Based on a true story.

Momma momma, I make you cry,
Momma dear, why o why,
Why do you have to do this momma
Why do I have to listen to you when you're not gonna
you get too emotional
dishonesty is just perceptional
I'd like to obey you and be a good girl,
But you know there's life in the world,
Freedom, Peace, Air, so much bliss,
everything that I'm going to have to miss.
Miss because you dont think its right
But why do I have to live in this fright?
your tears tear me apart,
and that's not even the best part.
my reflections fail me, do you even care?
i cant feel alive, am I even there?
you bound me to shackles and chains
you rip my nerves, you took my brains
when was the last time i remember
when did i not have to surrender?

Momma, please, why can't I be.
Mom'd say - I'll kill you in the name of discipline
one day you'd see.

Jeremy

I love the naming game. I name everything that I love. There was one time when I named the guy I was willing to date Hagar the Horrible, for reasons best known to nobody. It was not a surprise that it didn't work out between the two of us.
However, the above piece of information was not for no tangible reason.
I thought you'd like to know this. 'Cause then, this post would make sense.
I was once a pianist. Not a great one at that. But yeah, well I was a pianist.
Well, there's a story behind that too. My dad once went to Siliguri and for those who didn't know you get electronic items at dirt cheap rates over there. And since he didn't really know what to buy, he bought me a tiny piano-keyboard. Wait! In case you thought that I was the artistic sorts, let me clear your doubts. I am not even close to art. I could be terrible at creating music (This being a modest statement. I actually am terrible at creating music.) So there I was - an ugly duckling with a 2 and a half octave piano with absolutely no idea what to do with it.
And then, my mom had plans of her own.
She thought that I am the naughty-haughty brat of the house and I, according to her, was not particularly interested in studies. (Which is sort of ironic beacuse I am good. Considering I did pretty well academically in my future.) And I was studying under SEBA where in the final years of my studies I had to study "Advance" mathematics. My mom was certain of me failing that one. And the only way out was, if I was ordinary at music, I could choose that as a subject instead of proving my mathematical handicap to the world by flunking it with miserable scores.
Thus, because of a cheap bargain and a overthoughtful mother (and also because of a bad record at studies) I was the proud owner of a tiny piano. (Its more like a Piano-Keyboard or a digital piano, but i like to call it my piano). It was a beautiful casio CSR-250(, which was lated given away to Jini who screwed it - like literally.)
Anyways, luckily for me, we also had music school very close to my house (like a 10 minute walk away). And that place belonged to the President of the All Assam Music Association. My luck!
(BTW, my first year of those cost my parents just 30 bucks a month - beat that!)
That was definitely not the best learning experience of my life. In case you didn't read it well already - I am not an art person.
I scraped through. Got 2nd division marks in each level (I appeared only 3 of them in 7 years - which is kinda slow.) Another irony.. remember the mention of Advance Mathematics? Yeah, the subject which i was assumed to flunk and which is why I sort of started learning piano - Well, I scored 91 in it. Thus, the entire piano exercise is rendered sort of pointless.
However, the first hitch appeared when I passed my first level. Surprising as it was for the fact that I passed, my lessons started getting tougher. I needed a bigger piano to learn those lessons. It was a sort of unnecessary luxury, considering that a bigger one would cost my father more than his entire months salary. (But I dont really consider that terrible either, 'cause that piano now would cost me more than my entire month's salary anyways.) So, my parents rejected the idea. I cried my way into a bigger piano.
And that, my dear, was the birth of Jeremy.
He is awesome.
He is a seven octave fellow. His keys were too big for my tiny hands at that time. But owning him was an overwhelming experience. On afterthought, it still is.

I had locked him up the cupboard for a while.
But now, I am sort of rediscovering my love for him
What inspired this post?
Today I saw his aged ancestor. A huge accoustic. I played it too. I wonder if there really is anything that can make me feel more alive.
SO today i decide that I am going to take my piano lessons seriously and, when I can afford the luxury, I'll get Jeremy's relative home. It will be good for him to stay with family.

Ah! Another dream added to the list.

Anyways, see ya around.

Airly fascination!

I wrote this when I was on a flight from my home to a far off village. I didn't post this earlier as this seems to be just nonsensical. But then, I later thought, 'Whatever' and here it is (edited though- like I didn't add any new word. But I deleted some stuff to K.I.S.S. - keep It Short Silly) :

I am going back to the place where I began the blog. Kind of feels nostalgic. I am happy. I want to go away from home so that I can return quickly. Yes! I want to be back home soon. Sounds funny to me. Not that I'm not a family person, my family is actually anti-me. (shhhhh, its supposed to be just between you and me.)
However, my happiness is more related to the fact that I am travelling alone. It makes me happy. I can be as I please. At least till the time I am alone. Ain't I fed up of behaving like I am grown up and well-mannered and ladylike?
I'd rather be myself than be all that.
The guy sitting next to me asked, "Are you a student or a professional?"
I replied, "What do you think?"
He says," I can't guess."

I know it wasn't a compliment. But when I remain silent to that, it becomes cryptic, and that must have fucked his mind, as he didn't ask me that again. Phew! Funny, if I may say.
I have got the window seat. And don't I love that? I love to take the window seat and watch the clouds appear like heaps of fresh white cotton. Huge heaps at that!
I am carrying a copy of "The confession" by John Grisham, but that was for the contingency. I needed something to kill time in case I didn't get the window seat.
I tried to read it for about 10 minutes or so, but I couldn't. The sight beyond the tiny glass pane was far more tempting. Well, its so beautiful. Have you ever wondered why the lesser mortals think that rain is depressive? Nope. Not because of the murk and the ugly effect it leaves on clothes. More because, it penetrates the skin and reaches deep within the soul and pokes the unearthly desire to feel wanted. The wish to be important to someone. That is also the main reason for which, people in love find rain romantic. Its a great feeling, to be drenched like garbage in raindrops that hit you like you were its sworn enemy. The peircing drops slap and wash out all pain (its like a theory. To reduce the quantum of a certain pain,, you need something bigger than that. For a very long time I had a feeling that people are obsessed with a physical relationship for the same reason. Wherein, I am assuming it is a painful. Not that I can say that I have gotten rid of that feeling yet.)
So, the crux of the matter being I love rains, and so I also love clouds. When i think so I am reasonably assuming that there is a certain kind of a relation between them. And I like my assumption on the face of it. But on afterthought, I guess I'd love the clouds even if rains never existed in the history of mankind. They soar high, guided by the winds or pure will. They aren't bond by anything, not love, not hatred, not even the necessity of survival. They mar themselves when the need arises. They are not contained by the material requirements of appearance, neither do they need to please anyone.

I clicked some pictures. (Don't I all the time?)
See how beautiful they are:

As you can see, I am near the wings, I can watch every movement of the wings. It looks awesome when the flight turns. That fellow flying the plane gets to actually tilt the entire thing when he needs to turn. There was a little turbulence for like 5 minutes while we were about to reach Gujarat. Turbulence is good. Its like the plane is on a minor vibrate mode. :P Specially for the people who love and value life, those who condition themselves into believing that their life is worthwhile. You should see the hilarious look on their face. Like they are praying to all the Gods that they know, and still pretending to know that its just minor turbulence, nothing is wrong and they are not panic-struck. I could almost roll out on my stomach, the low leg room notwithstanding, but for the seat belt. :D

As for me, even while the lovely little commute was turbulent, I was still gaping out of the window. It feels nice to be next to the clouds, specially when you are right into them.

Overall, it just leaves a lacuna in the mind, where you could have absolutely no idea what to think about. Like you've just been on a roller coaster ride. Like you were never meant to think. Like you are just a lowly urchin in the mammoth world. Like whatever you think would never make any difference anyways. And THAT, my dear, is liberating.

See ya around. (If you think I am being abrupt, I think you should stop reading this blog.)

Pictures.. speak more than a thousand words..

I had mentioned pictures very recently (like in my first or second post)
So now, I am adding a few of the ones i love...

She was a frame at the Udaipur Hotel.. I kinda liked her. Wonder who was the model for it.

Caught this one outside a book store, peacefully taking a nap.

This one.. i consider it as a masterpiece. Its at Osho Garden, btw

The most confused Spiderman of his times, at Pune Railway Station (why did he not web his way instead, I wonder)

Seating arrangement at the Udaipur Hotel

hmmm.. that's me getting comfortable with a discarded statue of Buddha

at the parking of Agha Khan Palace.. yeh dosti hum nahi chhodenge.. anyone?

there are more. Wonder how will i ever get over them.

see ya around.

Life and People.. Hopes and Reality.

Hey..
Its been a long while since i blogged. Why? Cos i haven't the time. I haven't the time to think. I have started practicing my Keyboard, again. Its like rebirth. I used to play it a lot earlier. But never this way. This time i am on my own.
but now, I'm really wondering what kept me occupied.
I really love to blog. and it really doesn't take a lot of time. Then why wouldn't I blog? more than the Keyboard (I call him Jeremy), it was the people and their ways that occupied my mind.
Why do people have to be nice at one time and extremely morbid the other. Its a mortal insult to humanity to consider some poeple human at most times.
The other day, i was walking across and i saw an old woman lying beside the road. On further careful observation, i realised, she wasn't dead. (I was passing a hospital, that was the first thing that struck me). She definitely wasn't the most beautiful woman i have ever seen, not even close, not even a bit. However, there was something about her that i felt i could carry with me. She was poor, had no place to sleep, which was assumably why she was sleeping on the road. The rags she wore gave me an apt description of the best that she could afford to be. Was a slum dweller most probably. I wouldn't be surprised to know if her family had abandoned her to avoid funeral expenses. It would have been easy for me to feel superior to her. Really.
However, that was not to happen. There she was, sleeping. Peacefully. Made me wonder about her. I was happy to see her. She was not lying like she was thrown on the road. Not even like she is ashamed of her own self and is eagerly waiting for the cease of the wretched existence. She had absolutely no emotion and/or expression on her face. I was scared of waking her up. The way she was comfortable belittled me because of the vanity that makes us who we are. If she could be happy and content even on a makeshift bed on a footpath, what makes me grumble all the time? Why do I need more, all the very time?
I made the least noise possible, I wonder if that made a difference although, she was on the road anyways. But I simply honoured her privacy. I moved very close to her, so close that i could observe each and every wrinkle on her face sunken into tanquility. She was not happy, but she was satisfied.
I was so jealous of her. More like I was scared, I was scared that if she wakes up and I see some emotion on her face, I might not be able to stay jealous of her anymore. But if she was still worth being jealous of after she awakens, it would be disheartening. I was happier with me walking away with a hope that she might not be as happy as she appears. I didn't want her to wake up like the way everyone else does. I didn't want to see her wake up and begin her day casually. And even now, I hope she would not have done that.

Every other passer-by would have thought of her as a casualty of the material-driven society. I wonder how many really knew that it is not she, but me (and others like me), who really are a casualty, who really live pointlessly without a reason. I guess she was content for a reason afterall. What a pity, I lack the understanding and logic to realise that one can be happy even within a limit of consumable survival. Plenty is not necessary.

And here, I live on without any tangible sense, but a hope. Hope that she did not smile.

Is it not a shame that I would be better off if I assume that she is worse off than she appeared to be, pray, tell! Maybe it is. Maybe it is I who's the wretch afterall.

Anyways, see ya around.

lover of humanity or hater of mankind?

I am a person who is not really of the sweetish tendencies.
I am brutally crude, honest in the politically correct language. so what happens is.. i always nudge people on the wrong side of their elbows. people despice me, wish to avoid me. they think that i am a hater of mankind.
but tell me, if a connoiseur of food begins to like all food that is served to his/her taste buds, will it make him/her a connoiseur at all?
if a collector of art collects every peice of consumer driver creative imagination, would you really trust his tastes in art?
what makes the aforementioned people really distinguished in their choices is the fact that they choose. if you really like everything that is forced at you by the dire necessity of its presentation, you are, unfortunately, sweet nothing. the fact that everything is not similar exists for a reason. the entire idea being - choice is necessary. the logic behind such a choice is not mandatorily the one that is widely accepted.
By the simple arithmetical calculation which states if a=b and b=c, then a=c; we can easily conclude the following:
(i) i dont like to be nice to everyone
(ii) just because i am not nice to everyone does not necessary make me one, but people think that i am anti-human
(iii) i choose the people to whom i am nice to.
Thus, also you can safely assume that i have my reasons to choose the people who i like and by doing thus, i am displaying my love for humanity. I choose my people with just as much of caution as a connoiseur would choose the delicacy. and that makes me a true lover of humanity.
and its true. I am a lover of humanity, and proudly so. i do have an unusual taste of the same though. but then, instead of not knowing what to like, i know. Having a wrong opinion is better than not having an opinion at all. would it not be an insult to people if i love all of them equally? what if i like to read "Anything for you Ma'm" with the same zeal as i read Macbeth. Its a rebuke of Shakespeare himself. similarly if i like all the people alike, the ones who deserve more respect than the lesser mortals stand insulted.

think about it. its worth it.

See ya around.

Nupur

Generally i prefer not to name people on my blog. But Nupur is not people. She is Nupur.

We have a funny relation. She is my twin, looks alike but much better.

She has always been prettier than me. Always more innocent. But firmer, chirpier and she is the BEST person to argue with. You cant trick her twice.

We have evolved together. Like everyone else. We have had our times.

I still remember, when we were children, i used to do her hair and she would do my studies. I would help mum in the kitchen and she would clean the house. but she would consider me her world. i was an all-important person in her life. all the while. of all the people who know me, she knows me the most.

if at all anyone can predict or understand the logic behind what i do, it is she. she loves me.

But as Oscar Wilde once said, when you wear a mask for a long time, your face tends to grow and get used to it. With due passage of time, we grew up by age. She matured and i got back to childhood. Figuratively speaking, when i look at what has become of her, i cant but feel proud of her conduct. She is independant. FREE. Developed a passion for classy books and speaks as smoothly as a Coyote would run at NE 1.

The most important art that she possesses is her ability and willingness, more so, to charm people. She lives with roommates in a hostel. if it were me, they would have asked me to move out in a month or so. but she has been there for almost a year now and she has made awesome friends. She is so helpful and noble at heart that it makes me jealous.

She is flawed too. If she wasn't i would have died of the burden of being born with a demigod. But its not the flaws that trouble me. There are things which i expect her to dissimilar me. But she doesn't. She is tempestous too. She is stubborn just like me and when earlier it was easier to emotional blackmail her, she has adapted herself to those and now she is just as unmovable as fate.

And then co-inceidentally, i expect her to think like me in a certain areas. But those are the very areas where she begs to differ. and these are too numerous to exemplify.

Thus, there arises conflict between the two of us. Oh! We've had our times. We have fought like crazy animals and we have fought like diplomats. But exactly 4 and a half minute later we start to talk to each other like nothing happened. And that, precisely, is the beauty of us.

We were born together. So she has seen more of me than anything else.

We have shared our solitude together. We have been happy (at times even envious) at the other's fortune. We have bitched together and about each other. We have hit each other (not just when we were children. And here, I'd like to add- however disgraceful it may sound- we are unapolegetic about those times.) and we have moved on with that without mourning or condemning.

Even today, she treats me as her consellor and confidant.

Even today, even if we have not spoken to each other for a while, we can choose to depend on the other.

She shares all my secrets. Even the ones that i decide not to tell her but end up telling her half or quarter of an hour later. She shares all my thoughts.

It is she who makes me a better person all the while. If it were not for her, i would have never been what i am.

Oh MY god, if she sees this post, she will cry tears of disbelief.

however sentimental she may be, underneath the thick solid crust, she has a heart made of old rusted iron. Several volcanoes together can melt her.

but she is an angel when she chooses to be, provided the circumstances allow.

I have an unimaginable way of loving. If you have seen the movie Avatar. You can't fly on a 'declan' unless the declan chooses you. And how would you know that a declan has chosen you - "it will try to kill you" OUTSTANDING!

i don't try to kill nobody. But my ways are unfathomable. only Nupur understands.

So here as you see, Nupur is an important part of my life.

See ya around.

Bus Rides

yeah bus rides.. they are fun my bike is not doing well these days. the spark plug is screwed. i travel by public transport to office everyday. it may sound like a bad thing you know - to depend upon public transport after having the luxury of a lovely two wheeler to act like your dialysis.
However, its not all that terrible.
that too comes in phases - while i am waiting for the bus at the bus stop, everyday, i tell myself, "this is it! i am taking my 8693 to the mechanic today and getting this sorted once and for all. this is the last time." but then i board the bus and i sit quietly and peacefully (refer previous post for details about peace - rather the shortage of it) and just gaze. There is nothing pretty to gaze, but i always think i should get an insight.
Its a wonderful experience to see strangers everytime. The best part of it all. That's one reason why i love the small term memory that i have. i forget faces, people, names, everything. (of course, conditions apply). by doing that i dont have a reputation to stand up to. i do my best to be the one that i think should leave an impression on them. and that impression is my choice. obviously what they think is entirely different. judgements, my dear, are just as certain as death, birth and taxes. so i just let them judge me of what exactly they remember. but i can always be what i choose to be. works for me. and i guess for them too.
so here we are - thinking about strangers. humourously enough, once i met a girl with whom i spoke for around an hour through a traffic jam and while bidding adieu realised that she and i shared the same name (first and last) and the same birth date, and we live in the same locality for almost 5 years now. Yeah! Humanity!
Bizzarre as it was, it was fun.
Thats the way it works. I haven't met the woman since then. Not that her existence is a life changer, but that was a hell lot of co-incidence.
Moreover, whenever i dont want to communicate with anyone, i dont have to frown, fake or detach. Its ok. nobody expects anything out of me.
the most interesting part is, i can easily be ignored. and that is an event which i derive extreme pleasure from. its a good thing to be ignored like i dont even exist.
everyday while getting back from work, i get a lot of time to think and observe how unfair life is not just to me but also to the immensely populated section of society which i have no idea about. serves me good..
feel like i am not the only one.
dont know how and why. i dont know if its right. but then what is?
so i just do what i think i like.
i like to believe that this cruel thing called life doesn't happen only to me. i like to believe that i am not the only lonely wretch in town. i like to believe that those strangers who look happy and pleased with life are just faking so. i like to believe that i am not the devil's favorite one. i like to believe that i can survive everything, just like everyone else. i like to believe that someday, somehow - i'll feel that everything makes sense.
and bus rides, in their own unique way, help.

see ya.

On Peace

Peace of mind matters to me. Like a lot.
More than anything else. even sanity. Yeah, i know i cant be sane for nuts but i cant be peaceful how much so ever hard i try.
if you think i dont try, you are wrong. i try. very much.
but i never happen to get any peace.

you could think that i am chaotic because i am alone right now. but i am not. like i am not chaotic in the true sense of the term. neither am i lonely (like not lonlier than i otherwise am). on the contrary, i have company. someone to make me feel that i need to be taken care of. someone to feel that i matter. someone to make me think that i might just be worth it.
Dear reader, (if any - that is),
you might be wondering "oh yeah! BIG DEAL" all of us have someone to make us feel like-never-before all the time. But not me. i have had someone make me feel like-never-before all the time. but not in a pleasant way. i have had that sort of a feeling only in sheer dismal ways. everyone makes me feel some abominable, detestable, despicable animal all the time. but this is different. over here i refer to the nice, peaceful, pleasant way.

"Upon the stairs I saw a man, who wasn't there; who wasn't there the other day, I wished to god he'd go away."

why away - that's another story. LATER. maybe.

however, let me not drift away from the topic.

i use the word peace pretty loosely perhaps. peace could mean anything to me. it could mean the glorious pain in the way those huge drops of rain slap my face. it could mean the smell of freshly fried french fries with garlic-oregano-cheese dip. it could mean a casual walk along busy streets of mumbai (or even the marine drive). it could be a certain time when i play with words like a violin. even when i just lie on my bed wide awake - like maybe waiting for the ceiling to fall on me, or for some hunky dory lizard to crawl up the 12th floor and sing love songs, don't know what. but i am just wide awake at times. thinking nothing. OK - thinking nothing relevant. FINE - nothing that i want to reveal. Not right now at least.
Peace is a funny word i guess. Why does it even matter eventually? don't we all die and rest in peace? So, is peace synonymous to death? On hindsight - is peace synonymous only to death?
Maybe my question really is why has peace begun effecting me so much? It's been a while now that that happened. Years ago, when i was all excited and eager to face the world and began MY life. It began on a good note. It was good while it lasted. But now when i think of it i realise i've had enough of that. when you reach out to the world to grab as much as you can, you may or may not land up with pieces of the world (i was the latter). However, the more you reach out, the more parts of yourself you tend to loose. And it always begins with innocence - you always loose that first. Then the sparkle in your eyes that signifies the entire concept of the earnestness. Then the warmth, the fear, the inhibitions, reluctance. and before you realise, you are out of everything - everything that may seem to be so little when you have it but when you come to see it, THOSE little things are the very things that we seek in the other people who we prefer to keep close to us little realising that those people also might be searching for the same worldly possessions.
These losses that i talk so un-frugally about; these and the variety of others that follow, come with their own phases. Like those of chronic depression, angst, aloofness, mood-swings (and i dont mean only for women - these are not the phases of PMS), there are a lot of things that cant really be fathomed in all these times. a lot of time - valuable time, mind you- is spent on trying to figure things out and wonder what has exactly happened and why things are working that ways.
in totality, before you even realise, you have lost all time for peace.

when i try and find the peace that i once had, i ransacked every imaginable corner of my brain, hoping that peace might have been unknowingly tucked in some closet or brushed underneath some carpet or some place that i could not find. but well, i was -as usual- proved wrong. It was nowhere. wonder why? i wonder too, but i dont really get an answer.

have you ever prized something too much but have not even realised when you lost it? like maybe an i-pod that was with you before you boarded the 22:08 local but mysteriously dissappeared by the time you reached home safely? or did you ever meet the guy you could die for in school a few years after your acquaintance and failed to recognise him for say 20 minutes? at least did you ever wonder what it may make you feel like?

it'll make you feel like your favorite love song was actually written for a sandwich
or maybe like the radio jockey whose voice makes you swoon is actually a girl (astonishingly enough you could bet your life once on the fact that its a guy)
or maybe like a revelation of the fact that earth is actually a barren cube and aristotle was only making fun of us all this while

hmm- i assume now you know what i felt like. or at least, so i hope, you have a faint idea.
i felt cheated. i felt cheated by my own belief. like there was this thing which i always believed i had. all the time. i used to believe that its only human to adapt and change. but even while we evolve ourselves, we still are just as peaceful as ever. but i never bothered to check the fact.
now i wish i would have checked. today i am not at peace with myself. maybe that's the reason why it matters to me at all.
anyways, thats the way of life i presume. it makes omlettes out of brains - crack crack crack- whisk whisk whisk and splat. all is gone before you realise.

********** i have been writing this post for 2 days now. and i have this tendency to not know when to stop. so i am going to get lost now. and if you, my dear, wasted time in reading this one, i feel sorry for you. It didn't make senses. like not the post - but the idea of reading it and trying to comprehend it. :)

anyways,
see ya around.

i'm alright.

I've been alright in all these days,
so alright that its beginning to hurt now
how can i?
its unnerving to know that i have not been obnoxious to living all this while. i have clung to life like a parasite whereas am i not used to it. so the obvious question - where have i been all these days?
i am specifically mentioning the question for the male readers (if any) because a woman would easily ask this, but for a man its so easy to see/realise/feel everything but the obvious.
and for the answer to the question!
i had been home - like to a relative's place. and how i love being at relative's places for festivals. specially when i get bullied like cattle for being horizontally enhanced. yeah! whatever!
but then there were kids... three of them. lovable at that - two of them were still toddlers. and i like, actually i abso-freaking-lutely adore kids who dont talk except in their own language.
so i loved that part.

and then, there was a abnormality in life. there was this time when i felt annoyingly important. important to myself. i was angry at my hair because it generally falls straight and nice otherwise. but it was all grumpy and dull when i most wanted it to be straight and nice. i was feeling fat (not that i am thin otherwise, but a lot more because of the bullying shit.) i felt the abnormal urge to be pretty which is exasperating because i love the idea of being the ugly wretch generally. its actually fun to be the ugly wretch you know. but i didn't want to be that. i wanted to be something that i am entirely not. its a bad thing, they say.
OK! i know they dont particularly matter. but even then. they tend to matter if they are a work of my magnificient imagination. (hah! of course. what did you think? a certain 'they' walk up to me for some morose reason and whisper stuff like that in my ears? haha)
so, let me rephrase. i think its a bad thing to want to be something/someone i am not.
WHY?
do you think i know?
i have no idea why. but yet, its a bad thing. lets just keep it at that.

so what happened? you wondering..
had been to a nice place for my first vacation ever.
clicked a lot of pictures.
but vacationing is so not me. its just that all the roaming around that i have done has been a different exercise altogether. like either with family pretending to be all nice and cute and obidient and stuff like that or i have been out for the entire day with adriana and his friends, where i am the biker 'babe' who can crack sarcastic, brutal smart jokes at the very spur of any moment, who can tolerate anything and everything - even pain. so basically i am not me ever.

but when am i 'me' exactly?
thats a tough question. although i know the answer, but not now.

and i have had a startling discovery in these days. and i am astonished at the normalcy at which i am handling that too. i have been nourishing a broken dream for a while. i always like broken/shattered/smashed possessions. they never fade. not even their memories. like i once told my the then 'guy' - you'd never realise how much i care for you untill i am not there anymore. that held true. now that i am not there anymore, i have lost him again. i have had gotten so used to the pain of losing him (or so i thought) that i assumed it does not matter to me anymore. but now, when i think of it, it is not all that ok. but i am - like i said - alright.
annoyed - maybe
cheated - maybe
lonely - definately not
peaceful - i guess
happy - whatever
alright - obviously

chill ! women are difficult to interpret.

chuck it. the more you try to understand me, the more likely i am to change right after you get a bit of it.

as usual - see ya around!

Realisations..

Its been a while that i have been alive.. or so i'd like to believe.

After a lot of years of enduring this wholesome affair, i've had my realisations.

and a lot of them.

Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

and they say Shakespeare is difficult to understand. this is my belief. if this is difficult to believe/understand, nothing can be fathomed. i've realised in all this while that life is such a funny thing. even if you weren't born nobody would have realised you could have had existed. nothing, for that matter, matters.

look at the guy who invented the wheel.. who was he anyways! i feel the fellow who invented the other three wheels was the smarter ass.

i have realised that a lot of emotions- be it love, care, angst, for that matter even hunger- are only a development ordained by the phenomenal creatures who flock to form a society of consumer driven individuals. when you feel that you have begun to care about someone and that very someone cares for you too. LO! you might just be in for a surprise. what happens is actually a very realistically arranged concatenation of events which might not really mean that you would still be caring for the same people in the near future.

i have begun to realise that nothing essentially matters to the human mind. there are times that you believe that you'd never forget 'this'. but then, that 'this' becomes 'that something' soon enough. here. soon could be anything depending on the vitality of the event.

for that matter i even realised money, or even the scarcity of it, doesn't matter. today if you are poor, or not, either you are used to it already or you'd get used to it gradually. and also, whenever you get the money for primary sustainance or even plenty of it.. you'd feel that it was the most natural thing to happen. the mind is an amazing thing. it gets used to almost anything.

i've realised that whenever you need something, really really need something, the possibility of you getting it is inversely proportional to the amount of need/greed/desire you'd manage to gather for it.

i've also realised that if you really wish for something to work out, you'd be the one screwing it the most.

and i've realised that the most loving people are just the offsprings of the most wholesome unsatisfied bitches in town

and not forgetting the realisation that the ones who are good to everybody are good to nobody. not even themselves. which is why i am cruel, blunt as a spoon, crude and unapolegetic about being all this. :P

and then, there are a lot of things that i realised. but maybe some other time..

i am too drowsy now to delve into the details of anything else.

but then the most important lesson learnt was always the words that an imaginary someone once murmured to me in my sleep - whenever you screw up, just remember you weren't the only one to do so. life is just a very very painful ordeal and it won't last forever. make the mistakes that you always wanted to. you definitely won't get a second chance to make those mistakes and if you need a second chance, you don't deserve one.

to me nothing matters more than peace- of mind and otherwise.

well......... scared are we?

thats the way i prefer...

see ya around!

a new experience..

i have joined an office.. like i have begun working.. its been a while...
last time i checked... i was just 12 years of age..
but well... time flew by.... din't take me along...
so well, i manage to pretend to know how to behave in public. and gosh! i can safely assume that i'm good at it.
i still remember a certain Debajit/sheesh Dey once complimented me that i am to intelligent for my age (was 19 then)... sometimes i wonder if i was smart or if he was dumb... i guess the latter.. specially considering the fact that i don't even remember his first name. and then once a girl told me that i am the nicest person she has ever come accross (that was because i had helped her for no good reason)

oh well, drifting away from the topic, am i?

dragging myself back..
i am working in a certain remote area in rajasthan. its nice. like i love rajasthan when its green. nothing can supress the pleasure i derive from passing through fields of greens protected by walls of hospitable cactus. reminds me of ol' times.

however, this time i'm stuffed. yeah, apart from ageing.. that comes because of a lot of reasons.

there's solitude that i need to take care of. and its difficult. not that i'm not alone when i'm amongst people. but when i'm in my own world, people are used to me. i don't have to smile at every random face i think i spoke to 15 minutes ago (yeah, short term memory). i don't have to be nice when people ask me sweet ice-breakers like "where are you from?" (how i wish i could answer pluto to that one.)
ah! never mind.
crux of the matter.. i am alone here. and its good.... at times..
being alone hurts when ... well, sometimes.
i wonder why.. but my biggest fear of all times is the fear of dying a loner. Not that any amount of humanity can make life any less miserable.. but i need to talk.

anyways.. i've clicked pictures. i love to click pictures.

any random new thing that catches my attention needs to be on my camera(5mp is good enough.. not really.. but yeah! whatever..) because i would easily forget it later considering the sharp memory that i have.

so.. here i am.. when i was in a power plant for some work.. my peers wondered why was i smiling... little did they realise that i have grown up in a manufacturing company's vicinity.. so the humungous noise that the plant made reminded me of my "lovely" childhood *of course i was sarcastic, deal with it!*
its nice.
the pictures.. well..
i'd see which ones to upload and would be here soon.

the food here is miserable.. so that helps me discover the levels to which i can bear hunger and survive on dog-food.

FOOD! yess... the next post could be on food.. that'd be nice.

anyways.. i do a lot of donkey-work in here. so no point in even getting started about work.
i do intend to roam arouind a lot of places and collect memoirs.. but that might happen sometime.

so here.. it gives me a lot of time to introspect. at times i even get a feeling that i am not entirely unlivable with. manage to scrape through.. and quite well too.
guess it just is alright.
i used to always wish for the me-time.

i do get some of it now. but i dont know if this was what i wished for. but what i get is not bad either. tends to get wearisome at times. but a little frustration is good for the mind and soul. works as a check on goals and achievements. like a good exercise for the mind.

its not noisy at all. i like peace. but in here its as silent as a graveyard. welcoming for all the inner demons to creep up in my mind stealthily and devour all remains of sanity. THAT is what makes it a trying time. i have succumbed yet. but ravages of time "thou art worthy of thine shame"

hmmm.. so thats where we get. its not entirely unpleasant, though. i have my moments of pleasantries too. but those too come with a whole new set of questions about guilt, worth, longevity, trust and truth. its insane. but worth it! (or so i think)

di'nt get a shit of all of the above, did you?

well.. lots more to come.

now you know why my blogs have on 35 veiws approximately?

:D

that should be it for now..

take loads of care of yourself..

see you around..

PS.. i am not f**ked at punctuations. i dont respect myself enough to use 'I' and nothing else is worth the effort.

What's in a name?

This has to be my 'n'th first post...
Anyways.. Hellos to all new readers (Imaginary and otherwise)

Since this happens to be a first post.. I thought i'd do the introduction bit one more time.

And thus.. the title.. What's in a Name.. coming from me.. it has to make sense.. i live with a name which is the most common of all.. so i choose to rechristen myself all the time..

Ask my best friend.. he added me on Orkut(Yeah, the dead site... i am from those good ol' days when orkut was a rage... like the most IN thing) thinking that my name is Desdemona.. and he went "how can someone live with a name like that.." and lo! he added me... Haha! Fooled you!

But what the heck! Still managed to make like the most awesome friends with him.

Wait.. thats another story.. Later..

for now.. lets see introduction.... not of me.. but the blog.. what could you expect.. to read here..

hmmm.. you could read lots of crazy stuff... crazy is my middle name.. like i dont use my father's name... :D.. hah! what did you think..

you could even read my to do list... or even my long sad, depressing stories about myself or the days, or the people, or the places that i am in.. or the past.. or about feminism.. or about something interesting..

(i begin each blog with a certain idea and finally end up deleting the blog when i realise that it has only depressive crap about stuff that doesn't even matter)

so all in all.. the question remains unanswered.. regarding what could you expect.. i guess you could just let it be... wait and watch.. as the mystery unfolds...

oh! isn't that exactly the way i like?

yes it is.

so.. this is it..

i, as always, shall blog about thoughts and stuff that strikes my mind with lightening speed and then dissappears like thin air...

seems interesting..

now that i have a lot of time.. i'll update the next post..

see you around!