Been a while

It’s been a while I wrote something. Not that there is this group of people waiting for my scribbling. In fact making someone read my blogs have been always a tough lessons of marketing.

Personal Health has been year low lately. Let that be physical or mental. Actually mental health was all time low in between. When the break up season was on. The old fox from the grape wine consoles me saying “better one is around the corner,so let her go”. See these foxes are quite optimistic lads. And at times this Robin Sharma in me says “once you go through a puddle, you learn how to avoid another one. Once you realize that you didn’t lose anything but learnt much, mental health swings back in”. See these motivational speakers are damn practical. Ha ha Well everything has a good side and bad side. Life is indeed a circuit of flipflops.

One after the other there has been so many health issues. The year passing by has been the best so far sarcastically. Okay enough of sarcasm bolstering.

The best things have been the friends who stood by. To care me or to make me feel counted. I could see for sure the fine ones. And dear god, thank you so much for keeping the digit double.

Fortunate you see? May god bless them with long life and their ability intact, to stand me ;)

Been a while that I wrote something. There were many threads in mind which I really wanted to write something on. Just to prove the word thirsty page that I too can quench its thirst. But I think I was “oh my god” lazy. Not that I am proud of it, but that’s me you see.

Was fiddling with my mobile when I saw the postulates I saved as drafts. That’s what I do to keep the thread safe in my memory,technically with the help of phone's memory.And then try building it up with some facts and beliefs. That’s the way I write. Not really proof reading the script tactfully enough before I decide that, ok, this can be a blog. That’s about it.

Okay the ideas, threads i am talking about.. They are (as they lie in my drafts folder of mobile)

Rang de basanti . The Independence Day eve, the incidents, food, drinks cultural mix and match. Aamir Khan kissing Alice Patten.

Hmm that’s the draft. The time stamp of draft says 2.03 am, 15^th August. It’s December 29^th today. Heights of laziness one can say. I was at Barista in Leela. Sipping café latte and having a bite of English breakfast cake. In my mind I knew the country will wake up feeling proud of being free. Being proud about our independence. The emotions were almost the same in me too.

But I liked the contrast created by café latte, English breakfast cake and the idea of being at barista. It looked like the canvas where the director Rakesh O Mehra drew the picture of aamir kissing alice in rang de basanti, the movie. I mean, DJ (Diljeet Singh) kissing Sue (Sue McKinley). Very subtle. No tongue play. A decent, loving kiss. It was metaphorical to Indian kissing the western ideologies. With no tongue play. Quite a cynosure.

Well I wanted to write on it. The thread had real life to prosper. But I just never planted the seed. So transition of seed to plant never happened. “Wonderful happens when we seed a plant”, it’s a famous line from the Green belt revolution. Holds true about our ideas too.
That’s about it.

Fact remains fact, damn! I am a lazy bum!

Another one among the drafts goes like this

Rudaali. Fictitious travel to Rajasthan. Hiring a rudaali. For national cause. Right Emotionless society, Get attention, bad roads, bad politicians, for the broken hearts.

Draft is dated 11^th September. Ya I am lazy. We proved it already.

Hmmm that’s about the thread. It’s interesting too. And got good potential subject to write about. But I never did.

But as I see it now,

Recent terror attack at Mumbai was the nature's call to the Rudaali. She cried out damn loud. And she refused to take payment. She said its her righteous duty to cry. That’s what they are known for. Got the attention of the whole righteous world. Finally we have a bruised society who says “Enough is enough”.

But saddest part is many died. We wrote RIP to them with the heaviest heart in our history of tolerance.

Along with the RIP, we wrote “enough is enough”.

Metaphorically, the word RIP is hidden in the pain and agonies of the words. “Enough is enough”.

There are many more such drafts still left in my mobile. But I am feeling lazy now.

So ciao!!! :)

The metaphors of life! - Bit of the philosopher in me.

Today the raven in me got past its fears.
I watched him all these years with out blinking my eyes. I was expecting him to move away so that I could fly in and collect my share of corns from the fields. But I am afraid of him. I am afraid that he will hit me with the stick in his hand. He seemed so purposeful. He seemed so sharp. I can’t fool him. Can’t really sneak past him to gather some ears of corn.

I waited this long. I waited so long. But he seems to be so adamant. He doesn’t want me to stray into his fields. I know I can beat him with my patience. In fact the wise ones say that patience is a winning virtue. I waited, for him to blink. I waited, for him to tire. I waited for him to err. And I know I will win at last because I have patience. I have stability and ability to understand the virtues of waiting.

I have proved my metal on my home grounds. I have beaten all those strong and fast ravens. I remember being made the head of the raven community. I made it to the top with my agility and knowledge about the home field. I knew which field to go to have corn. I knew which tree had the plumiest plums. I knew when to get in and when to get out of fields with out being caught. With out having to lose any feather or wing. And I ate and grew.

Now, I am out of my comfort zone. I am out of my territory. These lands don’t know me. I am stranger to these fields. And I have competition here. Competition for those last ears of corn. Wise men told me to watch out for these people who stand all day long, all night long at these fields with long sticks. They have huge eyes. I bet they can see things clearer. They have those loose dresses. I bet they hide that muscular body. They may move faster, their blow can be real fatal. It’s wise to wait.

I saw a young raven closing in to the same tree. A new kid in the block? I haven’t seen him before. He looked lean. Looked little sharp. But I bet he lacks the experience. I bet he lack the virtue of patience. These blocks never last. They are immature.

After being closing in my tree, he went back high, circled the field. Came back onto my tree. I told him to be quieter. I know his dim-witted act would have made the guy in the field more aware of our presence. Now his eyes will not blink. He will hold the stick tighter. Ah! this young fool caused so harm!

I gave the new block, who now settled next to me on the same branch, a look. I talked down to him, to put him in place. To let him know clearly that I run the show here. I told him that wise thing to do is to wait. He gave a glance. And he leaped forward, with all his might, with wild wing swings towards the field. I shouted at him, to stop. Its suicide. I ordered him to come back. But to vain. I knew I am going to witness him die. Witness the reason why I am taught to wait. He is gonna realize how small is he in front of the person at the field. I might witness the field-keepers stick breaking this young block’s skull.

I held my breath. Prayed for his soul already.

The young raven flew past the person at the field, kissed the ground, gathered the sweet, ripe corn ears from the fields and flew higher leaving the field with his pricey catch. I couldn’t believe my eyes. To see the lean, young, un-experienced raven beating the strong person at the fields is so stupendous. He outsmarted me. He proved me wrong.

I am playing the game so obvious way. I was asked to play this way. I gotta wait. I gotta wait till the person at the fields errs. I thought the young raven is nothing but lucky to be alive after that flight of foolishness.

I am wise. I have experience. I will wait. But how long?
I am the raven in you. I am the raven in us.

They call this young raven “abhinav bindra”

He made the person with stick at the field a mere Scarecrow. He showed how easy is it to gather those sweet corns if we believe in ourselves. How will the experience help when the game is new?

Today we old ravens, the so-called “wise raven” still stand by with the virtue of patience, waiting for the person at the field to err.

We end up waiting.

Let’s take a cue from the young raven. Let’s start believing in ourselves. Let’s know that if the field has corns, it’s for the early bird to catch. We might have to take those risks. Gone are the days of virtues of patience. To recognize an opportunity is like creating an opportunity by itself.

Field was my metaphor in here for Olympics. For you it could be life.

Scarecrow was my metaphor in here for those tough competitors. For you it could be those stumbling blocks in life.

If abhinav, the young raven can fly this high with the ears of corn and make us so proud. We old ravens, with all those experience can do wonders with our life too.

Think about it.

Here I salute, the young raven, “abhinav bindra”, for making me understand that the person at field was just a scarecrow.

He made me get past my fears.

Now I will fly, stronger, faster and will close in to those ears of corn which are waiting to be tasted.

I know I can do it too,
If I can, you can too.

Thanks abhinav!

:)

I don’t own the story, the story owns me…

Woke up with a heavy head. Couldn’t sleep much coz of the stupid dream. I had a dream inside a dream. I saw a woman in my dream. She was so normal like those cheerful ladies who think their purpose of life is to give birth to a baby, who will reform her life, reform everyone’s life. Will be the hero of their heart and will be the obvious winner of the show.

She ate well, she bathe well. She groomed well coz she knew she shoulders the greatest responsibility of womanhood. There is a baby in her womb and a hero/winner in her mind. She knew it for sure that the baby is going to bring her days back. I didn’t see her husband in my dreams. He didn’t even play the cameo. I was curious to see him enter the scene. But he was missing. He didn’t turn up for the show.

I saw her confined to a room. Kept her selves busy staring out of the window. She could see the road at a distance. A deserted road. She was particular about what she ate, when she ate and used to get grumpy when she had to wait for the food. She was well fed. She rather made sure that it was that way. At times she will get up, walk to the mirror, across the room, lifts her gown and looks at her belly. A good grown belly. She don’t remember since when it’s that way. But she did notice it growing to this big. She sings out loud, staring at her belly at the mirror and waits for her baby to make some noise or hum. She taps her legs gently on the tiled floor and waits to feel her baby kicking her belly.

Then she goes and takes her position again on the chair by the window. There was her comb, her lipstick lying next to several books on pregnancy on the table near the window. I knew she took the pain of walking up to the mirror only to see her belly. She kept the room tidy somehow. I didn’t know where was I sitting in the room. I could see her from the angle I wished to see. My presence was almost conceptual coz she never acknowledged my presence. I think I was invisible.

What is this all about? What am I seeing? Why am I seeing this dream? I did my prayers before I rested my head on the pillow. I had prayed to make the night pleasant. I wanted to wake up early. So wanted a good night sleep. I never minded when I had to sleep with Salma hayak, make love to her all night long. But why is this happening? I kept waking up through out the night. Did the praying again. Did even try tuning my mind for the steamy dreams, me and hayak dreams. But each time I slept, I got back to the same room. To the pregnant woman.
To see her acting.
To see her acting?????
Acting? Why??
She was very well living. It wasn’t a stage. And I didn’t see any cameras around too. Neither was it any reality life-show. But why was she acting? Why did I choose the word acting?
Did I not mention that it was a dream inside a dream? The script writer of my dream suddenly did a cameo with his voice. He briefed her story to me.

He told me why she is always by the window. Why she sings out loud and taps her feet. He told me that she is waiting, waiting for her husband. Waiting to see the dust rising on the road by the wheels of his ride. Waiting for him to get the medicine she is waiting for.
Medicine? I asked.
He continued, Waiting for him to take her home. Take her to the carnival again.
Take her home? Isn’t this her home? Where is she and where am I? Why she needs medicines? I wanted answers to all this.

He said, “she is pregnant with a dead baby”

What the fuck? I don’t like this dream. Change the dream or at least give me a happy ending. Where her faith and fate brings her baby back to life. Okay? Cant you change the script?
He continued as if he didn’t listen to that, “She sang out loud, hoping the baby could hear her and will make some noise”
“She danced to make the baby tap its leg too.
She hoped to see the baby moving when she stared her belly at the mirror.”

No no no no!!! This is my dream. I want happy dreams. I need pleasant night. Give me some happy dream, or some porn dream but, no, no, no not this dream!
Okay, what about no dream at all?

He again continued, “this is the hospital she was put into.”
Then why are none helping her? Is it safe for her to have dead baby in her? Is this all make sense?

She is so possessed about the baby, about her dream. Dream of her baby finally listening to her songs, humming to her songs, tapping its legs with her legs. She is dreaming to win. She has faith. She has faith on this dream of hers. She knew that she is gonna wake up smiling.

What faith? Cant you do something? Cant you make the baby hum and tap? I thought you own the story. Or at least stop making me go through this. Take me out of this dream.

He said, “I don’t own the story. The story owns me.”

What the fuck!

I forced myself out of the bed. Walked to the bathroom and took a leak. Got back to the bed. Drank some water.
Prayed harder..
Longer..
Visualized pleasant scenes. Hijacked salma hayak from where ever she was. But once I sank to sleep, I opened my eyes inside the pregnant woman’s room again. Salma ditched me. I thought, okay, may be I just have to go through this for the night.

Suddenly I saw her clapping! She started shouting with so much of happiness, “he is here!!! He is here! Now we gonna get outta here.” She said looking at her belly.

I too gazed outside the window, I saw the raising dust. I saw a car. I felt like telling her, “hey he is here. Wow he is here”

What happened to me. How would I know that its her husband who is coming? Even if its her husband, from where will he bring the medicine to get the baby to humm and tap from the land of no return? What happened to me? Why am I getting carried away?

May be I started to hope that it is her husband. I started to hope that he got the medicine. I started to hope them three going home. I hoped so much to see the happy ending to the story. Happy pleasant ending to her dream. To my dream.

It started to fade. It started to blur. It was as if I was loosing my vision. A loud noise filled my ears. It kept on recurring. It took the plug off my dream. The noise.
The noise shook me awake. It was the door bell. Someone at the door. He/she really at the bells, trying to get me open the door as if it’s the door to his/her salvation.

I slowly gathered my conscious. I gathered myself up. For a moment I was trying to think what is really happening? Is this again the dream? Is her husband by my door? What is it? Who is it?

Krrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrinnnnnnnnnnnng, the loud noise of my door bell again.

I forced myself up and got to the door and opened the door.

It was the area “ghoorka” (the watch man). He said with a plastic-y smile, “Krrrrring kriiinnng”. (the noise of the bell is still ringing in my head)

I asked, What?

He said again “Salaam Saab”

I know what is he here for. The usual 30-40 rupees he collects from door to door from the neighborhood. It’s his salary for whistling all night to let us all know that he is really awake!

I gave him 30 bucks. 10 bucks lesser than last time for his ferocity at my door bell and for the krring kring sound he left in my head. I shut the door on his not_so_impressed_by_the_salary_face.
I sank into the chair in the hall. Looked lazily at the clock.

It’s beeping EIGHT O CLOCK!!!!

Fuck!
I got hardly any time to get ready and get to office. But what about the dream? It’s kinda unfinished! What about its happy ending? But what if it doesn’t have a happy ending?

It ought to have a happy ending.
I hope so. I hope that the dream inside my dream ends happily.

I gotta start my day, rush to office, do some coding, chatting, flirting, talking, eating, traveling and get back to bed hoping for a new dream.
A happy dream. May be Salma Hayak. May be nothing but a good night sleep.

:)

Dum Spiro, Spero!!! (While I breathe, I hope)

And I took the 26th step away from the life. The noose is getting looser; the wind is getting its act together. Being the kite, I don’t get to choose much but to take the direction the wind shows. I had some color on me when I set to fly, they got washed away in not sure which rain. Now I bear the whiteness where lot many went ‘artist’.

I am the sky now. It’s rain. The direction to its wind.
I’m the cloud now. It’s white. The weight on its wing.
I’m the bird now. It’s flight. The sound of his plight.
I am the hand releasing the rope-reel now. Its trick. The spin of the wheel.
I’m the earth now. The humility. The warmth of its belly.
That seems so far now. The distance. The length of the rope.

I know I can’t get to reverse it now. I was thriving to fly faster, fly higher. They told me not to hurry. Never thought that I will ever regret about leaving the earth that fast. Never thought I will ever regret about leaving that bird that soon. Never felt I will regret not being with the clouds that much, neither did I think that I will feel this sad to be so far from all of them.

Things had to change at the pace we decides to fly. The more changes, the more we climb the terrains of unrest. Bhagavad Gita says, “The equanimity of mind during all those changes in and around us is called “Yoga”.
Hmmm. May be.

When the mind ran behind maturity and when maturity turned agony and when mind learned abolishing the maturity, it was all my eccentric calls to connect and disconnect with the reel which set me out to this journey. When we are close, we wanna go far, when far, we make frantic attempts to get to the noose. Funny that we follow a pattern, knowingly, unknowingly. It makes it easier. The whole journey, the pattern.
He has been in my shoes. She has been in my shoes. They all have. I would have been and will be in theirs too. To make the game playable, someone made us follow the pattern. And we all did, do.

Dum Spiro, Spero!!! (While I breathe, I hope)

I hope to play it the odd way. The un-pattern-ised way. I am sure many would have chosen this path. Will there be a pattern set for this path as well? Am I choosing to live one of those patterns set forth to me? When the decision is made for me, why do I think? When the game is set for me, why do I strategize?

Dum Spiro, Spero!!!

I hope the game is new. I hope I will get to strategize. I hope I don’t just get to follow the invisible trails.

Dum Spiro, Spero! (While I breathe, I hope!!!)

:)

chucking it!

chuck the sense of attachment to things which don't deserve to be yours!
its ain't sad then.
chuck the sense of emotional bonding with someone who don't deserve any emotionality from you!
its ain't sad then.
chuck the memories, chuck the pain,
chuck the person from your brain and
chuck the bane of selfless emotionality
chuck the cloud and chuck the rain!

life is easy and simple when you just see it for yourself,
learned it the hardest way,but well done me!
i learned it at last, i think so
let me hope so,
make me believe so!

how sad!

how sad is it to knw that your gal moved on at light speed?
how sad is it to know that she got engaged behind your back?
how sad is it to know that even your close friend kept a false face?
how sad is it to know that its just you who cant pick up the pace?
how sad is it know things can never get merry?
how sad is it know that its aint just you who got "slipped out" but many, but its just you who cant move on?
how sad is it to sing a drums painful song to another one?
how sad is it to know how sad things can get?
how sad is it to know you are just a shore to the unfaithful river?
how sad!

What if - Cold Play

What if there was no line?
Nothing wrong, nothing right.
What if there was no time?
And no reason or rhyme.
What if you should decide, that you don't want me there by your side.
That you don't want me there in your life.

What if I got it wrong, and no poem or song
Could put right what I got wrong
Or make you feel I belong
What if you should decide that you don't want me there by your side
That you don't want me there in your life.

Oooh, that's right
Let's take a breath jump over the side
Oooh, that's right
How can you know it if you don't even try
Oooh, that's right

Every step that you take could be your biggest mistake
It could bend or it could break
But that's the risk that you take
What if you should decide
That you don't want me there in your life
That you don't want me there by your side.

Oooh, that's right
Let's take a breath jump over the side
Oooh, that's right
How can you know it when you don't even try
Oooh, that's right

Ohhhhh

Oooh, that's right
Let's take a breath jump over the side
Oooh, that's right
You know that darkness always turns into light
Oooh, that's right

Gone forever - Three days grace

Don't know what's going on
Don't know what went wrong
Feels like a hundred years I
Still can't believe you're gone
So I'll stay up all night
With these bloodshot eyes
While these walls surround me with the story of our life

I feel so much better
Now that you're gone forever
I tell myself that I don't miss you at all
I'm not lying, denying that I feel so much better now
That you're gone forever

Now things are coming clear
And I don't need you here
And in this world around me
I'm glad you disappeared
So I'll stay out all night
Get drunk and fucking fight
Until the morning comes I'll
Forget about our life

I feel so much better
Now that you're gone forever
I tell myself that I don't miss you at all
I'm not lying, denying that I feel so much better now
That you're gone forever

First time you screamed at me
I should have made you leave
I should have known it could be so much better
I hope you're missing me
I hope I've made you see
That I'm gone forever

And now it's coming clear
That I don't need you here
And in this world around me
I'm glad you disappeared

I feel so much better
Now that you're gone forever
I tell myself that I don't miss you at all
I'm not lying, denying that I feel so much better now
That you're gone forever
And now you're gone forever
And now you're gone forever

Dont call me a ghost

I am so tired, I am so freak;
I feel so restless, oh when so selfless;
I am so lost; don’t call me a ghost;
I feel so right, when its aint so bright.

Its aint just a feeling, I was so fine,
I aint this creeping, then time was mine;
I am so lost; don’t call me a ghost;
I feel so right, when its aint so bright.

I am asleep, six feet under
I see no clouds, no thunder;
I am so lost; don’t call me a ghost;
I feel so right, when its aint so bright

I am alone, I wasn’t then
I foresee no future, since six feet under;
I am so lost; don’t call me a ghost;
I feel so right, when its aint so bright

Valentines Day

“ee preetiyannu maretu hege baluvudu helu”

Ya, its Kannada. I think I read the quote from a friend’s Skype quote.
I made a friend to decipher the above line for me.

“hey tell me how to live with out love”

Pretty interesting topic. Especially with Valentines Day around the corner.
I think its “love” which glorifies the epoch called “life”.

Hmmm, nice. Wonderful line. Wonderful day. Valentines Day. A day to commemorate the beauty of togetherness, a day to adore and respect “love”.
Having someone to celebrate the day with is such a beautiful feeling. Many of us will agree that. I was one such person the very last Valentines Day. A fortunate one in my own eyes, at least.
The coin’s other side talks about the heroes/heroines, epics, wore and tore tales which glorifies the sacrifices one made. Probably they celebrate the love for each other with in themselves and give meaning to the sacrifices they made.
The day speaks a volume on them. It really does. It should. Showing its courtesy and gratitude for glorifying a common day to this extent.
Life works in the mysterious ways. Makes us a believer and a non believer of it at times.

My love taught me many things. One important lesson learned is the beauty of “letting go”. Our conservative society and its fundamentalist setup always come heavy on many such teeny tiny hearts who tries to make a merry. These conservatives have contributed that very way to this day. Compelled many to “let go”. Thus many became the part of the day as those glorified soldiers who are game_about_sacrificing. Well that made me the army men.
Proudly stand ground saying “My love contributed too to the glorification”.

But more importantly there is the lot who gave so many sacrifices to be with their loved ones. They do steal the show. They contribute way lot to the beautification of the day.
The glorified “Valentines Day”.

To my friend, hey tell me why you would want to live with out love? Lets be the soldier on this glorified day, who live with their “love” in the notion of their mind, in the adobe of their heart!

Very Happy Valentines Day to you my friend!
Cheers!