Through the fences
"Sleep is the interest we have to pay on the capital which is called in at death; and the higher the rateof interest and the more regularly it is paid, the further the date of redemption is postponed."
What will it feel like when I retire and have no work to go to? Would I remember the dread of a Monday then?
bebasi ki khamoshi, aur khamoshiyon ki faryadein
Don't leave. Please. Stay. It's nice to be in the dark, right? You can relax a little. No brittle, fake smiles. No air kisses. No sarcasm. Forget the stress. The worry. The desperate attempt to belong. The petty skirmishes. Life is too short. Too short for cruelty. Close your eyes. Swirl your drink. Float.
1984 vs. Brave New World
Foreward from Amusing Ourselves to Death
Feeling vs. Thought
Cross posting this from another blog.
On Lene's look in the scene in which she asks Dev if he still loves Paro
"Takht humara hai, magar waqt nahi hai apna
Few of My Favorite Things
winter sun. mittens. guavas with rocksalt. dogeared books. christmas. the coziness of layers of rajai. ginger tea. peanuts. angeethi. hot morning bath. vegetable maggi. the feeling while peeing after holding back for long. fingers wrapped around a hot cup of coffee. smell of roasted peanuts. smoke coming out of mouth. sunday book market. 1 am aloo parantha. morning fog. aunties knitting. late night star gazing sitting on wet grass. the cinanmon-like winter smell. boiled eggs with chopped coriander, onions, and green chutney. pretty girls with colourful shawls and mufflers. caps. the feeling when you wake up in the morning and realize you have another hour to sleep. late night walks with friends. drinking tea by conversations. flowers in bloom on traffic islands. making graffiti on dew covered glass panes and windscreens. hot samosas. mufflers. crawling into a warm rajai. wicked hour.
“All people dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their mind, wake in the morning to find that it was vanity. But the dreamers of the day are dangerous people, for they dream their dreams with open eyes, and make them come true.”
Too often the only thing you see is everything you can't. I can't decide whether I dread those days or miss them.
"The past reflects eternally between two mirrors -the bright mirror of words and deeds, and the dark one, full of things we didn't do or say."
Another year passes. New memories made, some forgotten ones remembered. Some people that weren't important were, and those that were weren't.
While some are like fireflies gently twinkling in the dark, some are like shards of broken pieces of mirror.
Caches of old papers are like graves; you shouldn't open them. It is surprising how you hated, loved, dreamt, lived just long enough to fit everything about your life inside two boxes of papers.
Who in the rainbow can draw the line where the violet tint ends and the orange tint begins? Distinctly we see the difference of the colors but where exactly does the one first blendingly enter into the other? So with sanity and insanity.
If I gave up! If only I could give up! Before beginning, before beginning again!
I happened to lay my hands on some of his books like "Murphy" and " More pricks than kicks" over the last couple of weeks. Could not help but be blown away by the sheer brilliance of his work.
Today I felt this strange and strong urge to revisit past. Strangely I did not want to visit my past as i saw it, i wanted to visit it as others had seen it and experienced it.
Through the fish-eyed lens of tear stained eyes
"unko bhi hum se waisi hi mohabbat ho zaroori toh nahi
Over the last few weeks I have tried desperately to break through the clouds of gloom and depression that seem to gather around inside my brain. Well I have tried and god knows i have tried.I dont really know how much i succeeded or not but as i sat down to analyse the reasons behind my sadness, a major part of the answer came to me in the form of music.
'You know that this was a suicide attempt? we have checked and she doesnt have any trace of life left in her, sorry.'
the time to bring the curtains down on the blog..dnt know why i just dont feel like writing down my thoughts anymore..it kinda makes them worse and before i know it i see myself trapped in the quagmire of self-loathing and depression. putting down my thoughts onto this blog has really been tough and extremely painful, for its really tough to translate the black hell inside me into words. each and every word on the blog represents a part of my inside..its actually my soul's blood u see splattered all over the page of the blog..(there i go again..).anywasy from now onwards i think it would be better to keep my twisted thoughts locked somewhere inside my twisted mind in a chamber and i throw away the key someplace where nobody can find it.
and there it was..heaven was beside me and hell within, i had tried to look for signs in her eyes that were never there..and now that i start finding what i had been denying all this long..it dont feel so good. i think i'll just leave but do i really have a hand in my forgetting?
"To annihilate the world by annihilation of one's self is the deluded height of desperate egoism. The simple way out of all the little brick dead ends we scratch our nails against.... I want to kill myself, to escape from responsibility, to crawl back abjectly into the womb."
Cat results were officially declared this past week. They put an official seal on something which i already knew. Somehow its really funny how you live in a state of denial and wish and pray that somehow you had a giant eraser with you to rub away the past...but you dont.
Well finally i have managed to convince my lazy fingers to come out here and type something about last saturday when i met up with the old gang. i wont say much, because it is hard to compress fourteen years of ones life into a single page. but its funny how fourteen years fit so beautifully in a period of few hours, infact as i write this stuff here, my mind wanders off into the ruins of the past.
Existence precedes essence, meaning you're only defined after you die, until then, you and only you are responsible for your actions and shaping your character, existentialism is about not seeing yourself as a victim of circumstances.
Well woke up to a beautiful morning today, foggy , hazy and cold but beautiful.Went for a jog after a long time today. Good to see that mornings are still as beautiful as i left them. the mist covered windows, the dew drops on the grassblades, the cool breeze making the whizzing sound in your ears as you run, and when i was in the park, it was as if the colours became warmer. The leaves and flowers on the ground made a colourful carpet on the ground... running through the trees and the leaves felt like running through a tunnel of colours.
I am never gonna be the one for you
I dont want any colours anymore, i want them to turn black.
We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone..
Yes indeed I'm alone again
Just came across this piece of writing by Fyodor Dostoevsky
I know it looks like I'm moving, but I'm standing still. Every nerve in my body is so vacant and numb. I can't even remember what it was I came here to get away from.
hmm today evening met up with some really old friends, friends i havent seen in a really long time.years ago, we used be together but then that time is long gone..and meeting them today brought back memories. its kinda strange i think to find that one night you go to bed and the next morning you wake up youre 5 years older.
"That's what real love amounts to- letting a person be what he really is. Most people love you for who you pretend to be. To keep their love, you keep pretending- performing. You get to love your pretence. It's true, we're locked in an image, an act- and the sad thing is, people get so used to their image, they grow attached to their masks. They love their chains. They forget all about who they really are. And if you try to remind them, they hate you for it, they feel like you're trying to steal their most precious possession"
When you were here before, couldn't look you in the eye
The question is 'who is it that never lets you down?'. Who is it that makes people who simply had to come together meet each other and then change their lifes somehow? Who is it that makes you find yourself inside of another soul, who is it that makes you be my mirror? Who is it that makes you find someone who helps you -without knowing it- to transform your life, control your thoughts, make the right choices while we are still in time? It is incredible how synchronized I feel with you. The way I deeply understand your impatient, poetic soul. The way I see that yor dark side exists, just like mine, because the absence of colour is essencial for the artistry of a soul like yours. I love your colours. I see them. I admire you a lot. I love you. Please stay, let's dance with stars while we still can.
"The best thing one can do when it's raining is to let it rain."
Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin' ship,
Just a perfect day,
"Choose life... choose a job. ..choose a career. choose a family. choose a fucking big television.. choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance..choose fixed- interest mortgage repayments. choose a starter home. choose your friends. Choose leisure wear and matching luggage. choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing sprit- crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing you last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that?
today was just one of those days when the realisation hits you..the realisation that the world is not meant for someone like you. you are just not cut out in the mould. i stand here lost in a crowd of myself, alone. all i have for company is confusion . this is all i can offer you today, tommorow or whenever, confusion. please dont hurt me, dont confront me with my failures, i know i screwed up, i have not forgotten.
Home is where one starts from.
what is right or what is wrong?