Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Want It All Back...... Now!!!!

I want it all back: from the cold nights to the skipping heart beats. I want it back. I want my tears back—from when my kitten died to the countless times I have banged and bruised my head. I want my parents screaming at me because I am being mischievous, when I’m laughing on the inside because I have no intention of changing. I want my friends concerned about me. I want someone crying, begging god for me to be okay. I want it back. I want to cry over sad movies. I want to be afraid of dying. I want my hands to tremble, not from fear but from being emotional. I want to be upset over every day fights. I want to talk—freely. I want my veins to struggle to let my blood flow. I want my heart to have to work twice as hard to beat half as slow. I want it back. I want it all back......

    I want my innocence back.....
                         I want you back................

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Artificially Original..............

How many lives do I live? How many lifetimes exist within me?

No matter how much I may deny it, no matter how much I may try, I am not just me. My way was no longer genuine from the very moment I started to understand. My way of thinking, my principles, ethics, almost everything that I might claim to be mine, is influenced from everybody I know. Its something not invented, but is imbibed from the surroundings. Not even a single person, to whom I might have talked to, no matter how small that talk would have been, has not failed to implant some thought process of his on my mind.

Even if I wanted to learn every thing on my own, I cannot just shut down my senses to this world? I wonder, if the world around me, and the people who adorn the pages in history and all other literature, if all of them would somehow come alive again, and look inside me, how many of them would find a part of them, their ideologies thriving inside me? No matter how small it would be, but I am sure it would certainly be there. But then, they also learned it from somewhere, but where?

If I, myself am to look inside me, how many thoughts that I own would I find are actually my own? Am I really original, or just a myriad of different hues? Am I a master piece or just a clown stuffed with foreign ideas and draped in the tapestries from different designers?

Even now when I am writing these views here, I am still wondering, are these original and indigenous? Have I come to realize this on my own or even these questions have been asked before by someone, and I have just breathed them in like air?

I have no answer, and am pretty convinced with this fact that I would never be sure.

What about you?

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

After Diwali......

Diwali's over, phew! it was a really tiring one this time. by last evening, we (at least me!) were completely sick n tired of entertaining! 

so it's all thanda now. good.

somehow it feels like it's the new year that has just started and there's this need to change things, do new things, behave differently, be a better person, set new humble goals for myself. one step at a time. 

actually one must start making changes now, so that they are in effect by 1st of January when it's actually the time to put the new resolutions into actions. I take 3 months to start acting on my reallys-imple resolves. 

but for now, i don't know what they are :)

hmm... one thing that people universally perceive about me is how selfish and sometimes insensitive i can be towards people who do a lot for me.

i obviously don't agree with that. they think i am very stubborn too. they = people who matter. not random unimportant people. 

so what about selfishness and stubbornness? nothing. can't change over night :p

the pajamas that i'm wearing need to be demoted to -- a dusting cloth. seriously.

Saturday, October 23, 2010

After All We Are All Humans............!!

He found solace in the blots of ink he managed to splatter across blank pages while he scribbled what his heart and mind held for her. Only because, it was all he could do when memories he ran away from, caught up with him every night, when he tried to sleep off what his crowded mind shouted to him. She was going to come back to him one day. He wasn't going to stop until she did. He was waiting. Time was never an issue for someone who kept no account of it.

I had seen a restlessness in his eyes, a kind of passive aggression is his walk, waiting to be unleashed by a split second of a feeling of vengeance. It was then that he started blaming himself for what he was, and what had made him that way.

Every twilight that I'd seen passion frenzy through him, I saw the depths of his soul, manifest themselves into the notes that played of the instrument he chose to play; like a bolt of lightening unleashing the secrets of a dark sky, mobbed by masses of enraged clouds waiting to wage a war with the earth. Often I'd seen that rage trance into a melancholic, benevolent call for hope with faith hidden in its soft, low keys that tried to keep his belief in happy endings from turning into dust, that would soon settle down with the pitter-patter of a rainfall of tears he wasn't allowed to cry anymore. Morbidity had become a part of his world, and happiness only a visitor that never stepped through the doorway of his mind.

He longed, he craved. He hoped, he prayed.

He was stone for those who would never know. They were right, or so I liked to believe. Seeing him, I knew that stones could be cracked; they could be engraved upon, only to leave scars and words as good as what we liked to believe eternity meant.

After all, we're all human at the end of the day...

After all he's only human...

Saturday, October 16, 2010

There are times when I've wanted something so bad, be at the verge of getting it, but some how end up with out it for some unknown, unseen reason.According to Paulo Coelho's Alchemist, "when you really want something to happen, the whole universe conspires so that your wish comes true".Probably my want was not strong enough for the universe to conspire to help my wish to come true.
But another popular school of thought goes likes this, "whatever happens, happens for the good." Well that sounds good when you're advising someone or trying to help someone out of their grievance. But to hear that for yourself, that aint acceptable..

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Why Did The Chicken Cross The Road????!!!!!!!

I wonder why some people cross the road like they are strolling in the park. Is it the joy of feeling that they are invincible?? If they are thinking that way, then I have deep sympathies for them. I remember I was taught how to cross the road, when I was very young, for my safety (and of those who travel on the road).

First you look on your right and then left and then right. Once you are sure that there are no vehicles coming, then you cross the road with a brisk pace.

I wonder if it is that difficult or if it is so much of an exercise that it drains them of their energy!!

Q: Why did the chicken cross the road?

A: To show to humans, how it is done!!

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

A Writer's Nightmare........

The pen, it seems, was the best of all writing inventions in the history of mankind.


But what came with it is the most unwelcome accessory. What came to safeguard the object mightier than the sword, had made the pen (and the mortals using it) to bow down in resignation.

By the way, I?m speaking about the pen-cap.

This small sheath of plastic (or metal) has turned out to be a pen wielder?s nightmare. Personally, I believe that its real job comes more in the line of getting lost and be sworn at when found hours later. Apart from one?s temper, this happens to be the object that one tends to lose most of the time. I feel that it is not getting due respect nowadays (no that it used to, earlier). Anyway, treat it with respect and you may be sure that you?ll be left alone (pun unintended). This is in connection with what happens scores of times, but is usually blamed on something else. You are writing something furiously. It turns out to be a Herculean piece of work for a human. After some minutes of labouring, you feel tired and want to give it a break. Incidentally, you happen to be writing with a fountain pen (one of those affairs which tend to throw up, or get dried up, if left unattended for long). Suddenly you realise that the wicked cap is missing. It is not on the floor, nor is it on the pen or on any part of you. Fed up, you put everything aside and get up.

The cap falls out of your lap and makes a dive for the floor. Invariably, it bounces up and vanishes into thin air.

An hour is spent in searching for it, and finally, you manage to find another (ill-fitting) cap and shut the pen up with it. Next morning, you find the old one lying beside you on the bed, smirking away.

The resulting storm of abuses does no good. The pen?s cap is the evil that needs to be looked after; the pen?s best friend and the fragile nib?s bodyguard.

Not to mention, a constant source of frustrated exercise.

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Two sides of a mirror........

how does the question go when you ask it of yourself? what if i am not who i think i am? what if, without my knowing it, i am another? somebody dark? and bad? followed by the crushing understanding that, because you were creepy enough to eventhink these thoughts, you are already dark. and bad. i didn’t want to ask. i didn’t want to think about it. but you can’t undo a thought that happened inside your head. it already happened. and you are already damned. completely. utterly. in your head. in your gut. in your heart.

a moment: i am standing in front of a sheet of glass with a sheet of silver paper on its back. and i am afraid. of who? of the person that is not a person. of the human that is not human. such malheur… that i do not recognize myself. you do not recognize me, either. you can see the obliviousness in my face that is not a face that is looking at you from across the sheet of glass with a sheet of silver paper on its back so for me there is no plunging inside and trying to find an alternate reality because even if i crash the glass once i hit that silver paper i am stuck. and i. am. damned.

we become friends. through this glass window with a sheet of silver paper on its back. for days, we look at each other. size one another up. from different angles. perspectives. with the usual trepidation. and venom. and angst. you invite me over. i invite you over. a simple hand gesture. no words necessary. we know each other too well.

a memory: there was a day. i was walking around. looked to the side. over my shoulder. and someone looked back. but i didn’t stop. i kept walking, and – oh! – who was that? who was that looking at me with as much curiosity as only i have for myself?and that was when i realized it was me. it lasted a split moment… this obliviousness to myself… this lack of recognition. i had to think before i understood. before i realized. and i said to myself, i shouldn’t be looking at myself. and you said, because that is how you become dark.

you try to disengage yourself. from the image. from the darkness that lies inside it… behind it… beyond it. the silver paper is only silver on the side facing you. but it is black on the other side… where you don’t look. it’s like a scary dream where the walls are fluid and the floors are hilly and there are no holes or vents anywhere and you want to breathe but can’t and you want to scream but your lips are sewn together and you try to decipher but there is a coating of glue over your eyes and there is a shadow that you cannot see and a voice that you cannot hear and both of them are in your gut and are screaming run! and you know that that would be futile because there. are. no. outs.

you see yourself. and you don’t know. that you know. it’s you.

i make a game of it. i stand to the side of the glass window. you stand to the side. i stretch out my hand. you stretch out your hand. i steal a glance from the front… then check the back. you ditto. what am i looking for? stop fucking with me. but i must look. there is nothing there. only the black back of the silver paper. i pull myself away. i forget this thing. or try to forget it. dismiss it as folly. and imagination. but it is quite the game, isn’t it? a very clever game… like a twisted arithmetic… and it is not to be dismissed. why don’t you play it, then? i say. you have a glass window, too. meet with your glass window. but these meetings are sudden encounters… where something happens… something you had not counted on. you see something. something you know you can’t unsee. you can’t undo a thought that happened inside your head, remember? no. you can’t. it is there. and if you tell yourself it isn’t, you have already started to lie.

i lie. and i am good at it. you don’t catch on. and you won’t. because just as realization is beginning to paint your eyes, my eyes trick with a look that will make you change your mind…SNAP! just like that. i play the innocent so well. don’t you know me, by now?

i remember everything. that is why i am bad. no. not because i remember. but because i pretend to forget. i tell myself i don’t believe what my eyes are telling me. but i live with the memory of what my eyes saw on the other side. what i saw when i said that there was nothing there. the memory: it crashes into me like a train… and smears bits of me everywhere… like stains.

but i forget one thing: that i lied. if you tell the same lie enough times, even you start to believe it.

i keep forgetting to shut the fuck up. i keep forgetting to swallow my words. but even when i think silently, i think with my lips open. and the words slip out… from inside my gut… and disappear in the air… but not before they have tainted me… stained me… and you… forever.

i don’t dare move. i don’t dare. if i move… i will thrash and kick and scream… like a crazed animal… like an infant who has been wronged but can’t express that anguish. if i thrash… i might come closer. and, then… you will come closer, too. we will be together in a unique way… a way that only you and i can be together. but. you know. there is no coming back from that intimacy.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

let go

let go.....

you are ashamed of yrself..full of regret and anger...u re in a torrent of thots..."i LET OUT sucha a huge portion of my heart..a huge span of my life time...for THIS undeserving person???? SHAME on me!"

u trusted . u expected. u believed. u loved. and now...U feel STUPID.

u tell everyone whose ready to listen..."this is wat i got...i wasted my time...i regret...i repent"

u discuss it day in n day zaps so much of yr time and energy ....those memories keep you grounded on square one! you keep loitering aimlessly in the "what IFs and If ONLYs"

self pitying...self sympathising...the poor..victimised you...

someone mentions "that person" and ure quick to fly off the abuse..u mutter..u grumble..and plunge back into memories and blurt out: "i have snapped all connections with that wretched"

[o really??? ure not texting...u arent calling...not emailing...not meetin face to face..but wat bout the daily
mental encounters?

theres so much of excess baggage in your mind..the more you persists...
is self pity the only way out?
is discussing about it 24/7 the way to "forget" it??
is making them a regular visitor in yr mind space the way to let go??

today is the time to put a full their daily visits to yr signal a "no-entry" to these unwelcome peace disrupting visitors...the time to open your tightly clutched fist to experience the beauty of let go....

and then there will be ONE will be immune.
free in the truest sense of the word...
so even you bang into "that" person...ure unaffected.

that state of indifference...where there isnt space for hatred..avenge...anger....nothing!
that person is now an acquaintance of the past..

their memories no longer control u..coz now u control their entry n exit in that privileged honoured corner of yr mind...

u cease to clamour..crib..complain...coz now u learn to let go...u learn to be free:)

A lil bit of this, A lil bit of that.................

Today, driving back home a while back, I was immersed in my thoughts as usual. It’s wonderful, how the brain itself compartmentalises our different actions and as long as we do not delve into any particular one beyond a certain safe level, each action gets performed smoothly. So while a part of my brain was busy processing my thoughts, whatever those were, the other part was safely manoeuvring me towards my abode after yet another day at work.

It was at a roundabout, as I took my first turn in otherwise a straight road till now, that my thoughts broke for the first time. I looked at a young man in his late adolescence trying to make his way through the traffic on his bicycle. On the other side of the road,there was an auto-rickshaw carrying two passengers, a middle-aged woman wearing the typical bright Punjabi attire along with a child in red shorts. Nearby, on the pavement, an old man holding onto his stick was negotiating with a fruit seller. I saw all these people in just one glimpse as I drove further. But somehow, their images kept lingering on.

Suddenly, I had this urge to come out of my previous thoughts which anyway I was not able to recollect, and look at the people as I drove past them. They all were different, yet all were same. I would never recognise anyone of them if I were to drive past them just after an hour. The auto-rickshaw driver was just another migrant from Bihar or Uttar Pradeshwith those same features which make them all look just the same. That middle-aged lady with her hair tied back into a long braid was just like any other woman of her age and similar taste or should I say, bad taste in fashion.

And then it struck to me, for all of those people, even I am just one of the millions of people that they drive, ride or walk past in their lives. We all have our own focal points, emanating from our self to our parents, siblings, spouses, children and moving beyond, encircling our friends and relatives and so on. Majority of these just brush past each other but some get intertwined and we get a new acquaintance. As time passes, many of them fade away while some remain intertwined for eternity.

My brain was not content with just processing this inevitability and it sprung up a new question. What must they be thinking right now?

As I saw a young charming woman ride past on a kinetic, I skipped a beat for a moment as happens to me every time like any normal human being. But then I moved to the same abnormal question trying to contemplate what all thoughts must be going through her mind right now. Was she thinking about the fight she had with her best friend or was she thinking about the excuse to make to her parents for going on a movie with her boyfriend.

How I wished, I was that guy.

But again pulling back myself from these fantasies, I saw around, a microcosm of humanity, all moving here and there with their own purposes and their own convictions.

I am just one of them, nothing great about me, I thought.

And this is the thought which sends a shiver down my spine. This is the one thought which has been recurring over and over again from past few weeks and this is the one thought that Kate Winslet puts succinctly in the movie Revolutionary Road when she says to her husband, played byLeonardo DiCaprio, “Look at us. We're just like everyone else. We've bought into the same, ridiculous delusion.

This thought has become more profound since last few months. Till now, somehow I was protected from these thoughts as a teenager. But entering the real world, I realised, there are so many like me who think, somehow they are special. As Kate puts it, “Our whole existence here is based on this great premise that we're special. That we're superior to the whole thing. But we're not.” Yes, we are not.

We are all different, yet we are all same.

The sooner you realise it, the better it is for you. However, I wanted to escape from this thought as soon as possible. So, my brain automatically sprung up another thought.

Just like I am philosophising about everything, was that young lad on his bicycle, also pondering over it. Moreover, what about that old man? How many times in his life, he must have thought about this. Or did he ever care?

We’ve got such a wonderful thing known as the brain. It is not just a storehouse of such large information but also helps in processing it as and when required. But how many of us actually use it beyond the desired motions of everyday life. I believe everyone does. It’s just that the proportion of these different usages differ. While, I am using it to philosophise right now, someone else in another corner of the world will be busy fantasising and day-dreaming. The latter is definitely a great escape from the blunt questions of life, I thought.

As all this was going through my mind, my bike suddenly halted and I realized I was looking at the gate of my house. My brain had once again directed me well, bringing me home safely while I was busy contemplating a little bit of this and a little bit of that....................

Sunday, August 29, 2010


Childhood is the most colourful phase of one’s life. We learn by making mistakes. We grow mature gradually, not abruptly. It’s the carefree time of our life. When we have real hobbies passions and dreams. Sadly, that’s all changing.

In earlier days, life was never controlled by tests, tuitions, exams and such things. Parents had time for their children. Life wasn’t all about getting a job in a big company with a big pay cheque. People pursued what they liked. Intelligence wasn’t counted by which college you got into. Children behaved like children, with thirst for knowledge.

Nowadays childhood has a different meaning altogether. It’s dominated by being the smartest, tuitions, hobby classes, peer pressure and what not. Childhood is now a complicated phase.

The ‘intention’ behind pushing the children hard is to ‘nurture’ them to face the competitive world. Developing talent is not a sin; it will help the child in his future. It is a trickledown effect from the kind of competition experienced for entry into engineering colleges, graduation and others. Today’s world demands ordinary people with extra skills to survive. As Darwin`s theory says-natural selection or in other words survival of the fittest.

The basic needs of childhood are, time to play, place to play and explore the world through his eyes. In the name of competition we are raising fatigued, stressed, and overburdened children with no sound moral values. The stress is resulting into children engaging in all kinds of derogative acts.

Competition is such that today`s world demands good grades in schools, colleges to get a good job to earn their living. Competition is the need of the hour, we can`t deny that but what is worrying is the fact that parents push their children to their limits which makes children’s life tougher. Parents need to understand that everyone has different capabilities. Every individual has a special quality. Instead of encouraging that skill, parents want their children to achieve what they themselves couldn’t achieve.

Today parents don`t have time for their children to listen to them. Teachers demand work within a short period of time. So it makes students life tougher. And then we have tuitions as we need ‘extra skills’ to get through competitive examinations apart from regular classes in school. And what make matters worse are higher expectations from parents and teachers alike. Parents and teachers force students to take part in extracurricular activities which in turn increases load on children.

In the name of making the Education System more student-friendly, the students are actually made to bear more stress. The teacher-student relationship is now warped. The insecure student’s mind is now more than confused. Bundled up with an emotional dilemma with the pressure of performing well, the students eventually burn out. Their identity is lost.

Instead what the education system should do is train the teachers such that the student-teacher rapport is impeccable. Exams are important, yes. They make you able to face failures. But that does not mean exams should be made such a big issue that students commit suicide when their results don’t meet their parents expectations.

People should also understand that stress management is not a subject that can be taught. Children burdened with such high expectations are also expected to ‘handle’ pressure well enough. But what would an 11 year-old know about what is stress?

Peer pressure has been present since earlier times. But now suddenly it has become an important issue. More so because the peer pressure now is not as healthy as it should be. The only question that arises is: Is being better than your neighbour’s/relative’s/friend’s child would imply that the child in question is intelligent?

Here come the so-called Reality Shows. The reality shows on TV show how much a child has been put through and how broken he/she becomes. That’s another thing that bothers children-the inability to perform, or in other words, the fear of failure. The young and impressionable mind is now also a diffident mind. Parents fight on camera saying their child has been voted out due to favoritism, whereas they should be with their child and telling him or her that it’s okay to fail and should boost their confidence.

It is true that competition is growing day by day but childhood is the age for playing, making friends, etc. Of course, things are changing and CBSE has taken the right step by providing Board exams as optional for students and introducing grading system that may reduce the stress among students. But the main step should be taken by parents by giving their children care and guidance at home. It’s time they open their eyes to see their children yearning for their love. Teachers can make studies more entertaining by taking real life examples and interacting more with students to give them the comfort they want.

It’s not really the children’s fault; after all, they just observe what goes on around them…….

Monday, July 12, 2010

a creation of my own self..............

making my journey from the beginning of the crossed lines
the decisions i couldn't define haunt me
and the traces of the forsaken roads traveled by me mark my skin
like the ink stains that can be never removed from paper
or the peeling paint on the walls
they can only be painted over but never removed
they can only be hidden from the eye but never erased
they can only be forgotten but not without a trace
cursed is every man with this beautiful gift called memories
following his lonliest journeys
following his every step that went astray
marred with the colours of life
every dimlit memory
every half filled wish
every curse
every desire unfulfilled
makes me who i am
makes me the person ill be tomorrow or who i was yesterday
a hundred years from now
when i would be marked with time
i'll look at the map of my life on my hands and face and every part of me
yes i'm a human,god or a monster ..i have made myself what i am
not him,not was me!and only me who is responsible for the person standing on this place today

Saturday, July 3, 2010

The Shadows Of my Soul

Why is it said,"To err is human" ? Is it intended to give you a licence to commit mistakes,to take steps that lead to disasters ? We come across crossroads so many times in our lives and we always without exception know what is the right path,yet many a times we refrain from treading on it. The reasons can be many.They can be of avarice,of vanity,of weakness,of ego,of sheer lack of courage and pure selfishness. If you do not fall in this category and always choose the right path, I salute you, no sarcasm intended.I for one,do not.Period.

Why do I not? That is the question that has been plaguing me for so long now and I am yet to find an answer for it. I have often had sessions of introspection and yet have failed to construe the nature of my acts,the actuators behind them. I consider myself to be sane,mature and sensible and believe that I can think in a very resolved manner.Yet, I make mistakes, and I make them in no ignorance whatsoever. I portray myself to be a man of his principles and yet sometimes I have not acted by them. I hate hypocrites and yet I am one myself. Sordid? Yes it is. Does regretting those decisions and punishing myself for having taken them or publicly acknowledging my fault free me of my guilt? Does it lift a load of my heart? Does it purge my conscience? Does it undo what has been done?

Then what does moving on mean in my life? What is it supposed to bring me? A false sense of satisfaction? Am I supposed to lie to my own self and live in a disbelief that I have been exonerated by my conscience? Am I supposed to revel under the fact that,those against whom I committed these sins never held me culpable? Does not being arraigned mean I am not guilty? Does the fact that the people i sinned against were my accomplice, reduce the burden? Lessen the sin? If no, then why is it that people tell me that,"You did not force it on her.You both wanted it, so what happened is not your fault alone."? Agreed, the decision was mutual, but where was my sense of arbitration? Where was my strength of treading on the right path? Who am I? Aspiring to be the perfect partner,how could I let myself be weak?Who am I ? A hypocrite? A selfish bastard? A pig??

I do not believe in things like moral victory and "at least you tried!". What are they? Explanations for my failure,for my weakness?We are supposed to learn from our mistakes as human beings,yet I committed the same blunder twice!! Am I even a human with common sense? I know what I am. I am just a sorry piece of work, who does not have it in him to practice what he preaches when he is put to test.Disgusting,it is and the fact that I live with it and carry on with everything else in my life as if nothing has happened... exasperating. Tell me, how does one find respite? How does one maintain his INTEGRITY? How does one look at himself without any feeling of shame in the mirror?Where do I find peace?

Those who know me and those who loved me always said that it was not my fault and I did what most of them would never have done and that in itself was great,righteous! Tell me,please,what did I do all that for? To show the world I am righteous? Who am I living for here? You,who are my friend,or You , who are my kith and kin, or maybe You,the one I love? I did it for myself and it is to self that I have to answer for my faults.

"You were only 19 years old!" What has age got to do with the fact that I let selfish desire to cloud my judgment ? Tell me, what has it got to do with my inadequacy?"You were weak then,already shattered and things just happened.It is understandable that you were not strong enough to take the right decision and even she tagged along out of her own will!!". Tell me, how is my weakness an explanation justifying my act? How does it justify me wrecking someone else's life,even if it was not intended? I was not 15 then! Please tell me,where do I find solace when I stand arraigned in my own court and judged guilty by my own soul? Where? and then Do you really think I deserve it? Do you really think I can trust myself to make the right decision the next time? To be sure of the fact that I wont wreck another life? Tell me, how do you expect me to risk another life? Why don't you understand that it is not I alone who suffers because of my weakness? Why ? Why ? WHY?

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Crossed the line...............

Its probably the first time ever that I realise this...through all of these 6 years that I ve been in and lived through new shades and seasons of life..I ve parted with something that I may never innocence.Its strange how for winning in a race,I never paused to think of what I have left behind forever.
My values have changed,I have imbibed arrogance,even a tinge of manipulation or diplomacy
And now I yearn to go back to my roots.I want to go back to being a simple vulnerable guy who was capable of crying when it hurt.A child who's innocence shone right through his face.
A man who viewed world in just two hues,black or white,right or wrong,moral or immoral. I know the line between the two blurs as we grow up with realities of everyday life.Come to think of it,I didnt even go through transient phase of dilemma, the transition just happened.
I learnt the rules of survival pretty quick.

Everything around is available for 'exchange',everything is quantifiable,there's a cost benefit analysis preceding every decision of mine.I think solely in terms of my gain,my pleasure.
And yet there's no sense of guilt even though I have almost put a price tag on my body and soul while chasing materialism shamelessly.Rationality has superceded my emotionality...I ll keep in touch with a friend only if he/she does,otherwise am as busy as he/she is.And yet being part of this multitude,I dont miss friendship.I miss love though.
Even though my faith has dwindled and I ve witnessed enough infidelity,there's something that makes me want to believe in fairy tales,in virtues of trust and know the kind of romance that is practically unheard of these dayse,one that survives years of separation and distance and is still flaming.

I want to distill my soul, wipe away the blemishes,undo the hurt and rekindle the faith.I dont want to be soaked in succulence of momemtary pleasure,that gives me an illusion of being sucked up inside a black hole,like a flight into the unknown,where even if I grople for truth,I wont find any.

Can I go back to being untouched?Untarnished?Unadulterated?Unhurt by toxic veracity...can I free myself??

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

lesson learnt..................

surrounded by a battalion of adversaries, most of whom he thought were his kins.. he was the lone warrior.. although looking at him one could think so.. but it was not a fight for surivival.. his desparation was more out of his ambition to emerge as a winner.,

for she had promised him that she'd be his prize if he won this.. she, on whom he had his eyes set even as he was fighting.. she, who stood there on the hill and watched him fight.. she, to whom he looked for support, for strength.. for inspiration..and she kept it all away from him.. the only inspiration he gathered was an illusion of his heart.. his heart, where he thought she still lived..but what was he to to know was that she'd already chosen to walk out of it..nd she'd already covered miles.. away from him..from where he was fighting, all he could see was her.. then he saw her walk away..and a sword pierced through his heart.. smoothly sliding its way through..he fell on his knees.. his eyes still fixed to where she stood.. his head bowed down.. his eyes closed.. and the years passed by his eyes.. all the times they'd spent together.. the walks, the talks.. the thoughts.. everything..

A tear fell on the blood soaked earth.. it was tired.. it'd been waiting too long to travel this mile.. and this journey to the warmth of the earth was all that was needed to wash the pains away..he couldnt die.. thats what she'd wished for..he stood up and continued his battle.. with a bleeding heart..he won his battle.. but lost his heart.. perhaps lost his life..ud say whats her side of the story..??she'd wanted him to understand.. understand everything that she did..and he had understood.. he'd understood everything she'd done..but nature taught him one BIG lesson..

whom u love the most, hurt you the best..!!