A Dull Poem

There is the crowd and here is me,

In an attempt to find unity --

I bridge the gap with eager steps,

Jostling for a place in the mesh.

It's hard to breathe.

It's hard to see.

I feel so tiny in this throng of human bees.

Buzzing and moving, to gather, to store,

An array of minds all synced to a single core.

I met Jack, on his way from work,

He’s a party loving and hardworking clerk,

He hates to be dull, and thus makes sure --

Like everybody, to follow the new haute couture.

His wife is happy, his second car works fine,

His boss laughs at his jokes and in fine hotels he loves to dine,

He hoped I was good, but didn’t ask for more,

His chaps were waiting with beers and cricket scores.

As Jack waved me bye, vanishing in the swarm,

Leaving me thinking, for a moment and few,

As I stood aside, watching the crowd pass by,

I wondered why Jack was called dull,

--- and not me nor you.

"Sleep No More!"

Shakespeare, the dude, always had it right. Do a hard work and baam! "Macbeth hath murdered sleep!" and he can't sleep no more! And they called it poetic justice!

But it’s hardly the time to make interesting remarks about life or the surrounding events, global or local.

Neither is it the lovable pleasing atmosphere, to tell lines of a pink romance or a cherry lip kiss, beneath a golden moon, beyond the city skyline.

It’s just a long night, creating droopy eyes and overactive brain, a night which, like any festival, is rare in its occurrence, but also unlike the festival, isn’t met with any whatsoever mirth and/or  smile.

It is the night of the eve of exam!!!

*apologies for the lack of thunderous background music. we are desperately short on funds*

I now am emblematic  of that particular feeling when you know that a single more word will blow your brains to small, not at all pretty looking, bits and provide food for ten winters to the ants in your room. I stand sit, as example and proof, that there is no such existence of a peaceful sleep that refreshes your mind and prepares you for the impending exam, with a brisk and invigorated outlook.

MYTHS!! LIES!!

Worse than the Santa Clause scam!!

Countless years, with even more unaccountable exams, have I experienced and that refreshing sleep has always eluded me. It’s as fantastical to me as my dreams to ride an unicorn, while i munch on a ham sandwich. But you didn't have to know that. Moving on...

Reader, don’t bore yourself further! If you are no student presently, and face no impending exam, be on your way.

*Male readers – Dude! Seriously!! Is something wrong with your testosterone levels! Not the site to be! Go incognito!!!*

My ramblings have helped in certain ways, to vent out the excess of words which have been bothering me like a crown of flies, found at the posterior of a holier than thou cow.

Don’t give that corrective attitude and a lecture on how a year long study helps. I can’t think of a smart retort right now, but I am still not agreeing with you. Sympathies please! I have studied for eight six umm, some straight hours.

Well, I feel less bored now.

I still find no sleep though.

I can so empathize with that Macbeth fellow right now.

Anyhoo! Enough of talks! I need to save some words for the exam.

Peace out!! 

Family

The leaf shrugs off the persisting chains

Farewell to parental bough!

Blows away with sailing breeze

Dispossessed, aimless.

The leaf knows not its solitary fate,

Destined to wither in some foreign earth.

An Original mistake, not time enough to learn, but suffer.

The wind blows away, to scavenge another soul,

 Stealing the vestiges of a happy dream,

Suck the hope from the shivering dawn,

Caress with a cool finger, those warm cheeks,

It flies hence.

Dispossessed, aimless,

Eternally unloved.

Smeared Red

Pretty smelling cream on my cheek,

Glossy paint decorating chapped lips.

A streak of black,

To sharpen my glance’s attack,

Earrings and bangles,

My hair falls in beautiful shambles,

The saree draped,

Like icing on a cake,

A practiced smile on place,

Smoothening tears with powder on face.

I am ready, my conscience freed.

Time to satisfy lecherous greed.

My Glasgow Smile

They said it would be easy,

As easy as breathing‘s supposed to be,

Stretching a few muscles, to banish all pains,

A dose for a day, a few more to keep sane.

For Mother declared she was worried ,

And it displeased Father to see me lost;

My friends lovingly mobbed around me,

And over charred emotions, my smile embossed.

And I smiled as life rolled on,

I smiled at its mandates and jargons,

I smiled for the days to end,

I smiled for it is easy to pretend.

And I thought --

May be shadows do lighten the dark.

And bullets fly, for they love the beating heart.

But I feel them now, closing in,

See their fingers and arms stretched,

The corners of my mouth twitch uncomfortably,

And my blood boils for selfish carnage.

Some hold my lips,

Some pull my chin,

They spread my mouth

To a hideous grin.

My eyes pop out,

Something quietly dies,

I face the world,

With my Glasgow smile.

I, My Friend and "IT"

And I wonder time and again, what can destroy a perfect friendship. Here you are, best “bros over hoes” with your best matey, planning to take over the world, strutting like big shots, an breakable thread of steal tying the friendship together; no room for distrust or doubt, no space for anger, just the cool sea of mutual understanding. What a relationship!! Bravo! Beats everything else. I mean, seriously, a drink and some random gabble with your pal, is so much cooler and better than any romantic date, even if it is fully paid, with complimentary gifts..!! But then, gods laugh, and our evil dead twin’s spirit laughs with them, and then out of the blue, one fine day, your friend shows you something cool, something sleek, something really (pardon my language) sexy, something which you had been planning to get for yourself for a long while, only he gets it first.

Jealousy is a bitch. If jealousy could be packaged and injected via some serum, that would be killing more microbes, hell, even cancer cells, faster than anything else!! Man! The way it makes u feel is just downright astonishing! You know it’s not right, and still it makes you feel so good, it almost makes killing over a trivial issue justified. And because it feels so warm and comfy to plan destroy the friend’s end and smile than secret I-hate-you-you-son-of-a-(pardon the language again)-bitch smile whenever he is around, that u don’t even bother getting rid of it. And then one fine day, you see that that friendship is no longer there. The continuous snaps at the besty’s jokes (‘cause now you can’t laugh at his jokes anymore as he has become the enemy), the regular hangouts cancelled, new ones, with new “bros-worse-than-hoes” taking their places, and no more replying back to texts, all took you slowly to the vanishing point. And poof, it’s not there.

May be, some day you do get the thing which initiated the very elaborately diabolical and evil process, may be u don’t. but the obvious question is, of course, did you get your revenge on your friend?? Nah! Not that.  The question is, was it worth the friendship..

(Personally, I think it was, but then again, it might be my evil dead twin’s ego speaking.)

Waking Up from the Longest Sleep

Moments, ornamented with emotions.

Emotions ranging from tears to lust,

Emotions, as dry as dust,

Blowing in the wind, as a contagious virus.

Open your mouth

Let all the words out.

Emptiness inside.

Light as the air,

Free of hope or despair,

Decrees defied.

Going beyond everything touched or perceived,

To something craved, never received.

Not overrated peace,

Nor the pretty thorn of love,

Nor the indefinable happiness,

Freedom from shackles of the known.

Immunity from culture’s drone.

While truth looks with unblinking eyes,

Escape beyond the vast bright skies.

My love drowned me in a sea of hate

And I couldn’t find my way of escape.

In an empty room, I look at the walls unscratched,

As I sharpen my nails on my heart.

I can see myself where I wanted to be,

I can see how deep this differentiating gorge is,

I take a jump towards eternity,

Hands outstretched,ready to seize

I fall, the inevitable fall

The exponential drop from the vanishing top

I answer nature’s final call.

To God and You

A few months back, I was waiting for one of those official-life-depends-on-it types letter to arrive, and it was beyond late. Thus for the sake of my dear life, I did the obvious, and  prayed to God. During these frequent episodes of fervent praying, I began to wonder about God? Is the almighty the one who is found in our prayer rooms, or the soul within us? Prophets have dictated so many answers, that the truth suddenly seemed obscure. I wondered how God works. I wanted God to help deliver the letter. However, obviously God wouldn’t be coming on my doorstep. A postman will do that job. Then will God tell the postman to deliver the letter soon? No again. The post office department is going to take care of that. Then what?  Will God go ahead to give a man visions about how a desperate girl in some faraway city is looking with puppy eyes for him to post a letter. No, the man himself and his superior are going to be responsible for it. So is my God that one superior, bestowed with the powers to decide my fate? I wanted to talk to my mom about this, but she was somewhat busy at that time, waiting for the maid, and she, like me, was praying to God so that the maid comes, as there was a pile of washing to be done. But just like the postman, God, I am sure, wasn't enlightening the maid about her duties. So, again, who is God?

The Books tell us that our actions determine us, and in a way, God’s work is done via our deeds. It’s true, I suppose. But then terrorism is all around us and is the cause of numerous deaths and the destruction of countless families. And they too believe they are doing the work of God. Does that mean God is smiting us for something we did or didn’t do? I find that pretty illogical. Unless God is mad scientist, how can a creator go ahead to destroy his own precious creations? Thinking this far I began to remember God’s dimensions. He is omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent, is everywhere, amongst us, beyond us, within us.

If we look at a larger picture, there are some billion people on this planet. Each in his or her own small way affects our life. The delivery boy makes sure the CEO gets his mails. The coffee bean picker in some South American village makes sure CCD continues to make many things happen over its cup of coffee. The president makes an intelligent decision thanks to the peace his wife ensured in his own home and thus another day of World War 3 avoided. So many people, surrounding us, hearing, seeing everything we do or have done, decide what we can do the next moment. They give us the opportunity to make sure our lives are as smooth as we expect it to be. (Now natural disasters are something else, and since Mother Nature is a woman I doubt any He can handle her.) So, is God actually the billions of people on this earth? Is God just the representation of this ever-growing number, the “X” of the equation which never stops changing?

So, is love thy neighbor just a divine command? Or that fellow human being who does indeed have the power to deliver your letter on time deserves that respect for the simple reasons? So whom do I pray to now? Personally, without the random events of nature and the universe, I would have been lost, because somehow the letter did come that day, as did the maid and thus another day passed.

(After I gave this theory to my mother, it infuriated her. She asked whether that means she puts up her and my picture and starts worshiping those? Not a bad idea, though). So, if this entire theory does go against your moral ideas, which I am pretty sure it would, check that blood pressure and don't get angry and start cussing. I pray to you. Right now, you are my God.

An Odyssey

If you had been here now,

You would have seen a cat

Sitting quietly in a corner of the street;

And listened to the duet of the silent night,

And the chirping bird,

Who forgot what night and day mean.

Had you been here

You would have felt the breeze,

As it would have cooled your sun warmed cheeks,

The starry night would have smiled down

And told you, why

Van Gogh loved her more than the sun’s streaks.

You might have enjoyed walking

The solitary road,

Loneliness wouldn't have touched you still;

Your own slow stride would have ruled the path,

And the race of man

Wouldn’t have trampled your prints.

As you would have made your way

With the living around you,

Safe in their beds, sleep oozing from their doors,

You might have had noticed,

A dreamless window,

Sighs clogging its every pore.

Had you looked there,

You would have found a soul,

Detached, yet forlorn;

A silent audience of the night

Lurking in shadows,

Torn.

Would you have looked closely

To find the secret?

Would you have waited to investigate?

The beauty of night is a cruel seductress,

Would you have delayed

Just a bit?

As the unknown entwines with magic,

And the breeze blows coolly

Pulling you,

Would you have walked, not looking back,

Or would you knock the door,

To make someone’s dream come true?

In Furious Memoriam

The one frozen moment when that beautiful white hot rage fills you up perfectly, and the supreme powerful being in this universe manifests itself through you; when a slight gesture of that almighty entity is enough to infest a destruction so huge, recovery seems wretched and unrealistic : What would you do when you get that power of the gods? Would you strike thunder, laugh at the shock of your victim? Or would you be the wise owl, and smile at your opponent’s perplexed face when no retaliation occurs?

Anger is a drug, and the release of this rage is probably the greatest consummation of human emotions. The moment the monstrous hold lets go and you escape in to that selfish joy of being victorious over your petty adversary, is simply intoxicating. But just that, it's just for that miniscule of moment, not a bit more. As the haze of white clears, red diminishes and all the colours surface again, you realize you just bought yourself a one-way ticket to your own personal pit of inferno. You may pretend otherwise, but it is inescapable, at least in the privacy of your closed doors. And you end up wondering, was it all worth it?

Now I am no moralist. I am a staunch believer of convenience, and pity doesn’t really take us anywhere. I have had my share of anger, and what I see from all those white bright sparks of wrath, I understand why hell doesn’t have an owl. I fought with someone, and the next day I had to fix my broken phone; another time I had to buy my own dinner. Once I couldn’t talk for three days as my throat had gone sore from all that shouting, and then there was also that time when I had to miss my favourite show because intoxication always leaves a bad taste with a hangover. So, I sold my anger for patience, and though I can’t say it easy, but at least I don’t have to think about making my own dinner or miss my shows. Let's face it, anger isn't all that "hot", and peace is oh-so-good!

Thus, this isn't me, lecturing about anger management. It’s just me telling, dude it's just not worth it. If you want to feel powerful, shout in a rock concert or may try breaking a wall. That might teach you something (like common sense, or get you a record deal or may be you would turn out to be Superman or Hulk. Go figure!).

Cheers..! :)

p.s I was really pissed a while back. But I managed and saved my lunch, wrote this amazing sh*t and now grooving with Lil Wayne :D

p.p.s I hope the Garfield pic isn't copyright infringement.

No Miracles Here

Now, this is not a funny story, how much it may though seem to be. So promise that you won’t laugh. (you didn’t, I know, let’s try that again, Don’t LAUGH). Here goes..

A few months back, one very late August morning, I was on my bed, doing what I do best, sleeping. By the time my dream paradise kicked me out and I pried my eyes open, I realized I was late for college. Now this isn’t new, nothing to be jumpy about. But remember those days, those days of the “last-chance-for-the-last-date-for-the-already-late-submission-of-the-very-late-and-very-badly-done-project” ? Well, that was one of those days. So simply said, I ran. Didn’t bother changing or brushing ( and food? what’s food?). As I ran towards the bus stand, popping tick tacks on my mouth, I braked to a sudden stop (SCreeEECh). Where the hell is my project? I ran back home, keys fell from my hands twice, I somehow managed to break into my house, take the file and run again.

I couldn’t wait for the bus, (Kolkata traffic I tell you, mind blowing, you really wish you had something to blow your mind). So I cursed a bit and hailed a cab. Reminding sacred old-school conscience how urbane and techie I am, I took out my phone to check how late was I, and as I tried repeatedly to unlock it, light up the screen, pressing all the buttons, sweet realization : my battery was dead. Well, no worries, what are taxi drivers for? I enquired and found out that I was late, but guessed not late enough ( late enough = professor leaving building).

Now it WAS a miracle that there wasn’t much traffic, and I reached college just under 20 minutes. Thanking the taxi wala profusely, and cursing under my breath for the fares, I checked my bag and realized I had just 20 rupees with me; the meter read 60, the cab wala asked 70. (Come on! I didn’t PLAN to sleep late, you really can’t blame me) But hey! What college folks are for right? Nothing. Exactly that. No class mates around, no helpful seniors feeling remotely helpful, and those who had a nagging conscience had an even better “prompt-excuse-to-the-rescue-search-engine”. But it was the day when I had (at that moment) vowed to make things right. I begged the gatekeeper, gave him my id card as safety deposit (…), and got saved from being kidnapped by the taxi driver (he had scary eyes.. uughh).

Marathon run again. Tracker on, search professor. *beep* *beep* *bee..ee.e..p* And... no prof on sight. I took out my mobile to check the time, just to put it back in the jeans again. Now this is the sad part. I felt, lost. I felt, well the word I would have liked to use was Scr#@*D, but more than that, I felt broken. For weeks I had toiled for that file to complete; for those 20 pages I had to read some 60 books and browse through 2000 websites. For that file I had to forget about everything, even that darned break up pangs which kept me from even swallowing a morsel, gave me nightmares, and made me wander aimlessly for hours on my freaking roof.  Damn you professor! why couldn’t you wait, I was worth it, the file was worth it; why did life have to be so unfair, why did I have to get my heart broken, why did I have to cry and tear my hair for that pathetic idjit moron, who couldn’t use his (non functioning and useless) head properly...

I slumped on the floor, and couldn’t stop the few tears from flowing down. I felt tired, and sad, for me. I opened my eyes and saw my best friend looking down at me. She smiled her famous all knowing smile, gave me her hand, helped me up, and said “Madam’s in the conference room, I asked her to wait up.”

I don’t know much about Jesus or Rama or Krishna, but I am very sure, without Peter or Hanuman or Arjuna, they would have had been in pretty bad shapes. Clichéd I know, but what the heck! Cheers for the best friends. When u have them, who needs miracles?

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A Prayer

Heavens above, break your dam,

Let it flood, let all drown,

Bleed your veins, let the nostrum flow,

Bow down to us, so you can be crowned.

Feel the heat of the sinews,

As the arms move,

To tear the fields, to pull the fruits.

Feel the rush of blood, as the heart thuds,

As the poet writes,

The first lines of his muse.

Tiny raindrops, draw an arc,

Divide two worlds,

From which none can go back.

The seeds of sorrow, reap flowers of glory,

Some shine on,

Some remain blurry.

Hear, what we say,

Look down, you’ll hear more,

Our pity, our woes are lullabies for all,

Don’t let us disintegrate,

To a half recalled lore.

Mystics and pashas, where are you now?

Come. Be the patrons of our joy.

We are the dreamers who built your city,

We are the craftsmen who gave your son toys.

Wake up for once,

Don’t you hear our cries?

It’s darkness now, the matchstick burns,

The future awaits for dawn’s soft light.

Untitled

What are the things that make us cry,

And what are your truths and my lies?

You say there is only black and white,

Dawn warms us from the cold of the night.

Let me cry for my fears,

I want to sleep with my woes,

We are fools to think we’ve lost what was dear.

And all my beliefs proved to be untrue.

Wake up my sweet, light up the world now,

Rise from slumber and see,

How the world changed in the blink of your eye,

Slowly fading towards eternity.

20 Questions

I looked at you and smiled. We were sitting cross-legged; holding hands tightly, on the stone floors of a deserted house; far away. I heard the roar of a thousand seas and noticed how you winced, almost imperceptibly. Almost. I always noticed everything about you. I smiled to myself and pulled your hands. You looked at me, your face a strange mask of anxiety, and love. You had always loved me, even when I hadn’t.

“So tell me this then, who has the highest batting average in test matches?” I asked. You didn’t answer, but grimaced and rolled your eyes, stubbornly refusing to reply. I shook our clasped hands, “Come on, you know, I have told you this before.” I insisted. “This is not funny, stop this. You know I am scared. This DOESN’T help” you yelled back and looked away. I felt your hold tighten on my hands.

“Okay easier one this time,” I went on, ”who invented safety pin?” I said with a big grin. You looked at me with deep annoyance and parted those lips to say something, but didn’t. You rolled your eyes and looked away again. I laughed and continued, “Umm.. okay, at least tell me who is the best cat in the world?” I heard your laughter even before it started. And I wondered how I had wasted all those years listening to stupid rock concerts. “Garfield. Okay? Happy? Now stop.” You replied, and smiled. The way u looked, that deep gaze, I felt as if you knew everything and still so innocent about everything else.

“Okay last one”, I said, “gear up ‘cause this is the biggie”. I took a deep breath, proposals had never been easy, and I remembered time wasn’t on my side.

Another deep breath. “Tell me, will you marry me?” I saw with a pang of sadness, how your smiling eyes changed, they became filled with tears of anguish in a matter of moments. You hung your head. I couldn’t hold you because you still hadn’t let go of my hands. I heard a faint murmur, you whispered, “yes”. You looked at me. The smile back, the tears still present. You pulled me close and our lips met. The softness of your lips filled me with pure and complete joy. I could taste the salty tears and I knew whatever came, we would be together now. I didn’t hear anything else, didn’t feel or remember anything beyond that moment. We were in our own little “love bubble”, as you used to call it, and forgot the whole world. I knew you did too. There were no more regrets. I knew neither had you. I knew there was a better world ahead for us. I believed this. And you did too.

The distant roar wasn’t that distant anymore. The huge wave, matching a thousand seas, came crashing on the little house. In a moment, it conquered and destroyed, and left nothing for time to preserve. It moved on for its next triumph, leaving behind a sea of desolation and plunder, leaving behind nothing but just an ocean. It roared again, as it raged ahead for its next target.

Once Upon A Time..

The eagle takes flight. It aims for the zenith. It cuts through the air as it nears its one single vast expansive target. It crosses the field, a field with sprinkles of miniscule ignorant life forms. A gun shot. Dogs bark. The fall of the last of  the kings. The zenith remains unconquered for another day.

                       * * * * *                                             

The fire burns. Hungry. Merciless. Devouring all and everything. An angel of destruction. The fire burns majestically as the dry woods satiate its hunger. Hear the crackles. A child inhales the smoke as he cooks his meal for the day. A sudden strong wind makes the child raise his hand to cover the fire. A fire brigade rushes past the almost empty street. He looks for a while then gets back to his cooking.

                                                                    * * * * * 

Red. The color of blood. The color of the morning sun. The color to cry for, rejoice for. The color of passion and courage. But today it is the color of goodbye. The mothers and daughters play with the “sindoor”. The goddess smiles her frozen smile. She longs to join them but scriptures forbid her. Laws of man chains the strongest of power. May be some day she will, she believes. Is that a tear in the corner of her eye? “Subho bijoya” and they all threw red. I never found out.

                                                                    * * * * * 

“But I have a meeting, please understand. I will call u soon. I am sorry”, the boy hangs up without waiting for her reply. She is sad. She wanted this one to work. But for the past six months things have gone bad and beyond repair. She really wanted this to work. She leaves the keys of the apartment, takes her bags and with a last look, closes the door.

After a few hours and several knocks later, the door opens and a yell of “Happy Anniversary”. The empty apartment welcomes the surprise.

                                                                  * * * * *

The bus stops at the signal. The girl looks out. Her eyes meet the guy’s. A smile plays on both their lips. “Will he remember me?” “Will I see her again?”. The signal turns green. The bus starts.

                          * * * * *

People hurrying past. A chaos in a section, an argument in another. Yells and shouts fill the whole area. The boy looks around hysterically. He’s hungry, he’s tired, and…. and his gaze locks on the face of the most beautiful girl and he forgets everything else. The girl looks up and smiles. Suddenly everyone starts cheering. The priest chants as the boy puts vermillion on the girl’s forehead.

Healing The World - an essay on hope,love and coffee

Few days back, a friend of mine asked me, why do people love when they are not sure if it’s going to last or not, (most times it doesn’t though fortunately/unfortunately). And even though my friend’s question had a point, that point seemed to be in the blind spot of most people I saw. Because everybody was in the mission for love and nothing seemed to hinder the life-straining-tear-ducts-drying pursuit for the One, (or two, maybe three, I don’t know). This hara-kiri endeavor makes me wonder, is a human so fragile and incapable as a solitary entity and feels complete only with the company of another one, and not just anybody, the special branded one. I know human being is a social animal, but this current attitude of desperately-seeking-love seems to limit the social exchange between only two.

Now don’t think I am here to advocate love and preach it’s all mighty power to heal the world and so on so forth. I am trying to see if my theory does make any sense or not Honestly speaking there is nothing new to talk about it. If you are alive then you have felt love once at least.  Love is like a more complex stylish and miniature version of life, very much conditions applied. It’s the hot bath at the end of the day to release those knots on your back. It sometimes even is the morning coffee, (which I believe is the best discovery of man till date, how bland the world would have been without chocolates). Its like the first bite of sandwich after a whole day without food. (yum) So coming back to the question, why love when there is no telling when it goes poof? Sure the morning coffee and the hot bath (even a foot massage) sounds great, but they are not going anywhere till I want to. But love is beyond that restriction. Then why indulge in the self suffering and constant anxiety for the “next is what”? Lets take this example, if you had known what the match on the television would turn out like, you wouldn't be watching it, would you? The suspense keeps u going, makes you wait for the end. The “must see the end” keeps u awake till the wee hours of the morn and you don’t care if you feel sleepy. You stay awake to see your favorite team lift the cup, you cheer and hope that they do, but you also know for sure that you can never be sure. I suppose this is also the we human beings never stop loving, or more accurately, never stop trying to find love. Doesn’t matter how many bad failed relations we have had in our past, what does matter is the one right now, trying to make that work, loving someone, and being loved. Cause we all are blessed with that little thing in us, hope. And so we keep on hoping. hope to have a happy ending, hope to win the match.

So summing it up, if we hadn’t had the hope to bother with, maybe we wouldn’t have loved. If we hadn’t loved we would have never felt the need to make someone happy. If we never had felt that need we wouldn’t have had woken up early in the morning to make that special coffee for the special someone. If we didn’t have the need to make coffee, coffee would still have been a bean somewhere in some forgotten forest. And imagine where would have the whole human civilization be without coffee. Shudder to think about it.

I guess we really owe love a lot. It does heal the world (morning grouches are a serious issue).

School age to Cool-Age

Remember when we were in school? Geeky, clumsy, not sure whether to laugh at a joke or not, and how we all used to go starry eyed about life at college? To us, then, college was like the epicenter of EVERTHING nice and cool. It was where we HAD to be, and frankly, our life did depend on it. We decided then that we had to learn, to be prepared, beforehand, so we pulled up our sleeves (in some cases, we even cut them), and went ahead with trying out their “modus vivendi”. The result was something none of us is proud of (and will carefully omit the next time we talk ‘life at school’). We got caught bunking school. We got caught while coughing after a puff of the forbidden stick. And as the fear of everything that moved still persisted, so though we dared to wear cool belts and colored ribbons or a current hairdo when we dressed for school, we also made sure they were all gone by the time we reached the school gates. We wanted to be something we didn’t have a clue about and we couldn’t wait. The promised land beckoned to us and before we knew, it hit us.

Some one said it damn right, “little information is a dangerous thing” and how wonderfully it proved itself. Starting college the first thing I missed most was the ataraxis; school was a heaven which gave u peace of mind, filled with angels (though, with horns, fangs and claws) who did everything for you. There was no worries about notes or what-will-be-wont-be’s. There wasn’t any temptation to deal with about bunking an important class to hang out with friends, cause u just couldn't. Thus there was no tension about attendance and as a bonus, your nails stayed safe and looking good. (In college nail biting is a catchy habit. TRUE STORY.)  Due to the absence of uniforms, you end up always, ALWAYS being late, cause u can never decide what to wear, cause its either too bright, or too clean, or too old, or just not good enough for the day. It’s a never ending list of “before and after”-s and its heartbreaking to recount as well. Gosh!! I miss my school days, but mostly, oddly, I miss being told what to do. Responsibilities, my dear friend, are damn scary, very scary.

But wait! Lets not forget the crème de la crème of the promised deal : Bunking, the USP of college (or so they said). Lets suppose you got a bunch of college buddies, and u decide to bunk classes and watch a movie the next day. Pretty exciting, huh? Now here’s what happens. The next day two people have tests, one of them feels sick, the other has a private tuition to attend (which he completely forgot to remember when the plan was actually being made), another passes on 'verified' critical comment about the movie being bad. By this time the entire ambience has dropped below sea level and the plan’s cancelled.

Now, like always, we have the tragic heroes, who really wanted to watch the movie but alas! They go home sad. But there IS a happy ending, cause there is always one smarty pants who actually did bunk college and didn’t bother to show up. She stayed home, woke up late, and watched her favorite movie in her pajamas (which, by the way, are never “too” old).

Cheers to all bunkers.

Song of the Night

The night hums its own sad tune,
Remembering the past,its curse n boon;
As she spreads her cloak,from dusk till dawn,
I too find myself,humming her mournfull song...


From the shadows come voices more,
Whispering to me, their forgotten lore,
The wind sings a lullaby near my ear,
Of dreams and hope, love and fear.


The wait for the morning to come, and the dew to dry,
The bird prepares to take flight, with its morning cry,

But someone left last night, someone said goodbye,
And the night sings her song, and I sing with her tonight.

What The Heart Wants?

Good question. And just as all good questions go, this one too is hard to answer. Its not as simple as deciphering the brains wants and demands. Lets turn to science 99. we all know, like a civilized organ, the brain sends out proper signs and signals for the benefit of the concerned human being so that the said human being can act accordingly. Its clean, to the point, hassle free. Now the heart is a different matter all together. Try expressing yourself amid gallons of liquid rushing, swishing in torrents. You wont even hear yourself, forget about some one else getting the message. Of course if u talk fish that’s a different story then. I don’t talk fish as far as I know not even the fish talk fish. So coming to the point, how can anybody understand what the heart wants. Easy to “presume” but come on, presumptions are as perfect as the promises of the dear politicians from 3^rd world countries. and even if the presumption does make a touch down, your heart doesn’t order for my heart dearie, I might want the other flavor of the ice cream. So how do u actually make others believe that what u want is what they want too? Is it really possible to pull it off?? Before u say no, whoa! Ask Farhan Akhtar. Cause he sort of proved it, that it is fairly possible to do that. (yeah homie.. it’s a movie review!)

Watching the movie, after like one year, I saw things I didn’t notice before. It does talk about friendship, yes, but it actually talks about relationships. True we cant really relate to the super rich guy driving a Merc or the philosopher in the body of an artist, but it did give me a quick reminder of what I read in my social studies books. RESPECT ALL and SAY SORRY. The sort of new age friendship rule about “no sorry, no thank you” (seriously! who invents these stuffs!!)  is very illogical. What’s the harm in admitting your mistake, and is thank you like curse or what?? Aakash showed how cool it is to say sorry, (he also made goatee and spikes cool too, but this ain’t a fashion post and I am not a guy, so no comment on that ).

To finish this off, doesn’t matter whether u know what the heart wants or not, just keep those people close who will be there with u despite of whatever your bloody heart wants. After all “dost hai yaar”.. and where will we be without friends. Three cheers for Dil Chahta Hai…!!

FUNFACT : Wifey Kiran Rao made her acting debut in the movie!!!