Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Day 1

Like Jake Sully said,
"since you thing you are the strongest; who would attack you? you would never look up!"

A 7/10 only because, politically, demographically, visually it was appealing!
Oh and there was something very cheezy about the movie, for the rest of it, I had Pulkit grinning like an idiot

Perhaps, we all make this mistake.
Once again.
Once more?
And, the cycle will continue?

Friday, December 18, 2009

Such is life or what?!

Damn me, the Atomic County and Guitar picture from the right column, have gone!
Cause O.C was a teenage obsession (how ancient I sound when I say that, despite being asked to stop behaving 13!!)
And, The guitar cartoon, well...past is past! :)
So, Things , people, events, places, songs, even foods to eat - become insignificant after some time!
When a person like me, couldn't survive without a frooti a day, just can't stand that sweetness, wonder if its just time. Things once liked will always be liked, maybe a time span of boredom comes in way; and then you get back to it. - that is how people do it.
I, on the other hand, OVERDO it at the first place, and when I shut. I shut it up. Forever, is not JUST a very long time. It's just... well, forever.

"Fuck fuck fuck for the sake of a fuckin life, mara lo salon , pathhar padenge kisi din, "

People are so fuckin strange, bloody all of the kinds who would suck up to you , when they WANT something, emotional, mental, physical (If I may say) and then, in the end. You stand in the corner, fuckin feeling like a doormat! Derogatory eh? a doormat? NO, thats not how I fuckin feel about myself, that how Im gonna make "them" feel. Oh no, not a doormat, a bloody wasted good for nothing, vegetable!
And then one day, when you bump into me...at lets say a coffee place? I'll smile, and crunch your stone heart into a tiny pebble, because I can crush stones you see. I am strong and
Such is life!

And when 5 years hence, you wrinkle, and old and your godforsaken marriage sucks, cause your life sucks and wife doesn't; oh she does! she does! she does the cute gym friend she has, cause you'r of course growing old, working 18 hours a day and doing the junior in office! I will point all fuckin fingers at you , and the thumbs down! YES! haaa!
Such is life!

And When that topper screams of "I dont cheat and I get 5% more than you, and I top and your'r just another 70 per-center" I will, rip the happiness apart from that sly face of yours, cause my dear friend, you aim for the sky, my aims are a million fuckin times beyond it, and when you behave you know it all and snob it all, I do it for the love of it! You hide your fuckin sheet with ten times effort; wherein it was me fifteen minutes back outside the exam hall, telling you HOW to make sure you do NOT fail.
But such is life!

When that superly hot looking girl in the class, tells you "Kolapuris in winters?" and yes oh, oh, she is wearing leg warmers in Delhi heat! Your friends call him a bitch, you turn around and don't care, cause a smoke is keeping you warm and 10 minutes to go for an exam, I know you will lose your hair because of so much ironing (haha, credit : Sanya) we, love our curly days, and straight days, and good days and bad. Because you are thin, you are not fuckin pretty! Because you wear leg warmers, you look STUPID, you will spend life in front of the mirror, when we will have so much worthwhile, you will have botox and super loads of Estee Lauder, whereas we had apples and we ran to fuckin feel we have feet ! Your eyes will be mascara and kajal and that oh, what do you call it, the shade thing, Ours... will have stories to tell ! and when you lose it all, cause you'll just be a 40 year old, trying to compete with your own 18 year old girl, we will be making huge money, cause we had the brains. And then of course, I will tell you such is life. At least I didn't get fucked by every man coming my way for cheap thrills, and oh that mastercard bought love!

Small things, events, actions, thoughts, can just lead to so much more, or are coming from so much. Over analyzing and all that jazz? Hell, NO! ... Such is life!

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

A little complex

Duality- equations, understandings, answers and existence everything is effected by it. If not by it then by multiplicity. So what remains is uncertain in certain terms or shall we look into it as if it is certain in uncertain terms. But, there is nothing new in this "rant", we all know this. So why does it exist?? If we know for certain that duality is there then it is not there because then there is no uncertainty.
Thinking about it.... isn't it that we intuitively understand that every event has a cause and itself causes something. Then why is that we are uncertain. Simple reason is that inertia of thought that suspends interpreting the effect of a cause until the effect is already there.
This "rant" is an example of every fallacy or observation that it itself talks of.

My choice is what I choose to do and if I'm causing no harm it shouldn't bother you;
Your choice is who you choose to be and if your causin' no harm then you're alright with me
- Ben Harper

Sunday, December 13, 2009

I , Me , Mine

I have my feet up on the dashboard as you drive down the expressway. The Beatles are singing on the radio and the sun is slowly setting in the clear, vast sky. You look
amazing in your aviator sunglasses and plain white tee. The one I remember waking up in last Friday. You have your arm out the window and the wind is running through your short cut mocha hair.

You smile as I sing along with George Harrison and chuckle when I sing off key. Sitting in my lap is a notebook. My sketchbook actually. You hate it when I draw you. But I couldn’t help it when I saw how inspiring you looked as we left the city limits. :)

Now I have my feet up on the dashboard of your Corvette, and I’m sketching your arm gently rested on the steering wheel. I smile thinking to myself that you have no idea I’m doing this. I look my window every so often pretending I’m drawling the mountains. You won’t have any idea. You won’t because I don’t look at you as much as I want to.

You told me this morning that we should take a road trip. When I asked where you said anywhere. For a second I looked at you as I laid in our bed. But then I just nodded my head and smiled. Because I’ll follow you anywhere.

You just stopped and got me icecream, and I know you hate sharing yours but I still threw mine out the window. You tell me you wont give me yours, and I turn and look away , like I always do.
Then suddenly, you grab my hand tight ; like you'd never let me go, and ask if I want a bite. I look up from my sketchbook at your puppy dog eyes I sigh and nod my head.

That was then.
Today you want your own time, I asked you if you were mine, and you couldn't help but grin.
I took my second last attempt to make you better, you snapped.
I took my last to sing for you, because Its that one thing I'm the most shy to do; and you kill that last one too.

But then No-one's frightened of playing it, and everyone's saying it.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

"Kehne ki baat hai ki wo paraaye hain...

dil toh unke siva kisi ko apna maanta hi nahi "

The world seems to be getting smaller, and no definitely not closer!
There is so much I still haven't seen, not read, not heard. Perhaps there is no end to it; maybe the easier way out was to reach back to the shores; well no not me, told you I am the lioness! :D

They say broken hearts write the best poetry; and write it best all their lives! For that purpose, Im ready to get mine broken beyond repair; and further down :)

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Jalal ad-Din Rumi

Ouch! And Shahram Shiva's translated work makes me want to forget everything else and read. And read. And read, till the mind cant absorb more, and then add a ting of that black toxic cup of bean and water which laces the mind with a line of intoxication, and read through the night!
Uhmmm, yes its too much 'love' and gets on the nerves, but then thats when the audios work!

“When I am with you, we stay up all night.
When you're not here, I can't go to sleep.

Praise God for those two insomnias!
And the difference between them.”

- Rumi

Saturday, October 31, 2009

" If I were any braver...

...I'd be a lioness...
And You look cuter than Rishi Kapoor! Sachheee! :) "

I've just come back from a silent , live music assisted dinner followed by an even silent visit to the Bangla Sahib and I'm sitting in my corner having my last bite of the weekend Blueberry Cheese Cake! My culinary skills are getting better by the day ;)

Coming to the point, the back of my mind didn't miss what I wasn't doing, (which happens very rare) perhaps that's why I am already drowsy for a peaceful night's sleep. and its just 11:40!
Everything needs a closure, sometimes it is said out loud, more often in case of people a time or place is reached where , saying/not saying , howling , crying , anything and everything in fact doesn't make any difference whatsoever.
Ruchir says I am a stone, well maybe I am. and I love being one, but to think of it; if I really was a stone, I wouldn't be thinking of things like these and those and so much more! Its a curse maybe.
They have all changed a lot is how I've been putting it since the past few months and I've been blaming so many people, just because they have all found other people, their own someone to spend a lot of time with, and that is no doubts making me very uncomfortable and lonely. How it is seen is that since I am not "dating" someone or in a "relationship" is why I am cynical and unsupportive, lol.
Hell !

Saw too many documentaries on Indira Gandhi today, as well as that 32 grand Chanel wallet, now this is what I call getting inspired to earn it! :D

"Aise toh na dekho,
ki humko nasha ho jaaye "

Tuesday, October 13, 2009


There would have been so many insignificant tears I wouldn't have shed, so many things not known, so many things not felt, stayed in the dark about so many, never felt betrayed by so many, saved so much time, slept early perhaps, not been jealous , not felt things are missing, not wanted to do things, go to places, eat those things, wear those clothes, seen the smiling faces and felt like puking; so many arguments without a reason, a few people never met, a few stories untold, an ego hike on default or edited potraits and the shallow "muahs" and "<3" not received.
see those pictures and bursted out; crying, laughing, disgusted, cheated.

If only there was no Facebook.
Ah, what a denial that would have been.

Monday, September 28, 2009

So the culprit is insomnia

Simply because not being hopeful gives a net to the fall, doesn't really stop the fall.

Why *again* ?
Because it's a tendency people have, the same kind of trouble attracts a person again and again and again.

Why the introspection ?
It gives alot of momentary humor if nothing else ;)

If this sleep issue could be solved, so much would be out of my life, so many unnecessary people, conversations, thoughts, etc etc etc !

Oh and lesser phone bills, lesser calorie intake (comfort foods are fattening !! ) and I can't believe I actually included that last bit about the fattening thing, finally the treadmill's getting its due :)

This Gurbaksh Chahal guy is HAWT!

Thank you myself for making me non-hopeful about everything.

And why do stars fall ?
So , we make wishes and an idiot of ourselves.

Thursday, September 24, 2009

10 in 95

Found :)

It was just there, being ignored and abused for years altogether in the name of greed and convenience and needs.
Wonder what took me so long, but finally ... :)

There is still a long long way to go, the damage is too much to be sorted by just a thought, actions ; yeah !
Why did you take so long ?
Running , not away but to you !
Cheers ! For the better part of your existence !

This song is stuck.

"Jaata kya tera hai , manga jo mera hai;
maine konsi tujhse jannat maangli "

And then all I want tonight is a falling star to make a wish! :)

Friday, August 28, 2009


My throat is tight from the
Snickering cold wind that waltzes
around us
In spite, we push against its
Wingtipped shoes and cherry blossom corsages
freckled grass and tan oak trees are humming along
to this icy orchestration
Are we the only ones who hear the syncopation
of a thousand curling cumuli
or a million bursting moons?
This deafening lull is what binds our
quivering legs and willowed arms to these silent screams

...We cry

And yet only I...

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Damien Rice will sing for us every night !

One day, I will run away. Seems quite fancy to say so. Like the kinds, oh I am going to run away and live in peace, cause the world never treated me right, and "they" never understood me, cause I was so ahead of my times/or I should have been 16 when Sanjay and Maneka eloped.
Ya quite alot on these lines, cause then atleast I never wanted the conventionals !

So when one turns twenty, rather regretfully because of those small little unfulfilled wishes,the year ahead starts getting frustrating. And, no I don't believe in content and self happiness and jazz, if you do ; go read Shiv Khera, here it is different story altogether.
Getting back to the fascination with running away, it doesn't necessarily have to be 'alone' Infact, it doesn't have to be alone at all. It has to be with him. For which the search can never end, considering how Sethi put it last night, I have weird 'fundas' ; aisa hoga toh aisa hona chahiye and waise hoga toh ye karna padega and the never ending permutation combinations.
Well, sadly enough, this happens to be very true. Too many fundas, the downside of this is that those combinations cannot exist in a single person ; hence the innumerable heartbreaks . Ouch! The brighter side ; put them all together, and voila; even Megan Fox would die to be at my place ! ;)
Now yes, every single person has a well crafted image of their real one in their minds. Pulkit has his Simran, and I have my Raj too (though the name could be changed for a stronger one) oh and the hairstyle too, and the lack of ambition too, but yes we can keep the madness. So the madness of Raj , the flamboyance to be able to carry those Nehru jackets and cufflinks which would make every man burn , red ties ! (thats like a must ) , doesn't have to be too goodlooking or too tall or too fair or too dark, but one look should make me go weak on my knees !
No sense oh humour? Chalega; but his smile should make me look good !
I mean I really don't need a laughter dose or too much of it, my own is disastrous and dose enough for me!
Yes, I have mentioned about the bolero and the jaat boys, and the typical ladne-marne type attitude; time and again, without which ; it would be totally impossible.
Has to be older than me, again that needs no mention, haha. How else are we going to elope midway of my law degree ;)
Oh and the cufflinks, yes they have been mentioned, the super eatable sweat and perfume mixed smell which give tingles to the senses,should buy me flowers even when I insist they are a waste of money, oh and click my pictures when I am with him, more when he thinks I don't know; and I know he thinks so , but I still pretend that he thinks I don't know I am being clicked, wooo! the list is never ending.

I told him once I was waiting for December, hot coffee and full throttling music in our car; and December never came for us.

Bloody, that's another downside, these plans need to be harmoniously construed with somebody elses. ( Harmoniously construed : New word, courtesy attentive listening in Constitution law class )

Yes there are a series of heartbreaks, damn these combinations, damn the digits will be forgotten now, it could never reach 'us' so they will be forgotten soon too.

How I thank myself for not being hopeful, and for that little cynic in me;
" Dude! no matter what, no matter how good a person is, a man is honest till he gets an opportunity to be otherwise"
Damn you Anoopam, the according-to-you dhaba place, is one of my favorites and makes me say best things I ever have ! :)

Yes, I would base it just on the concept of us, dependability and acceptance. But for the part of life I know, for sure Its too much to ask for, the custom made Raj (yeah I know, I have to think of a better name) will do good.
How much it makes me happy that I know for a fact relationships end.

What? I am cynical? Why! Thank you ever much,atleast I am not a dumb fuck retard.

"There is something in the way you look at me,
Its as if my heart knows, you are the missing piece "

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Three Kings

What's the most important thing in life?
Too dependent on other people.

What, love?
A little Disneyland, isn't it?

God's will?

What is it then?

As in?
As in people do what is most necessary to them at any given moment.

Friday, June 12, 2009


This is one of those days when the mind just doesn't work. Yeah. MY MIND just doesn't work. Has to be a big deal .. right?
Courtesy - a head spin which is perhaps faster than the fastest rotating wheel, I don't know which one is it, cant find it either -despite the new improvisation on research skills at work.
Sitting here at my desk ( yeah it sounds fancy, but not as fancy as it can be ) when I see the city below me, and those tall buildings across the road, suddenly passing through the tiny cars and the even tynier humans ; the world seems a distant reality.
This is one thing about work which gives me the most joy perhaps, the disconnect. Nothing has ever felt or can feel better, than a high which is generated by just constant work!
coming back to the head spin, apart from the fact its killing my tolerance to pain; the nerves can be felt now, the words spoken are generating a kind of vibration which the cheeks can sense. Like a hot iron rod is being passed through the veins it is flowing through my face into the head. This much and more, is how much the head hurts.

These are times when one feels ... dizzy? But I m here, on the 7th floor. Looking through the window from one eye, being vigilant about not being noticed on blogger with the other, while it still balances the fact that I dont type wrong. Ha! My fingers are behaving good though, well tamed as they are on the keyboard. :)

They are making a metro line ; connecting delhi and NCR. WOnder how it will be then, this window will show the metro and that speed will be much better than the buses and cars and their reflection on the glass of one of those tall DLF towers.

They don't realize. They never will. Even I haven't infact till now,will I?

But its all temporary, most of it, everything in fact;
can I call it Temporary Death?

Friday, May 8, 2009

I envy you!

Today the moon looks beautiful; its not always that I appreciate nature and natural things per se, like the flowers or mountains or the moon. But today ; it just IS beautiful. Not like the oh-you are so pretty -beautiful. But the oh- you're so beautiful that I don't wanna keep looking at you, or else tomorrow I'll miss you much!

That spark I had; is getting lost; somewhere in between people, pretense, people, arrogance, spite, anger and myself.

I wish I could drive to the moon tonight.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Your Skin

The cool breeze sifts through my limbs, slipping and sliding through unexplored parts. For a moment the rest of the world slips away, scrubbed clean and absolved by the waves. I’d like to dive into that ocean, feel the water crash down on me, suppress me, remind me that I’m not the only thing that matters. But I can’t. Not now. Not yet. I should be here when you wake up, because that was the one sincere promise I made you.

I don’t even want to try leaving right now – not when it was you who looked at me in that way that taught me what it was to feel the ground beneath my feet disappear. Tiny rivulets of water slither down your temple, and I’m tempted to brush them away. I hold back, remembering what you told me:
“The one you mark is the one you keep.” And I don’t want to mark you because I’m not sure if I’ll keep you. I’m not sure if I’ll keep you, and I’m even less sure about whether you’d survive it. Maybe it’s because I know you feel me slipping away despite your clutching, like the grains of sand you held so tightly in your palm not two hours ago. Or was it years? It doesn’t matter.

The past has passed, and what’s left of it except a few recollections that’ll be buried beneath a surface of newer memories? Maybe you don’t feel the same way, and you’ll wake believing that the past is the segue to our future. Oh, what I wouldn’t give so that you’d wake to think about your next encounter instead. A part of me – the part that wishes this would never end – wants to convince me that I should stay, because you’re too bruised and too vulnerable and too fragile to do this on your own. The part of me that knows it’ll just be later rather than sooner overpowers the other.

The sand shifts slightly and, without looking, I know you’re reaching out for me. I bite down on my tongue gently, forcibly swallowing a groan of frustration. Against my better judgment, I offer you my hand and feel yours slip into it, entwining and tangling. Your hand is as familiar to me as my own, the leathery feel of your skin and long-dried salt strangely comforting. How could it not be, when I can recount thousands of paths traced upon the lines of my face with the wandering pads of your thumbs? Every trail embedded on your palm tells of every secret meeting we’ve had, all testaments to our fairy-tale story.

Fleetingly, I wonder if I’ll have the courage to stay when the silvery tones are replaced by glowing warmth. Then you stir again and it’s not hard for me to remember why I can’t stay within fields of golden scenery and humid, still air.

You exhale and I inhale. The moon is bright, illuminating the sky and shining like a large quarter in the expanse of navy blue above us. I tilt my head and glance at you, carelessly sprawled out. Surely you wouldn’t be so nonchalant if you knew. Your sunset skin and long limbs make me think of our summer, brightness and oceans bursting behind my eyelids. Your face is all angles and planes, like a high school geometry lesson. You’re squirming again, and I know that it’ll be only a matter of minutes before you wake.

“You’re leaving?” Your voice is rough with sleep, but somehow it’s still like warm molasses.

“Well, you’re awake now,” I say neutrally. It’s not a direct answer, and I know you hate it.

Your hand slips from mine and you rub your eyes, so blue they put the spring sky to shame. “Are we ever going to talk?”

“There’s nothing to say.” I shrug and promptly wince, remembering why I hate the sun. My shoulders are red and achy, sensitive even against the thin fabric of my shirt.

“Okay.” You nod slowly. “Okay.” We’re quiet for a few moments before you reach out and brush a strand of hair from my face. I know there’s more to this. “Things get lost without anyone noticing on the way, you know.” Your tone is quiet. Not angry. Not sad. Quiet.

“We’re a mistake we knew we were making,” I reply. “Four weeks isn’t enough to make something real. It’s not like we could have had forever.”

“Love that’s real doesn’t need to have forever,” you say, just as quietly.

I contemplate my words carefully. In the end, honesty wins over tact.
“This isn’t real.”

It takes another long, steady moment before you decide to speak again. When you do, I sigh with weariness.

“You were the loneliest place I’ve ever been in.”

“And you thought you could fix that?”

“I wish I could have.”

We are both looking up at the sky, wondering why the stars aren’t out. Maybe they’re hiding behind a veil of thin clouds. Your arm is barely brushing mine, almost inconceivably. I think of how many times I pictured this moment, this ending point. It’s nothing like the dramatic scene in my mind. It’s almost as if the strings connecting us had been snapping one by one, softening the final blow.

I’ll miss you, your broad smile and loud laughter. I can close my eyes and almost picture you strumming random notes on your guitar. I’ll miss the days we spent on the dock, playing that stupid game where we name the passing boats. I’ll miss your black leather jacket that always smelled of humid afternoons and sunshine. I'll miss the way you moan about how much your feet hurts after a long day. I'll miss your voice. I’ll miss the birthmark right below your left shoulder blade, the one shaped like Italy. I’ll miss your camera. I'll miss your phone. I'll miss your clothes. I’ll miss your room. I’ll miss your car.
I'll miss your skin.
I'll miss you.

Somehow, despite all of this, I still say, “See you around.”

Sunday, February 15, 2009


He sat on the corner of the pond and threw stones in it. He saw the ripples; it was giving him a surreal pleasure. It was making him feel 'something' of this I am sure, but what? I shall never have the courage to ask.

He just sat outside and saw her fall apart; just like those ripples in the pond.

Sunday, February 8, 2009


"Maybe happIness is something that we can only pursue. And maybe we can actually never have it no matter what."

This stayed with me after watching the Will Smith classic, but I believe in this now ; more than ever and always will. Oh and at this moment ;
I feel happy.

Friday, January 30, 2009


...is important.
You always said that.

Keep the faith, is what you said ; right?

oh and
"I'll fight against destiny and win"

But what when one just can't do it anymore? What then?
What when one complete outdoes his own self, and another step doesn't seem like 'just' a step but as burdened as hell. Then what?

Why didn't you tell me what to do when one loses hope in faith.

Bring that hope back? Believe in yourself , life is a struggle, happiness is just a pursue blah blah blah and all the jazz?
Till when?

Thursday, January 29, 2009

Of Masks and an Evil Twin.

I don't know about you but I think when we are happy or sad you are everything jealous, spiteful, depressed, eccentric, and so on.

I believe everyone has more than one face, but I can't speak for everyone only myself.

I feel I passed though my 18 years as a wallpaper flower. Seen, but unnoticed at the same time.

At home at college. I see wrong I know right, but as a wallpaper flower you would lack the courage, spirit, and heart to correct it.

I can't look in the mirror
Because when I do I see an enclosed, spiteful, hateful, and envious girl.

Enclosed I hide the truth I bear the lies. You make me laugh you think you know me? Do you know I hate you? Do you know I fear you? Do you know that I would give up everything to be you and yet you whine on the most ridiculous things, you naive fool.

Spiteful spiting any love that comes my way.Everything looks fake
so don't give me your I love you's or you friendly hugs because it makes me tremble it makes me weep. I can no longer accept love. I fear love because I don't understand it, what is this four-letter word?

Hateful hating myself for the lack of courage to fight for what I want, what is right, and what is needed when it is right in front of my face. All the forced back words and swallowed tears I begin to hate it all.

Envious jealous of everyone who seems to have real happiness but like I would be able to recognize that.

When you see me you will know why I am the wallpaper flower. I am not Emo, gothic, or running around mourning for the world. I smile, I laugh, I play, I live. My perfect cover.

Fragile as glass.
All I have is hope and dreams
but I know it is only my refuge in the night in my slumber
I live the way I want to without you.

I fear of being alone and even though I hate you please don't leave me.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

I miss you.

I want to pick up a pen and paper, no not pen; a pencil. So, I want to pick up a pencil and write what I want my life to be some years hence, and achieve it by hook or crook.
And I want to pick up an eraser and erase every moment I shared with people who left with unsaid words. They never deserved so much of me. I am angry and extremely extremely ... void.
Human beings just use each other.
Emotionally. Physically. And when their work is done, they move ahead.
And I forgive them. Because I call them victims of circumstances; But my forgiveness ain't gonna be so easy now on.

Yes, you said it right my dear prospective Chief Minister , " People who have ambitions do not get effected by emotions"
No, I will not give up on compassion. No, I am not begging for stability in life.

I'm very very angry with myself and them.
I'm scared. Of life. Of people.
I'm scarred.
I'm a hopeless dreamer.
I'm void.
I'm not feeling right.
I'm just a little ashamed to be all of this. This is not what I want to feel.

I'm miss you Shivani. Badly. Please come back wherever you are. Please.

Too much usage of 'I' because its MY life. And I am the most important person in my life.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

MY Shoes

If this is how it has to be; this is how it will be.

I was quite a weird kid.I had a habit of losing stuff. I was indeed one of those completely careless ones, I used to take my dad to buy me new pencils every weekend ; the fanciest ones there, purposely leave my water bottles and tiffin box in school to be able to demand for a new one, drop things out of my balcony with the intention of not wanting to see them ever the list can be endless. Whenever it happened due to my own fault , I rarely showed any guilt . I just ordered for a new one. As if it was my right to get the exact same thing back again. Though I never played with dolls, I had one with blue eyes, if not less I made my parents buy the same doll 7-8 times over a span of maybe a year and a half, everytime I saw any single defect in them I wanted a brand new one. ( And No, even if it seems like I wasn't one of those spoilt kids :P , my parents were the extremely strict ones, maybe just my mother. Papa could be manipulated by tantrums and tears, daughters have that advantage )
However this isn't the real story.

When I was 7 or 8. We used to have Yoga class in school twice a week. We used to leave our shoes in the classroom and go to the Yoga room in the basement. One of those days, I just carelessly opened my shoes , as usual ; without placing them under my chair. When we returned after class, my shoes weren't in place. In fact they were nowhere to be found. The first thing I did was ( No I didn't cry) I went to the classteacher, then to the lost and found. Just about everywhere, frantically looking for my shoes. Which was infact rather surprising for them, because it wasn't the first time that I had lost something. A month back I had lost my shoes and I happily walked back home with just my socks on. ( Yes because that time I wanted new shoes , my old ones were...well ...old? ) I started checking everyone's shoes.
Size 5.
Now there is a thing all of us have, the eye to recognize something you own, even if 50 other people have the exact same thing.

She was wearing them. I don't know why. Maybe she left her's in the basement and couldn't find them and wore whatever was in class. Maybe I was too careless with mine and she thought they were hers. But the fact remains that She was wearing MY shoes.
The fighter cock I was, I asked her to open them. That they were mine and she had no right to wear them. That I can see a certain part of the shoe lace out and the left shoe has a thread off at the end and that inside them the 5 is slightly faint from the place I remember seeing in the morning while wearing them, explaining myself thats its time I got a new one maybe.
But she refused. She said they were hers. Her mother was a teacher in school, she got all the more benefit. I was taken to the lost and found room, and there was a size 5 shoe which I was forced to wear. I did so, but for me, at that time, that day seemed the saddest day of my life. How could someone else claim on MY shoes. And just because her mother was a teacher and they knew I have a habit of being careless, it was conclusive that I am the one mistaken again?
I went back home crying. I wasn't the kind of kid who went back home and cried about bad days and bullies. I went back home happy, so it was indeed a shock for my mom.
I was sad all day. They offered me new shoes. I refused. I wanted my old ones back. They were mine, not hers. But I knew what I had to do.
Next day, we had Yoga class I again. When they left, I put the shoes I got from the lost and found under her chair with a note inside it and took mine back.
Felt amazing. It still does when I think about it.
The note said " Nobody can take away anything which is mine. I've taken it back"
(which was followed by a little drama, but I got to keep what was mine)

Though things have changed now. Considerably.
I still hate it when something owned by me gets claims from other people. Whether or not the current possession is still with me is immaterial.
I lost it. However my reaction to was quite contradictory to what I really I am. When I like something , I don't like it that others like it too. No its not being jealous, yes It's insecurity, not because my position as the owner decreases, but because when they came and claimed it after I lost it, they did it with too much confidence. It wasn't as if I couldn't ever find it back and claim it but I didn't want them to know that I once I had it and I lost it. I knew they just wanted sheer pleasure out of my misery by asking me whatever they did ;

All I said was, "No that wasn't mine ever".

Keep it.

Monday, January 5, 2009


It's not always hard to be a fan, of course; when you're a little kid it's the easiest thing in the world. At a point in your life when you pretty much can't do anything - as adults will hasten to remind you, saying things like " you can't drive a car until you're older," or, "human beings can't see through walls, no matter how hard they look at them," - Superman can do absolutely anything and everything. (Actually, I've seen Superman drive a car. And I bet noone can do it better than him)And the things he can do are of particular interest, it's fair to say, to little kids. For example: when was the last time you really wanted to set something on fire by just looking at it? Or really, really wished you could fly? Not "boy, wouldn't it be great if I got a surprise upgrade to business class" fly, or "maybe I can use my frequent flyer miles to score a trip to a friend" fly, but just, you know, fly. Probably not as recently - and certainly not as devoutly - as any five-year-old boy you know.

Superman is also just plain good, and when you're still at an age when things come in lots of simple good and bad categories, he fits pretty easily into that sort of framework. Think about the movies in both of them ; where much is made of Superman never lying. When you're at an age when you're looking for moral absolutes to admire, Superman's way up there, up in the sky.

But things change; seasons pass, and tender youth gives way to bitter experience. and all the things about Superman that were so admirable then become, well, a little grating. Everything is - or at least feels - much more complicated, and the simplicity of Superman's moral code seems a bit like kid stuff at a time when it's much harder to figure out right from wrong. And Superman himself? Polite, well-behaved, always getting along with the authorities? Not particularly cool, at a time when cool matters a lot; other heroes take center stage, ones that are a little more...rock and roll.

And now, in adulthood?
I'll be honest: even though it's been some time since I've been a teenager, I still love the idea of Superman if not him.

Ever since I can go back in time, I have had my heroes. People I have looked upto. People who inspire and not make me negotiate. People who have battled with the odds, taken the lone path and succeeded, in more ways than one. Hero-worshipping has been an inherent part of me I guess, extraordinaries don't happen to people everyday nor have they to me; the very few who have made the difference have become MY heroes. Thus explaining my obsession with Superman. (I call it pure faith).

But they have also made my worst fears come true, that the closer you get to a person ; the more you know about them, something will let you down. Knowingly , unknowingly or due to my elevated expectations, they have let me down and left me dejected, taken away my hopes , my faith.

I thought the worst thing to do is to let down your hero , but even worst is getting your heart broken by one. Someone who meant perfect in the dictionary of human beings , up there in your eyes, the heart aches to bring em down and the mind says maybe they never deserved that place.

I can ridicule everything by saying I make the wrong choice every time or that it was me who decided to give them that place in life and its completely fair if I decide to take it back. But then where does my hope in faith go? Shattered into a million pieces? Because they couldn't carry the burden of being a Hero or it'ws too juvenile and frivilous of me to expect so?

I want to go back and read " Why the World Needs Superman" But a certain part of me is way too angry and way too let down to confirm the faith again.

There are many unspoken realities that we dismiss all because we are too chicken to deal with it.But,does fantasy take over?More often than not,its just reality that strikes back at us harder than ever.
Life can't always be a bed of roses and I embrace that.
It's alright to dream,but just make sure that you're not living in a dream.That's what matters I guess.

Maybe in this real world, there are no real heroes; just a desperate need to believe in one.

"Does the World Need a Superman?"

I don't know.

Saturday, January 3, 2009


It is lonely. Ironic, however, they wouldn't notice. They, with their complaints of starvation, devastation; they, mired in the fear of imminent extinction, shouldering the burden of sin; they, looking skyward for His guidance and shuddering at the merest thought of His presence.

But they seek comfort in each other's gaze, catching joy (however fleeting it may be) on the waves of their speech, fulfillment etched in company.

Below, the day has been long, made longer with the reluctant dimming of the afternoon, fading into evening. And as the night glimmers, He settles back, wearily, to rest.

The air chokes, humid - heavy with expectations. It's the end of another disappointment.

And He watches.

None of it's turned out, really, as He had planned.

He sees them now as they hurry, tracing paths that swirl and loop, twirling until their frantic activity blurs. Their orb glows, and He is mesmerized for the brevity of a butterfly's flutter. Enamored with their own glassy evanescence, they build towering monuments of metal, sculpting the majestic peaks and valleys of bridges, moving earth. Rivers flow under their direction, cutting and sharp; they design pictures to represent landscapes, images to replace strokes of art.

They won't remember Him for another few hours, He knows, and He wonders momentarily if they ever really remember Him at all.

They clutch trinkets, bejeweled and sparkling. Lovely. But trinkets do not build castles, cannot imitate fate.

It's not enough, now, to hope.

He sees the reflection from a woman's mirror, her vacant expression flickering, then vanishing. Vaguely, He hears the shrill shriek of a siren, desperate.

It wasn't always like this, He thinks. Before, back when He longed to coexist with His created universe, meshing mortal and eternal, when He wished to be the light of harmony - He foolishly imagined they would listen.

It hardly matters now, though, that He set out to do good, that He envisioned companions to brighten His empty existence. These companions clung to each other instead, and isolation found Him again, gaping and harsh. Nor is there any significance in the sapphire sphere He sees before him, pulsating with the life He birthed - it is no more His than it is its own, no more rare or beautiful than just another tainted perfection, torn carelessly, then haphazardly stitched back into existence.

He is all too familiar with sacrifice, knows far too well the taste of loss. And He laughs bitterly, for even He can no longer recognize the warped illusion that was once His passion, for even He has lost sight of its once-brilliant splendor.

He dares not admit they frighten him.

But they have their civilizations, complexities woven and tangled, mistakes. They have each other, but their brothers are enemies and they construct walls of mistrust, only to tear them down in fits of rage that He cannot comprehend. Justice, potent when laced with the shadows of greed, is far too powerful a temptation, and they cannot defy it - they do not try to resist.

They slaughter for pride, savoring a short-lived vengeance.

He doesn't understand.

He sees hunger written in their strained interactions, pleas for compassion. Empathy.

A girl lies under her covers, strands of hair visible around a pillow, breathing unevenly. He watches, and He knows she is broken.

In the darkness, they're weak.

They look up to Him, now, eyes gleaming, whispering a prayer before retiring - hope resting on an unshakable faith. He watches, and He sees their blindness. In the clarity, they are no more than children - bereft, searching. And just as He did, they ask for answers.

They, who can now control survival, treating life as a craft to bend to their every whim; they, who overlooked caution to pursue glory; they, who saw the end of His hopes - they are lonely.

But He can no longer call them His, and - no - He doesn't know how to help. He is lost as well, grasping, confused and despairing.

He watches the trembling of a little boy's eyelids in slumber, and He knows nothing.

In the stillness, He watches them.

Their flaws are His flaws, their errors traceable back to His hands. They are neither perfection nor harmony, but neither is He.

And there is hope etched in company.