The West Wind

Cradled To The Grave

2011-12-12T21:32:00.003+01:00

Not that tall, not that pretty.

Slightly distorted and somewhat gritty.

That old white Plumeria tree poised on its own.

None befriended it, not a bird, not a stone.

One fine afternoon, between lunch and bunks,

we set our diabolical eyes on it,

& declared it abode,

sprawling all over it and springing on its trunks.

Soon it ripened into much more

than just one of our dens.

The spot for new culminations,

the spot for all wild yens.

Secrets whispered into its caverns,

unrequited queries of the young minds,

as and how the complexities of the world it discerns.

Names and & a <3 carved into the bark,

or a first few kisses in the dark.

It witnessed it all in turns.

Many summers, autumns, winters

& springs passed,

a million differennt days lapsed.

We got strewn across time & space.

But one day we all returned,

to our beloved tree embrace.

Alas! It lived no more..

Years of its eventful lifetime,

and the soul of our childhood had been

uprooted and persecuted to its core.

Our beloved tree had been cradled to its grave.

And once again to cruelty, innocence was a slave.

Dead.. & Back

2011-09-23T13:34:00.001+02:00

Days and nights, nights and days, can alwaysbe counted. Numbered, and then filed as weeks, months and years. But time is infinite,isn’t it? Or that was what I had gathered from my 40 years of an excruciatinglytedious life. I had had experiences which rendered the impression, that eventhough momentarily, time did (almost)freeze at times. Moments like the first goal I ever scored, when I saw my wifewalking down the aisle or when my daughter was put in my hands for the firsttime. At other times, time had me fooledby creating a delusion of fleeting by, like summer holidays, college days andso on. Well yes.. life has its moments. Many of them I had lived through, butto think of it.. there were yet many more to come.. or so I thought.

So I was saying,days and nights can always be reckoned, unless…

Unless.. it was during that brief span oftime when I had supposed myself to be dead. Since I didn’t really have anyprior experience in this regard, I had assumed that the vast chilliness that hadenveloped me, was Death. The drycoldness, the floating view of myself from above, the engulfing darkness andall that introspection.. what can I say, but that I was fooled. I must admit,at first I was pretty disappointed by death’s representation before me. Whatabout the bright white light?.. The life flashing by your eyes?.. Thesatisfaction of dying a man armed with the ultimate wisdom? I wasn’t evenbriefed if the rosy gardens of heaven or the dark alleys of hell were going tobe my destination.. Or was all that just a false and theatrical manifestationof Death.

I was a little angered, but more deceived. All ourlives we live in the fear of meeting its end, expecting it to be some sort of amajor showdown, like the curtains falling at the conclusion of a great show.And here it was, like suddenly the lights went out and the show ended withoutanyone noticing.. anything but extraordinary.

With time, the feeling had started to sink inand eventually I was starting to resign to my fate. What was still perplexingwas that even after being dead, I couldn’t really comprehend what being deadexactly meant. From what I had believed, allegedly being dead meant becomingnumb. Wasn’t it supposed to be the great escape from every dilemma? And I hadexpected that at last when I would be on my deathbed, enlightenment would dawnupon me and I would gain the secret key to unlock the secrets of life anddeath.

But then, in this whole “being dead” episode,not much had turned out as per my expectations. Alas! Everything was the epitomeof disappointment. Perhaps being dead just meant being frozen and retrospectionof your life.. for like forever. So alright.. if that’s what Life.. err.. Death had to offer, then Retrospectionit was.

My early recollections were pretty vague, sowere my last memories. The last thing that I could recall was me and Sam in my car, having a heated row,swirling out of the control and heading for the bridge wall. ..Damn..

Now wait.. a little flashback. Sam.. wasn’t a male colleague of mine, atleast the male part wasn’t true. She wasn’t the wife I had mentioned earliereither. So yeah your assessment is pretty much along the right lines. She was arather hot.. err.. attractive female colleague of mine. And the argument wasn’tabout work. We were sort of… err.. having an affair. I had contemplated it tobe reasonably safe, just a fling. After all she was married too. Or so Ithought.. until her husband stipulated a divorce and she wanted me to sabotagemy marriage too. ..Damn..her!! If it wasn’tfor her.. I would still have been very much alive with Sarah and my Emma.. yeahthat’s the wife and the daughter.

In retrospection, I wasn’t too astonishedeither. I had my share of vices. I loved Sarah and Emma with all my heart, butin my quest for life’s zest, I had always envisaged them as an impedimentrather than my support system, and they had always taken a backseat. Fun andmoney craft such an alluring maze together, that I had willingly lost myselfand led myself into oblivion to everything else. Perhaps this was my eye opener…Alas! Too late… I wondered how Sarah and Emma would take my demise. Perhapsthey wouldn’t have missed me anymore than when I was living and relishing mylife somewhere else.

A sudden bolt, at the end of what seemed likeeternity, sent lightening flowing through my veins. A burning heat spreadacross my body. The coldness and numbness were swapped by a scorching heat and endemicpangs of pain. But amidst all that, I heard something which sounded like Mozart’slast symphony, something I had garnered no hope of banging on my ear drums everagain. It was the stealthy lub-dup ofa heart, hopefully, my own. Soon every other sound faded out, and all I couldhear was the pounding of my heart. My eyes flickered, and whoa.. lights, brightlights, too many of them, flooding my vision… I couldn’t make out anything.Then I heard a second noise, which made my heart skip its new found beat. Itwas Emma meekly calling me out in a murmur. My vision cleared and I laid sightupon her adorable face.

But there was something out of place. Sarahwas nowhere to be seen. Did she find out about my secret liaison? Did she leaveme? In that fraction of a second, I considered a million possibilities in mymind. And then the doctor said, “Your wife is in the other room. The internaltrauma had damaged your liver. We grafted a part of your wife’s liver into you.She is doing fine now.”

I didn’t feel as proud as I should have,because in my heart I knew I didn’t deserve this. There was a speck ofgratitude, a tonne of self loathing, but the focal reaction that shroudedeverything else was relief.. Thank God she didn’t know.. (Yes.. the ungrateful self-indulgedbastard that I was). I passed out…

Next morning I awoke with both Sarah and Emmaby my side. We didn’t speak much.. I couldn’t speak much actually. But in myhead, I had pledged to myself that I would leave no stone unturned to make upfor the lost time, my fallacies and all the atrocities I had bestowed upon myfamily. I won’t squander this second chance I had been granted by fate.

The nurse handed me the newspaper. As I turned the page, Sam stared back at meand the headlines read, “Samantha Nelsonmeets untimely death as car crashes on the bridge.” I could feel my colourfleeing.. My guilt smacking me hard across my discoloured face…

Sarah pressed my arm, looked into my eyes andwhispered in my ears, “Don’t try to lookat the rear view mirror. Look right ahead through the windshield.” Herwords calmed my nerves, but I caught a glimpse of the pain in her eyes that said,“I know. I had always known.”

Requiem to Freedom

2011-09-22T12:03:00.001+02:00

A lustrous glass door I see,

my requiem to be free.

I gape through it, and I see beyond it.

But I don’t get its real grit.

Is it the truth or is it a lie

Or is it just a mirage, for my eyes feel dry.

I stretch my hand

and all I feel is a void.

It’s cluttered and packed yet

absolutely empty like a cheap cheap tabloid.

I close my eyes and open them again.

Rub them hard and look yet again

There the mighty gates stand,

sneering and mocking me like Devil’s hand.

I open my arms and beg thee.

To take me in and let me be free.

I don’t fathom how I am still bound

Begging to be free,

yet bymy own desires still shackled and hound.

I know not that freedom ain’t a place thatlies beyond the gates.

But a state of mind

which has nothing to do with drugs, alcohol

or any princely states.

Comfortably Numb

2011-06-29T01:00:00.004+02:00

If I could love and loose,

and escape unscathed..

If I could wander in the moonlit night’s blues..

and not be in melancholy bathed.

If I could see, but not feel.

If I could listen and not heed.

If I could hurt and then heal.

If I could be stabbed, yet not bleed.

If I could expect no reaps

even after I sow my seeds.

If my guilt couldn’t give me the creeps

when I scorn the decree of the creeds.

Then I would be what I pretend to be.. and not to the deathly hallows of life succumb.

For then I would be Comfortably Numb…

Image Courtesy: Deviant Art

Shakespeare In Love

2011-06-29T00:54:00.002+02:00

Thou teacheth me to fight for what I want,

Be it justified or not.

Thou accostest for what others shan’t,

And showed me to tie the strings as well as unfasten a knot.

Thou madest me to cease being naïve,

And quit being a silly lass.

Thou teacheth me to choose myself over a world to save.

And for me thou didst kick some terrific ass.

In my joys reveled thee,

Whilst we giggled and laughed my and thy guts out.

In my sorrows who could’st more disheveled be,

Never once was there any turf for doubt.

O Fair Maiden, for everything .. I profess my undying love and gratitude for thee,

Coz’ without you I couldn’t have had my fortitude, and I wouldn’t be me.

Image Courtesy: Deviant Art

A Mid-Summer Night’s Dream

2011-06-28T23:45:00.003+02:00

Perched on heaven’s rooftop, staring down upon tiny flicks of shimmering light underneath, on the balcony of paradise, savouring the sweet smell of the summer breeze.. I was with you.. Was I dreaming with open eyes? We were so high up surrounded by nothing but nothingness.. not a hollow, not a void.. an abyss of the summer night sky. And I was with you. The night sky was clearing up, giving way to sneaking & peeking stars. They didn’t seem too far way anymore.

I looked into your lustrous eyes and thought.. if you smile at me.. it’s a dream. And you cast your mesmerizing smile at me. I slipped my hand into yours and thought.. if you grasp my hand back.. it’s a dream. And then you locked your fingers around mine and pacified my blatantly beating heart. I came closer to you and thought.. if you lock me in.. it’s a dream. And then you wrapped yourself around me, spread your warmth through my veins. I let out a silent sigh and thought.. if you kiss my neck.. it’s a dream. And then you arched your mighty self to brush my neck with your lips and made my insides shriek in silence. I ran my hand down your back and thought.. if you engulf in me.. it’s a dream. And then you snuggled into me seeking liberation. It was moving too fast, my heart was racing and the night was pacing. I thought.. if this goes on forever.. it’s a dream and crossed my fingers.

Paradise shook and the spinning world jerked to a stop. Blinding final rays of the setting sun pervaded my vision. And before I could say goodbye, you were gone. Forsaken in a train, reaffirming my sweet dream. I looked out of the window and caught a glimpse of a magnificent edifice, enchanting in the dusk light, rising unto heaven. I glanced up trying to gauge its crest, and just as far as my vision could reach, there was the balcony of paradise.

And there.. perched on heaven’s rooftop, staring down upon tiny flicks of shimmering light underneath, standing on the balcony of paradise, savoring the sweet smell of the summer breeze.. were two white doves.... living my dream.

The Night Clara Actually Died

2011-06-13T14:42:00.003+02:00

It was a pleasant autumn Sunday. The Church courtyard was teeming with low whispers. But it wasn’t just any other post-Mass gathering. It was the funeral of Clara Marie Amherst. Dressed in rich white satin, embellished with pink Daffodils, the gentle serenity of her face defied her sorrowful plight. The Embalmer had done a remarkable job. It was only the presence of the two policemen, which reminded the grievers of the bizarre circumstances under which the incident had occurred.

Clara, looked the prettiest she ever had ever looked in her life (huh.. irony), off on an enchanting journey like ‘Sleeping Beauty’ in the 3^rd book on the 2^nd row of her bookshelf. No trace of trauma, hemorrhage or even a bruise, which could have led to the untimely and unexpected demise. Who would have believed that on Friday night she walked out of her window on the 4^th floor… Today she looked like the perfect manifestation of the 12 wonderful years of her life.

Saturday was busy with the officers interrogating the Amhersts, school friends, teachers, doctor or anyone they could set eye on to confirm that there was no possibility of any domestic clamor, depression, issues coping with school or even a mild case of parasomnia. The cops were still not convinced that it could have been the rebellion of a perfectly normal 12 year old. But they had to reluctantly step aside.

Family, friends and foes all clad in the devil’s colour gathered solemnly around the intricately carved coffin to pay their last homage, take a last look or just to make a social appearance on Sunday morning. The mourners crossed their chests and bowed their heads to join in prayer for her soul to rest in peace. As Father Walters requested each one to remember Clara fondly as she parted ways, each one of the lamenters conjured up intermingled spectra of memories.

Robin and Jane Amherst tried to reminisce their daughter’s pristine semblance and the good times they had spent together. As far as the shackles of their memory could reach, all they could recall was a baby Clara. Suddenly a heart wrenching realization dawned upon them.. they were missing a couple of years. The last years had been rough on their marriage. Since that day 4 yrs ago, when they had moved here, they had been engrossed in their petty vendettas. While they were bickering and brawling over who takes the trash out, who forgot milk and who had an affair, they forgot to kiss their daughter goodnight, read her a bed time story or take her out to the park. Their heart was gripped by an overwhelming sense of guilt and remorse. If only they had… maybe Clara would have lived to see High School Graduation, have a beer, drive a car or kiss a guy. Maybe if they had done things differently, today would have been different.

In a far corner stooping over an old Willow tree was Stevie, the neighbourhood bully and a senior from school. With invocations flooding the air, that insolent bastard couldn’t refrain from recalling his last and only memory of Clara. A chilly autumn afternoon.. the school football ground.. a whining, wailing and bleeding Clara.. a smug Stevie and his swanky patrons.. implacable laughter and ruthless mirth. Next morning the amusing tale of Clara’s mortification was propagated throughout school. It was barely a month ago. He pondered silently, if that embarrassment had killed her. Maybe if he had done things differently, today would have been different.

Athwart the casket, a tearful Dan clutched a pink Daffodil trying to reminisce his late girl friend. On prom night, he fancied Esther, the new girl in school, over Clara. Clara had not bellowed or cried, not even a sniffle, but her somber eyes had haunted him for a while. Now he could not help but contemplate if his blow had hit her too hard. Maybe if they had done things differently, today would have been different.

Emily had known Clara since their mothers strolled them in the park together. She had been Clara’s best friend ever since.. from sculpting sand castles at the beach to erecting tree houses in the garden, from appraising their mother’s jewellery to giggling about their latest crush. Today Emily stood by her best friend’s corpse, bowed head and shameful eyes, recalling the last time she had spoken to her. Shadowing Clara had also ushered Emily into social invisibility. So a contingency to jump into the ‘Queen B’ bandwagon had seemed more than just alluring. She had expected it would turn into a windfall for Clara too. But it wasn’t until it was too late that she realized the agenda was purely vindictive. Holding back tears was getting more and more formidable. Maybe if she had done things differently, today would have been different.

Whilst family, friends and foes laid Clara to rest with teeming eyes, ‘Death’ wondered to itself, if Clara had actually died on Friday night, or did she gently succumb to the atrocities of life, dying an infinitesimal death everyday, just inconspicuous to the oblivious world around her.

In life.. she got Ignorance, but not Acceptance. In death.. she got Regrets, but not Apologies. While family, friends and foes wallowed in regret, Father Walters lodged the gravestone in place, tastefully yet sneeringly inscribed with :

‘Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord,  the fruit of the womb a reward. 

Like arrows in the hand of a warrior  are the children of one's youth. 

Blessed is the man  who fills his quiver with them! 

He shall not be put to shame  when he speaks with his enemies in the gate.’

(Psalm 127:3)

Half Of My Heart

2011-06-11T01:33:00.004+02:00

Half of my heart’s full of imagination,

half of it holds on to the truth.

Half of my heart loves to rock the boat,

and the other half sails it smooth.

Half of my heart never knows what to do,

while the other half is always prepared.

Half of my heart cherishes everything too much,

and half of it never dared.

Half of my heart leaps for the moon,

and half of it waits to catch it when it falls.

Half of my heart wanders in the apple orchards,

while half of it ravages the malls.

Half of my heart loves to snuggle and cuddle,

while the world curses the rainy & stormy day.

But the other half pines for the sun,

and the sand & sea at the bay.

Half of my heart’s sensible and poised,

half of it is crazy and wild.

Half of my heart is like a whimsical teenager,

While the other half is like the mother of a child.

Half of my heart senses you want me too,

but half of it still thinks it’s too good a dream.

Half of my heart..

believes there is a transcendent connection,

while the other half is thinking of..

strawberries and whipped cream.

The only thing both halves know,

The only thing that is true..

As long as the Sahara is enveloped in Sand,

And the poles capped by snow,

I can’t stop lovin you <3

(Semi-plagiarized (read inspired) from ‘Half Of My Heart’ by John Mayer & Taylor Swift )

Forbidden Love

2011-05-14T23:56:00.001+02:00

Why is it the ‘forbidden fruit’ that tempts my heart the most? Psychologically it can be explained.. but I don’t need an explanation. Maybe I need an intellectual intervention, where my brain smacks my heart and sets it right. Unfortunately, I am much of a biologist to realise that the heart is only a pseudo star-crossed scapegoat defamed invariably over time for actions never done. While in reality the evil-brain and its conniving partners in crime, the wretched hormones and neurotransmitters, drive the whole forbidden-craze enchilada. The brain is the real puppet master, the real brains behind this entire vendetta. But whom do I delegate to smack my delirious, impetuous and whimsical brain into place. So the question actually is why is it the ‘forbidden fruit’ that tempts my brain the most? Why is it that I can’t take my mind off it? Why is it that my mind hankers for what I can’t see.. what I can’t touch?

Right now.. I really really and really want a JD. And ‘right now’ is the only only and only time when I can’t have it. All these days when it was sitting right there in the corner of my room, staring me in the eye, I ignored it and took it for granted.

And yeah, you, with the pretty little Bailey’s bottle in your hand don’t mock me and point it at the webcam. As it is.. fate already mocks me.

PS: As you may notice this is all about the ‘Forbidden’ part of the title and the ‘Love’ part was just to seek some inquisitive attention. Now perhaps I am getting ASB issues too along with other mental conditions :P

The Walk Of Shame

2011-05-08T17:34:00.000+02:00

One fine evening, Lisa met her ‘prince’.

Honest expression of love, was his evince.

He descended at her door-step, like a divine sign.

In his black shiny car,

With chocolates, flowers and wine.

Extravaganza at it’s best.

Alluring eyes, charming smile,

One-of-a-kind conquest.

Food, violins and a velvet casket.

Embellished with a brimming pocket.

A common friend had set them up.

It was just a first date, she better buckle-up.

Blind date, she thought ‘O, What The Hell’

You never know,

It might just cast the spell.

She reckoned he too shared her zeal.

Thus when it was time to

Kiss goodbye or seal the deal,

‘The rules of the game’ were put on amend.

As the eventful evening came to an end.

One fine evening, Lisa met her ‘prince’.

Next morning,

He wrecked and savagely frayed her heart,

At her inanity, she could only curse and wince,

Gather her clothes and head towards the start.

Smeared mascara and ruffled hair.

The ‘prince’ missed in his manly flare,

While she let herself out with a delusive smile.

A little drop of tear in the corner of her eye.

As she walked home in that dreary morning light,

She thought to herself, on her morbid plight,

‘I sought Love, oh I am so lame’

‘My name will go down the fool’s hall of fame’

‘Love is nothing but a deceitful name’

‘And I suck at this pathetic game’

‘Thus here I am, walking

The Walk of Shame.’

Image Courtesy: Deviant Art & The Shadow Girl

Impulsive??.. Or Insane??

2011-05-03T23:01:00.001+02:00

Have you ever felt an impulsive force throbbing through your veins, a force that harbors the power to make you do anything? Have you ever stood at the edge of a cliff and felt fear being overtaken by a rush of adrenalin, a rush that makes you want to jump off just to feel the wind hiss in your ears? Have you ever driven your bike so fast that you could see nothing at all but a whirl of blur all around you, and watery-eyed you gloat at your luck?
Today, just leaning on my mundane office desk or laying on my morose bed, I feel something akin. There is a constitutively active smirk on my face and a self-threatening menace in my eyes. There is not a single adjective in the English dictionary that can describe how I exactly feel ‘just about now’. Lately my mood and state of mind have been as unpredictable and varied as the American weather (so that explains the just-about-now comment).
I feel like a soldier to going to his first battle, or a young bird dashing for its first flight, or when the first time you ride your bicycle all by yourself. I know I am gonna crash into the ground any minute and send mud soaring at your faces (my pretty onlookers :P), but I don’t give a rat’s a**. So for now, I have braced myself and I am soaring high.. yes high above the clouds (and no I am not high on anything :P)
All I care about right now, is my flight. And it is like I have set off a time bomb in my head, which keeps on ticking endlessly. I have unharnessed an eternal wait. A wait at the end of which I silently smile to myself, but then post-smile, the wait starts yet again. Not the anxious wait, but a bittersweet sensation in my gut. Like when you wake up in the morning few minutes before you should, and lay in your bed, eyes closed, hearing the soft rhythm of the ticking clock and waiting for the alarm to shatter the halcyon morning lull. And yeah.. I feel baby butterflies forming in my stomach every now and then.
Refreshing web-pages a thousand times in a minute, checking emails every minute, attacking the keyboard to ramble on about random stuff like this and chewing my pen to its death.. What’s up with the world? Is it just me.. or is the whole world spinning out of control? Am I just being impulsive or am I insane..?

And yeah.. I AM actually pretty high on the song ‘Jiye Kyun’. It (de)activates my brain and leads me to a trance state :P
♪♪ ♪♪ Na aaye ho, na aaoge, na phone pe bulaoge..
Na shaam ki karaari chai, labon se yun pilaoge..
Na aaye ho, na aaoge, na din dhale sataoge..
Na raat ki nashili bye, se neendh mein jagaoge..
Gaye tum gaye ho kyun, yeh raat baaki hai..
Gaye tum gaye ho kyun, saath baaki hai..
Gaye tum gaye hum, tham gaye har baat baaki hai
Gaye kyun toh, jiyein kyun.
Na aaye ho, na aaoge, na dooriyaan dhikhaoge..
Na thaam ke woh josh mein yun hosh se udaoge..
Na aaye ho, na aaoge, na jhoot se sunaoge..
Na rooth ke sihane mein, remote ko chupaoge..
Gaye tum gaye ho kyun, yeh raat baaki hai
Gaye tum gaye ho kyun, saath baaki hai
Gaye tum gaye hum tham gaye, har baat baaki hai
Gaye kyun toh, jiyein kyun. ♪♪ ♪♪

Without The Invisible Wand - An Eulogy

2011-03-16T09:47:00.002+01:00

My first stories, my first songs, the first words I said, the first alphabets I formulated.. she taught me all. And with it, she imparted to me several minuscule lessons of life, admonitions of the dark, appreciation of the light and recognition of the disparity between them.

But.. she wasn’t there when I got my first degree or when I got my first job. And she won’t be there when I get my PhD or when I win my first award. Neither would she be there when I get married or have my first child… well not physically at least. But in spirit, she looks upon me and shares every trivial achievement of my life.

In every milestone of my life, I see her in the crowd. In my dark times, I see her in the shadows. And in a crisis, I hear her voice, leading me out of it. When she left us, I did not cry. I did not feel her absence. I did not feel the void. In my mind I always envisaged her as I had always seen her.. powerful. In my heart I always felt her presence.

She was the first representation of a Monarchy I apprehended. With an invisible wand she governed her dominion with an almost-dictator-like regimen for over half a century. And she harboured an unbiased and unanimous affection for all her subjects. But she fostered each one as they were worthy of. And ever since I can recollect, I blissfully wallowed in the status of ‘The Cherry On Top’. She was the first Visionary I met, who always looked at the big picture, at the greater good, rather than the instantaneous joy ride or a sweet treat. She was the first moral of Justice I learnt. In my eyes she was always as fair as practically possible to everyone in one way or the other. Justice is not only blind itself but also invisible sometimes. She was the first embodiment of Perfection I witnessed. The spread of her sheet.. or the alignment of her jars, the pleats of her Saree.. or the braids in her hair, her hospitality.. or even her hostility.. marked perfection in highlighted bold letters.

She was the first epitome of Rationality and Acumen I discerned. Amidst a crisis, when all the young and dynamic lot gave in to utter desperation, she was always calm and collected. With her apparent phlegmatic approach she always held the boat afloat. She was the first lesson of Independence I imbibed. In the phase of life when all her contemporaries had given in either to younger generations or to modern day machines, with a little difficulty she skilfully managed her everyday regime, well with the occasional exception of a glass of water. She was the first paragon of Determination that I perceived. The bane of age and deteriorating physical state could never dwindle her avidity or diligence. Fixing-up things here and there around the house.. to erecting a fairly huge edifice in the middle of nowhere.. she did it all.. when and how she wanted to. At times, she was a little too headstrong and persistent. And some of her ventures may have seemed pretty irrational and futile, but in a free world, those were her choices.

They say there are some people who shine like a Star to impart light to the world. But there are also others who like the Earth, bounty and flourishing, yet unkempt and downtrodden, lay beneath our feet to provide hearth for us to grow and flourish. And such was my Grandmother, teaching the lessons of life to many, yet inconspicuous and unappreciated.

I know a thousand hands may stand up to disagree, but that is her in my eyes.

And ‘To Be Great is To Be Misunderstood.’ (Ralph Waldo Emerson).

I might be naïve, prejudiced or blinded in love, but I am sure that nothing I have said here is untrue.

“In retrospection, I am grateful to you for pulling up my flat and stubby Nose every second when I was little, and today if it stands sharp and smooth its only because of you and your unmatched efforts. And I regret not expressing myself when I could, for I had no clue Time would fall short.”

In every failure, in every success.. in light, in darkness.. in joy, in sadness.. I shall always remember you fondly.

To come and go.. is Life. But to live in one’s heart forever.. is Love.

Status Quo - Day #16

2011-03-15T18:14:00.003+01:00

Like my life, my relationship is neither black nor white. It isn’t the gray in between either. It is a vibrant spectrum of varied colours. Sometimes its glowing red like the morning sun and sometimes its dark magenta like flowing blood. Sometimes its clear blue like the sky and sometimes its black and gray like a foggy night :)

Shuffle Up - Day #15

2011-03-09T16:09:00.005+01:00

Lets see what my Music has to say about Me…

_* Just The Way U Are – Bruno Mars

_*Jalpari (Coke Studio Version)

_*You Belong With Me – Taylor Swift

_*Lips Of An Angel – Hinder

_*Faraway – Nicleback

_*Man Lafanga

_*Somebody’s Me – Enrique Iglesias

_*Dooriyan Bhi Hain Zaroori

_*Sun Is Up – Inna

_*Berlin City Girl – Culcha Candela

_*Bin Tere

_*Telephone – Lady Gaga feat. Beyonce

_*Shewolf - Shakira

_*Chandni Raatein

_*You Are The Only Exception – Paramore

PS: I know I had wandered off.. caught up in work.. and didn’t keep my promise.. But life is all about getting through broken promises and shattered hearts..

What matters is that now I am back again .. (My days are longer than any of yours :P )

The Kite Stealer

2011-02-19T19:33:00.001+01:00

As a young boy, I was very unhappy. I was not poor, but neither was I rich. My father, like millions of other middle class bread-earners, took great joy and pride for being granted the chance to serve our great nation. To me, he was just a clerk in the East Coast Railways. Years and years of hard work in his dinghy office, his earnest allegiance and fortitude to never accept a bribe, earned him nothing more than a good name among the 250 other clerks and a few white collared officers. My mother was a humble housewife, and there were no two sides to it. She took redundant pride in it as well. I, on the other hand, after 12 years of my existence had learnt that there was nothing in my miserable life to boast about.

I always had enough of everything, but just barely enough. We belonged to a class of the society, a tier in the financial pyramid, which comprised of two types of people, the dreamers and the fighters. My father belonged to the latter type, everyday he strived to provide for his family. He never desired for anything more. All his life he was a content man. But I was a dreamer. I wished for everything, wove kaleidoscopic dreams every night. Unfortunately, the dreamers were the most unhappy and restless people, for they were equipped with only dreams, but no means to fulfill them. So all they could do was resign to their fates and pretend to be a fighter, happy and proud to be just able to provide for their families. The dreamers embodied one of the greatest paradoxes in the society.

I went to the only English-medium school in the town and so did all the rich kids from uptown, only I didn’t have their freshly ironed attires, sparkling boots, trendy water bottles with tic-tac-toe or themed stationary. I strode into those walls everyday donning one of my two pairs of soiled uniforms with my broken pen in my pocket, dragging my rugged cloth bag behind me, trying to evade as many banters as possible. While they proudly shared their pasta, chips and muffins, I gulped down my modest roti and achaar before any of the scrutinizing eyes caught me. I could never put behind me the abhorrence and disgust that reflected in their eyes while they cast a demeaning look towards me when I wasn’t allowed to play football with them because I didn’t have the ‘right shoes’. All I could do to retaliate was stand there mortified summoning all my strength to prevent tears from welling up in my eyes.

That day I had pleaded my mother to let me go to the local government school, where most of our neighbour’s children went. But she wouldn’t listen and said that English-medium education would make me a babu one day. People attending on me, big cars with chauffeurs, VIPs congregations… (I guess that was the source of my dreamer genes). But her dreams seemed as inane and mocking as the demeaning looks of the rich boys. I lamented my life and I regretted being myself. I indicted my parents for the miseries of my life. I failed to comprehend the significance of life without the fashionable clothes, classy accessories and pricey videogames.

Once every year I forgot all my miseries and set out to conquer the world. It was Makar Sankranti, The Festival Of Kites. Kites were my passion. The fervor I had for flying kites was incomparable. Fortunately enough, I was equally gifted. And I left no stone unturned to master my inexpensive hobby. Watching my kite soar high above, untouched, unrestrained, beyond anyone’s reach, rendered an inimitable pleasure and pride, something I lacked in my life otherwise. It carried me to an alternative world, where I could fly freely with my kites in the boundless sky, while infinitesimal people of the world could only gawk at me awe-struck. The Kite Festival was the day when I had the chance to prove myself to those haughty rich boys.

On the fateful day, I awoke just when the sun was starting to peep at the horizon, emptied half a bucket of water in my attempt at bathing, donned my best pair of clothes, parted my hair neatly and set off to the tapering aisle between the old Post Office and the Town Engineer’s house. Flying kites in an open field is a cup of cake, but launching my soldier into the air amidst that jungle of old dilapidating houses, was an extraordinary challenge.. and every time triumph was enslaved. My game-plan that day was to camouflage myself among those archaic edifices, masquerade my attack on the village ground and vanquish the rich brats there.

My rainbow-coloured minion soared high in the sky, while I steered myself through structural barricades. I knew those lanes like the back of my hand. The countless afternoons I had spent there, sharpening my skills had to account for something. My gaze was following my minion as ardently as a kite watches its prey. I was right behind the Hanuman Temple when I noticed an unpredicted falter in the gait of the bearer of my honour. I tugged at the line, but the tension was gone and it slumped back lifelessly.

What a prodigious blow at my pride… I thought while I watched my fallen soldier vagrantly drift towards the ground. My vision was shrouded by desperate rage and utter shock. Even more desperation struck.. This was the end of my dream to vanquish my adversaries. In my quest for the ‘despicable being’ who took me down, I turned around the corner and the veteran banyan tree confronted me. Under it, was a humongous rock and reclined on it was a four-feet tall, ebony-coloured, shabby little boy, candidly gloating in pride. In one hand he clutched my captured and trampled pride and a humble white kite slung on his other shoulder. I was crippled by a spiteful animosity. That distasteful imp-like creature had made me bite the dust. I was torn between mortified embarrassment and indignant exasperation.

He grinned at me, exposing his yellow stained teeth. Before I could translate my feelings into words, he extended his idle hand and said ‘If you give me a rupee, I will return your pretty kite.’ I glared at him without moving a muscle. ‘I won it, I didn’t steal it. It’s mine now. But I know how much you love it. I have been watching you everyday. I learnt flying kites by watching you. You are so good.. But today I cut your line, ain’t I good..’ I felt like roots had grown out of my feet. I stood there impassively. He went on, ‘Come on.. I know you have 25 rupees, I saw you counting it earlier today. I have had nothing to eat in 2 days. I really want to buy a cotton candy at the Mela. Please Bhaiya give me 1 Rupee.’

In a split of a second, my perspective changed, my eyes softened, and I was gripped by a sudden pang of sorrow and empathy. But the embarrassment was unaltered. He had no tangible assets and perhaps no kith or kin to look forward to, yet he stood there so calmly, appeased at the prospect of a cotton candy. And I had treated him with nothing but abhorrence and loathing. Suddenly I felt like he had stepped into my shoes and I had been looking down upon him through the eyes of those rich boys I deeply despised. We were similar in so many ways, yet there was an enormous disparity. He wasn’t accusing others for his miseries, sulking or whining, instead he was availing his skills to earn his infinitesimal reward. It dawned upon me that the world was deluged with less fortunate people who would kill for a life like mine. I was imbued with the serenity of my ‘kite stealer’ and he taught me that just because I failed to acknowledge what I had, its significance did not diminish.

Since that day I wasn’t apprehensive about being judged anymore. I refrained myself from perusing what I did and didn’t have. I focused on doing my best in everything I attempted. Today 20 years later, I have done pretty well for myself, but when I discern my parents.. aged and senile, I wallow in remorse and guilt for having blamed them for all those years, for holding them accountable for my miseries, while I chose to be unhappy. I have replenished the lives of my children with everything they need, but I sincerely hope they learn to appreciate it. I hope they meet their ‘kite stealer’ soon.

Familie Bilder - Day #14

2011-02-18T17:43:00.007+01:00

'A Picture is worth a thousand words.'

***

Drugs, Alcohol & Religion - Day #13

2011-02-12T23:08:00.000+01:00

Addiction to chemicals, religion or even fellow humans is pernicious and fatal. Ideally one should hold on to something only until one can let go of it, beyond that point its addiction. I say ‘ideally’, because I am no one to preach, as I myself am addicted to more things that you can count on your fingers. So I am merely channeling the information.

Drugs.. Some are pretty innocuous, while some can get real bad. I am saving myself the ado. Instead I prefer to stimulate my reward pathway the natural way. Check out how :) I am not really a fan of social stigma, but I think awareness is crucial. If you are aware and you choose to exhilarate yourself and elevate your senses by mutilating your brain cells (cells that control every*freaking*thing in your body) (I am not kidding, if you are brave enough, have a look.) then it is your own discretion. I don’t give a crap.

But it’s sad for the ‘poor rich kids’ who have no idea what the thing they eat, drink or smoke does to their brains (They were too cool to attend any lectures) and end up being broke and over-dosed. (That’s how THAT happens.) All in the futile pursuit of eternal coolness… But I don’t give a crap about that either.

So go on.. Smoke Your Joints, but please learn the ‘Science’ behind it too. (And feel free to make fun of me for being ‘uncool’ and for denying to be the passive-pot-smoker.. I don’t give a crap yet again :D)

Alcohol.. I love my alcohol, but at the right time, right place, with the right people and in right amounts :) And I am aware of the ‘Science’ behind it. I have decided to trade moments of imprudent-drunk-fun with the transient health of the synapses in the front-lobe of my brain. It is not only those moments, but also the everlasting memories formed in those moments. It’s a pretty good bargain between keeping my sanity and the health of my brain. And it provides the extremely valuable escape from the monotonous and drab work-life most of us lead.

‘Wise words’ for others would be.. Go for a drink, two or even more.. if you know you can handle it. I have been there, done that and loved it :D I have experimented with almost everything from every known and unknown land and have succeeded in holding my liquid in. But alcohol tolerance quite erratic and unpredictable. (Trust me.. I have seen weird phenotypes. I can share the stories more privately maybe.) As a very famous and old saying goes is several languages (including our own), ‘Stretch yourself as far as your cover reaches.’ And to those who have refrained themselves from giving in to the lure of this bane, My Respect :)

PS: I had my first drink at the legal age of 18. Vodka & Orange Juice. And next morning I decided never to drink Orange Juice again. :D

Guys please visit the amazing Mouse Rave Party.

Religion.. It has my full credence. May be not the commercialized religion put on sale these days, but I believe in spirituality, good deeds and a higher power guiding and looking upon us.

‘Through centuries science has been parted from religion. People of science have denounced religion. And the men of religion have shunned science and its apostles. To me rationality is an extrapolation of ideologies. Deeper I plunge into the abysmal ocean of Science, more tenacious, vehement and profound becomes my credence in God and his celestial powers. For something as intricate and abstruse as a living being, and a world adorned with a diverse assortment of such beings, all linked by an elaborate food chain can be contrived, spawned and fostered by only ‘someone’ with inimitable competence and dexterity. Life in itself is evidence of the existence of a higher power, The Almighty!’

But It Never Rained – Day #12

2011-02-10T19:25:00.000+01:00

The Monsoon in India, when it arrives, feels like the first breath of air after you’ve been choked. Relief.. Personified :D The parched, dry land, takes a breath of life. It looks like the world has been resurrected. The first showers, when touch the scorching land, infinitesimal vapors of heat can be seen escaping. And the feeling of rain drops caressing my face while I ride my Scooty, heedless of the world around, is nothing less than eternal bliss. Shielding the rain, while striving to masquerade my covert wish to get drenched to my soul, then the apocryphal explanations of why I am soaked irrespective of the umbrella and the neatly folded raincoat under my seat.. uuh Nostalgia!!

The traffic jams, the puddles and the perpetual power-cuts aside, I love the headstrong and incessant, pouring and pounding tropical rains. I loved it before, but now I love it even more and pine for it for I haven’t witnessed it in ages now. The only rains I get here are the irresolute and meek temperate drizzles.

The following lines from a poem called ‘The Rain’ encapsulate my feelings appropriately:

I hear leaves drinking rain;

I hear rich leaves on top

Giving the poor beneath

Drop after drop;

'Tis a sweet noise to hear

These green leaves drinking near.

And when the Sun comes out,

After this Rain shall stop,

A wondrous Light will fill

Each dark, round drop;

I hope the Sun shines bright;

'Twill be a lovely sight.

~ William Henry Davies

SunShine: Aquarian With A Difference Day #11

2011-02-09T19:18:00.003+01:00

I am an Aquarian. But I am not too credulous of signs. I envisage it as just another charade humans like to cling on to so that they have a scapegoat when confronted by difficult circumstances, inability to attain what they wish for or the dismal plight of a failed relationship. I posit fate and destiny do exist, but eventually our choices and discretion in life lead us to where we end up. Thousands of people are born every moment, not even a fraction of them share the same traits or (mis)fortune. As an apostle of rationale, I fail be convinced by something so vague. I agree it can’t be refuted either, especially since it has been established since centuries. (Everyone knows ‘the fate’ of the medieval aficionados of Science and Rationale.) To me.. its merely something that brings more evil than good. I do not defy it, but I do not countenance it either. And I am sure stars have much more to do rather than pawn our lives.

Unbelieving & Cynical.. Ehh? Are those Aquarian attributes too? I have no clue.. Maybe U know better :)

Truly Musical - Day #10

2011-02-04T19:06:00.001+01:00

My moods keep swinging all the time, sometimes they are extremes while at other times they are more in-betweens. And my music varies too, but generally it isn’t synchronous with my mood. My music, mellow or loud, is always happy. Music always makes me happy. And my music comprises of unlimited gigabytes, spanning all possible sorts of genre from Folklore to RnB. Although I do admit, I am not such a big fan of Metal. But I do at times vent my anger by listening to Headstrong or Cold As Stone (This is not until I am extremely pissed.. which is extremely rare in itself). I know.. its cheesy, but what is life without cheese :P So it’s hard for me to classify my music with my moods (which are too complex already). Music also has it’s period with me. At any given moment in my life, I fall in love with songs and after a considerable amount of time, I fall out of love too.. :)

PS: I am currently heads over heels in love with ‘Just The Way You Are’ by Bruno Mars, ‘You Are The Only Exception’ by Paramore and ‘You Belong With Me’ by Taylor Swift.

Proud To Be Me – Day #9

2011-01-30T20:21:00.002+01:00

I have been on fire in all of my latest zillion presentations. And I did work hard for all of them. I love the recently updated version of ‘the public-speaker me’.

PS: *Touch Wood* I hope it stays tthat way forever. :)

Leave The Stars Alone, I’ll Settle For The Stratosphere – Day #8

2011-01-30T11:25:00.007+01:00

The impending month shall witness me pulling my socks up and actually doing the following:-

- As always I have accumulated a humongous amount of crap (which contains a cached speck of important stuff in it.) I have to clean, sort and pack that speck, and get rid of rest of the crap.

- After 9 months of PhD work, I am baffled and somewhat dubious of how far along I am. So I plan on making an overview of all my experimental approaches to keep track.

- The Gilbert ‘Developmental Biology’ book has been perched on my desk for more than a month now. It’s been pleading me to lay my hands on it, to be opened, to be read… I can’t avert it from it’s destiny any longer.

- My laptop is just as saturated and messed up as my room. I need to organize and make some space in both.

- Since I have just one month left in my current Abode with an amazing Swimming Pool. I have to find time to go swimming everyday again (like I had been doing for 6 months straight until the festive mood had set in. :P)

- For the entire last month I have been lagging in all my work although I have been working my ass off. (Courtesy the zillion presentations I have had every week.) Now it’s time to cease my retrograde progress and squeeze in yet more work everyday to regain my lead and relish the exhilarating satisfaction of leading myself.

- I have been constantly forgetting to drink enough water, so I need to drink more often. :P

- I haven’t followed anything passionately since the Football WC, now its time to be hit by the fan-fever again for the Cricket WC, so I somehow HAVE to figure out a way to watch it online.

- The forthcoming month will mark my 24 years of existence on this planet :( and I have to brainwash myself to look at the brighter sides of turning 24, instead of sulking about aging issues. I have to focus on the ‘wisdom, perspicacity and experience’ that comes with it rather than the number itself.

Imprints For Life - Day #7

2011-01-28T13:30:00.004+01:00

Colours

They always cheer me up.. On trees and plants or in the sky, on a canvas or in a little child’s drawing.. Each colour has a special meaning, represents a special season, has a special mood attributed it.. Each colour heralds a special message. I know that it is a visual illusion, a meticulous game of tiny molecules. But that does not depreciate the remarkable beauty colours impart to the world around us.

Colours remind me of conviviality and mélange. They are a fine example of how a blend of various colours makes everything so vibrant and mesmerizing while any one of them alone makes everything so dull and drab. (A whole new perspective to the ‘united we stand, divided we fall’ theory.) They remind me that everything in life is not black and white, neither does it stick to the RGB scheme. Things can be multifarious, obscure and complex like Orange, Turquoise or Magenta.

So to everyone who is fortunate enough to be able to behold the beauty of varied colours of nature, take a moment and savour the flavour.

The Sky

It’s amazing how I can gaze into the sky for hours, resplendent sparkling sky, or a somber cloudy sky.. Making patterns in my mind, drawing lines between stars, staring into emptiness and approaching oblivion… It comforts my nerves, calms me down and provides me succor to clear my mind.

The variegated demeanors of the sky make me feel like it’s the same and so familiar, yet so disparate and contrasting everyday. It’s empty, yet profusely laden with voluminous space and celestial bodies.

The sky is everything I love.. versatile, kaleidoscopic, mysterious and infinite.

A new colour.. new patterns in the stars.. new shapes in the clouds.. Never the same :)

Time and again I have wished to break free from the shackles of gravity and soar high into the sky :) Alas.. The Earth is what God chose as the Human Abode.

It has been rightly said, ‘The sky is the best place, that is why God lives there.’

Music

It is the anchor that holds my life in place. It is the drug that keeps me from insanity. Sometimes it brightens me up when I am blue. Sometimes it takes my hand and leads me to swing by my imaginary and quixotic world when I am sick of the real one.

And when I am in love with a song, it’s like the proverbial feeling of being in love all over again. Nothing I say here will do justice to my love for music and its impact on my life. So I drop the pen there…

Images Courtesy : Deviant Art

Super Heroes - Day #6

2011-01-26T15:01:00.002+01:00

Spiderman

He may not be smokin-hot, he may not have super-cool gadgets, but he is the most down to earth and genuine superhero. The best combo of fantasy land and the rather unreal real-world. Peter Parker is the most adorable common-man-turned-superhero. He bears the onus of personal guilt in the most forthright way possible and truly embodies the human traits of regret and selfless nobility. Toby Maguire did total justice to Spiderman in the movies with his starry-eyed look, benevolent demeanor and honorable intentions. And the movies were jazzy Blockbuster-style grandeurs and action packed extravaganzas.

I loved how the following lines describe why I think Spiderman is better than all other superheroes.

“Most super heroes had problems no more complex or relevant to their readers' lives than thwarting this month's bad guys.... Parker had far more serious concerns in his life: coming to terms with the death of a loved one, falling in love for the first time, struggling to make a living, and undergoing crises of conscience.”

- Peter Sanderson (Comic Book Historian)

Hiro Nakamura

Now isn’t that the cutest superhero-smile in the history of time. However don’t be deceived by his puppy-eyes. His ferocity may get camouflaged by his cute looks, but he IS ‘the perfect superhero’. Bestowed with the superpower to freeze time and cross time-space barriers, fighting and kicking-ass of all the possible iniquities one can think of, he did ‘save the world’ more than once (and he ‘saved the cheerleader’ as well). All that he lacks now, is to don his boxers over his jeans. (Certainly not a pretty sight.)

I have stopped following the TV Series owing to the plot’s extreme complexity and total derailment from its original mission to ‘save the world’, but Hiro is still the most adorable Hero ever.

The Powerpuff Girls

It isn’t my favourite cartoon.. but it IS my favourite superhero cartoon :) Girl Power at its best! I wanted to put one of them in this list, but after contemplating for a long time (that is the Real reason why this post is delayed.), I still couldn’t decide. There is something I love about each one of them. Blossom’s self-proclaimed echelon and seasoned wit, Bubble’s gaiety and gentle demeanor, and the feisty temperament of Buttercup, together they form the perfect blend of “sugar, spice and everything nice”.

But I think Bubbles is blessed with the coolest superpower :) When I was a little girl I had wished more than often to have her superpower and be able to talk to animals. I still think it would be really cool. :D

Where I've Tread - Day #5

2011-01-24T17:51:00.003+01:00

The Dream City of Millions..

I was amazed and at the same time touched by the relaxed lifestyle of the French :D Shocking.. was the denigrated and unabashed response of the French road hogs to traffic rules.

The Mighty Falls

The Bridal Veil Falls

The Horse Shoe Falls

The most fervent, vehement and mighty form of nature I have witnessed after the 1999 Super-Cyclone.

The Bridge

The bridge connecting the “Eh” s and the “Like.. Totally” s :P

Vices - Day#4

2011-01-23T21:47:00.000+01:00

Reflecting on Myself..

- Often Interchanging Obsession & Passion

- Perseverance

- Attachment Issues

- And lastly, I regret not having regrets in life. (Not that my life has been perfect, but I have learnt to appreciate imperfections) :D

“When you can think of yesterday without regret and tomorrow without fear, you are near contentment.”

- Anonymous

The Trio - Day #3

2011-01-22T19:51:00.002+01:00

A few lines I composed a few years ago, best describes the friendship of The Trio.

‘Through these years we have stood by each other through tough times, heartbreaks, times of crisis, delusions and blunders. We have been partners in crime, consorts in treason and allies in charity. With each step we are assured that if we screw-up and create a mess then there is someone abaft to scour and purge it all. These days we seldom talk and hardly get to see each other.. grown up business.. too preoccupied with managing our diligent and chaotic lives. Therefore there is not much time to rekindle the old friendship, but I know it requires none. We might be separated in time and space but we still connect at some abstract level.’

A picture that best describes The Trio

And finally presenting a picture of The Trio.

PS: I couldn’t resist posting the picture of the most awesome class in school for 7 years :D Most of us have drifted apart, but some of us have stuck together through the trials and tribulations of time (and hurricanes like Genda). We are all awesome in our own ways.

The Bitch Magnet

2011-01-22T13:34:00.000+01:00

Dear lonely and tattered heart,

For years I meandered with you in my sleeve.

But I descried not a soul which

Would betide and never leave.

I found no takers,

But only breakers.

And for your own sake,

Now I have stashed you in my sneakers.

I have locked you in a chest and flipped the key in the ocean.

Until a decent lady comes along and takes me as her lover,

Shows me she is prudent.

And shows me what the deal will cover.

For I am weary of this fatuous dragnet.

And you my lonely heart, are the perfect bitch magnet.

Dear lonely and tattered heart,

You know not this heinous world, so bear with me.

It is infested with nefarious pretty predators

With no ethics or decree.

They cast their spell and snatch you away,

With dubious smiles and enchanting eyes.

And no one can evade their pernicious clutches

No matter how hard one tries.

Don’t misunderstand me for stifling you.

When you are there you crash and burn.

I m scared this time you may not bounce back.

The damage they cause is hard to discern.

Alas the word got out, and it’s no more a secret,

That you my lonely heart, are the perfect bitch magnet.

Dear lonely and tattered heart,

If I could sing, I wouldn’t sing of love,

Or if I could paint, I wouldn’t

Make a picture of a butterfly or a dove.

They are menacing weapons,

For the fragile yet strong-hearted.

And I wish, my revered heart,

From you I had never parted.

They poke and prod you,

Those stone-hearted bitches will never know how it feels.

And when nothing is left,

They wreck you under their heels.

Maybe it’s better to stay a forlorn hamlet,

For you my lonely heart, are the perfect bitch magnet.

Dear lonely and tattered heart,

I have been there and done that.

And trust me it’s more onerous

Than Mortal Combat.

Now I have come to terms, and gathered

That love is a part of life.

And I can’t put you at stake again and again

Just to find a freaking wife.

I have learnt to love my desolate life,

And so should you.

We will consort and escort each other.

With all those subtle games, I am through..

And I have no regret,

That you my lonely heart, are the perfect bitch magnet.

Not Just A Namesake - Day #2

2011-01-21T17:14:00.002+01:00

The Meaning Behind The Name of My Blog:-

Although there is no sole rationality, but there were a few facets that inspired me to adopt the epithet of ‘The West Wind’ for my blog. Most things that I come up with signify randomness and helter-skelter pattern of my thoughts. However, this time the name has a more profound connotation to it.

My current location, which is ‘The West’, geographically as well as according to persisting language trends, and my incessant & abysmal inclination, fascination and connection to my homeland, which is ‘The East’, contributed to this nomenclature, for ‘the west wind is a wind that blows from the west, in an eastward direction’.

While whirling over bits and pieces of the Greek Mythology and striving to fit all the stories together, I stumbled upon ‘Zephyrus’, The Greek God of ‘The West Wind’. The variable depictions of the Wind Gods, especially as Horses in the stables of the storm God, Aeolus, who could set them on the world at his fancy, immensely intrigued me.

As I dug deeper, I realized how potently the characters of the west wind coincided with my own attributes. The gentle and propitious nature of the west wind cannot be less congruous to my amorous and humble self. (Amorous is an adjective designated to me by someone who knows me the best and therefore, I have decided to stick to it.)

Eventually what led me on to the final act was the beautiful amalgamation of death and life woven into words in ‘Ode To The West Wind’. A few lines from it will explain everything else :) And you know it is not just a namesake..

O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,

Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead

Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,

Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,

Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou,

Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed

The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low,

Each like a corpse within its grave, until

Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow

Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill

(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)

With living hues and odours plain and hill:

Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;

Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh hear!

- by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)

The Very Credible Me – Day #1

2011-01-20T13:02:00.003+01:00

I have taken up this seemingly interesting yet impossible challenge called ‘The 31 day Challenge’. I first read about it on Ice Maiden’s Blog and the idea of challenging myself appealed to my diligent and whimsical brain.

So here it goes, everyday (starting today) I will post the answer to a specific question. So will my better half.. Get to know her here.

15 Random Facts About Me:-

· I am an optimist.

· I can write in extremely tiny handwriting, when necessity or my fancy urges me to.

· I am very proud of myself these days as I finally learnt to swim (with all the technical aspects) and feel completely at home in water (in the swimming pool to be more precise).

· Most of the times when I am studying.... I am actually procrastinating.

· More than often, I wish I could pause life at a particular moment.

· I seldom lose my temper.. even when I do.. hardly any of the people around me realize it.

· The most difficult part of my day is when I have to wake up.

· I miss the old, but I love the new. Fortunately I adapt pretty well, but I hate changes. I like things to go on just the way they are, especially, blissful sleep at night, vacations, days just before exams and so on. :P

· English, may not be my mother tongue, but for me, it is the language of expression as well as thoughts (I sometimes even dream in English).

· My tangled and embroiled brain is constantly full of thoughts, many varied thoughts keep playing hide and seek in there all the time. Sometimes I have to note them down and follow them later on.

Most recent thought:- To write poem called ‘The Bitch Magnet’. The idea has been budding in my brain for a while now. It is a dedication to a very good friend, who will know when he reads this.

· Generally, I am not a sports freak but when big events like the Cricket World Cup, Football World Cup or Euro Cup are due, I get totally hit by the fan-fever. (I love it). And yeah.. I am a die-hard fan of German Football.

· Since a time beyond my memory, I have wished to have twins. (And it’s not a secret. I know its weird.. But I hope it is fulfilled).

· Even on the verge of a natural disaster or an alien attack, I would notice and point out the grammatical and spelling mistakes around me. (Nothing escapes my scrutinizing eyes *evil grin*)

· I love to imagine kicking certain people’s ass, but I reality I could never do it. (But I an blessed with a Fairy Godmother ..Err.. God-Friend who has taken up the ass-kicking as her department.)

· As a child, I wanted to become an Astronomer.. (a term I first heard in my first visit to a planetarium at age 5). But I dumped the idea in a Black Hole when I studied Physics in 11^th Grade.

A Recent Picture of Me:-

This is the most recent it could get as it was clicked yesterday :)

Break Free..

2011-01-17T15:48:00.000+01:00

As I stand over your bloody corpse,

I know something within myself died.

But my swollen eyes show no remorse

They have for too many nights sobbed & cried.

I embraced you with your dreams,

While you crushed mine under the burden of your love.

No one heard my silent screams,

But the broken smile and my pale skin from above.

I had given my best,

But you failed me at my worst.

I thought I was blessed with a gold crest,

But in disguise I was cursed.

Cursed.. with an innate ability to love

And not let go..

But tonight I have murdered my love..

My undying love for a man,

A Man who trampled me so low.

Now I know that I have let go..

As I stand over your bloody corpse.

A void is formed by the death of my undying love,

for better or for worse..

I shall bury it deep under my garden,

And plant new seedlings on it.

Now only the earth shall bear my love’s burden,

While I go seeking another piece of shit.

And this, my darling me,

Is the fate of my cursed love.

Tonight I break free..

With it murdered and buried, while I walk above.

This is to elevate a loved one and help her make a new beginning. Together we shall rejoice forfeiting our sorrows, instead of grueling in self loath. :)

The Book Of Life

2011-01-16T11:08:00.000+01:00

This New Year, I had decided not to write a New Year post. But some ideas kept poking at my brain and they won’t stop until I picked up a pen. (Trust me, a real pen.. not my laptop. I don’t do that very often other than when I am updating my lab book.) Just like every other New Year, the advent of this year also lured me into analyzing the lives of others and my own.

Life, to me resembles a gigantic book, an enormous book recording zillions of events. Some books are colorful, flashy and wrapped in pretty covers, while others are rather rugged, old and drab. Some are huge with several volumes, while others are just a few hundred pages. A lifetime comprises of decades and years, which are just like chapters.. old ones pass by and new ones come along, one after the other.

Everyday unfolds like the turning of a new page. The book of life engulfs all the varied forms of human emotions, some action, some drama, some romance and some heartache. Sometimes we glance through the pages of our past, with nostalgia, with fondness, sometimes with regret, but rarely with satisfaction. We always think that there was some scope of improvement. It is like grading an essay, nothing is perfect, nothing is an A+. But doesn’t it make us feel better to know that ‘that was the best I could do’.

The commendable thing about this book is that the characters write their own story. Some may fancy the admission to a higher power to choreograph our stages, but I think it is just a vindication to hand over the reins to a pair of invisible hands and evade the responsibilities and obligations that come with making choices. I believe that a higher power may have blessed us with life, he might be the one who guides us through our path but the choices are our own. And these choices lead us to the ups and downs of our life and the ultimate culmination of the epic called ‘life’. The book of life isn’t pre-written, we have to carve each chapter on our memory as the story of our life unfolds.

And if it is a choice then shouldn’t we make an effort to make it a worthwhile read for ourselves when we look back through the pages of our past. Sometimes we are so focused on reaching the perfect closure that we overlook the little things that bring us joy and forget to make the story worthwhile all along. After all these little pixels of happiness make the big picture of life.

So this New Year, in order to make the story of my life splashy and perky, I have decided, there shall be no resolutions to make or promises to make. I wont make shallow promises to myself about acting less crazy or more matured, swimming everyday or eating healthy, reading scientific articles or renouncing procrastination, sleeping early or cleaning my room more often. The only thing I have promised myself is that everyday I will do one little new thing. One little new thing.. which makes me happy. These tiny little droplets of happiness will make me an ocean of joy and my life will be worthwhile... maybe not for anyone else.. but for myself. This year I will see people I love, go to new places with them and drown my sorrows in Tequila.

So lets start yet another chapter in our lives not with resolutions and shallow promises, but with the hope of making our lives worthwhile for ourselves, the hope of new experiences, travelling to new lands and the hope to comprehend ourselves and the ones we love better.

May this year, actually be a New Year.

You Are The Only Exception

2010-12-19T18:10:00.001+01:00

The world is a dreadful reflection,

where hate buds between every creation

and nothing is even close to perfection.

But when I look in your eyes, I see a new world

And a bright new sunrise.

With splashy days and silver nights.

I lay by you and you calm my frights,

and love forms a whole new generation

Coz you are the only exception.

When I am scarred, I have no consideration

And with pain I wish no association.

But when I‘m with you, there is no hurt

And I don’t feel the blue,

For an ounce of despise, the passion is more.

For each bit of your scorn,

There is a white flag and no keeping score,

And I have no expectations

Coz you are the only exception.

Without you my life would have no direction,

and maybe, there won’t be any resurrection,

or even a simple reverberation.

But when I think of you, I have no regrets,

Mark my words and heed them too.

If time took me back, and I could do it again,

I wont change a thing, who cares what I gain.

And there would be no hesitation

Coz you are the only exception.

I hope one day, you come across this revelation

And know that you are my only exception.

PS: The name is inspired from the song ‘The Only Exception’ by Paramore.

The Modern Crusade

2010-12-04T20:43:00.003+01:00

Note:- This post is a little behind in time as it was conceived sometime ago but my hectic schedule had prevented me from posting it earlier.

All the recent hullabaloo about the Babri Masjid-Ram Janmabhoomi ordeal has sent my neurons firing. Time and again the issue had come up in dinner-table conversations, party debates, newspaper articles and so on. However, I had never been able to make up my mind and take a side. Until now I had believed that perhaps I was too young to understand the potential implications and consequences of this matter, after all it was a matter of great socio-religious as well as political significance. Today, 23 years after I first tread on this planet, when the final verdict is about to be passed, I told myself that its high time I take a side in this debate.

So I went on thinking, which side am I on.. A bunch of religious fanatics who claim their sole right over a piece of land based on an epic composed even before the advent of time. The piece of land is of such importance that they readily defy everything their religion has ever preached. Or another bunch of religious fanatics who believe that ever since an Emperor hoisted a monument in his name at a point 400 years ago, they have reserved the exclusive right to offer their prayers at that spot. Huff.. tough choice.

The only conclusion I could settle upon after thinking about all this was that the fact that this is even an issue is a gigantic evidence of the foolishness and ignorance of mankind since a zillion centuries. A peek back in time, brings us face to face with a very similar issue in the history of world, ‘The Issue of the Holy Land’, The Crusades..

‘The Crusades’ as described in history books, are religious wars between the Catholics and Muslims to resurrect their exclusive rights over the Holy land of Jerusalem. Extending over a period of 200 years, they are tales of horrendous war crimes and massive massacres worse than both the World Wars put together. The Christians consider Jerusalem ‘The City of God’, where the birth, death, resurrection and ascension of Christ took place according to Christian theology. It is an equally important pilgrimage place for the Muslim community as it is also believed to be the site of the ascension into heaven of The Prophet, much like the Ayodhya issue.

However a detailed insight into the historical accounts of renowned historians, makes it very obvious as to what the real incentives behind these military campaigns were, much like the controversial insights on which the Liberhan Commission shed light. Although the Christians had a strong hold over Jerusalem since the 4^th century, the Muslim conquest of Syria in the 7^th century marked their intrusion into the Holy Land. However the concept of the crusades had not materialized until the late 10^th century. I agree that there were numerous reasons which in some way or the other contributed to the flair. However the main reason was the threat the Christian Byzantine Empire felt from the ferocious and ambitious Turks. They hid their fear in the name of Christianity and appealed to the Pope to fight for religion. And the Roman Catholic Church, which was more than pleased at the prospect of bolstering the Papacy and gaining control over the East, did not refrain from breaking the moral code. Thus commenced the inception of centuries of conflict between two of the greatest religious and social communities. Perhaps, the seed of modern day terrorism was sown.

Although the Ayodhya issue was not conceived by the leaders, but few would disagree with me when I say that time and again political propagandas of various political parties have aired the flame scavenging the core of religious harmony and tolerance which still persists in some way at the site. Some examples of which are the Raam Chabutara and the fact that the mosque was called Masjid-i-Janmasthan for a long time.

My claims about the hidden agenda of the great religious wars are not without evidence. History is witness that the first thing the crusaders did after the siege of Jerusalem was creating the Crusader states: the Kingdom of Jerusalem, the County of Edessa, the Principality of Antioch and the County of Tripoli. If it was only about the control over the Holy Land then the wars should have ended right there. But it was a dark night, which never saw dawn. Eventually, when the Muslims recaptured Edessa in 1144, the Pope called for a second Crusade. In addition, in the Kingdom of Jerusalem 120,000 French-speaking Western Christians ruled over 350,000 Muslims, Jews, and native Eastern Christians.

However it is pretty well known, that just like modern day political parties, the medieval Church was a power monger, which wanted to extend its control beyond its original domain. Very cleverly they used the bait of remission of sins. And blindfolded followers in the prospect of remitting their previous sins committed thousands more. I wonder if any of them earned a spot in Heaven.

The crusaders and Knights Templar were mere pawns at the hands of the leaders like the Byzantine emperor Alexios I, papal beaurocrats like Pope Urban II, Pope Gregory VIII etc., preachers, like Bernard of Clairvaux, European Kings like Louis VII, Conrad III, Philip II of France, Richard I of England (aka Richard the Lionheart), and Frederick I, The Holy Roman Emperor, much like the karsewaks being the pawns in this whole strive for Hindutva.

I always reckoned the purpose of history, other than tormenting kids in school, was to remind us of the past mistakes and indiscretions of mankind so that one can learn and elude from reiterating the same. Alas, even after 1000 years, it seems like we have indeed failed to do so. People have criticized the Ayodhya issue extensively, pointed fingers and passed judgments, but few have sought for a harmonious and peaceful resolution. I wonder how people have chosen to turn blind to a fact even more obvious than the solar motions, the fact that no religious dispute in our country is fuelled by religious animosity. Indeed they are driven by political agendas and power lust.

I am not here to judge, so the verdict is of least significance to me. Although I fail to comment on its candor and decorum or whether or not its agreeable with my personal opinions, but all I can brag and swagger with immense joy and pride in the way the common people of my country have taken it in their stride. The concerned parties accepted the verdict with astonishing dignity. Despite the intimidating scare that verdict was going to tear the country apart, Ayodhya as well as the entire country maintained peace and order. This prodigious act of tolerance has renewed my credence in humanity as well as in the potential of my country. Perhaps this is just another side to the secular spirit of a country where Eid and Diwali are celebrated unanimously and in similar spirit. Or perhaps dawn is setting in on this dark night. This could be the beginning of the end.

The Great Escape

2010-10-05T16:21:00.000+02:00

The ‘blue devil’ in the thin glass capillary resembled the silent yet powerful demeanor of the ocean. The recondite power in the few milliliters of this magic fluid was beyond imagination. In the last 45 minutes that I had been wielding the lucent needle between my fingers, my hands didn’t falter, not even for a moment. I had always been a man of rectitude, endowment but mediocre eminence. I had never resented my decisions and never reneged after making a decision. But tonight, my worldly ties are making me weak. I have been through countless highs and lows but the tribulations of time and fate, had always failed to capitulate me. Tonight, I have succumbed to the adversities of my judgment. Tonight, I am shattered.. shattered by a squall of misfortune.

I sit here like a defeated man, alone in the dark, reckoning the fiscal benefits my daughter and her dejected mother will receive from my meager indemnification once I escape this brutal affliction of time… The anguish and agony of failing the hope I see in my daughter’s eyes when she looks into mine… The distress and desperation of seeing deceit reflecting in my wife’s eyes, which once shone with love and conviction. Their thought makes me want to renounce every thought of this escape, but the shame makes me want to opt for the easy way out. It is like a positive feedback loop. How could I ever look into their innocent eyes again, after loosing everything we had strived for to a flair of my instinct. I couldn’t… So I had to quit, take this Escape and make their lives easier.

~ ^.~

The morning rays escorted an unfortunate deliberation. Something was not right… Was it my little girl.. her condition had not been too good the last few weeks. We have been toiling and travailing for the last 3 years to save up and get her operated. An unsettling feeling was twitching and nudging at my insides. I could feel it in my bones. I was oblivious enough to ignore my missing husband in bed. There was very little chance that he woke up before I did. Maybe he didn’t come to bed last night at all. Last night I had left him perched amongst what seemed like a myriad of folders and documents, engrossed in relentless calculations. Over the past months, we had conceded over silence on keeping to our own turf. He had looked unusually confounded and flustered as if trying to resolve a fracas within himself. I had wished I could reassure and soothe him. But I was too tired..

As I strode into the sitting room, my heart was chilled but my palms were sweating. His limp body was reclined against the couch, as lifeless as a stone. His eyes, which usually expressed volumes, were void. The neighbours arrived, the police reached, his last rites were performed, but I didn’t shed a single drop of tear. I still wasn’t at terms with the truth… I couldn’t. How could he abandon me.. us. My mind kept seeking answers. What am I supposed to do? But my heart was evading the truth. My little girl hadn’t even set out on the journey of her life, and there she was, on the verge of its end. And what impetus does my life have if I couldn’t even grant her a chance. Relatives quarreling over the ancestral property, people talking about my husband’s debt, officials debating his insurance money, the public slander, all this was a frivolous and despicable farce for me. I was stoic, other than the deception of my husband and the inefficacy for my little girl. The only way to end this unending resentment and remorse was the Amobarbital they had found in my husband’s drawer. This would be my Escape.

~ ^.~

The strident shreiks of the alarm clock startled her awake. As she pushed the visions from the mind aside, instinctively she extended her hand to the side. A wave of utter relief dashed through her veins. But the horror hadn’t desisted her.. What was it?.. A Dream.. Or the Truth. Her eyes flew open and she gazed at the frozen figure beside her. He shared the same horrified look.

He wasn’t sure.. What had happened? A Dream.. The Truth.. As if interlaced by an invisible string, both walked to their little girl’s door in silence. The morning rays shining off her face, her rough but peaceful breathing and the calmness of her form rendered a fresh serenity to the sight before them. Appalled by the unsettled look in her eyes, he slipped his hand into hers. Despite his own horror, he felt the sudden need to comfort his wife. His moist palm clutching her hand was not just comforting, but assuring. Assurance that no matter what, he will fight with her until.. until they can commence every morning with this pristine sight. And he got the answer to the question that had been prying in his mind for the past days.. Endeavours? Or Luck?.. Strife? Or Chance? He could forsake everything.. but he couldn’t imperil his family.

~ ^.~

At that moment of truth, they both discerned that..

Life is a fight. And in life, Death is not an Escape.

~ ^.~

A 'Real' Love Story

2010-09-21T19:08:00.009+02:00

~ This is a fictional dramatization of true incidents ~

I was fidgeting with the curls of the phone-wire long after everyone in the office had left. It wasn’t something extraordinary for me, the long hours at work. I had nothing appealing waiting for me back home anyway. Solitude had inundated life, and I had engrossed myself in futile and wacky work. Alas I wasn’t finding the much sought after solace even there. Today was different than the other morose late evening surf sessions. My freaking mind was playing weird games with me. After pulling a couple of strings I had ferreted out what I had been secretly wishing for sometime now. But as I crumpled the little piece of post-it between my fingers, I wasn’t really sure if I wanted to use it anymore.

Maybe it was too late.. maybe it was too inappropriate.. maybe.. I was unsure if I should call him after all. Life has moved on and it has been a long long time… But if nothing else, he was still a friend. I could just talk to him to know how he was doing. I dialed the number a couple of times but disconnected even before the call went through. I was acting weird. I had always been sure about everything in my life. But this wasn’t in line. Finally I thought.. wtf .. I will just call. Maybe he won’t even answer.. it must be really really late there.

“Hello”, he sounded the same as years ago. “Umm.. hello” I faltered. Wow.. I needed no further introduction. Even after these years he knew who I was (Impressive). After a few pleasantries, we talked.. really talked. Although we were talking after ages, it didn’t feel like it. I had never felt this magnetic force between us before. That night I slept like a baby. I was savoring the feeling of having something to look forward to (Oh.. Out of the world).

The past fleeted before my eyes. School days when every day orbited around him. Those 5 minutes when we could share our day with each other had been more than enough. Childhood fantasies never come true.. do they.. My young mind had envisioned a bright future with him. Alas time (and mountains of Ego) had forced us to part our ways. We had been friends, we had been foes. But our consideration towards each other had never changed to apathy. My joy knew no bounds. Getting a friend back was a great achievement.

The following night something prodigious happened. He said those words which I had never expected or even wished for. I had always wished to retrieve our lost friendship, but never our love. Maybe it was like one of those unsaid wishes. The love, the laughter, the anger and the tears it all came back to me at once. My sane half was bellowing and beseeching me to pay heed. Vibes from an ex are the devil’s call. But my impulsive half urged and argued, what if this was my chance to get back everything I had once wanted.. everything I thought I had deserved. What if this was life’s way of giving me back all that.. What if this was my only chance..

Alas sanity succumbed to impulse. As always, reason lost to love. Friends had often said how charming a couple we made together. But I had always warded off these things by saying that ‘the past is past’ and ‘I don’t wish to live in the past’. But today the prospect of reliving the past appeared so attractive. The third night heard me whispering ‘the magic words’ for him. By now all reason in me had perished. I was uber-sure my heart was leading me the right way. He sounded sure too.

I didn’t believe in myself anymore. I didn’t need to. I believed in him. My sane half still warned me 'He is still the same diffident and meek guy'. Years ago he had deluded me.
‘But how would we make it work, you are so far away’.. he had asked. ‘We will make it work’, I had assured. What could I do to show him that I meant what I said..

I knew.. I hopped onto the next flight and headed East (Whoa.. it wasn’t Adrenalin in blood anymore, it was blood in Adrenalin now).
There he was.. at the same place where we had met countless times years ago. In the lush greens of the park, he looked like a Roman God. His crescent smile and dreamy eyes made my stomach churn.

~ The End ~

Conclusions:

- In love, the heart rules.

- Always abide by it’s (in)decisions.

- In love, it is always okay to take a leap of faith.

~ Oops.. Twist ~

But his eyes dug into mine in a cold stare. And then.. it hit me, ‘Oh My God.. What the hell am I doing.. I am such an idiot. This was such a mistake.’ His stare was slashing into my insides

I scrambled in my head but couldn’t articulate any audible sound. He stood there, equally still. ‘May my impulse rot in hell. What the hell was I thinking? How could I have thought that all this was gonna work out. Damned be his dreamy eyes and charming voice.’

I could discern in his eyes what was coming next. All I had to hear was the ‘I am sorry….’ I was surprised, that I wasn’t upset at all at the aspect of this whole childhood love-thing not working out. Indeed I was furious at myself for making me look so ridiculous and callow. Impetuous, stupid and still crazy about him.. oh I painted such a nice picture for him.. and the worst one for myself. The ‘twilight’ love evaporated into thin air.

He must be gloating in gratification, while jabbering out his zillion excuses about ‘How he didn’t want to make things more complicated and how its best for both of us to let things be the way they were’. I wasn’t even listening, I was too busy choking and drowning in the sea of my own shame and despise. He went on and on about ‘how he couldn’t do the same thing to someone else as he had done to me years ago’. Huff… Could I care any less.

Finally at the end of the long “heart-broken” monologue, all I could get out was a flustered ‘Alright’. And amazingly, he had seemed taken-aback and greatly displeased with my ‘Alright’. Perhaps he was contemplating a more dramatic end to this “event”. Abuses flying at him.. Tears streaking my cheeks.. Yeah.. sure.. like I hadn’t scarred my self respect enough for one life.

He tried to scrape the wonderfully sewn ‘fissure in our fabric’ by a couple of more apologies, some messengers who brought the same messages and relished playing a key role in reviving an extinct relationship. Each time, I smiled assuringly and claimed ‘Its alright. No hard feelings. I understand.’ While I prayed in my head ‘ God please let this be erased from the memory of mankind.’

And fortunately for me, in about 4 years, those 2 weeks never came up again.

~ The ‘Real’ End ~

Great Story On Adversities of Love. Yet.. Happy Ending :)

Conclusions:

- In life, all organs of the body must stick to doing what they are best at, i.e.

Heart --> Pumping Blood ; Mind --> Making decisions.

- Never try to exchange these God-designed functions, otherwise, before the mind-pumping–blood can kill you, the heart-making-decisions will.

- In life, taking a leap of faith is alright, but only when its faith on your own instincts.

Love Me Or Hate Me

2010-06-15T18:40:00.001+02:00

He says he hates me.. but he also hates to see me dour and dreary. He can’t brook my watery eyes and vents in prodigal outrage. He vexes, flusters and hurts me so many times, yet he makes me ecstatic so many more times. He comprehends my mind even before it materializes on my face. He never thinks about how to make me happy, yet his little inconspicuous actions bring a smile on my face. He says he wants me to relinquish my prerogative in his life, yet he spends every infinitesimal and momentous moment with me. He says we can never be together, yet he envisages a future with me. He says he hates me, yet in his hate I discern a clandestine love.

Perhaps this love is a mere figment of my imagination. Perhaps professing hate is much simpler than professing love, for it doesn’t tag along the encumbrance of expectations. Or perhaps proclaiming hate is much more exciting and thespian than the honest expression of love.

They say love is a four-lettered illusion. But what is a stronger illusion than love? It is hate. It is a four-lettered weapon which has proved fatal time and again when abused by perfidious and mercenary our-kinds. For it is much easier to incite hate than to incite love and respect. And it is human nature to take the easier way out.

Love and hate are never independent of each other. There is hate, only where there is love. Subject who are beyond the realm of love, are also beyond hate. For subjects we know not of.. we harbor only indifference and apathy. Apathy is not synonymous with hate, it is pure oblivion. Love and hate are not black and white. They are overlapping sets of feelings and there is a whole spectrum in between.

Hate is born where love fails. Failure to bear the ponderous burden of expectations anchored to love, incites disappointment and anguish, which gives way to hate. Good examples are public figures. Their actions give rise to immense love, affection and reverence in the hearts of the masses but when the same masses are crestfallen, unfathomable hate and resent arises.

They have asked, what is love? For me the vital question is what is hate indeed? Not because I am proficient in the ways of love. I am just as confounded and drift as anyone else. But I believe that love can find its way, while hate to me is like a missile gone astray, vulnerable and perilous.

Thus, hate in itself is a mere illusion which makes one believe that they indeed despise the subject, while it actually reflects their disappointment in their love for the subject. At other times, hate is merely a façade. A façade used by cowards to hide their vulnerability.. Cowards appalled by their own ability to love.. For some others, hate is a tool for spicing up their rather insipid and humdrum lives. Being spectator to the formidable farce of violence mustered by the deep-rooted hatred is the only form of entertainment remaining in their dreary lives. Nevertheless, the tic-tac-toe of love and hate is what is holding the universe in equilibrium.

Love me or hate me.. your records shall always remain spotless. Love me or hate me.. I behold the mystic love in your eyes.

Great Expectations

2010-06-08T15:20:00.003+02:00

Dear Maa,

I know you must be very upset because I left. But you are not alone, you have Dada to take care of you. I am sure he will take very good care of you and Baba. I will not say sorry for leaving because I had to do this. You may think this is wrong but when you know my reasons, I am sure you will agree.

There are so many things I always wanted to tell you. But between work, Baba, the house and Dada, you never had the time. I know you love me Maa, I know you do.. and so does Baba. But how come I never see it or feel it. Isn’t love a feeling?

Baba had told me several times that you scold me and ask me to do the things that I don’t want to because you want a better future for me. But you never told me that you loved me, like you said to Dada. So many times he had asked me to do well in my exams. But he never kissed me Goodluck, like he did to Dada. Numerous times he had explained how to kick the ball right. But he had never cheered for me, like he did for Dada.

Maybe I was never good enough for the Buck up Hug or the Goodluck Kiss. Not maybe, I know I was not as good as Dada in all the things that Baba likes. But it is not that I do not try. I swear Maa, I had always tried my best to get good marks in Maths and to kick the ball right on the football ground. But somehow I could never get there. How I wish to get that one pat on the back from Baba. How I wished to hear those words of Baba “Don’t worry, You will do great next time”, just like he said to Dada after every football match that he lost. I guess he knew I wouldn’t.

I love to draw, and my violin teacher says I play really well too, even better than Dada. But he never had time to come to any of my recitals. How I wanted to see the happy look on his face when everyone clapped for me. But I never got a chance to see that. Maa.. I really really wanted to make Baba proud. I really really tried hard to make him proud. But Dada was always better at it.

I don’t know if Baba knows how hard I tried. But I want to believe that you know and understand my dilemma. I prayed to God everyday to help me make Baba proud. I prayed to show me a way to overcome my failures. But God never answered. Maybe he is too far away. So I decided to go closer and ask him. A friend had said that if I jumped off a tall building I would meet God. So I took his advice. It’s a long long way Maa, I do not know if I will be able to return soon. But one day for sure, I will come back with my answers. Then Baba would take me into his arms and kiss my forehead lovingly, just like in my dreams.

I hope you will wait for me.

Your loving son,

Ashish

PS: I did not write a letter to Baba because I knew he would not have the time to read one. But please convey my love to him.

~ · ~

Dear Dada,

You are the best brother anyone could ever have. I will never forget how supportive and understanding you have been, how you had help me overcome every difficulty I had and how you would hide my mistakes. I just wanted to thank you and tell you that I will always love you and look up to you.

Your loving brother,

Ashish

PS: Since I am going to be very close to God, I will ask him to help you win every football match you play. I know how much it means to you.

~ · ~

8th June 2008, Kolkata: “The Salt Lake area of Kolkata has gone into shock over the suicide of a eleven year old boy who jumped off the 14th floor of Lake View Apartment in the late afternoon of 8th June. According to the Police officials, investigation is underway. The boy was declared dead on site and the body will remain in Police custody until autopsy has been conducted. The boy was reported to be alone at home at the time of the incident. The parents and elder brother of the victim were reported to be in their respective workplace and educational institution at the time. The victim's distraught father stated that there was no apparent reason for the boy's suicide.

However, when Psychologists were asked to comment on this shocking tragedy, they were of the opinion that there must have been serious psychological pressure which compelled a 11 year old boy to take such a drastic step.”

The Come Back

2010-06-07T13:33:00.002+02:00

“It's hard to make a comeback when you haven't been anywhere”

These words express me in my present state of mind as best as words can do. It has been a significant amount of time since I last posted something here. It does not mean that my love and zeal for pen & paper or this virtual space has declined any bit, just that other essential undertakings for the existence and subsistence of a living form, like work, had to take the priority.

Liberty from parental rule does not always mean all ‘play’ and no ‘work’. Instead at times it turns out to be ‘work’ and more ‘work’. It is like an unsaid passing of the torch of discipline from the strong bearing maternal hands to our own fragile wavering hands. The topsy-turvy ride with a ponderous torch in one hand and feet scrambling to stay put on the quivering ground, is a constant battle to hold our forte. The doctrines of a coordinated life appear transcendental. Mind threatening, as it is, sometimes existence is threatened as well. So in my pursuit to hold my forte, I made a promise to myself (not the kind of commitment that Salman Khan makes, which he himself can’t alter). I can totally.. and mostly always I falter from the word I give to myself.

I had set my mind, I am not going to open a new word file until I hand in my thesis. This time it was an exception. A couple of times I felt that all ‘work’ and no ‘play’ has taken its stall. I severed my promises to myself and was ready to indulge myself in avocations. I opened a new word file and typed in ‘The Comeback’.. but I couldn’t bring myself to turn my thoughts into words. My mind was cluttered with p-tests, trend-lines, figures, tables and what not. The tortoise shrunk back into its shell. I exited the blank file. I thought, after all ‘play’ should always come after ‘work’.

On the 1^st of this month, after 48 long hours of mind numbing struggle with the keyboard and MS-Word formatting, I handed in my thesis. Then a couple of days to gather my thoughts and banish any specks of scientific writing from my mind until a week and a half atleast (that is when I will get the comments from my supervisor) and I am back to doing what I love, sneaking time in between lab work and everyday errands.

In the meantime, I consigned to oblivion regarding the completion of 365 days since this virtual space of expression, reflection and conception, came into existence. Special moments do not always need jubilations to mark them. Perhaps.. some other time..

Sacrifices have to be made to achieve something, in my case, a degree. Well the degree comes handy in earning bread, and more imperative and salient things. Over the past 2 months, some ideas that had been playing in my mind have been lost, some visions I had are misty, some inspirations have become rusty. Nevertheless my mind is freshly reconstructed. Some tattered ruminations still persist.. some new ideas have started taking shape.. some new concepts have started to crystallize. I have verpasst some amazing and powerful posts by fellow bloggers. Few, I managed to catch on the verge of time.

Nevertheless my motivation has been newly reconstructed. Armed with a blank mind, with this post, I dive yet again into this world of virtual bliss.

The Life After : IV

2010-03-30T10:43:00.000+02:00

A drabble is a form of microfiction that renders a work of fiction exactly in 100 words. This is the concluding part of a quartet of 55-fiction posts. However I chose to post it as a drabble to grant myself the liberty of 45 extra words.

Read Part I, Part II & Part III

“A year.. nothing has altered.. the tears, the despair… the solitude, the anguish. We strived to thrive in our asunder worlds, but foundered in severing the bonds and fetters of love.

The silver Maybach quivered vehemently on the colossal bridge. He pressed down the accelerator.. Tears blurred his sight. I was shackled by invisible manacles, helpless. The Maybach crashed against the cast palisade and whizzed into the air.

From the dazed mob emerged a smile, a smile I had missed for long. His eyes gleamed with an ethereal bliss, as he gazed into my eyes. Our worlds have united again.”

Cherry On Top

2010-03-24T20:00:00.001+01:00

Yet another honourable award from my dear friend and fellow blogger Nils. I am so glad that you found that little bit extra here. I really love you and your blog. Always stick to the pen :)

Thank you so much for the award. My heartfelt gratitude ..

Rules:

· Thank the person that gave this to you.

· Copy the award and put it on your blog.

· List 3 things you love about yourself.

· Post a picture you love (e.g a person you adore etc.).

· Tag 5 people you wish to pass this award on to.

As I already did the first two things, I will skip to the 3^rd step.

3 Things I love about myself :-

- I love that I have amazing friends.. I have (mostly) always been lucky with friends. *TouchWood*

- I love that I am pretty much able to express myself in words.

- I love that I am able to love unconditionally, be it human or animals.

And the 5 people I tag are :-

My Dark Angel

2010-03-21T18:57:00.003+01:00

As I repose in peace, she guards upon me.

When I am about to take a fallacious stride,

she compels me to foresee.

If I falter in my path, she grabs my arm.

When I am perturbed, she calms me with her charm.

When I am down, she boosts me up.

And sets me sail on the waves of hope.

If the going gets rough & I ain’t nimble enough,

She takes my hand and aids me cope.

She is headstrong, she is spry,

There is none like her,

No matter how much you try.

As tenebrous clouds of gloom impend on me,

She emerges like the incandescent silver line in the sky.

When I drift away to a whimsical land,

She pricks and jerks me back to reality,

Even before I can defy.

She scratches, she bites,

but she is dead scared of heights.

If you pester her, she smacks hard & kicks higher,

but she is petrified of fire.

If you tickle her then she turns crimson

and sanguine like a cherry.

With her demeanor she makes everyday merry.

At times she is like a tongue-twister,

And sometimes she acts like an archaic transistor,

Oh and when she unravels a secret ‘bout me,

She wears a smirk so sinister.

Now.. who could that be other than my big sister!

I know she bears a mystic magic wand,

And sometimes she wanders away to a far off land..

She is .. “My Dark Angel”.

The Life After : III - 55 Fiction #6

2010-03-21T02:07:00.004+01:00

55 Fiction is a form of microfiction that renders a work of fiction within a word limit of 55 words. It is a contemporary form of expression which is greatly thriving among the neoteric writers. This is the third one in the series.

“I wish he could move on.. ravage my memories and start all over. I am not a part of his world anymore. He has to embrace his dreams and strive for happiness... regain his paradise and not lament over the lost one. Three months.. every night I still wistfully gaze at him, whimpering to sleep.”

Read Part I and Part II

The Life After : II - 55 Fiction #5

2010-03-19T14:23:00.007+01:00

“A soul.. I am not meant to retain empathy or pathos. But his distress provokes an unbearable pain within me. I fail to seek solace in tears. My tears have forsaken me.. They deny to escape my eyes.

Two weeks.. every night I watch him slouch onto the desolate bed, striving to blink away his tears… ”

Read Part I

The Life After : I - 55 Fiction #4

2010-03-15T15:04:00.000+01:00

“His arms had been the warm coven I had often crumbled into. Tonight there is a void. I kneel by his bed as I watch him reach for me in his sleep.. in vain. For the world, I am departed. But I shall be here.. always, discerning his pain, but unable to comfort him.”

Tagged - Facts About Me :P

2010-02-25T21:51:00.003+01:00

I have never done one of these before, but there is a first time for everything. So here it goes. Thank you Megha for tagging me and giving me this opportunity.

Some Useless Facts About Me:

· What is your current obsession?
How I Met Your Mother.. I am so obsessed with it, that a lapse of even one episode becomes the impetus for my distress.

· What are you wearing today?
A smile! Thats my favourite attire.

· What's for dinner today?
Banana and Mandarins (No I am not on diet, I am just being lazy in the facade of eating heathy)

· What's the last thing you bought?
Eggs, Bananas and Joghurt! Oh wait, I also bought glass beads of diameter 4-10µm, 12mm cover slips, Poly-Lysine and fluorescently labelled BSA. (Its alright to not know what these things are.)

· What are you listening to right now?
Ab Mujhe Raat Din – Sonu Nigam

· What do you think about the person who tagged you?
I do not know her personally. But her blog reflects her personality. She is an amazing blogger with a taste for the zing. She also has a cool photo blog.

· If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished anywhere in the world, where would you like it to be?
I would want it to be on wheels, or (preferably) with wings so that I can whiz to my favourite location according to my mood :D To have the perfect view, the perfect weather, the perfect people.

· What are your must-have pieces for summer?
Sunglasses :D

· If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go?
To the beach, warm sand at my feet and cool breeze in my hair J

· Which language do you want to learn?
I love to learn languages. I know quite a few, but Latin and Hebrew are my dream languages.

· What’s your favourite quote?
Numerous.. But I shall share a few.

“The most important things in life aren't things!“
“Look at life through the windshield, not the rear-view mirror.“
“Life is the art of drawing without an eraser.“

· Who do you want to meet right now?
My best friends and my cousins. Its been a long time since I last saw them.

· What is your favourite colour?
Black, Red, and Turquoise

· Give us 3 styling tips that work for you.
Huh.. no idea.. not really the stylish types.

· What is your dream job?
Dream job.. no job would be my dream job. As much as I love science, reading and a number of other things, I love to do things independent of deadlines.

· What’s your favorite magazine?
Haven’t read magazines in a long time now.. But Reader’s Digest used to be my favourite.

· If you had $100 now, what would you spend it on?
Not sure.. Maybe a cool music player.

· What do you consider a fashion faux pas?
Weird coloured eye shadows :P

· Who according to you is the most over-rated style icon?
Kareena Kapoor

· What kind of haircut do you prefer?
Lazer

· What are you going to do after this?
Probably have dinner and watch random stuff.

· What are your favorite movies?
They are many more than I have space and patience to mention here.

· What inspires you?
The world around me is inspiring. Every new dawn brings inspiration. The sunset gathers new motivation.

· What do your friends call you most commonly?
Whoa.. tonnes of nicknames.. Isha, Mots, Anny, Teddy Bear etc.

· Would you prefer coffee or tea?
Tea – with milk and sugar , the British way or actually ‘The Indian Way‘

· What do you do when you are feeling low or terribly depressed?
Try to cheer myself up.. what else!!

· What makes you go wild?
Deception

· Which other blogs do you love visiting?
All of my bogger friends. I love exploring new blogs too.. some of them turn out to be unexpectedly good.

· Favorite Dessert/Sweet?
Oho.. my favourite question! All of them.. Gulab Jamun, Barfi, Halwa, Jalebi, Black Forest Cake, Strawberry Mousse.. and the list goes on.

· How many tabs are turned on in ur browser right now?
Seven. I am a super multi-tasker J

· Favorite Season?
Winter In India and Summer In Europe

· If I come to your house now, what would u cook for me?
Oh whatever U like.. I can manage most things.

· What is the right way to avoid people who purposefully hurt you?
Greet them with a smile J They would be forced to smile back at you.

· What are you afraid of the most?
Cockroaches, spiders and all such creepy insects (Yes, I am a GIRL girl.. Go on make fun of me. I may fight Dinosaurs and Lions but I will go bonkers when braced against a swarm of cockroaches.

· When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought?
I need more sleep.. and maybe a holiday :P

· What brings a smile on your face instantly?
Friends.. a simple‘hi’ from them, their love or just a thought.

· A word that you say a lot?
WOW.. I think thats the word I say or actually write most often.

· When was the last time you did something nice?
Nice.. does feeding mice count? Or no.. wait.. I joined the roar for ‘Saving The Tiger’

· What would you do if you were made President of India for one day?
There are tonns of issues to deal with. One day would be too less, so I would just lean back and enjoy the Power.

· Do you Know who Master SHIFU is?
Of course!! He is funny. But Panda is better.

So now to do the rituals I shall tag some of my friends and/or blog-friends. If you despise tags and them as a farce, then you are excused. If not then I insist that you complete this tag and share with the world all the useless facts about you. Cheers.

And they are..

*Sonu*

*Nicky*

*Nilanjana*

*An Ordinary Girl*

*Orange*

The West Wind

Cradled To The Grave

Dead.. & Back

Requiem to Freedom

Comfortably Numb

Shakespeare In Love

A Mid-Summer Night’s Dream

The Night Clara Actually Died

Half Of My Heart

Forbidden Love

The Walk Of Shame

Impulsive??.. Or Insane??

Without The Invisible Wand - An Eulogy

Status Quo - Day #16

Shuffle Up - Day #15

The Kite Stealer

Familie Bilder - Day #14

Drugs, Alcohol & Religion - Day #13

But It Never Rained – Day #12

Sun*Shine*: Aquarian With A Difference Day #11

Truly Musical - Day #10

Proud To Be Me – Day #9

Leave The Stars Alone, I’ll Settle For The Stratosphere – Day #8

Imprints For Life - Day #7

Super Heroes - Day #6

Where I've Tread - Day #5

Vices - Day#4

The Trio - Day #3

The Bitch Magnet

Not Just A Namesake - Day #2

The Very Credible Me – Day #1

Break Free..

The Book Of Life

You Are The Only Exception

The Modern Crusade

The Great Escape

A 'Real' Love Story

Love Me Or Hate Me

Great Expectations

The Come Back

The Life After : IV

Cherry On Top

My Dark Angel

The Life After : III - 55 Fiction #6

The Life After : II - 55 Fiction #5

The Life After : I - 55 Fiction #4

Tagged - Facts About Me :P

SunShine: Aquarian With A Difference Day #11