La Vostra Luna...

I know you still spend hours at the balcony, looking up at the black sky searching for me. I've been hiding, but you already know that. From behind the smokescreen of these grey clouds, I see you. I see the anguish in your eyes. I can hear the strained notes of hope from the strings in your heart. I can almost read the accusations in your mind. I can see the ripples of questions beneath the ambiguous expression on your face.

"Why do you always do this?
This running away when you hear words that make you uncomfortable... disappearing just like that. Then you keep me waiting till you've sorted out your issues. I stay up teary eyed all night searching the sky, wishing I'd never said those things which upset you... wishing you'd just come back. You hurt me so much and then you reappear... and you want to take it up from where you left off, as if nothing had changed in all these days you've been away, as if my feelings don't matter at all.

But I keep quiet. I never tell you how much you've hurt me because the moment I see that crescent curve on your face, the lopsided smile that I've missed so much, I forget everything else and fall in love with you all over again.

But you're cruel. You take and take and take and when I feel empty and used, when I question you... you vanish again.

But this time you've been gone too long and I'm scared.
Have you forgotten me?"

No...
if only you knew, I'm right here behind these clouds. I've been here all this while, watching you... discreetly.
But I cannot let you see me. I won't show myself to you again. I know it is hurting you. I wish there was another way. The pain will wither away your hope and one day... one day you'll go back inside and close the doors to your balcony forever.

You tried to reach for me and you touched me... not with your hand, but you did touch me. Alas, I'm not what you see from down there. I'm barren... rocks and craters. I'm alone and my soul is cursed to wander alone without any destination. Even though I'm bound to you by an incomprehensible force, and through you to the blue sphere you call home, I'm destined to be alone.

The Aleph

I've been reading some very interesting books lately, the latest of them 'The Aleph' by Paulo Coelho. The Aleph, he says, is a point in the universe that contains all other points, present and past, large and small, and when you are in that point where the Aleph exists you'll experience a seemingly endless trance.

Confusing...?

Well, that's Mr Paulo Coelho for the uninitiated among you... always associating life's simple aspects with such loony philosophical constructs.

For us less spiritually oriented people, the Aleph simply is that place in a room or a building or even a city where you always feel more confident, more at peace with yourself and more present.

Going by that definition, I have a lot of Alephs... one at home, one at college, one at the Aluva Railway station....... oh and I had quite a lot of choices for an Aleph in the Kannur bound Intercity express that I used to board from Aluva. Yes... because of some weird personality defect my Alephs are toilets.

Now, if you are done with the 'Ewww' and acting all grossed out, let me explain. A toilet is the only place where you can truly be alone the whole time you are there. It is the one place where you can feel the lightness of being( and I mean that both literally and philosophically).
Presently, my Aleph is the fourth floor boys toilet at ACE Academy, Hyderabad. It is the one place where people dont disturb me much(except for that guy in the adjoining toilet who's always singing the National Anthem while he's in there).

Actually, it was....
Until some prick started inscribing his life's ambitions on the walls of the toilet. Reading through that 'great' piece of literature that this guy regularly updated, it was obvious that all his thoughts revolved around one particular girl in his class. The walls were full of 'colourful' statements in which he had expressed how 'hard'ly he'd fallen in love and how 'strongly' he felt for her.

Now, I downright loathe people who deface public property and this guy was filling out the walls with the girl's name. One day I got fed up of this.
I was so pissed I took out my green ink pen and wrote in big letters on the wall...
"Atleast spell her name correctly you asshole!!", because I had done some ground work and there was no girl in the institute with the name spelled the way he did on the wall.

Next day, his reply was there, written in red ink.
"Sorry **", and then there was the girl's name with the spelling mistake corrected. That whole day I asked around if anyone knew a girl by that name. In the evening someone said she was in the canteen with her friends. I went to the canteen. There she was.... and damn was she beautiful!! The perfect combination of beautiful and hot.

I ran to the toilet and wrote on the wall...
"I understand what you are going through. Be strong brother......

but fucking stop dirtying the walls of my toilet!!"

P.S
He hasn't yet replied to that comment. So I'm assuming that was the end of our joint attempt at a potential best seller in the Young Adult fiction genre.

posted from Bloggeroid

When I play with myself...

I'm sure the title has perked your curiosity, but I'm gonna have to disappoint all you dirty minded people. This is not a description of the scenario the title might've led you to imagine. This is about an interesting game I play in my head(with myself :P).

It's called, 'Who's to blame?'. As the name suggests, this involves finding out who is to be blamed for something going wrong and reasoning out why it is so. You might accuse that it's such a negative game. In that case my defence is.... Duh, that's what makes it so-fucking-interesting!!!

To give you a better perspective on the game, I'll give you an example. After watching 'Dawn of the planet of the apes', I started thinking about all the ways in which we humans have mutilated this planet of ours. We are never content with what we have. We need more. Wars are waged for Oil and Natural Resources. We keep designing superior vehicles which create the need for better roads and then we cut down forests to pave these roads. I asked myself,

'Who's to blame?'


'Who started all this?'

The answer was obvious. The first human businessman was the beginning point of the downfall.
You don't agree?

Consider this...
Two cavemen are talking. One has a banana. He peels it, and before taking a bite asks the other,
"Dude, you hungry?"
And then he shares the banana with his friend.

A few months later, the same two cavemen are talking(there were no smartphones then, people talked to kill time). One of them again has a banana(coz bananas are funny). He peels it and before taking a bite asks the other,
"Dude, you hungry?"
The other nods a Yes. A wicked smile then appears on the first man's face as the following words were spoken for the first time in human history,
"That'll be 10 Rupees Sir"
(Or whatever the cavemen currency was at that time). And then they were not friends anymore.

I'm telling you, that is where greed was born. That prick of a banana seller(the first businessman) set our species on the path which took us to the point where we are now.

Well, now you know how the game works. Test it. Blame someone now. I guarantee you, you'll feel good.

P.S
On the off chance that you expected something intelligent from me, I regret to inform you that the precious little of it which I have is being consumed in trying to grasp the nuances of Electrical Engineering. With what's left, these are the only sort of things which I can bring myself to think about.

There's another game called 'Finding Faults'. More on that later.

Ciao.

posted from Bloggeroid

The Forbidden Fruit

Time : Around midnight
Location : The boys hostel of a 'fictional' engineering college in Kerala

Two boys are in a heated discussion while a third is sleeping.

A : The biggest problem with our traditions is that other people decide when, where and with whom we are supposed to have sex. Its like the enforcers of our culture and traditions, lets call them 'the moral police'... its like they derive a somewhat sadistic pleasure in denying us the right to have sex if you're not married.

B : So, the reason you are distressed is because pre-marital sex is discouraged in our society. Huh?

A : I just dont agree with the norm that having a job and getting married are prerequisites to getting laid.

B : In that case, please invoke your abundant wisdom and tell us what the real prerequisites are.

A : The only prerequisite is just that you wanna do it.

B : So, in your opinion, if one wants to do it, he should just go ahead and do it..? Without thinking about consequences or the psychological effects it may have on him and his partner..?

A : Uhh... I, uhh...

B : Let me tell you about nuclear fission. Its a beautiful process. If done in a controlled environment, inside a nuclear reactor, it is a very efficient way to produce energy. But, if you dont control it, the process can destroy everything in its proximity... like Hiroshima. Sex is similar you know. Promiscuity can be disastrous. Sex needs a controlled environment and marriage provides just that, a controlled environment wherein the consequences are manageable.

A : You did not just make that analogy... sex and nuclear fission? Seriously? Hiroshima? That's ridiculous. You couldn't be more absurd.

B : Enlighten me then.

A : Hmm... sex, well... sex is like the proverbial apple of Eden. You instruct us not to eat it... we'll sneak out behind your back and shake down the tree to eat it, without thinking about the consequences.
But, if you allow us a bite once in a while, you know like give us our fair share... we'll keep away from the tree.

B : phh.. and you think my analogy was ridiculous.

C gets up groaning, sits on his bed facing A and asks : Supposing that the tree was not forbidden, and you are hungry too... but what if there were no apples on it?

A : Meaning what?

C : Meaning, Is there a girl who is willing to go down that road with you?

A : No... not yet.

C : Then shut the fuck up and let me sleep.


P.S
Mom.. dad... if you've read this and were wondering... I'm not the A in this story. So, no need to worry okay. Promiscuity is an evil thing. Period.
I'm either B or C. Take your pick.

posted from Bloggeroid

SPARTAAANSS...

When leonidas was a boy, he was sent away into the wilderness.(I suggest you watch 300 before reading further.)
"Go face the world", the spartan elders said. "Battle the deadly beasts, creatures of the dark... ones which crawl and sting, ones which fly and claw. Defeat them. Above all, defeat your own inner demons. Emerge victorious and come back. Only then shall you be worthy of being the king of spartans."

Times have changed. Modern day elders don't speak in such an elegant fashion. My dad mincing words, merely said, "It's time you stood on your own two feet. Go crack the GATE exam. You will be welcomed home like our champion.(actually, he didnt say this last sentence out loud. I added it to try and give my dad a spartan image)" And then he sent me to hyderabad(ACE Academy).
And here I am, like poor little leonidas... in this big scary city all by myself.(sigh)

I've been here one day and I've already found things to hate about this city. First things first,

The traffic. The pace of life in this city is pretty hectic but I can't go as far as to say the city never halts. There are numerous junctions where traffic signals act as bottlenecks, and in the mini jams caused in this manner autos and two wheelers would do just about anything to get in front of the vehicles ahead. These daredevils jump kerbs onto the already narrow footpaths and then snake through between the trees and streetvendors to get ahead. In one such signal, the moment it turned green an auto took off and turned left, grazed a bike in the process. The bike tumbled over and the rider fell. The auto stopped to a screech, its driver cocked his neck out and looked back. The fallen man was glaring at him. Then the autowallah said something in telugu which to me sounded something of the effect, 'Oh, you're not dead...? well then fuck off!!', and then he sped away.

Of the autowallahs, I've one more story. (Alert!, potty jokes ahead) I'd been sitting in a bus for close to 17 hours. I have what my mother calls a hyperactive-bowel, punctual as clockwork. It was 7.45 in the morning when I got off the bus and nature's miscalls had already been coming for half-an-hour. I got in an auto and asked the nice looking bhaisahab, 'kisi cheap lodge ke aage utaar do. Fresh hona hain. Room sirf ek ghante ke liye chahiye bas.'
The SOB then drove me around for 20 minutes, took Rs150 and left me outside a lodge where they said they didnt rent rooms for less than 24 hours and that the rent would be Rs 600. By this time my internal turmoil had heightened to a ' either you do it now, or it does itself' situation. With the alternative being unthinkable, I paid the 600, took the key and ran to the room. Most expensive shit of my life!!!

Iske aage life main ab jab bhi main toilet jaoonga, us haram khor autowalleh ko yaad karoonga. Kameenay, tujhe main shraap deta hoon... is ek saal ke andar aise kahin mauke aaenge jab tujhe halka hona ho aur door door tak koi toilet nazar nahin aaega.

posted from Bloggeroid

Reinventing

These two months were tough, with the 8^th semester university examinations and the prospect of having to go home after four years at college. It scared me. Though I was happy that I’d gotten through such a strenuous task as B.Tech, I wasn’t yet prepared to face the eventuality that I’d have to leave behind everything I’d learned to love and step into the unknown. To give up the place and the people among which you thought you belonged, to go home and move back into your old room which your brother has customized to his tastes, to be under your parents’ radar 24*7, to be asked to do household chores once again…. all this was very much disconcerting. Meanwhile facebook served as a constant reminder of how happy you were at college. With all this happening I had neither time nor inspiration to blog. I felt empty. No new stories to share, no lame jokes to tell. For a while, I’d become totally disillusioned with the whole idea of writing. I started asking myself, “who reads this stuff anyway..?”

Whenever I start having doubts about something, I do away with it. It’s one of the components of my protocol stack(yes I have one and this was not meant to make myself sound tech savvy). I call it the OSOM(out of sight, out of mind) protocol. So, I deleted the blog. I even deleted all the unfinished drafts, and then I slept relieved. For a week I didn’t even think about it.

Then slowly, the itch returned… of wanting to write down the things I think about, and then it grew into the familiar obsession… of wanting to think about something new so that I could write about it. More importantly, friends started asking what happened to the blog. I was told that even if I don’t write anything new, I should leave the blog up there for the people who might want to reread the posts(If I ever happen to write a book or something, I’m dedicating it to you… you know who you are). It was so flattering I couldn’t stop myself from blushing, but I got the reassurance I needed.

So, the blog is back up even though I have no idea if I have it in me to write again. Thank you, all you wonderful people who love me enough to tell me ‘keep writing’. I’ll try.

Ciao.

Keeping Quiet…

Warning : I intended this as a breezy romance and it has ended up like a sermon. I wanted to share some ideas and I’ve tried to do so with the story of an unconventional couple.

She was born mute… he was never one to speak much. They were comfortable with that. Words spoken are mostly shallow… meaningless banter. Silence is profound. Still people need conversations to distract them from the imperfections they see in themselves during the short-lived moments of calm they rarely chance upon. They were different. They never felt the need to talk to enrich their relationship. Words can be unreliable at times you want to convey delicate emotions. They had found other means to express.

She woke up before him every day. She would then gently run her fingertips on his forehead until a smile appeared on his sleeping face. Some days she would wet her fingers before doing this. She did this on busy days when she had to hurry. He knew it meant she wanted him to get up fast. On slower days her fingers would be warm. It meant he could take his time. This was her idea of a good start to the day. For people around them, the sense of touch had diminished. Touching your loved ones doesn’t seem as important as it used to in the beginning. They were rare that way. They reveled  in each other’s touch.

Once he was up she would get out of bed and go to the kitchen. It was the only part of her life that he was not allowed into. There are boundaries within every relationship…. this was theirs. Incidentally these boundaries most of the times are the reasons why relationships wilt. He didn’t understand why she insisted on him staying out of the kitchen. He didn’t like secrets. He never had one that he wanted kept and he didn’t appreciate others wanting him to keep theirs. It bothered him that she might have one…. because when she came out of the kitchen with coffee, each day it would taste different. It tasted good but not the same as the day before. He knew it wasn’t accidental. After giving him the coffee she would take a seat opposite him on the dining table and look at him. She wouldn’t take her eyes off until seeing his face when he took the first sip. He felt she was trying to tell him something…. like a puzzle that he had been challenged to solve.

When you decide to spend the rest of your life with someone, you need to make sure that the person can challenge you on some level... intellectual, emotional or even the most primeval of all… on the bed. If you don’t, you risk falling into a rut of premature contentment. In that state, there’s no room for improvement. It’s like you ‘fell’ in love and just don’t care about ‘rising’ anymore.

P.S

Sorry if you are disappointed. I had absolutely no idea as to how else I could’ve ended this.

Hit me with your best shot…

I’ve never got into a fight with anybody before. Verbal duels, plenty of times but never a fight as in a brawl. Weird thing is….. I want to, at least once. Now, before putting me on the list of psychopaths you never want to talk to again… hear me out.

Volumes have been written and said about the virtues of non-violence…. on how it won us our freedom, on how offering your right cheek to someone who has slapped you on the left one is such an awesome idea, on how one particular half-naked bald man went on a fast unto death every time he wanted someone else to do something that they didn’t wanna do, and the past couple of years have been about a contemporary incarnation of the former old man; a copycat who until very recently used to wake up every morning and think…….

‘hmmmm… I’m not feeling very hungry today…….. Ok then… I’m gonna go to Jantar Mantar and fast until someone at the Parliament feels enough pain in the ass to pass that damn bill’.

I don’t really like Anna Hazare. Just imagine… if all our mothers started wearing ‘I’m Anna’ caps and treating us with fast-unto-death-threats until we cleaned our rooms or helped her wash the dishes.

No matter how many arguments you stack up in favour of non-violence, truth remains that every warm-blooded man out there has a list of people they’d like to beat to pulp. I’ve known people who’ve got into bar-fights and came back with black eyes and palm impressions on their cheeks, yet gleaming with something very similar to pride. I don’t know why but looking at them I’ve had feelings closely resembling envy. I reckon it must be a masculine thing we retained from the medieval times…. battle scars on a warrior’s body have always been a source of envy for their less skilled colleagues.

On deeper introspection… maybe I don’t want to get into a fight, maybe what I want is just a battle scar. Something to proclaim that I am a badass… you know, something with a ‘Wolverine effect’.

Jean once said to Logan, ‘Girls like to flirt with bad boys… but they always go home with the good ones.’

At the core of my personality, I believe I belong to the latter category….. but I’d like a bit of both.