Not Love. Na uh.

They walked on either side, hands barely touching, eyes purposely averted. Each lost in the workings of their own convoluted thoughts. Ironically, every thought that flitted through the trapped corners of their minds had one common focal point - the other. As the path they chose seemed to peter out right in front of their eyes, swept left, right and centre by the storm that was ravaging their lives, they were left in its wake helplessly wondering how they even happened on this particular path, that too together.

Brought together by society, bound together by fate, they wondered if love would ever grace their union.

Unbeknownst to them, exquisite Love had already intertwined their lives together... Their hands just needed to inch a little closer. Their hearts, a little more giving. They need to learn to weather it together, to accept the other's support. The perfect ending, already deigned in the minds of higher beings, is them finding the boat of togetherness and the oars of companionship.

To part ways in the middle of the storm was not what was written for them, for they have tasted what it feels like, known what it could be like. And neither would ever feel or be complete without the other ever again.

P.S: This is for Cutlet. I'll never really show you this. But 1) I'm real tired of telling you, there has to be a happy ending. There always is. You need to believe in it 2) You're awesome the way you are. Really. Don't believe me? Ask your friends. And let nobody tell you otherwise. 3) Flaws are good. That's why we're human. Accept them and move past. 4) I like your mommy face :D 5) It's a pleasure to make you smile <3

Yet Another Phase...

Cheese potato wedges, chocolate dark fantasy cake, CCD Indulgence, nimbu pani, cheese masala dosa, fried paneer koftas, crunchy cheese-filled momos, cheese vegetable steaks, chocolate sticks, nimbooz, dark fantasy cookies, red velvet cakes, molten brownies, caramel ice cream with chocolate sauce, mausambi juice, cheese rolls, cheese fettuccine, Oreo shakes, apple pie, giant mugs of coffee, chocolate mousse, vadapav with chilli sauce.

Pink comforters, wooly socks, clean flooring, full length mirrors, sale in Max, flea markets, the smell of ink, Casual Vacancy, Ski Safari and Temple Run, new episodes of Dexter, HIMYM, Grey's Anatomy, Modern Family, endless reruns of FRIENDS, rain at the window, warm baths, completing work by 5, a wafting breeze that carries a familiar fragrance that immediately takes you back in time to a happy memory, having someone to talk to when things seem drab, photos that make you sigh, videos that make you laugh, tgif!! Friday lunches, people who make you laugh till your stomach hurts.

Going in the opposite direction of peak traffic with a smug smile, stepping into puddles on purpose, taking photos of the breathtaking ITPL at night all lit up like a new bride's face, loooooooooong conversations on Skype, running out of balance frequently for yapping too much to Amma, golguppas almost every single evening, random walks all over Koramangala, apartment/PG hunting, good hair days, cozy weather every day., getting drenched to the bone and feeling six all over again.

Travelling alone, watching the greenery whizz by, reaching home on Saturday mornings, crispy Mom-dosas, being spoilt rotten, fussing over siblings, buying huge bars of chocolate for them, conveying feelings to Mom with eyes only in front of guests, old discarded yet extremely comfortable clothes, visiting old hangouts, missing everyone.

Could be worse.

Could be perfect.

Things are good.

Life is comforting.

P.S: The first paragraph alone should be responsible for me getting cholesterol and heartattacks by twenty five.

I Miss You...

My days drag on listlessly and my nights watch me writhe under the demonic clutches of wait. Every morning I wake up and look at the calender... today is one day closer to when I'll see you, when I get to hold you in my hands while tears of sheer joy and relief at having you back with me slip out of my eyes. You keep your sacred promise once a month which now has become the light at the end of the dark tunnel of my days without you. And for days afterward I'm swathed in the glow of your love. But cruelty, thou name is life for the glow fades away sooner than later leaving me and my heart bereaved and bereft. I knew not how painful things could get before you disappear, the allure of the streets we haunted together holds no joy for me without you. Corner House, Koramangala becomes just another address and Commercial street loses its quaint charm. I slip my hand into my pocket, searching for some vestige that you were not a mirage of my imagination, in vain. All I can do is but wait.

And then you arrive, in all your glory, yet another time to take my breath away.

I get a text from Citibank announcing your arrival.

Payday, I love you.

So much more than I ever imagined.

You are the reason for my sanity.

Some days...

...you wake up with a weight crushing your chest. Your hair refuses to behave and a large, red zit makes itself comfortable on your nose. The toast gets burnt and the coffee burns your tongue. You drop the phone on the staircase and it bursts into three separate pieces, the battery goes flying right down to the last step. After you reach your car, you realise that the keys are still sitting daintily on your coffee table and you turn your front door knob three times the wrong way before you get it right. The rains cause damage to the already crappy road and the traffic police insist that you take diversion. You give him the best glare you got, wishing you could get away with showing him The Finger and drive off through the long, windy road to sign into the office a good 30 minutes late. The senior manager chooses this day to be cranky for he couldn't really get it up last night. You get all the numbers wrong and redo all the sheets and double check to find that the final figures don't match. The management announces that there are no hikes this year; they ask you to stay back and mail all the employees. The best friend ditches drinks and some dub step in your favourite watering hole for his girlfriend is in town and he's getting lucky. The person you hit on, almost out of desperation for something positive, turns out to be gay. You head home, sadder but none the wiser.

Creme de la creme? You get one good bang on the back of your head courtesy the headboard as you try to snuggle in and block the world out. One last sigh, one last prayer... Please let tomorrow be better.

Some days...

....you get a mail of appreciation from the strictest of bosses.
You get a mind blowing makeover for free in a swanky saloon on Brigade road.
You discover clarity of Skype on international calls.

And you go to sleep with a grin that refuses to be wiped off and a prayer... Please let everyday be exactly like this one.

How To Disappear Without A Trace

Yello. In case anybody is still checking back to see if I'm still alive.
Just a quick update, this.

I have settled in nicely and kinda got my act together. For now.
I'm still waiting for Bangalore to woo me into its awesomeness, though.
I have started work on the new header and the makeover that has been pending for more than a month
*hides face in shame* But HEY, I grew up and got a job, so I'm allowed okay? *glares*
Gimme a week more and I shall be back with as much a bang as I can summon up considering this is my nth arrival.

Huge thanks to all those who wished me luck in the last post, means a lot to know that so many people are supportive. Also, when I said it was time to rest "Confessions..." I just thought I should change the name of the blog, not give up blogging altogether OR start a new one without telling you guys - just clearing up the confusion. This place means too much to me to actually abandon (though I have tried a few times *sheepish grin*).

I leave you with a question:
Why, in the name of all things sacred, do people (Indians) have fake accents? Is it because they have confidence issues? Image issues? Or something else altogether?? Enlighten me, nice people.


And, no, the title has nothing to do with the post, whatsoever :P

Something Of Some Sort

Just when you think that everything in life has come to a standstill, every single one of even the smallest of your prayers go unanswered and your life couldn't be any farther from where you want it to be, God sends a bolt of opportunity onto your path. Your grab it with both hands and hope with everything you have got that you will be able to ride the bolt to where you want to go.

Then, suddenly, before you can actually realize what happened, you find yourself on that path which you have only dreamed of... A solution to everything that ever was, your salvation.

But the path itself holds great challenges, ones that seem small yet require you to plough through with your best foot forward. You find your facing your worst fears and confronting your deepest insecurities.

You accept that this is what He has planned for you. You make the best of it. And you hope that it will only get better from now.

My life has changed.I have left behind family, friends and my city.
Nothing remains the same except who I am and the people I love.

Confessions... was all about a girl's dreams, hopes, fancies, unicorns, ponies, chocolate and whims.
And the world I live in now is far from cosseted, it blows smoke and dust onto my face early in the morning in the place of sparkles and rainbows.
So maybe it's time to rest Confessions..? Maybe.

This is definitely not adieu, just metamorphosis.
I shall see you, fine people, on the other side.

P.S: Special thanks to Spiff and Phatichar for being there all along. 

Blog under renovation. Please bear with any wild/weird/stupid/incomplete/glitchy things you might encounter.

Because I Want To. Hmph.

I realized that I haven't been random in a long time, what with either posting blah-blah on life and crap or just not posting at all. And I just happen to be addicted to random, so I'm gonna go ahead and be just that. Okay? Okay.

1) People should really, really, REALLY take captcha off their blogs. Like really. Why? Because when I'm reading 25 blogs a day and commenting on every single one, I just want to read, comment and get the hell outta there instead and sitting around, twiddling thumbs and typing out strings of letters. Do my sanity a favor and please take it off? Please?

2) Waiting for Grey's Anatomy's season finale is killing me. If Yang leaves, I will sue somebody. Scandal is heating up and promises to be very interesting. If you haven't seen it yet, well, you're missing something. Castle's season finale is due too. But I, for one, have gotten to a point where I say, "Beckett, with all due respect, just kiss Castle already!!"

Why, I'm watching so many soaps? Because I have nothing better to do.

And since I have run out of episodes of Fringe, The Mentalist and HIMYM, suggestions for my "To Watch" list are more than welcome (any TV show, movie, any genre except senseless action).

3) I finally changed my Blogger interface (not that I had much choice) and I enabled dynamic views as well, gave up my pretty little header too for the damn thing. AND it seems very difficult to customize, so I don't like it. Is it worth the change? You tell me.

4) Avengers was EPIC. To say that The Hulk made the cake from scratch and THEN took it would be an understatement. And it's a pity it took two parts of Iron Man for me to fall for Robert Downey Jr. Chris Evans disappointed though. Scarlet Johansson was, erm, an eyeful :P

The Dark Knight Rises is going to be even better. You should watch both EVEN if you don't understand men who wear their underwear outside for the same reason you'd watch the Titanic in 3D even when you know the dialogues by-heart and are not a mush fan.

5) THEY BLOCKED PIRATEBAY!! (When I write a whole sentence in all caps, you must assume that I'm screaming it out at the top of my voice while cursing the 'D.O.T' with the choicest of cuss words in the four languages I happen to know. Oh to know the funny part, you need to read the second headline here.

6) It's been four months since I blogged regularly, four months since I commented frequently. But I notice that I still keep getting comments on my posts. I always thought that if I stop visiting and commenting on other blogs, that I would stop getting any on mine. That my blog would go to sleep like it did a few years ago. Thank you for proving me wrong. I especially thank the people who commented on the last five-seven posts who I didn't reply on time to OR visit. Thank you. 

7) Summer sucks. It's NOT all about the flowers blooming and the sun shining and back to wearing shorts and sneakers. It's not even about getting a rain-check from, well, the rain. It's about the grime and the ick and the dust and the power cuts and sweat and the godforsaken heat. It's about wearing only liner and kajal and still have it melt off your face. 

The way summer is described is this...

What you actually feel like is this....

Well, you get the point...

Ciao then, I'll see you on the other side of Vicky Donor.

P.S: Instagram is addictive. If any of you are active over there, leave your handles in the comment section.

P.S.S: I was serious about suggesting something to watch. Very serious.

The Month That Was..... April '12

My favourite month of the year, my birthday month. And how eventful it was! 

First, I spent my birthday at some godforsaken place where I thought NOTHING would happen, at least nothing special anyway. How wrong was I? I got treated to a full-blown sadya with the sweetest family ever. And I got to cut the cake at 12 with BOTH my favourite people in attendance. Shows that if people actually care, they’ll manage to make it special for you, regardless of where you are.

I had been ‘researching’ for God-knows-how-long and talking about my thesis to everyone who will listen and their dog. That, finally, has been R.I.P’ed (Rested In Pieces), never to be revived or referred to again. It was disappointing, though, when my thesis guide of a year and a half refused to even acknowledge the effort. Maybe it was that bad? Ah well.

Farewell happened. Three months of picking the perfect saree, the perfect accessories, the perfect shoes and the perfect whatnot (us females are really obsessed with appearances, aren’t we?) ended in one evening of not-so-much nostalgia. Why? Because I don’t think what ‘farewell’ meant had had really sunken in then.
5.47 GB of photos happened, though. Special mention must be made of a certain special someone who won the Mr. Showstopper Award. Cheers, Nanda! :)

And then, predictably, I passed out of college. Seems like such a huge deal but I won’t bore you with the details. The surprise, the missing, the looking back, the realisation that it’s all over and it will never be the same again, the tears….  All of it that we have all felt at some point. One thing that really got to me was that I was giving up my second home, the place I could escape to pretend I have not a care in the wolrd, where I can cuss like a sailor and be as perverted-minded as I wanted to be and no one would care for we were all kindred spirits. That was hard.

Even harder was realising that my relationship would never be the same. I was leaving the place that had brought us together. I don’t know what the future holds for us but this place would always hold the happiest memories for both of us. But maybe, like he says, I speak too soon for the best is yet to come?

Blogging didn’t happen. Not even a little bit. And I have become that blogger who doesn’t reply to comments and mails and guest post requests. Yes, I really didn’t have the time but no, it was entirely not intentional :’(

And most importantly, I’m out on the job market (prospective employer bloggers, you hear?:P). God knows, what this path that I have chosen holds for me and where but I feel ready for the change. In fact, I want the change.

May, how you doin’?  

P.S: I have developed an aversion to the question, what next. So kindly refrain from asking :P

I Confess, I Cheated

Do you know what it's like to cheat on someone? Someone you love very much? Someone who has done so much for you, someone who's presence is why you still exist and have some pride in yourself, some self-worth?
One day, everything seems perfect, like you have everything you'll ever need from anyone and the next, you have slipped on the (w)hoary edges and fallen into the icy depths of faithlessness. 


You know it's wrong and the first few times you even try to stop. The guilt eats into your very soul invading your every thought, every action. You can't stop thinking about all the good times you have had, the kind gestures, the joy and the comfort of just having someone to call your own. You can't stop evaluating if it's worth it, if it's worth giving all that up for a few moments of pure pleasure. But once you start, you can't but go on until thoughts cease to exist and only ecstasy prevails. 


But they say, acceptance is the first step to cure. 
I confess, I cheated.


I am married to Words and I cheated. 


It was just one time, one action. I had even forgotten the Pinterest password. I did not even have an account on Instagram or weheartit. I pooh-poohed their advances and used them for my convenience. I used them all to make Words happy. I made Words meet them too, in hope that every time I feel like slipping, I will remember the scene of both of them together and be assured of who was better. 


But alas, they did catch up with me; they lured me in with the indescribable beauty they radiate, a beauty that the secret, crappy photographer in me lusted after. They made me their unchained slave, they brought me to my knees and do their bidding without so much as a bad internet connection... so much as 300 repins in a day. I became a junkie, I was out of control. Looking at beautiful photos from all over the world, funny quotes and out-of-this-world food porn till my battery drained out. No amount of control could stop me from getting out of bed without atleast 20 repins from Pinterest. I craved for Instagram's attention; I started taking pictures like a maniac on weed, JUST to impress her. I even pinned and hearted at the same time. 


Words never said a word. I'm sure he knew, which only made it worse. Slowly, I started making excuses to Words. I said, "I am busy with assignments, I need time to sort things out." Then I started outright lying, "I don't like your new interface, there is a general lull, none of my friends are here anyway." He still never said anything. Every time I opened Blogger, I felt the acidic guilt and the painful sadness of a relationship once cherished. And every time I turned away and went back, coward that I was.


Today, I scrolled down my baby with no intention of posting anything, when the archives' count caught my attention and screamed out at me all the abuses that Words refused to say to me. Words always kept faith in my love, never asked for anything in return. And somehow, like a bolt of lightning, sense prevailed while I realized where my true loyalties lie.


I might slip, I might fall. 
I might even go several miles on the wrong path. 
But I will always come back to you, my love.
For I'm married to you.
And I married you for a reason.


I'm sorry for all the hurt.
I promise to write and make it go away.
I promise to make it up to you any way I need to.
For I know you deserve much better.


I love you, Words.
Always did. Always will.


P.S: This was whimsical, to say the least :D
P.P.S: I know a picture says a 1000 words but without those words how does the picture intend to convey it's beauty to all and sundry? I became a picture junkie for a while but now I'm back where I belong :)
P.P.S.S: This is one way of making it up to Words, not using any pictures for the post :P

Me. An Average Indian.

The alarm goes off and, instinctively, I hit snooze. Few more minutes of my time are not going to make a difference in Suresh Sir’s life, is it? His client can wait, I need my beauty sleep.

I brush my teeth and my half closed eyes catch sight of the price on the paste carton. WHAT?! My mind awakens instantly, HE CHARGED ME THREE WHOLE RUPEES OVER THE MRP?! How dare he, I’m never shopping there again. And then I feel a lapse inside myself as I think whatever, it’s just three rupees, what value does it have these days, anyway. Plus, the shop is so convenient….

As I make the coffee, I throw the banana peel into dustbin…. Curse, when it missed it by a few inches. Ah well, the maid will come in soon, it’s her job anyway.

The milkman calls out. I go outside to get my milk, absent mindedly throwing the dirty water in the vessel on the neighbor’s wall. Oops, she just whitewashed it… maybe she won’t notice.

I smell the fresh newsprint, like I always do, and sip the bitter brew while scanning the headlines. “BABY FALAK DIES OF CARDIAC ARREST”. My eyes moisten for a second, I’d been following the story for some time now. No human being deserves what was done to her… much less a baby, I thought.  I read the rest of the story on page 10…. The advertisement on the side caught my eye. “NEW FOR OLD OFFER”. My thoughts wander…. maybe I should exchange my old laptop and the mixer for that new Inspiron I saw the other day… So sleek, so cool it was… Maybe…

Local elections are on; I snigger at the uselessness of the whole system and wonder where my Voter’s ID is. I proudly proclaim to all and sundry that I don’t vote. What’s the point? Nothing’s going to change.

I dress and head out, I’m already late. I curse the lights for turning red at that precise moment and tap my foot impatiently on the kerb. The boy comes to me with wide, brown eyes and a dirty, dirty face. He has the face of a golden retriever with honesty, cuteness and helpless abandon writ all over him. My will hiccups as I pull out a ten-rupee note... he looks like he should be my niece’s classmate. Which reminds me, I HAVE to get her that HP limited edition set she’s been begging for since January…. Doesn’t matter if it costs half my salary, she is my princess, who else will spoil her?

I huff into my office and snap at the attendant for delaying the lift. He bows his head and mutters an apology. So what if he can’t walk? He’s paid to operate the lifts, he can do at least that efficiently. Loafer, kahin ka.

I start getting calls almost as soon as I log in. I put my headset on Good morning, this is xxx customer care, how may I help you? I deliver in my best chirpy voice. The customer is having trouble checking his balance and I wonder what rock he lives under to not know even that much in this day and age. I check records, he lives in Vanaprastha Home. Ugh, why don’t his children take care of him? At least I won’t have stupid old men asking me foolish questions first thing in the morning.

I saunter in after my long, lazy lunch. Though I wish I hadn’t taken Sumeeta with me; thanks to her I spent the better part of three hours listening to how her baby’s smile was magical.
The boss isn’t in yet. There’s a commotion outside his office. I walk up to Arjun’s cabin and ask what’s going on. Suresh Bansal had a heart attack early in the morning, he is stable now but under observation.

Involuntarily, my mind thinks will they give us a day off?!! I shake off the hope and tch, tch with the rest.

Payday! I pack my bag at 5 hoping the TL will let me leave early and check my account to find the salary credited. Wooohooooo! Shopping spree. My board lights up but I ignore them, say I’m done. White lies don’t matter..... everybody lies anyway.

I reach home with a lighter wallet but a happy heart. The neighbours were fighting again. I heard her scream once and everything was silent. Who am I to interfere, I think. Their domestic issues.

I cook and I eat in candle light, thinking about the day. I can’t finish the bowl of rice and I walk out to the overflowing street dustbins. The stray looks at me with longing eyes; wagging his pitiful tail. The action makes his bones stick out even more. Ugh, such a dirty animal. If I feed him now, he’ll expect the same every day. I dump the bowl into the dustbin and shoo him away.

I do the laundry, I brush my teeth and I fall asleep.

---

I am an average Indian. I live in a Metropolitan city. I eat. I live.

I tch, tch about an honor killing, like/share a Facebook page and lend my support by posting a picture of me in a black dress to proclaim my protest.

I love my own religion, all other Gods are irrelevant.
I love my own State, every other State and its people are backward, dirty and talk funny.

I will isolate that ‘loose’ girl even if I have secretly spent nights in my boyfriend’s apartment.

I refuse to do any work that is beyond the scope of my duties, I refuse to help others even if it is within my ability. What if it rebounds on me?

I will call Keenan and Reuben stupid inwardly for interfering unnecessarily. I will say the rape victim got what she deserved.

I am indifferent.

To everything that doesn’t affect me directly.

To everyone I have no reason to care about.

from dweebness.wordpress.com

It’s time to change. 

 http://ohmenver.tumblr.com/post/12916269499

This might be just another post for a contest on Indiblogger.  And yes, I do have my eyes set on the prizes, as well (proving that, well, I'm every bit as indifferent as portrayed). But the sentiment is one that I have been wanting to voice for some time now. Thank you, Stayfree India, for prodding me into posting this. 

If this makes even one person take that little extra effort to feed a dog with leftovers or contribute ten rupees to a child's education or vote compulsorily at the next elections, rather than being indifferent, I shall consider the post to have been a quality addition to my life.

The views expressed in the post are my own and I take full responsibility for them. It is not my intention to hurt any sentiments, feel free to disagree. But do allow me to exercise my freedom of thought, opinion and speech.

Pick! Perfection Or Messed Up

Sachin FINALLY got to celebrate. About time, I should think. 

But, with all due respect, if I read ONE more update with 'Sachin' or 'God' in it, I'm going on a blocking spree.  

And we lost. To Bangladesh. 

Moving on (before I launch into a rant)...

There is this author, yeah. Pretty famous I should say, from what I hear. I was initially very taken in with the whole idea of her, but, bit by bit the charm faded. Then the charm went 'pop' when that Nanda guy got me her latest book as a Valentines' present and I spent all of six hours with my nose buried in it. 

I was disappointed. For a 'best-selling author' thrice over, the book and the story was only average. 

I don't have a problem with that.

Well, mostly because most recent Indian authors have disappointed me.

She posts regularly on her blog and I read every post religiously (I stalk all writers I can find on Blogger, bit of an OCD). And I have yet to find a post in which she doesn't mention her best-sellers or perfect writing skills or her perfect behavior in all manners of situations or her perfect life or the perfect people around her who are just perfectly perfect. She's always together, always has a condescending tone and a perfect answer to every question you can ever think of asking her. She never fails to mention that she has an amazing figure even after kids (I don't even understand why that's relevant to her work) along with what an awesomely well-rounded mother she is. She even gets her husband to write guest posts about what an amazing experience it is to have her as his wife.

She seems to have mastered the art of perfection.

I don't have a problem with that either. You have enough discipline to write a whole book, the grit to get it published and the guts to put yourself out there for the whole world to criticize and tear apart, you deserve to brag. Not that it's an excuse to be anything less that an exemplary writer but I'd understand. 

My question is: 

Can anyone's life be perfect? Can anyone's life go exactly the way they plan it, have all their wishes come true and never have any major problems to deal with? Can anyone take every single teeny bit of negativity that ever came their way and turn it into the 'most amazing thing' that every happened to them?

Even if you answer yes to all the above, is that how life is supposed to be?

Doesn't it take two weeks of bad food to attain nirvana with one piece of cheese-burst pizza? Doesn't it take tears to find out how beautiful happiness is? Doesn't it take hurt to find out how deep love can be? Doesn't it take mistakes to feel how satisfactory it is to be right? 

Shouldn't we mess up sometimes just to know what the other side is like.... to appreciate good things when they come to us?

If everything is perfect all the time, wouldn't everything become mechanical? Boring?

Or am I psychologically damaged? :P

P.S: No offense to the writer or her fans who might recognize who I'm talking about. She just got me thinking, that's all.

the

sans

and

A Life Without

Or

Or

Keep the

and the 

alive

For you go around only once.

My heartfelt thanks to online sources for the wonderful pictures they provide for my posts. Especially this one.

Coming Off At The Seams..

Of not being 'all that'.


Of not being able to breathe properly.
Of pain. Of illness. Of relentless damage to the psyche.
Of deadlines. Of shoddy work. Of pressure that finally gets to you. 

Of not being able to vent. Or talk. Or exchange glances.  
Of communication breaking down. 
Of watching people take off and put on masks right in front of your eyes.
Of not knowing what is right and what is grey.
Of needing. Of wanting. Of not having. Of disappointments, one after the other. 

Of saying the exact opposite of what you mean. Of not knowing how to say what you want to. 
Of wondering what you'll do when it finally happens. Of losing your best friend and soul mate, all at once.


Of being misunderstood all the time. Of being misguided all the time. Of feeling on the edge all the time.
Of being directionless.


Of watching the world go by and not wanting to join in for the first time.
Of wanting to let go. Of wondering if you'll be able to live in the shambles beyond.


Of being anti-social. Of being grumpy. Of having a temper close to the surface all the time.
Of boredom. Of cynicism. Of negativity. Of pessimism.


Of tears. Of broken dreams. Of memories of a better place.
Of wanting to go back to when things were nice amazing. 
Of wanting to feel alive and happy and unburdened again. 
Of being able to eat golguppas and hold hands again.


Of putting on a face for everyone else. Of going about like nothing is wrong.
Of hoping you see through it.  Of hoping you won't let go. Of hoping you ask me once more.
Of despair when you don't. Of feeling broken inside, all the time.

Of not being able to do what you love most. Of ignoring something that has always put a smile to your face. Of storing all the stories in your head and never putting them down.
Of losing inspiration to write. To go on. To live. 


Of uncertainty. 
Of trying and giving up. 


P.S: Nothing is actually wrong. This is me, in all my glory, being a drama queen :P

Things People Shouldn't Do....

1).... Wait till the battery is 1% to plug in your phone for charging.  The power might just go off, you know. And if you have the kinda luck I do, then automatically assume that the power WILL go off.


2).... Procrastinate going to the loo because your favorite scene is playing on telly. Accidents happen. Ones that you won't even be able to justify.


3).... Not keep back-ups of everything you own. Digitally speaking, that is. One wrong link clicked, one 'bad sector' in the hard disk, one teeny mistake - POOF! Every single song you painstakingly downloaded, every GA episode you love, every Word doc with your entire life's worth of 'outpourings', every assignment you caffeinated yourself for... Gone. Erased without a trace. 


4).... Take someone for granted. They might just decide NOT to be your doormat anymore. They might decide to just up their behind and leave. And then you'll sit there and be amazed at the 'them' shaped hole in your life that sucks all the happiness out of you.


5).... Fight with your better half and then try to get even by staying up till three a.m. talking to every member of the opposite sex you can think of. One word for anyone who thinks it's a solution. UNCOOL. And I will only congratulate your better half for have a screaming match with/dumping you. 


6).... Philosophize too much (especially when you're in your twenties and thirties. Or younger). Why? People start thinking you are going through a bad phase. They bring you fruit to alleviate the unhappiness. And sympathy. And lots of long, slanty looks. 


Most of all, people shouldn't lie. O.k, maybe 'lie' is a blanket term. What I mean is that I get when you're lying because you've bad grades or you broke the best crystal vase or about a missed assignment or being late because of last night's party or forgotten deadline. I get that. 


It's when people lie about inconsequential things that I don't understand. Those small white lies which have no real consequence except make you seem the way you want to seem. Fleeting words strung together just that second to make people believe your fake point. Lies that people don't bother hauling you up about because they are that small. What pleasure do you get in getting people to believe in your white lies? Not like they matter. Not to you, not to them, not to anyone... except in that one second before someone changes the topic.


I don't get it.


O.k, I admit, the rest of the post was a ruse to write about all the lying. But I realized suddenly just how much some people do it and I can't talk to anyone about it. I scared a couple of clueless souls with all my restless, disjointed sentences about liars and left them wondering if I had finally gone over to the dark side.  


The frustration wanted an outlet and thereby the blog post. 


O.k, I'm done here. The ones who snoozed can wake up and leave. Bbye.

Metamorphos-ing

Change.


For a long time, I and Change have had issues. Change meant loss of familiarity, loss of the comfortable-ness, loss of patterns and schedules that I work so hard to create. And that scared me beyond all reason, I was afraid that any semblance of order that I have in my life would go flying out of the window and the ruckus that will prevail then will lead to failure. 
To losing my ability to do it right. I wrote a post about how the change that looms large is weighing heavy on my head and heart. Outwardly, I chin-upped at Change and said, bring it on. Inwardly, I trembled like aspen in a storm. I was afraid of giving up control.


Right down to when I got obsessively compulsive about little things like re-installing my OS for fear that I would lose everything I worked so hard to compile.


Then, change brought good things. Change showed me that love doesn't have to hurt all the time. That accepting your faults can be a good thing. That apologizing even when it's not your fault can save my own mind from going around in eternal circles. Change can make a best friend out of a mother whom I claimed had never 'understood' me.


Change shakes things up when they have settled down to make sludge. Change keeps the flame alive, change keeps things interesting. Change kicks monotony's ass. Change inspires. 

Change can be a good thing too.

The Road I Failed To Take

Haven't we all had people in our lives who leave behind a faint sense of dissatisfaction for not having truly spoken to them about everything that mattered? Haven't we all had at least one person in our lives who we don't even know properly but have always had the feeling that we would have been good friends, if either of you had only taken the pain to let go of the ego and extend that hand? That someone who has misunderstood you grossly and you have made the same mistake with equal vigor, parted with not so much as a passing glance and then had it come back and irk you in some small way?


(If you haven't, then GAH! to you)


This goes out to one person who I had a lot of faith in, the key word here being had.

I thought you were the sensible one, the one who has the sense to be objective. But more than that, I felt we were friends. Not the close kind of bffs, but the kinds who run into each other in Forum ten years from now and have coffee over how much life has changed. 


But I guess the feeling wasn't mutual. Ah well.


But the thing is, I am worried. Just a little bit though.
Worried that the same friends who you hold close to your heart and fight tooth and nail for are the same ones who never thought twice about calling you that without a moment's hesitation. That too, in front of me. The 'opposition'.
Their poison has already got to you. Don't let them catch you unawares though. 


You think you are always one step ahead? Little do you realise that I withdrew long back. I have been sitting on the sidewalk watching you trying to outsmart yourself... Trip all over your own two feet. 
I considered you a worthy adversary till you played dirty. You stooped down instead of rising up to challenge my very existence. I was just disappointed that you didn't. 


I still have a soft corner for you, somehow. In spite of the unnecessary dirty looks and the conspiracies. 
But you have lost my respect and regard. 
Not that it matters to either of us but still... Like Wordsworth, someday I shall sit on my couch in a pensive mood and contemplate, not daffodils, but a friendship that withered before it bloomed. 


This is mostly because you have helped me calculate my GPA every time. This is almost entirely because you taught me what a Chi Square is when I most needed it. 


Thank you.


P.S: A very happy valentine's day to all those who are hell-bent on celebrating it, but be safe and keep yourselves far away from any violently mental anti-love people. I ceased to believe in the 'magic of St. Valentine' a coupla years back, though. And yes, I don't like being predictable in case y'all were expecting full on mush post :P

Letting Go

I hold onto the railing, not very tight though. The scene below mesmerizes me... True, the view from the heights is beautiful, breathtaking. I see twinkling lights, all but ants to me, whizzing along with their own agenda, to their own time. The wind whooshes through my hair, making me heady with feeling, filling my lungs up with pure, unadulterated euphoria. 


I wonder. What it'll feel like. To let go. To feel the hurt, the pain, the desolation. To have darkness creep in and rob my ability to feel happy, to smile. To let go of all that kept me safe, all that I love and find comfort in and plunge unto the crevasse that sucking me in slowly even otherwise.  To have my brains splattered all over the pavement. 


Then I laugh at my own brainlessness, how will I feel when I don't got no life?  


But then, you know what will be worth it? The split second that I'm whooshing down. The split second in which my whole life supposedly flashes across my mind's eye. The swift flash of my lithe body down the side of the building that will make my eyes water, I'm sure that's the closest I will ever get to flying. I'm delighted at the thought. 


I can almost see myself, body prone on the asphalt, limbs askew, my new Levi's Curve ID splattered with my own B+, the smile on my face; can you smile in death, I wonder?  Maybe they'll have an investigation, maybe they'll bring in Beckett. Maybe Richard will come too. 
HAH! I have been wasting too much time on the telly. Time that I should have spent planning this better, I think.


I contemplate once more, all that I am leaving behind. Its a raw deal for I can see their tears of shock and desolation, I hurt inside for them, for the pain I will cause to them. I know I must have done something right to deserve that much. But the raw deal is a done deal for me. What must be done, must be done.


Deep breath. 
Clammy hands.
One last look down.


Letting the cold metal go. 


The whoosh never came. 
I look back up, shivering with the impact of what I was going to do. 
I see your face. 


"I'm never letting go, even if you do."


P.S: I have NO clue what this is all about. 

The Month That Was.. January '12

A month with the family, one long over due. 
A month of the new phone and almost fainting when I got it. 
A month of lots and lots and lots of work but getting nothing done.

A month of not keeping in touch with people. 
A month of questionnaire distribution (oh which is still happening, so if anyone feels like filling up a longass questionnaire for my research project, or have any friends you want to take revenge on, do let me know; you'll be doing me a great service, to say the least).


A month when a person I had admired, a teacher no less, lied to save her skin and fell off the pedestal I had put her on.
A month I learnt the value of being healthy. A month I fell sick more times than I care to remember (by the way, don't be sorry for me, I like all the attention when I fall sick :P)
A month that has made me wonder if people think of me as conceited, brazen, self-assured or over-confident when I'm really the opposite and come across the wrong, wrong way.


A month that started blogging elsewhere anonymously just because I wasn't able to keep up with the expectations I created here. A month I almost closed down this blog and switched to WP because they have an very handy app (you hear, Blogger?) A month I kept thinking twice about why I blog (no, not another blogger crisis) when I have to keep in mind always that the wrong people might be reading it.


A month I decided to let the number game go, but maybe only because I have enough.


A month that came to a close all too soon, leaving me one month less to battle with the demons of leaving my cozy nest. 


January, you have give Ms. 12 a fiery kickstart. Thank you.


February, how YOU doin'? ;)

Funky Fear? Or Fear Of Funk? Or Something Like That

‘Don’t let fear take away your funk.’ 

 –Ted Mosby

If you’re scared of looking like a fool, you’ll never try to fly. If you can't jump off, you'll never even discover than you can fly, in the first place. Never know that you can do it well too.

If you’re afraid of your two left feet, you won’t know what joy just jumping around like a crazy loon brings to your heart. You won’t know what it’s like to forget the world and live in that moment of crazy, giggly joy.

If you’re terrified of germs, you’ll never learn to love the crisp, tangy golguppas straight off the street vendor’s filthy hands. You’ll never know the taste of the burning khatta pani as you gobble to keep up with his speed. The later diarrhea will be better than not having the guts to try at all. 

Let go sometimes. Its ok to be a freak. It’s ok to be a fool. It’s ok is stand out. It’s ok to be different. It’s most definitely ok to NOT conform. Don’t do things because they do it. Do them because you want to. Because it gives you that small iota of satisfaction from having accomplished something. Do them because you pride yourself in being creative, in being a class apart from the herd.

If you keep being fearful of every little thing, terrified of making the wrong choices and having anxiety attacks over every small thing you ever had to do, you’ll lose your funk. And trust me, you’re nothing without your funk for your funk is what makes you who you are.

Your funk is what distinguishes you from the seven billion others who inhabit the same planet and breathe the same air as you.

Preachy much? It’s a phase, I think. It’ll go yaway soon, I hope.