Monday, June 25, 2012

A Strange Day.........

It’s a day to be quiet; spent in anger and disguise. Because it’s a kind of day that scares you, scares you deep, and scares you good, real good I mean. When you are afraid of nothing more around you, but only yourself.

Afraid of what you have become, if only for a day. 

And so you take a day off, a day off from yourself. The trick is to just take a back seat and watch the world go, like a small tin can rolling down the slanted street.

And if you would watch it for too long, you would realize that it’s never rolling in, nor rolling out. Because it never grows too near nor too far, it just rolls. 

So what do you do? 

You just take a walk down thae street. You simply roll with the can, and never take your eyes off it. You watched it dance, and follow suit. Watch it pull every god damn trick from the bag that is there to be had, and you watch. And ask no questions.

No questions ever. Because there are no answers to be had. 

And once you have walked far enough, long enough, you realize you are not alone. No way near! There are people, and always more people. It’s a form of rejoice, a bloody festival out there. Like an ugly welcome, watching them grinning, or somber to the core.     

Walking down the street, filled with walking sticks, moral harelips and hunchbacks, people all around, it was like watching a thousand pig heads sticking out of thousand human torsos, made me feel like a captive walking down an Indian gauntlet, walking down to the scaffold.  

And continued on. Walkin’, and humming, Trying to make every moment count. Knowing this is as close to fun as I am capable of being. 

And then, from the corner from my eyes, I see a beggar approaching. A beggar with a shine. A physical matchstick of a man with perhaps only enough blood pumped each day to keep the chest heaving. 

As the beggar neared, smiling, I spotted a set of healthy white teeth unveiled as his lips widened.

What a smile? I wondered. Now realizing where all the blood in his veins was spent. Like every fiber of his body and soul, the heart, the bones and the blood, committed for one jingle of glory; to keep the teeth shining. 

And I moved on. Ignoring him as soon as I first noticed him.

Straight down my eye line, a mother is comforting a little punk ass of her son, a fat round spoiled brat who had just found out that the world isn’t something to be taken granted for. While mother cuddles him, telling him things that like most parents do, things that little punk ass kid like this one has no use for, nor the care. 

I watch the kid sobbing, making economical use of his limited set of tears. Spending each with prolonged intermissions, while filling the gap with noise that, with their varying ebb and flow, perhaps represented more grief than there was a genuine case for. 

And the woman with expensive embroidery around her hanging cowish motherly skin, the kind of skin that has given birth to hordes of such brats, one too many perhaps, and dark eye shades, kept telling him to trust her, and to have faith in God, though which of those statements she actually meant to be true, it was hard to guess. 

Apparently the little kid has taken a fall, face first, into the hard concrete ground, chasing a wild puppy in the street, apparently meaning more harm than love to that innocent creature of God.

And his nose bled, and the bleeding wouldn’t stop, and each drop only brought him closer to death, closer to the unknown, or so the fat kid in big shorts thought. Knowing that he only meant harm to an innocent soul, to a puppy that was now nowhere to be seen, and there would be hell to pay if he dies now, without repentance. 

And deservingly so. I mused and moved on. All men should burn for what they do. 5 years old or 85, what’s the difference?

Leaving them to their perils behind, I reached for the cell from my pocket, wishing to make a connection. Recalling an earlier conversation I had, or the lack of it for that matter. Because a phone call spent in silent misunderstanding is not conversation. 

Make a connection. But with what? I fumbled in my thoughts. It’s hard to understand the man who woke up in my bed today, it’s hard to look him in the mirror and reach out. 

I slipped the cell back in my pocket, wishing nothing no more. Afraid of the disappointment that might await me on the other end of the frequency. Because a hope of being loved, and of being understood, of expectations, bring along with them a hordes of fear and apprehensions. 

complications....

Twists & Turns. And so much complications. Yet we are living. Sometimes, without a definite ambition. Sometimes with an overwhelming goal.

A goal which makes you cross your own limits, your own records. A goal, which turns your entire self and brings out the polished version of a new you. Sometimes, the goal takes you to the height of every possibility you've ever imagined to reach. Meanwhile, these goals can be your worst enemies. Maybe when they're not fulfilled or when you just don't have one. As they say, you'd turn into a wrecked soul searching for nothing and yet you'd be feeling all the uneasiness to do something, to achieve something. But what? That's where you miss it.

What exactly these goals are? Your wishes? Objectives? Things you want to achieve? Things you want to live with? Or may be a future image of you in a better position or in a better character? Nevertheless, we all are linked with such goals, when we have one or when we don't have one.

But isn't it better to have a goal and look forward to do something in life? Without caring for the ultimate result, for the ultimate goal?

Here, another thought strikes me. If you just don't think of the ultimate result and keep making your short term goals, how would you then align all your goals with the ultimate one? with the big picture? HOW??

Well, confusions and solutions. They are a part of our twisted curvy life. What fun it would have been without much complications if we were to live a simple boring life with no curves but boring dull straight paths?

So better, live with the twists and who knows you might end up getting something which you cherish for all your life?

It could be anything. May be the F grades which made you switch your courses? or the girl/guy who broke your heart and made you realize that you deserve someone way better than her/him?

Well, life goes on with the complications. Yet, sometimes you cant help thinking about the opportunity cost. But maybe, there are better options? or maybe, you didn't deserve such greatness which you repent about? Well, in all those circumstances, one thing remains the same. You cant just let go of a few things no matter how hard you try. You just cant. And so, i just cant..</span>

Friday, June 8, 2012

Break Ups: As a friend...


There's nothing more annoying than trying to cheer up your friend after a break up that feels like the end of the world for them. You end up saying things you don't believe in. Cliche things. Movie dialogues. For a while you'll feel stupid even saying those lines, but the person is so depressed the only person who knows how lame you sound, is you. [The victim of depression has been sketched so in order to avoid any resemblance with any real human being so that I do not get kicked out of my social circle. Yeh right you sadasses know who you are :D]

Time doesn't really heal. Cake does. 

It's not that you're special, it's statistics. There's gotta be someone you can find with mutual interests, out of 7 billion people in the world. 
Some ego-inflation should fill that puncture in your heart.
Here you will get an awkward reply, like "I don't care if there's anyone better than him/her, he/she is all I ever wanted." You will know deep inside that it is cake that everyone really wants because cake is not a lie, but they don't know that yet and it's okay.


You will find yourself trying really hard to cheer them up but they will slap your face with miserable bouts of failure.


Responses from individual male and female victims of depression.

Oh well a few hundred calories more into my blood system.


I even make phone calls just to make sure they didn't do anything stupid in my absence, which is a big thing for me anyway because I hate phone calls, mostly because they're full of unnecessary conversation to avoid awkwardness.




I must be a good friend, I must be a good friend, I must be a good friend.
Break ups suck. Not because it makes the couple miserable, but even our lives. Please love each other carefully (don't give me that "I didn't mean to love, it just happened" - crap) and until you heal again, eat lots of cake and buy yourself a puppy becomes there's nothing more reliable of your love, than a puppy. Unless it dies. Now that's sad.