I came across this yesterday, at work. And I missed my dog a lot. You see...I think he's quite a retard too. I was glad there are more like him... :)
Monday, July 19, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
I'll Go For Miles Till I Find You
Then looking upwards
I strain my eyes and try
To tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites
From the passenger seat as you are driving me home.
"Do they collide?"
I ask and you smile.
With my feet on the dash
The world doesn't matter.
I've been having a pretty normal week.For the first time in four months, I'm not crumbling under the pressure of work. I know I have a lot on my plate, but let's worry about that next week?
It's funny how we're slowly graduating from going to fancy restaurants, swanky clubs and bright, high ends places to hang out to normal, basic places. I am so glad about that. The evenings no longer end with a hole in my pocket. It's the pulse of the city that we truly feel in these underrated places. It's a feeling I can hardly express.
Last weekend, we chured out around 5 lists of where we wanted to go. My inbox received it's usual weekend planner from "brown paper bag". Like tradition, we never followed it.
At 11pm, I was sprawled on the floor, youtubing the famous "community channel" and feeling miserable. The other two were on calls, trying to push time to move faster so it would be the 'respectable' time to sleep on a weekend.
Just then a friend called. And decided to save the night. To begin with, there was no plan. The night seemed friendly, and quite frankly, a walk was all I needed. A walk is all I ever need, always.
We happened to reach Juhu beach. It had just rained. The sand was damp and made a squelching sound as we walked along. Our slippers seemed to be made of that muck, within 5 minutes. And so, the smart thing to do was to walk bare foot.
We talked as we watched the waves making continuous happy crescendos, riding over the calm water of the pensive sea. Humans were scanty around the entire stretch of the beach. It was just us, four friends, and the sea. The sea almost seemed to be laying a bait for me to run towards it. It was fascinating and yet, scary. I knew the sea wanted to eat me. I still wanted the sea.
We sat down, and we watched the lights from afar, the ships anchored right in the middle of the sea. They seemed to be teasing me, having reached where I would have liked to go, at that very moment.
After what seemed like a lifetime, it was time to go back. We walked in the opposite direction, to see where it would lead us to. In the middle of the walk, with the wind playing with our hair and happily whistling around,a sudden spurt of energy got me running. Me and my friend ran, for about half the stretch. I ran like I was 13. I ran fast, and I cursed my friend, beating my pace, all along. My lungs were about to burst, but I still ran to reach my mark. I slipped a bit, my legs ached, but i ran. We touched the pole that marked the end of the race. As i stood doubled up, catching my breath, I could almost feel the fresh, healthy oxygen passing through my starved lungs, calming it every minute.
It was time for home. We rode through the rain washed, empty, quiet roads. With the passing of each turn, I felt I had left behind another memory...
When you feel embarrassed then I'll be your pride
When you need directions then I'll be the guide
For all time.
For all time.
I strain my eyes and try
To tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites
From the passenger seat as you are driving me home.
"Do they collide?"
I ask and you smile.
With my feet on the dash
The world doesn't matter.
I've been having a pretty normal week.For the first time in four months, I'm not crumbling under the pressure of work. I know I have a lot on my plate, but let's worry about that next week?
It's funny how we're slowly graduating from going to fancy restaurants, swanky clubs and bright, high ends places to hang out to normal, basic places. I am so glad about that. The evenings no longer end with a hole in my pocket. It's the pulse of the city that we truly feel in these underrated places. It's a feeling I can hardly express.
Last weekend, we chured out around 5 lists of where we wanted to go. My inbox received it's usual weekend planner from "brown paper bag". Like tradition, we never followed it.
At 11pm, I was sprawled on the floor, youtubing the famous "community channel" and feeling miserable. The other two were on calls, trying to push time to move faster so it would be the 'respectable' time to sleep on a weekend.
Just then a friend called. And decided to save the night. To begin with, there was no plan. The night seemed friendly, and quite frankly, a walk was all I needed. A walk is all I ever need, always.
We happened to reach Juhu beach. It had just rained. The sand was damp and made a squelching sound as we walked along. Our slippers seemed to be made of that muck, within 5 minutes. And so, the smart thing to do was to walk bare foot.
We talked as we watched the waves making continuous happy crescendos, riding over the calm water of the pensive sea. Humans were scanty around the entire stretch of the beach. It was just us, four friends, and the sea. The sea almost seemed to be laying a bait for me to run towards it. It was fascinating and yet, scary. I knew the sea wanted to eat me. I still wanted the sea.
We sat down, and we watched the lights from afar, the ships anchored right in the middle of the sea. They seemed to be teasing me, having reached where I would have liked to go, at that very moment.
After what seemed like a lifetime, it was time to go back. We walked in the opposite direction, to see where it would lead us to. In the middle of the walk, with the wind playing with our hair and happily whistling around,a sudden spurt of energy got me running. Me and my friend ran, for about half the stretch. I ran like I was 13. I ran fast, and I cursed my friend, beating my pace, all along. My lungs were about to burst, but I still ran to reach my mark. I slipped a bit, my legs ached, but i ran. We touched the pole that marked the end of the race. As i stood doubled up, catching my breath, I could almost feel the fresh, healthy oxygen passing through my starved lungs, calming it every minute.
It was time for home. We rode through the rain washed, empty, quiet roads. With the passing of each turn, I felt I had left behind another memory...
When you feel embarrassed then I'll be your pride
When you need directions then I'll be the guide
For all time.
For all time.
Sunday, July 04, 2010
All that's left is shifting in the sand.
it's only two days back that I realized we had completed the one year mark in Bombay. I wont quote the cliche' "time just flew", over all. It was a two pronged life that was running parallel. One that encompassed all the happenings of college, that is to say, the classes, teachers, friends, parties, etc. And the other was a ...slightly confused mesh of the life I had left behind in Delhi and the happenings that kept chasing me, affecting me, finally leading to reactions,all throughout. This also included my family- a movie that was continuously in the making, of which I was an indispensable part,even though I was away. There were happy times when I'd sit and sulk about how time was just passing by, and I wanted to hold on to it, as tightly as I could, because I knew I couldn't live them again. And then, there were times when I'd just wish this would get over like a bad dream.
However, all said and done, Bombay life has been eventful. So much so, that 'dramatic' would be an understatement.
You can't hate Bombay. Mostly because it teaches you how to survive. Because it is a life crunched for time. It gives you no time to linger on to extreme emotions for too long. It is a flood of all-cramped-in-one bag full of moments and memories. I know I might be living that time, which I will reminiscence for all my life. Right now, I don't have the time to savor it, because I have something else cropping up, already. It's this continuous chain of unstoppable events. You can't halt and take a breather.Bombay is a marathon, it only ends when you give up. And no one does.
We decided to celebrate this one year anniversary. So we went to one of my favorite places- Ghetto. Ghetto, unlike Mondy's, has no sentiments attached to it. I don't remember having any exceptional nights there with friends. I don't remember any sort of lifetime memory associated with it either. Even then, I love the place. Most think it's a little over the top. But it's just fine for me.
The three of us hardly 'talked', to begin with. We did not remember old days. We didn't well up for the sake of tradition, we did nothing out of the rule book, we didn't even wish each other. We played silly games, and laughed at our stupidity. We only played pop corn football and used our mouths as goal posts. We only wrote illegible nothings on the walls and talked about inconsequential people.
And then we took a bus home.
That ride will probably be the highlight of this year, at least for me. The empty bus ride in the dead of the night, with rain washed roads smelling of freshly baked, intoxicating sand, was the best 'Bombay moment'. I saw what defines Bombay.It's the night. Bombay is the city for insomniacs, it's the glitter and the glam of the unapproachable's we like watching from a distance, it's the free populace, unaffected by the hour clock, still on the go. It is those people, who prefer looking outside at the beautiful streets witness to centuries of everyday life.
We watched rows and rows of shops running past us...people slung over the bus stop poles, engulfed with a cloud of smoke that was mating lazily with the darkness and vanishing within a blink. I felt that one year had taught me more than I needed to know. Home, suddenly, felt distant. I knew then, that it would always, and forever be my final destination.
We went shopping, the next day, when the heavens decided to dole out a blast of it's life- giving element. Water was everywhere and we were floating in it's magnanimity. It was the first time we relaxed our frown lines. I closed my umbrella and stuffed it inside my non-water proof, empty bag. We rolled up our jeans and decided to wade across the multiple English channels, our slippers deciding to float on their own accord, way ahead of us. We didn't know where we walked. We didn't know how deep the next pool was going to be. We just half walked, half floated, and half dragged ourselves from one puddle to the next. This too, was Bombay. The rains are an essential characteristic feature.You either hate it and suffer. Or you love it and...still suffer, eventually. We decided to do the latter.
Yes, it's been a year. It's been a year of a new life, unfamiliar faces turning friendly ...and hostile....it's been a year of laughing together. It's been a year of sulking and complaining. It's been a year of trusting and giving, of losing and finding new ways, discovering and re-discovering friends. Accepting changes and transforming. Redeeming and redefining.
It's been a lifetime here. For old times and new.
Thankyou Bombay.
However, all said and done, Bombay life has been eventful. So much so, that 'dramatic' would be an understatement.
You can't hate Bombay. Mostly because it teaches you how to survive. Because it is a life crunched for time. It gives you no time to linger on to extreme emotions for too long. It is a flood of all-cramped-in-one bag full of moments and memories. I know I might be living that time, which I will reminiscence for all my life. Right now, I don't have the time to savor it, because I have something else cropping up, already. It's this continuous chain of unstoppable events. You can't halt and take a breather.Bombay is a marathon, it only ends when you give up. And no one does.
We decided to celebrate this one year anniversary. So we went to one of my favorite places- Ghetto. Ghetto, unlike Mondy's, has no sentiments attached to it. I don't remember having any exceptional nights there with friends. I don't remember any sort of lifetime memory associated with it either. Even then, I love the place. Most think it's a little over the top. But it's just fine for me.
The three of us hardly 'talked', to begin with. We did not remember old days. We didn't well up for the sake of tradition, we did nothing out of the rule book, we didn't even wish each other. We played silly games, and laughed at our stupidity. We only played pop corn football and used our mouths as goal posts. We only wrote illegible nothings on the walls and talked about inconsequential people.
And then we took a bus home.
That ride will probably be the highlight of this year, at least for me. The empty bus ride in the dead of the night, with rain washed roads smelling of freshly baked, intoxicating sand, was the best 'Bombay moment'. I saw what defines Bombay.It's the night. Bombay is the city for insomniacs, it's the glitter and the glam of the unapproachable's we like watching from a distance, it's the free populace, unaffected by the hour clock, still on the go. It is those people, who prefer looking outside at the beautiful streets witness to centuries of everyday life.
We watched rows and rows of shops running past us...people slung over the bus stop poles, engulfed with a cloud of smoke that was mating lazily with the darkness and vanishing within a blink. I felt that one year had taught me more than I needed to know. Home, suddenly, felt distant. I knew then, that it would always, and forever be my final destination.
We went shopping, the next day, when the heavens decided to dole out a blast of it's life- giving element. Water was everywhere and we were floating in it's magnanimity. It was the first time we relaxed our frown lines. I closed my umbrella and stuffed it inside my non-water proof, empty bag. We rolled up our jeans and decided to wade across the multiple English channels, our slippers deciding to float on their own accord, way ahead of us. We didn't know where we walked. We didn't know how deep the next pool was going to be. We just half walked, half floated, and half dragged ourselves from one puddle to the next. This too, was Bombay. The rains are an essential characteristic feature.You either hate it and suffer. Or you love it and...still suffer, eventually. We decided to do the latter.
Yes, it's been a year. It's been a year of a new life, unfamiliar faces turning friendly ...and hostile....it's been a year of laughing together. It's been a year of sulking and complaining. It's been a year of trusting and giving, of losing and finding new ways, discovering and re-discovering friends. Accepting changes and transforming. Redeeming and redefining.
It's been a lifetime here. For old times and new.
Thankyou Bombay.
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