For one last reason, called hope.
The reason that makes the world spin.
They get up, eat and go to bed
And keep doing it until they end up dead.
So why be different ?
Sometimes, I get weighed down by people
The insensitivity of mine towards their existence,
thwarts me, catches me unawares.
The guilt surges and sympathy resurfaces
Giving birth to a good being,
which gets killed again by flattery and misconceptions ,
Blinded, again, by the fortress of pleasure and leisure
Well, all the life's ironical
You end up doing things that you would bet you wouldn't
Moreover, the assholes that rule this place
have made a word called 'civility'
to make sure everyone follows a mechanical life
robbing it of its very essence, the individuality.
In awe at the beauty this place has churned out,
so many truths left untold.
And those that raise their hands are shrugged off
with obvious embarrassment ; yet none admits.
Many times I thought of standing up
But the coward (in me) asked to stay shut
and move on....
And I moved on, pursuing the inevitable journey
without apprehension, without comprehension,
Marauding this place's wonders and agonies
For one last reason, called hope.
The reason that makes the world spin.
Saturday, June 07, 2008
Thoughts on 12/12/06
Blue skies and white clouds smile
They lie to me "one more mile"
I smile and ask them "Why?"
For which they but sigh
"For you to enjoy life"
This breeze advises my cheeks
"For you to see mountains and reeks
For you to never lend a tear to these soils
For you to live life without turmoils"
I confide in them, my loudest beats
" Life is a dream without defeats
Every moment is to be cherished
Remembered, nurtured, replenished
See with my eyes, all wonders
all the pink, blue and lavenders"
"You are far from your dreams
Life is waving to you goodbye"
They lament but I know its a lie
" It is my life, where I am the hero
I don't care about the way I pass
I don't care about the wealth I amass
I live not to live but to be alive"
Even the almighty Red is sad
"I have told you what I had to, lad"
It bows down and lends to night
Long up, lies a speck of light
"Jump up to catch me, I am your destiny
You must face me, never flee"
Human bonds tie me to the ground
I don't know where I am bound
Deep inside my heart or in my eyes?
I try to smile but my throat cries
" Why do you defy the truth?
They tell life begins at youth"
The light glimmers in eager
" Reach out with power, not meager
This moment will not return
You must cherish it but never turn -
from your life when it beckons
Half the time, life is a good dream
The rest half is for you to find out"
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
First question is why ?
To save embarrassment
To be accepted
To receive adulation
Answered!
Now, tonight reads the time as 12:45 am or so, and I am up here in the terrace penning down half-soaken thoughts so that once I get this onto the maybe-toxic thinggy, somebody would start having that adulation for me.
First thing you need in order to achieve the goal is confidence. Then, a little bit of wit that would enable you to sneak into the reader's head and give him a little bit of surprise. Lastly, and not at all beastly, the satisfaction of having wrote something that you meant to.
You know, most of the times I get this worldly feeling when I drench myself on these late-night June showers. I shout out at the crimson clad clouds. No one would ever hear it and none is meant to too. Its the sort of thing that makes me feel that we are all out here on our own, buddy, and its not something tragic. Infact, its the thing that makes life more enchanting. The beauty of finding yourself and what all you can be.
Tonight is like any other night for the world and goes the same with me too and we all would forget it and never realise that we lived through these breaths. Isn't that the reason why these breaths are so invaluable ? There is that beauty of existence, the exciting shrill of the possible but unknown future.
Yes, I can feel my perceptions changing. The perceptions of a female frenzy 15 year old changing into a female frenzy 17 year old. Aah, the world is growing around me, and you know what I am going to do ? Make a fuss about it, publish it on the web and sleep.
To save embarrassment
To be accepted
To receive adulation
Answered!
Now, tonight reads the time as 12:45 am or so, and I am up here in the terrace penning down half-soaken thoughts so that once I get this onto the maybe-toxic thinggy, somebody would start having that adulation for me.
First thing you need in order to achieve the goal is confidence. Then, a little bit of wit that would enable you to sneak into the reader's head and give him a little bit of surprise. Lastly, and not at all beastly, the satisfaction of having wrote something that you meant to.
You know, most of the times I get this worldly feeling when I drench myself on these late-night June showers. I shout out at the crimson clad clouds. No one would ever hear it and none is meant to too. Its the sort of thing that makes me feel that we are all out here on our own, buddy, and its not something tragic. Infact, its the thing that makes life more enchanting. The beauty of finding yourself and what all you can be.
Tonight is like any other night for the world and goes the same with me too and we all would forget it and never realise that we lived through these breaths. Isn't that the reason why these breaths are so invaluable ? There is that beauty of existence, the exciting shrill of the possible but unknown future.
Yes, I can feel my perceptions changing. The perceptions of a female frenzy 15 year old changing into a female frenzy 17 year old. Aah, the world is growing around me, and you know what I am going to do ? Make a fuss about it, publish it on the web and sleep.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Vindicated
Suddenly one late night, I decide I am not going to drown in sleep. Consequently, I sit here in order to free myself of all the thoughts that might decide to sneak in on a cold, damp night.Holed up in the midst of a humid weather, and of actions and reactions provoked by prejudice rather than wisdom.
The atmosphere that lit up the days have thinned out. Now, its more confusing. Atleast, for the moment. I would have to settle all the frustrations that I have got used to, so much used to, that, I can't barely live without those. Breathing free isn't something in comprehension because right now I would doubtlessly testify that I am breathing free while I do know that I am not.
I have discovered that I am cold and pale in the inner-folds. There's nothing more to it. All for sympathy, admiration and lust. People say that we decide who we want to be. Maybe, to a length, but, what stays imbibed, stays. I am wasting my time in thoughts of a fantasy that I have dreamt of incessantly, day after day, and refuse to overcome it. Until the dream becomes a reality, I will probably not shift my focus.
Funny, how all thoughts seem to revolve around it. Maybe, because I refuse to be drawn into anything else. One heck of an asshole, I am. The day goes out and day comes in, and the time in between goes without mentioning a word of use.
There's seriously nothing that I am good at, except, self-presentation. Come across the age, boy, come across it. But no! how can I possibly ? There are a lot of silly ways to distract myself. Yearning hard, hoping badly, wishing that there would be that day. But when it comes, if it ever does, there won't be much to it. And even knowing all this, I refuse to give up. Why? Because I don't believe in what I am saying and I want to hear it.
Sorry for some lack of coherence.
The atmosphere that lit up the days have thinned out. Now, its more confusing. Atleast, for the moment. I would have to settle all the frustrations that I have got used to, so much used to, that, I can't barely live without those. Breathing free isn't something in comprehension because right now I would doubtlessly testify that I am breathing free while I do know that I am not.
I have discovered that I am cold and pale in the inner-folds. There's nothing more to it. All for sympathy, admiration and lust. People say that we decide who we want to be. Maybe, to a length, but, what stays imbibed, stays. I am wasting my time in thoughts of a fantasy that I have dreamt of incessantly, day after day, and refuse to overcome it. Until the dream becomes a reality, I will probably not shift my focus.
Funny, how all thoughts seem to revolve around it. Maybe, because I refuse to be drawn into anything else. One heck of an asshole, I am. The day goes out and day comes in, and the time in between goes without mentioning a word of use.
There's seriously nothing that I am good at, except, self-presentation. Come across the age, boy, come across it. But no! how can I possibly ? There are a lot of silly ways to distract myself. Yearning hard, hoping badly, wishing that there would be that day. But when it comes, if it ever does, there won't be much to it. And even knowing all this, I refuse to give up. Why? Because I don't believe in what I am saying and I want to hear it.
Sorry for some lack of coherence.
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