Through the fences

...and through the playground fences, she gazed on the child she never bore.

the lament of the paper aeroplane

to the things in the past, i remain faithful. little forgetful, but hopeful. 

On Sleep

"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."

a year on

... and it still hurts, everyday.

Bombay vs. Delhi

One needs the night to make Bombay pretty, and the day to make Delhi pretty

Daman

Don't you crave to go a place where nothing is going on?

What will it feel like when I retire and have no work to go to? Would I remember the dread of a Monday then?

creating boundaries to belong.

bebasi ki khamoshi, aur khamoshiyon ki faryadein

(silences of helplessness and the desperate cries of help of silences)

crouching behind a veil of strength and self assurance.

Sri Lanka

"I felt like lying down by the side of the trail and remembering it all. The woods do that to you, they always look familiar, long lost, like the face of a long-dead relative, like an old dream, like a piece of forgotten song drifting across the water, most of all like golden eternities of past childhood or past manhood and all the living and the dying and the heartbreak that went on a million years ago and the clouds as they pass overhead seem to testify (by their own lonesome familiarity) to this feeling. Ecstacy, even, I felt, with flashes of sudden remembrance, and feeling sweaty and drowsy I felt like sleeping and dreaming in the grass."
- Kerouac

everything's amazing, but no one's happy

if only everybody calms the fuck down, we can all enjoy the ride.

Afterhours

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.

from the cat race to the rat race

hopefully, making an asset of myself.

25

Ambition

I want to be everything I am capable of being.

Amusing Ourselves to Death

1984 vs. Brave New World



"We were keeping our eye on 1984. When the year came and the prophecy didn't, thoughtful Americans sang softly in praise of themselves. The roots of liberal democracy had held. Wherever else the terror had happened, we, at least, had not been visited by Orwellian nightmares.

But we had forgotten that alongside Orwell's dark vision, there was another - slightly older, slightly less well known, equally chilling: Aldous Huxley's Brave New World. Contrary to common belief even among the educated, Huxley and Orwell did not prophesy the same thing. Orwell warns that we will be overcome by an externally imposed oppression. But in Huxley's vision, no Big Brother is required to deprive people of their autonomy, maturity and history. As he saw it, people will come to love their oppression, to adore the technologies that undo their capacities to think.

What Orwell feared were those who would ban books. What Huxley feared was that there would be no reason to ban a book, for there would be no one who wanted to read one. Orwell feared those who would deprive us of information. Huxley feared those who would give us so much that we would be reduced to passivity and egoism. Orwell feared that the truth would be concealed from us. Huxley feared the truth would be drowned in a sea of irrelevance. Orwell feared we would become a captive culture. Huxley feared we would become a trivial culture, preoccupied with some equivalent of the feelies, the orgy porgy, and the centrifugal bumblepuppy. As Huxley remarked in Brave New World Revisited, the civil libertarians and rationalists who are ever on the alert to oppose tyranny "failed to take into account man's almost infinite appetite for distractions". In 1984, Huxley added, people are controlled by inflicting pain. In Brave New World, they are controlled by inflicting pleasure. In short, Orwell feared that what we hate will ruin us. Huxley feared that what we love will ruin us. This book is about the possibility that Huxley, not Orwell, was right."

Foreward from Amusing Ourselves to Death

Lousy Finishes

At least some things are consistent.

broken.

Which side is happiness?

Feeling vs. Thought
Chaos vs. Stability
Excitement vs. Familiarity
Optimism vs. Realism
Danger vs. Safety
Crowd vs. Individual
Freedom vs. Satisfaction
Love vs. Habit
Creativity vs. Logic
Impluse vs. Calculation
Dream vs. Reality
Transience vs. Endurance
Hope vs. Acceptance
Options vs. Decisions
Music vs. Silence
Absence vs. Compromise

vodka wears off.

Quintilian on Style

Cross posting this from another blog.

1. grandeur, not excess
2. sublimity, not harshness
3. strength, not rashness
4. severity, not grimness
5. gravity, not dullness
6. joy, not abandon
7. pleasantness, not decadence
8. greatness, not pomposity

Dev.D

On Lene's look in the scene in which she asks Dev if he still loves Paro

His hand weaved through the strands of her hair
Her head, his lap, and a few friends
She said, I love him
The slight quiver in the fingers
Steely face, no emotions
Pounding heart, crushed dreams
The ever so slight pause; did anyone notice?
She went on
and his fingers resumed threading her hair.

"Takht humara hai, magar waqt nahi hai apna
Waqt aaya toh humein log suleimaan honge.."

The throne is ours, but the time is not ours.
When the time comes, we only shall be the kings.

Winters in Delhi

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.

On Post-Lunch Day Dreaming Session

“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.”
- T.E. Lawrence

Weekend

The ecstacy of arrival could never compensate for the hollowness of departure.

Night Prayers

Cross posting this from another blog:
"Sometimes sleep will come easy knowing the pain that awaits the sleepless, and having payed obeisance to the gods, blessed is he who seeks to attain his dreams, even if some dreams only ever play out in deep slumber."

Color

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 feeling you get when you cross the finish line and you are like ‘Shit, this is it?”

Two Years

Two Years.
Two Lives, intwined.
One planet, one sun.
The sight of one, gives the other its light.

One revolves around the other.

But who can tell which is which. :)

Sunday Night Rumination

The noose keeps getting tighter.

"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."

Shantaram

Money: How much is enough to make you feel rich?

"I don't see what anyone could see in anyone else but you"

Who else

Once upon a time, I wrote this for somebody, little did I know how much I meant it for somebody else.

"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."

"Tamannao mein uljhaya gaya hoon
Khilone deke behlaya gaya hoon.."

Shad Azimbadi

23

Another year passes. New memories made, some forgotten ones remembered. Some people that weren't important were, and those that were weren't.

meharbaani karke bulalo mujhe, main guzra wakt nahi, jo lautkar aa bhi naa sakoon

Sabse Khatarnak

Mehnat ki loot sabse khatarnak nahi hoti,
Police ki maar sabse khatarnak nahi hoti,
Gaddari, lobh ki mutthi sabse khatarnak nahi hoti.
Baithe bithaye pakde jana bura to hai,
Sahmi si chhup me jakde jana bura to hai,
Par sabse khatarnak nahi hoti.
Sabse khatarnak hota hai murda shanti se bhar jana,
Na hona tadap ka, sab kuch sahan kar jana,
Ghar se nikalna kaam par, aur kaam se loutkar ghar aana,
Sabse khatarnak hota hai,
Hamare sapno ka mar jana.

-Paash

It’s not dark yet, but it’s getting there

Memories

While some are like fireflies gently twinkling in the dark, some are like shards of broken pieces of mirror.

Cleaning Out Papers

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.
But then, as some one said, you need to make space for new memories.

Dwell in possibilities.

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!
Start again, in this immensity, this obscurity: go through the motions of starting again..

Samuel Beckett

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.

The strangest part of the grim humor in his books is that he can make you yawn with boredom, send you into convulsions of laughter, make you cry , make you suffer,cease the suffering, help you live a little longer, help you die a little sooner.

The mind is not an instrument but a place.

An Invisible Man

Cant believe how strange it is to be nothing at all.

Random scraps...

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.
I browsed through my 2364 scraps which contained small little snippets about small little things which have happened during the last two years of my life.
Now i have this weird thing of scrapping myself, here i am compiling scraps which i scrapped myself...each one of these scraps somehow occupies a weird little place inside my head.


A vulturous boredom pinned me in this tree.
If he were I, he would do what I did.

-The hanging man.




The night is only a sort of carbon paper,
Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars
Letting in the light, peephole after peephole --
A bonewhite light, like death, behind all things.

- insomaniac.



here's an old joke - um... two elderly women are at a Catskill mountain resort, and one of 'em says, "Boy, the food at this place is really terrible." The other one says, "Yeah, I know; and such small portions." Well, that's essentially how I feel about life - full of loneliness, and misery, and suffering, and unhappiness, and it's all over much too quickly. The... the other important joke, for me, is one that's usually attributed to Groucho Marx; but, I think it appears originally in Freud's "Wit and Its Relation to the Unconscious," and it goes like this - I'm paraphrasing - um, "I would never want to belong to any club that would have someone like me for a member." That's the key joke of my adult life, in terms of my relationships with women.

- woody allen




procastination: a similar experience to masturbation, feels good while you are doing it, but kinda sucks afterwards when you realize that you just fucked yourself.



A child-like man is not a man whose development has been arrested; on the contrary, he is a man who has given himself a chance of continuing to develop long after most adults have muffled themselves in the cocoon of middle-aged habit and convention.



Sara Goldfarb: I'm somebody now, Harry. Everybody likes me. Soon, millions of people will see me and they'll all like me. I'll tell them about you, and your father, how good he was to us. Remember? It's a reason to get up in the morning. It's a reason to lose weight, to fit in the red dress. It's a reason to smile. It makes tomorrow all right. What have I got Harry, hm? Why should I even make the bed, or wash the dishes? I do them, but why should I? I'm alone. Your father's gone, you're gone. I got no one to care for. What have I got, Harry? I'm lonely. I'm old.
Harry Goldfarb: You got friends, Ma.
Sara Goldfarb: Ah, it's not the same. They don't need me. I like the way I feel. I like thinking about the red dress and the television and you and your father. Now when I get the sun, I smile.
A requiem for a dream.




"..har ghadi khud se ulajhna hai muqaddar mera
main hi kashti hoon mujhi mein hai samandar mera

muddatein beet gayi khwab suhaana dekhe
jaagta rehta hai har neend mein bistar mera.."

-nida fazli.




When the fight begins within himself,
a man's worth something.”
-Robert Browning,
Bishop Blougram's Apology.





a smile from a veil?
do u think you can tell?




“Those who are held wise among men, and who search for the reason of things, are those who bring the most sorrow upon themselves” - euripedes.



"..maiN ye soch kar us ke dar se uThaa thaa
ke vo rok legii manaa legii mujhko
qadam aise andaaz se uTh rahe the
ke vo aavaaz de kar bulaa legii mujh ko
havaaoN meN lahraataa aataa thaa daaman
ke daaman pakaR kar biThaa legii mujhko

magar us ne rokaa, na mujhko manayaa
na aavaaz hii dii, na vaapis bulaayaa
na daaman hii pakRaa, na mujh ko biThaayaa
maiN aahistaa aahistaa baRhtaa hii aayaa
yahaaN tak ke us se judaa ho gayaa maiN.."

-Kaifi Aazmi, "Pashemanii"





Why do I have to work for everything?
Its like saying I don't deserve it.'





I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till i drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.

- Jack Kerouac, Beat Generation





the slime of all my yesterdays rots in the hollow of my skull.






Does a gloomy outlook on life enhance creativity? Are the depressed more artistic? Or, conversely, does an artistic, sensitive temperament make people more prone to angst and depression?

Does the act of thinking too much increase angst or alleviate it through confrontation?

Are you more creative and/or prolific when depressed, or does depression prevent you from having the energy to create anything worthwhile?

Does life REALLY suck? Or do we have "a skin too few"? Is heightened emotional sensitivity a gift or a burden?

Is it better to wallow when angst-ridden, by playing sad music or watching tear-jerker movies? Or is that self-indulgent and counter-productive?






'..And when i say goodnight the pictures in my head will dance around my room and frolic in my bed. And when i say good day they will hide behind my eyes waiting for the dreaming to bring them back alive..'







Mark Renton: People think it's all about misery and desperation and death and all that shit which is not to be ignored, but what they forget is the pleasure of it. Otherwise we wouldn't do it. After all, we're not fucking stupid. At least, we're not that fucking stupid.

trainspotting.






Mia: Don't you hate that?
Vincent: What?
Mia: Uncomfortable silences. Why do we feel it's necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable?
Vincent: I don't know. That's a good question.
Mia: That's when you know you've found somebody special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably enjoy the silence.






"What can we do? We must live our live. Yes, we shall live, Uncle Vanya. We shall live through the long procession of days before us, and through the long evenings; we shall patiently bear the trials and fate imposes upon us.. and when out last hour comes we shall meet it humbly, and there, beyond the grave., we shall say that we have suffered and wept, that our life was bitter, and god will take pity on us and we will livea life of radiant joy and beauty. And we will look back on this life of unhappiness with tenderness. And we'll smile.And we shall rest to the songs of the angels, in a firment arrayed in jewels, and we'll look down on and we'll see evil, all the evil in the world and all otu sufferings bathed in perfect mercy.And our lives grown sweet as a caress. And we shall rest . I have faith , Uncle Vanya., you have never known what happiness was, but wait,Uncle Vanya,only wait. We shall rest.We shall rest."





waqt ki qaid main zindagi hai magar,
chand ghariyan wahi thi jo azaad thi.






A dark place, where nothing is visible except my pale skin. Even that is fading. I am shrinking away out of thought and memory, becoming one with time. I do not exist at all...I am only darkness.





Every man has some reminiscences which he would not tell to everyone, but only to his friends. He has others which he would not reveal even to his friends, but only to himself, and that in secret. But finally there are still others which a man is even afraid to tell himself, and every decent man has a considerable number of such things stored away. That is, one can even say that the more decent he is, the greater the number of such things in his mind.






“Do you understand, sir, do you understand what it means when you have absolutely nowhere to turn?”






I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I am. I am. I am.






I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us — don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!




I'm at peace with the world. I'm completely serene. I've discovered my purpose in life. I know why I was put here and why everything exists... I am here so everybody can do what I want. Once everybody accepts it, they'll be serene too.






"..Tonight, in the infinitesimal light of the stars,
The trees and the flowers have been strewing their cool odors.
I walk among them, but none of them are noticing.
Sometimes I think that when I am sleeping
I must most perfectly resemble them--
Thoughts gone dim.
It is more natural to me, lying down.
Then the sky and I are in open conversation,
And I shall be useful when I lie down finally:
Then the trees may touch me for once, and the flowers have time for me..."






Alice: Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?
The Cat: That depends a good deal on where you want to get to
Alice: I don't much care where.
The Cat: Then it doesn't much matter which way you go.
Alice: …so long as I get somewhere.
The Cat: Oh, you're sure to do that, if only you walk long enough.






The Couriers- Sylvia Plath

The word of a snail on the plate of a leaf?
It is not mine. Do not accept it.

Acetic acid in a sealed tin?
Do not accept it. It is not genuine.

A ring of gold with the sun in it?
Lies. Lies and a grief.

Frost on a leaf, the immaculate
Cauldron, talking and crackling

All to itself on the top of each
Of nine black Alps.

A disturbance in mirrors,
The sea shattering its grey one -

Love, love, my season.









..and he walked on down the hall..

Never really realised the importance of a single mark, that is until now.

Final Cut

Through the fish-eyed lens of tear stained eyes
I can barely define the shape of this moment in time
And far from flying high in clear blue skies
I'm spiraling down to the hole in the ground where I hide.

If you negotiate the minefield in the drive
And beat the dogs and cheat the cold electronic eyes
And if you make it past the shotguns in the hall,
Dial the combination, open the priesthole
And if I'm in I'll tell you what's behind the wall.

There's a kid who had a big hallucination
Making love to girls in magazines.
He wonders if you're sleeping with your new found faith.
Could anybody love him
Or is it just a crazy dream?

And if I show you my dark side
Will you still hold me tonight?
And if I open my heart to you
And show you my weak side
What would you do?
Would you sell your story to Rolling Stone?
Would you take the children away
And leave me alone?
And smile in reassurance
As you whisper down the phone?
Would you send me packing?
Or would you take me home?

Thought I oughta bare my naked feelings,
Thought I oughta tear the curtain down.
I held the blade in trembling hands
Prepared to make it but just then the phone rang
I never had the nerve to make the final cut.


-Pink Floyd

Here come the sun, here comes the sun
... It's all right, it's all right

"unko bhi hum se waisi hi mohabbat ho zaroori toh nahi
ek si dono ke halath ho zaroori toh nahi

dil ki chahat to kai khwaab jaga deti hai
haan magar saath mein kismat bhi ho zaroori toh nahi

meri tanhaiyan karti hain jinhe yaad sada
unko bhi meri zaroorat ho zaroori toh nahi

muskarane se bhi hota bayan qham-e-dil
mujh ko rone ki bhi aadat ho zaroori toh nahi."

Music and Misery.

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.
I have listened to music which has made me feel ever since i was 15years old. now all thos songs about sadness and heartbreak must have surely left some scars on me somewhere.
i wonder what came first , music or misery? Did i listen to music because i was miserable ?or because i was miserable, i listened to music? Are all the stuff(books , movies, music) responsible for turning me into a melancholy person? Perhaps the unhappiest people on the planet (maybe melaoncholy is the right word) are the ones who love music(which makes you feel) the most. I dont know that music is responsible for their unhappiness but i know this that they have listened to music a lot longer they have been leading miserable lives.
But the question is whether i would give it all up? would i give up my only refuge from the unkind world outside ? the feeling of just lying there and your soul surfing through the waves of music in a place where everything is just perfectly numb where nothing can touch you. the orgasmic pleasure of a chord change in a guitar solo. would i give it all up?the way it travels up through to the somewhere near the centre of your brain and then explodes through all parts of your body..
But then i wonder if you put music (or books, or movies or anything that makes you feel) at the centre of your being, then you cant afford to sort out your romantic life, and start to think of it as a finished product. You constantly have to scrape at it, pick at it,keep it in turmoil, pick at it a little more and unravel it till it all comes apart and then youre compelled to start all over again.
Maybe i live life a little too seriously, i absorb all the emotional things all day long, like a sponge., quietly bottling it away inside me. And perhaps this is the reason why guys like me never feel content; we have to be unhappy, or head-over-heels type estatically happy and that states are difficult to achieve within the confines of a stable, solid, mundane relationship,or for that matter even the daily mundane life.
When i listen to music, i play it again and again and again. It makes me dreamy, and then all of a sudden i need somebody to dream about...and then when i find one , well ..then there is trouble.

'You know that this was a suicide attempt? we have checked and she doesnt have any trace of life left in her, sorry.'
'Are u sure?, can u check again?'
'yes, sorry.'
'isnt there anything you could do?'
'no.'

And hence the girl who couldnt even kill a mosquito had killed herself...and like always i take it all in, like a sponge.

jinhone humein chaaha unhein hum chaah naa sake.. aur jinko humne chaaha unhein hum paa naa sake..

Thats all Folks...

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.
i feel irritated, stupid, tired, emotionally exhausted. all i want to do now is just silence the noise of my emotions, its insane, i know it and you know it. i now choose to be blinded by the secrets that stir inside of an abyss which is me, if i dont see it, if i dont feel it no one would either, its easier pretending not to know.ignorance is bliss afterall.
how did I let myself fall so deep? my own mind is the biggest actor in causing my degradation-- it is the biggest contributor to my self-deterioration.
anyways, as i write this a word of thanx to all the people who stopped by this blog to drop in their invaluable pearls. (nidhi, hemu, admirer.etc etc )trust me guys ur words really really made me feel special.
anyways for the time being it looks like its back to being me , myself and i. i should not continue down this road anymore and perhaps get out and get a more optimistic approach towards life. eventually i had to stop to catch my breath..
maybe someother day when i decide to run away again , i'll be back. but till then ..it looks like a goodbye.
good bye and goodluck.

There's a stake through my fat, black heart.

if i would... would she too?

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?

Is there no way out of my mind?

"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.
Other people are living my dream, not that its not good or anyhting, just that i know it could have been me. Deep down a lingering feeling still remains..
someday..
in the garden..
in the stillness of the morning..
my time shall come.

Je ne peux pas vous dire que je t'aime peut-être...

"This too shall pass," I say to myself.
"This...too..shall..pass.."

"It had to come to an end sometime", she said.
"But why does it have to be now?" I asked.

An evening with friends.

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.
words seem such imperfect substitutes when it comes down to putting feelings on paper, and right now i dont want to to spoil it by attempting to do the same. hence i'll just put up some pics of old pals of mine i met after a long time. feels great to see that all of them would eventually become some of the great brains in the country. it is really amazing and nice to find that the people you grew up with are doing so well for themselves, although it does leave a tinge of sadness when you find that you missed the starting gun but then the race is long..

pulkit, shino and me.


pulkit, parvathy, shino.

An existentialist thought

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.

Another day in the life of me.

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.
Met up with aditi after a long time today. She was looking gorgeous as always. Had our coffees and muffins at barista and caught up on old times, shared good laughs and for once there we were, two CAT aspirants who forgot they were depressed for a while.
Had an interesting incident today. Gave a small kid beggar a twenty ruppee note today. the broken toothed smile of his made me really feel nice. Must remember to be more charitable next year.
With the dawning of the evening ,came ankita. Gosh how i feel so guilty every time i see her. She stays practically next door to me and still i meet her only about once every two-three months or so.Should atleast give her a call more often. She seemed depressed and looked tired. those lovely green eyes of hers somehow had lost the spark which they had a few years back. As we sat there i could not help but notice an underlying feeling of melancholy and sadness in her voice, and that made me remind of my own miserable self. Kinda put me off after such a lovely day.
With such a tiring day behind my back, i had to take a walk to clear out thoughts floating around in my head. Enjoyed it as much. Somehow was trying to figure out whether my recent mental state was actually my mental stamina or just an abatement in the anxiety which usually prevails inside my mind....and while i was doing this, the thought about her floated back into my mind and there was i was back into my manic sense of anxiety and uneasiness all over again. i consider myself to be a maniac - someone who seeks to secure himself with his own personal core as a universal truth, therefore i dont feel people can be comfortable around me, atleast not for long, because i cannot surpress my mania for long- infact i dont even try to surpress it anymore because i find it a rather hopeless task. Now i like her and i believe she likes me(notwisthstanding the fact she is apples and i am like potatoes), but that doesnt make me a comfortable person for her. Infact i am not comfortable with myself except when i am uncomfortable. now i feel really uncomfortable over the thought that i made somebody else uncomfortable, hence i guess i am most comfortable alone where i have only to deal with a single discomfort.
ahh how wierd my depressions can get. so driven i can get at these times for some cheerful contact with anyone that those people i encounter, that they get so easily deluded by my cheerful foolishness. they are completely unaware of the black hell of perhaps only a few minutes ago and how in a few minutes i would be again out there contemplating to end it all.
But i guess as i sit here typing all this, i wont do anything of that sort. the fact that i am living, i am living not for myself , not for her, not for my parents, not for anyone else but just for the great guy up there. and as i sit here in the waning hours of the night, i cannot help but feel that right now if i just look outta my mist covered window, i might just see him as he flies away into the morning moon.

Mechanical Animals

I am never gonna be the one for you
I am never gonna save the world from you
But they'll never be good to you
Or bad to you
They'll never be anything
Anything at all

This isn't me
I'm not mechanical
I'm just a boy
playing the suicide king..

..And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.

I thought I heard you whisper.
It happens all the time.

Black

I dont want any colours anymore, i want them to turn black.
i bleed myself just to see if i am alive. i take a look in the mirror and shudder at the image i see there, want to break all mirrors.
i know i will let you down like i always do. i wear this crown of thorns with a sceptre made of broken thoughts i could not repair , sit on my throne of broken dreams and all i can offer you is my empire of dirt.
oh what have i become? everyone i know goes away in the end. everything i have goes away in the end.and i remain here alone with my empire of dust, caught somewhere between memories and dreams. if i could start all over again, maybe i'll keep myself thousand of light years from here. maybe i'll just take another way.

Voices

Hello.
How do you do today?
Can you please tell me your name?
What is it that hangs behind those beautiful eyes of yours? can i have a peek at the spaces inside your mind? i want to hold up a mirror to you. i want to be the mirror itself, i want to reflect the beauty inside. i want to be the wind, i want to be the rain, i want to be the sunshine. i want to be that light at your doorstep to show that you are home.
when u think that the darkness has seeped inside your head with all its twisted sorrows and pains, incase you dont know, let me stand up to show what a beauty you are. its hard to believe that you dont know what a beauty you are, please let me be your eyes , the reassuring hand in the darkness so that you wont be afraid.please let me show you that you are blind.
can i have some space inside your mind like you do in mine?
please.

Alone

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..
...but alas all it is, is just a fucking illusion.

The Fairest Of The Season

Now that it's time
Now that the hour hand has landed at the end
Now that it's real
Now that the dreams have given all they had to lend
I want to know do I stay or do I go
And maybe try another time
And do I really have a hand in my forgetting ?

Now that I've tried
Now that I've finally found that this is not the way,
Now that I turn
Now that I feel it's time to spend the night away
I want to know do I stay or do I go
And maybe finally split the rhyme
And do I really understand the undernetting ?

Yes and the morning has me
Looking in your eyes
And seeing mine warning me
To read the signs carefully.

Now that it's light
Now that the candle's falling smaller in my mind
Now that it's here
Now that I'm almost not so very far behind
I want to know do I stay or do I go
And maybe follow another sign
And do I really have a song that I can ride on ?

Now that I can
Now that it's easy, ever easy all around.
Now that I'm here
Now that I'm falling to the sunlights and a song
I want to know do I stay or do I go
And do I have to do just one
And can I choose again if I should lose the reason ?

Yes, and the morning
Has me looking in your eyes
And seeing mine warning me
To read the signs more carefully.

Now that I smile,
Now that I'm laughing even deeper inside.
Now that I see,
Now that I finally found the one thing I denied
It's now I know do I stay or do I go
And it is finally I decide
That I'll be leaving
In the fairest of the seasons.

Another Lonely Day

Yes indeed I'm alone again
and here comes emptiness crashing in
it's either love or hate
I can't find in between
cause I've been with witches
and I have been with a queen

it wouldn't have worked out any way
so for now it's just another lonely day hey hey
further along we just may
but for now it's just another lonely day

wish there was something
I could say or do
I can resist anything
but the temptation from you
but I'd rather walk alone
than chase you around
I would rather fall myself
than let you drag me on down

it wouldn't have worked out any way
so for now it's just another lonely day hey hey
further along we just may
but for now it's just another lonely day

-Ben Harper

The End of Isolation

Just came across this piece of writing by Fyodor Dostoevsky

"What isolation?" I asked him

The isolation that you find everywhere, particularly in our age. But it won't come to an end right now, because the time has not yet come. Today everyone asserts his own personality and strives to live a full life as an individual. But these efforts lead not to a full life but to suicide, because, instead of realizing his personality, man only slips into total isolation. For in our age mankind has been broken up into self-contained individuals, each of whom retreats into his lair, trying to stay away from the rest of mankind, and finally isolating himself from people and people from him. And, while he accumulates material wealth in his isolation, he thinks with satisfaction how mighty and secure he has become, because he is mad and cannot see that the more goods he accumulates, the deeper he sinks into suicidal impotence. The reason for this is that he has become accustomed to relying only on himself; he has split off from the whole and become an isolated unit; he has trained himself not to believe in the help of others, in people and in humanity, and only trembles for fear he should lose his money and privileges that he has won for himself."

Stationary in the whirl of life

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.

A Feast Of Friends

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.
without even noticing that time has gently passed you by.
i remember that day in january some years back when we were sitting in the warm winter sun at barista. she asked me why i wrote my journal, saying that all that she had to remember was in her head. i said i liked to write down things anyway. but today i know things that i didnt know that day:i know how it is to go back in time and feel the same things when reading those journals. she can't do that by only remembering small details. When reading my old journals I see faces, hear music, feel everything that I felt in that very moment. That is the most precious thing I have. And her big loss.

Quote Of The Day

"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"
Mr. Jim Morrison
(1943-1971)
R.I.P.

Creep

When you were here before, couldn't look you in the eye
You're just like an angel, your skin makes me cry
You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
I wish I was special
You're so fuckin special

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin here?
I don't belong here

I don't care if it hurts, I wanna have control
I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul
I want you to notice, when I'm not around
You're so fuckin special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin here?
When I don't belong here, whoaaa whoaaa

She's running out again...
She's running out, she runs, runs, runs, runs... runs...

Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want
You're so fuckin special
I wish I was special
But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin here?
I don't belong here
I don't belong here

Who

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.

Rain, Memories And Random Blabberings..

"The best thing one can do when it's raining is to let it rain."
h.s.longfellow

truly truly a wonderful day.rained the entire day..its kinda those days which always puts you in the mood...either you wallow in the mire of depression or experience the bliss of the carefree..today was one of the days when it brought back memories of the carefree childhood days when everything was simple ..todays rain has compelled me to remember again the things i have forgotten...i felt glad that atleast a tiny part of the blithesome litlle kid still survives someplace inside me. i remembered today the feeling i used to get when raindrops fell on my face..i remembered how i used to love splashing about in the puddles of water..i remembered how i loved going out cycling in the rain..i remembered the blissful feeling i got sitting outside when it was just about 10 minutes before raining..i remembered those school days when we got wet while coming back home..i remembered the beautiful scene from american beauty about the paperbag flaoting in the wind..i remembered those "slushball" matches during the lunch breaks in school..i remembered those days in school when it used to rain in the morning and everybody used to arrive with their umbrellas and colourful raincoats..and i also remember how the attendance used to take a nose dive on that day and how most of the periods were free..i remembered the hailstorm which we had in school once and how the entire school lawn was white with hailstones..i remembered the days i used to spend at barista sipping a hot cup of coffee..i remembered i was alive once..hmm rain is such a beautiful thing..makes u remember so many forgotten things..truly truly a good day.

Let me forget about today until tomorrow..

Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin' ship,
My senses have been stripped, my hands can't feel to grip,
My toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels
To be wanderin'.
I'm ready to go anywhere, I'm ready for to fade
Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way,
I promise to go under it.
Take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind,
Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves,
The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach,
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow.
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free,
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands,
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves,
Let me forget about today until tomorrow.

Perfect Day

Just a perfect day,
Drink Sangria in the park,
And then later, when it gets dark,
We go home.
Just a perfect day,
Feed animals in the zoo
Then later, a movie, too,
And then home.

Oh it's such a perfect day,
I'm glad I spent it with you.
Oh such a perfect day,
You just keep me hanging on,
You just keep me hanging on.

Just a perfect day,
Problems all left alone,
Weekenders on our own.
It's such fun.
Just a perfect day,
You made me forget myself.
I thought I was someone else,
Someone good.

Oh it's such a perfect day,
I'm glad I spent it with you.
Oh such a perfect day,
You just keep me hanging on,
You just keep me hanging on.

You're going to reap just what you sow,
You're going to reap just what you sow..

Trainspotting

"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?
I chose not to choose life.. I chose something else.
And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who need reasons when you've got heroin? "

Just Another Day..

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.
i stand here with an empty head waiting for something to hit, i dont think know what it is. i stand here and see the people aound me., so merry , so gay ,engrossed in their vulgar mirth. cant they see? cant they think? why ?
its just one of those days when death sneeks up on you like a cat sneeks up on a blind mouse. the mouse can feel the warm breath of the cat at the back of its neck. its helpless . and then the cat whispers gently into its ears 'the end is near'.
the terror of death sometimes amazes me . people fear death even more than pain. life hurts much more than death, at the point of death, its all over, you are free from pain, you are free to fly,you are free.

The world

Home is where one starts from.
As we grow older
The world becomes stranger,
The pattern more complicated
Of dead and living.

Right Or Wrong

what is right or what is wrong?
who decides whether something is right or something is wrong? ever wondered?
i for one dont really know for sure whether something is right or wrong, rather i believe it to be either right or wrong. there are certain things which i believe are wrong, eg. acts of cruelty and there are certain things i believe are correct, eg. i believe in caring for the nature.It is rather a way I decide to act, to live. So right or wrong are based on jugdments, these judgments can be ours which are shaped by the world (read society) around us. The society has given us certain rules or acts..known as morality. all our actions are bounded by the confines of morality.

But if all the people on this planet died, and there was no one left to testify for these morals in the future, would these set of rules still apply? would right and wrong still exist? would the truth represented by these morals still hold true? if they still hold true , then who would be holding them? The only answer that comes to my mind is GOD. one has to someone immortal, omnicient to know the true way of living. he or she doesnt die. he lives on forever. but what if God never existed? what would happen to our set of morals then? would they dissappear along with humanity. would right or wrong cease to exist the moment we do not confront the question with a choice?

If the basis of right or wrong is based on such flimsy grounds , perhaps they never existed in the true sense. they are all part of the fantasies, a kind of utilities that mankind have developed to facilitate its existence. So, perhaps there is not such a thing as a true way of acting, a true moral… So, we are left without right and wrong, left without guide. We are left just with ourselves, we are left alone. Therefore, if right and wrong don’t exist, we are free to act, we can do whatever we want. We are free to choose. However, we are fully responsible for our acts and for all consequences that follow those acts. there is no one to blame!

hello old world

hello there old world. hows it going out there??