Here's a rant you think you know ALL about

I'm at work, trying to read up on the climatic crisis that's affecting our world, and its economy. I'm trying to think BIG, and smart and .... nerdy. But what am I really thinking? I'm thinking about taking a short trip to some unfamiliar place. I'm thinking of doing an all-girls trip to Goa. I'm thinking of the Audioslave playlist songs that are on a loop, in my mind. I am also noticing my flingers flying across the keyboard, showing flashes of bright yellow. Yes, that's the colour they're painted in. As I type, my mind is still wandering. I'm craving candy floss. And also, my mom's chocolate fudge. I'm also wondering, why my favorite blogger is not updating on a regular basis, and when will my fav blogger write about something really funny. Also, most importantly, why is my fav blogger suffering from self-esteem (read: are my blogs REALLY good) issues.

Anyway, so I've been considering free-lancing now. Not so much as 'I love to write' issue. More of, I want more money sort of a thing. There are days when I can take time off and do the free lancing bit. There are days I'd swear loudly and curse myself for signing up for it. Right now, we're at the former. So, I need free lancing assignments. I don't know whom to contact. So, maybe I'll get down to that once I am done writing some gibberish here.

I have thoughts, revelations and weirdly-true-but no-one-cares-to-say-so quotes streaming out of me, all the time these days. No, I doubt if I'm getting smarter. I think my mind is just getting too over-excited with the world it see's around. Here are some things I thought of. IF you try and knock off any of these to decorate on your blog, I'm going to KNOW. Believe me I will *waves fist*

1. The first self-made dish always turns out bad. The magnitude of bad increases with the number of people who wait to taste it.That is, they are directly proportional. 10 people= bad dish. 100 people= GROSE dish. 1000= Puke, possibly food poisioning, maybe death.

2. Women staring at you, even smilingly, are not thinking of your beauty at all. They're wondering when you got your last wax. True story.

3. The slangs you used in school got lost when you went to college. They come up again, strangely so, later in your life and you can't believe you ever used them.

4. You can have a decent conversation with yourself in your mind. If you're caught talking to yourself, you usually pas it off by casually whistling or pretending to sing. You can also stare angrily to show you do NOT appreciate being stared at.

5. Google is the answer to all your questions. I mean, seriously!

6. It's better to be ignorant than smart. You make friends faster.

7. Everyone wants a good listener around.

8. Please nod when someone tells you something.

9. Washroom is full of awesome gossip.

10. It's so cool to have your own extension number.

11. It's funny to watch an awkward couple on a date.

12. A glass of soda can set all your troubles away.

13. It's difficult to smile when the food you eat is not of your choice.

12. Everyone is paranoid about having their email hacked.

13. Dogs always eat your favorite toys.

14. Red lipstick can make you look incredible or horrendeous.

15. Ever wanted to stand up on your desk and scream in an extremely quiet room?

16. Cursing is like anger management.

17. The manufacturing of goodlooking men stopped sometime during 1945..AD'ish. A few inhabit the earth now.

18. How I Met Your Mother has no ending. Seriously. It's like 12 seasons of prank, and you SO got fooled!

19. It is easier to pick on a pimple than to wait for it to subside. Wait, easier? Better, I mean.

20. If you feel fat, you ARE fat. So stop asking and start exercising.

That's it for now. Later maybe, soon.

Tada!

Been there....done that... :)

Letter home from school...

Dear Dad,

$chool i$ really great. I am making lot$ of friend$ and $tudying very hard. With all my $tuff, I $imply can't think of anything I need, $o if you would like, you can ju$t $end me a card, a$ I would love to hear from you.

Love,
Your $on.

A week later..... a letter from "home"

Dear Son,

I kNOw that astroNOmy, ecoNOmics, and oceaNOgraphy are eNOugh to keep even an hoNOr student busy. Do NOt forget that the pursuit of kNOwledge is a NOble task, and you can never study eNOugh.

Love,
Dad



Source: deardad.pen.io

So THAT'S new!

"Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo." is a grammatically valid sentence in the English language, used as an example of how homonyms and homophones can be used to create complicated linguistic constructs

The sentence is unpunctuated and uses three different readings of the word "buffalo". In order of their first use, these are

• a. the city of Buffalo, New York, which is used as a noun adjunct in the sentence and is followed by the animal;
• n. the noun buffalo, an animal, in the plural (equivalent to "buffaloes" or "buffalos"), in order to avoid articles;
• v. the verb "buffalo" meaning to bully, confuse, deceive, or intimidate.

Marking each "buffalo" with its use as shown above gives:

Buffalo^a buffaloⁿ Buffalo^a buffaloⁿ buffalo^v buffalo^v Buffalo^a buffaloⁿ.

Thus, the sentence when parsed reads as a claim that bison who are intimidated or bullied by bison are themselves intimidating or bullying to bison

Helllooowwwww thereeeeee

My my, hey hey
Rock and roll is here to stay
It's better to burn out
Than to fade away
My my, hey hey.

Out of the blue and into the black
They give you this, but you pay for that
And once you're gone, you can never come back
When you're out of the blue and into the black.

This track is a find, honestly. If you haven't heard it, then please open its youtube page and let it buffer while you read on.
I just got back from Jodhpur, from a friends wedding. Its werid how I remember my childhood days so well, the minutest, most unimportant details, of how people around me looked, how they talked, their quirks, the roads, the shops, etc. I've been in Jodhpur for two whole years, and that part of my memory is a complete blank. Was I an unhappy child back then? So much so, that all those days have been completelty rubbed off from my mind? It felt like I was visitng a completely new city, and I was as wonderstruck, and as amazed, as my other friends, visiting places, walking through lanes, driving on a empty roads. Oh yeah, empty. The first thing that struck me was the lack of traffic. What a relief. I could breathe on the roads and know there was minimal carbon going inside my already adultrated lungs.

The marriage was just how I had imagined, actually. I knew the set up would be dripping with all the Rajasthani traditions and customs, all the one's that make me happy, secretly, knowing I belong to the same culture. What was more fascinating and appealing was to watch people dressed in Jodhpuris, bandhgalas, etc. and conversing in the native language which oozes royality. Rajasthan is such a rich state, in every sense of the word. The culture, the languages, the food, the clothes, etc. The usual tease and the cheek which is the trademark of mostly all weddings was plesantly absant in this one. We were a part of a bigger, more dignified wedlock, which was so charming, minus the essential ingredients that are indespensible in a Delhi, or UP sort of a marriage. We weren't flowing in non-exhaustive supply of alcohol, the conversation among the most excited and important were tame and the only thing that was supersonic was when the speaker volume reached a prohibitted level for a second and a half, accidently. It wasn't a wedding. It was a marriage. I'm definitely not drawing a parallel in terms of preference. It's great to be a part of a ceremony which isn't like the usual. I don't mind, either, personally!

Life is back to the usual. Work, work, and more work. I never thought I'd say this, but I am really excited for tomorrows match. CRICKET match. The world cup final happens tomorrow, and not a single Indian can mask the excitement or contain the patriotism. It's in the air and no one can escape it. We're all infected. It's a great feeling. I was travelling in the train when the semi-final was upon us. A SEMI-FINAL with PAKISTAN. A doublly important match mixed with the already infectious excitement that the new religion, cricket, brings with it, had me downloading the match score application on my phone. 6 of us, huddled over my phone for some four hours, bursting with nervous excitement and constant prayers for the country to have its name in the finals list, was something I thought I would never be a part of in my life. I was. I really was. The train was quiet, and the lights were off. We could hear the rhythmic snoring, shifting and shuffling as we bore our eyes on the scorecard, waiting for the steady increase in the column that showed "wickets". Everytime it went one number up, we'd whoop and scream, but not loud enough, still. We were waiting for the last second. After that pandemonium would reign, surely. Before my phone could update the score, one friend got a call, and we knew we the world had burst at that very point. There was only screaming, and as the voices carried through the train corridoor, the sleepy eyes and tired bodies sprung up with an energy which seemed to be hibernating within them for what seemed like years. The entire train screamed in one single "YAY". We were in the middle of nowhere, but we didn't feel it. We were in India, and everywhere, everyone around us was a part of one common link that brought us together- cricket.

Cricket is not a sport. It might not even be a religion, since that too is reaching redundancy. Maybe it is an overwhelming feeling, a super natural power that has the capacity to bring us together. There is nothing bigger, more important than making each and every individual of a country feel proud of their identity, the soil which gave them life. I don't know what cricket is. No one knows what cricket is.

On another topic, Coke Studio. That's another one highly recommended. Please do give it a listen. There's nothing more soulful (for now!)

 Im hungry. I had lunch just a while back. Im still hungry.

It's a friday. There's music in my room. Not the annoying sort, ofcourse. Good. Old classics. I like very much. It really isn't that bad an idea to work with light music for light work.

The king is gone but he's not forgotten
Is this the story of johnny rotten?
It's better to burn out 'cause rust never sleeps
The king is gone but he's not forgotten.

Hey hey, my my
Rock and roll can never die
There's more to the picture
Than meets the eye.

-Hey Hey, My My- Neil Young

More later.
Love

Jibber and Jabber of Everyday

Wow, another entry, so soon, my my!

So, I've been working, and the weekend just goes by like it never came. I know my social life is at a stand still. I know I am to be blamed. I know I'm practically doing nothing about it. I know this needs to change.

A friends wedding at the end of this month is something I am really looking forward to. It's going to be a much-awaited reunion and there's nothing else that's being talked about, for the past one week. My clothes are undecided, I hope  my leave is really sanctioned, and I know I'm leaving at a terrible time- the first cut of my magazine will be out by then. I will miss the most exciting days. But what the heck. It's not everyday a friend gets married. It's not everyday you go to Jodhpur. It's not everyday you bunk work for reasons other than laziness and lack of motivation.

I'm also looking forward to Rudy's visit , for next month. I am more than looking forward to it. It's leading to a lot of happy day dreams. It's feels like forever since we met. It always feels so.

My office room has had some highly exciting changes in its occupancy. It's become a competely edit room. All the trash (read: media sales) herd has been shooe'ed away. Its mostly habitable, to say the least. The volume of dialogues has gone down. The varying pitch of different voices are very tolerable, and post luch, its mostly quiet. I just remembered, I haven't done any decoration (pined up interesting stuff) on my desk board. Which is funny, since I used to have a lot of interesting material, write ups and sketches sitting in my drawer, in my previous company, hoping to find a place to be advertised.

Here's a disclaimer, by the way, in case you're planning on getting a blackberry. It brings down your privacy to zero. It connects you to people you need to be connected to.It also connects you to people you need to disconnect with. It's a very confusing package. It can lead to indecisive depression. It can also lead to a crazed up elation. Take your pick, so.

I have no new music again. I heard almost all that Rudy sent me. I;ve been listening to Death Cab..again. And it reminds me of those bus rides during monsoon, from Bandra to Worli, duing my office days. I love that feeling. I like making those connections, I like joining those dots.

Chalo, I need to get back to work. I've eaten into my work time, yes, guilt free, though, but now I really must go back to ....what? WRITING. HAH! Yes, thats my profession and I get paid for it. How's THAT! (P.S- really, its not all that fancy. The writers block becomes more pronounced when you take it up as a profession. Blogging is the best thing that happend to us, really)

Soon then.

All the love

The TIMES, They Are a Changin'

Hellooo HELLooooooo!

It's so ironical, that only y'day I was wondering how people find time to blog at their work place. And then I vaguely thought I'd only have time during weekends to update here. Numerous weekends have gone by, and this space has remained untouched. It's a thursday morning, and I know I have certain important calls to make. And I am doing what? I'm chilling (in the giuse of working). My computer screen is a little turned towards a blank stretch of wall today, so no one knows what I am upto. There's a good chance that they might just know anyway, since no one in my room works. That's another story.

YES, I have a job now, and TOI is going to make me rich (rich= pay my own mobile bills, incessent shopping and make secret trips across the country for "work"). Therefore, this is good.

I like my work.I'm so gald I started work in the wrong profession so I could understand and like my , now, work even more. Actually, come to think of it. There are so many things in my life that I am glad were just bad decisions, so I could appreciate the good ones more. hmm hmmm.

I sit next to the media sales people. And they are all born with woofers fitted inside their vocal cords. Most of my enerygy and concentration goes in trying to block out all the unnecessary jabbering and screaming. It's also rather unfortunate and sad that I share the same working space with two women who truly have dung brains and their converations reflect a negative intellectual graph.

I've been high on Avial music for the past two weeks. I wish I could really understand the language, and speak it. Malayalam is very interesting.

I miss Bombay, a LOT, but certain things about Delhi are highly endearing. I'm so torn between the two cities, that I need to move soon. To either Hyderabad or Banglore :P

My music classes are going okay, (I guess), but I know my music teacher might start paying me to not attend the classes. I usually go completely unpracticed, with just a sheepish smile and a request "can we run over what we learnt in the last class again.........plis..."

There's an important family wedding in August, in Kerela!! Our khandaan is ready to come for this one, it seems, since for the first time, the venue is not the same that has been repeating for almost a century.

There's a lot more that has been happening, but I need to jet.

More sooon-ish.

Love.

It's Never Too Late For A HAPPPY NEW YEARRR!!

Last December I was on tenderhooks, since the year was coming to a promising end, and I was more than impatient to get on with the new year plans. 2010 has been the worst year, they all say, and I am sure they'll be hardly who wouldn't agree. Rest assured, though, my new year was fabulous.

Goa is the most beautiful little place I've been to. I miss the candle lit dinners, the breakfast and lunch at the beach shacks, the long aimless walks on the beach, with the sun  right above our heads, and us, watching people doing water sports at a distance, while lazily sipping away brightly coloured drinks. Every night we'd make a sand castle or draw funny faces in the sand and hope to find it the next day, lying on the beach, untouched! And the drives...oh the drives..seeing the tall happy plam trees drunk-swaying at the distance on one side of the road, the wilderness sprouting in the form of green and yellow grass on the other side, and the road ahead, with scanty traces of humans and machines. We'd pull down the windows, and smell the air around us, so fresh , and intoxicating, like the environment was just freshly laundered.

I didn't empty my pockets, seeing the bizzare clothes and attractive curious, hanging outside shops, luring the bright eyes, waiting to be bought at ridiculous prices. It was fun, and rather amusing, seeing people jabber away in rapid french, german, or english, trying to strike a bargin for thing I hardly expected them to use. Frankly, though, I could've bought a souvenir too, something to remember this trip by. But I'm not complaining. I took back enough to be worrying about anything else ;)

The food was.... Divine. No, there's no other word for it. I might've over eaten most meals, but I can safely a say, I ate enough. A lot. More than I usually do.

The new year wasn't how I had first imagined it. Only because Goa was over flowing with humans. I wanted to go down to the beach to bring in the new year. As we walked down the Tito's lane, there was a happy, inebriated crowd that walked with us, and there was a happy, inebriated crowd that walked towards us, all screaming out incoherent, nothings. We reached the beach, but we saw nothing of it, except more humans.  So they decided to put on their best (worst) behaviour and made life wonderful (miserable) for people around them. SOooo we decided to walk back to Tito's lane, and found ourselves in a relatively less noisy and crowded, little bar. With just a drink , lots of conversation, and the cheerful people filling in the background, we had the best new year I'd have ever imagined.

I want to go back. Goa is addictive.

Three most adoreable little pups live right outside my colony gate. They're beyond cute and fat. However, fat pups just look cute. One looks like Buffy Jr. Same colour, same coat, and same amount of fat. One pup is the Poop King. The moment he sees me he starts wagging his tail and poops there and then. Sorry, he can't contain his excitement. He likes to poop all the time.

Guitar classes are going well. Earlier when I strummed my guitar, it sounded like noise. Now if you concentrate a little, you might just be able to hear traces of melody. So , there, that's going somewhere.
Yes, he's not been christened yet. Don't worry, Mr. Guitar, you will be. Sooonn--ish.

So that's all..All the love and mush and all that.

Tchus.

Happy Christmas!

It's already Christmas and soon, we're going to turn to a new calander. Honestly, I'm really glad this year is over. Its's been an extremely eventful one, but not always for happy reasons. The luck department seems to be on an all-time-low. The new year better give it good business!

Christmas, although, is the happiest time of the year. I love it, and I've always done something new, different or fun, on every single christmas. We still maintain the tradition of decorating the christmas tree, and I always hang a sock, which no more gets filled with surprise gifts, but it's fun doing it all the same. This year we went to an orphanage, close to my place. What an expreience it was!

It's strange how we picture a gloomy setting, with depressed kids dressed in white gowns, sitting in a dining hall, waiting to be fed , when we say the word "orphans". It's probably because we think them as unfortunate and decide to sympathise/empathise with them. This feeling of supremacy masquerading in the guise of pity, is such a typical  "higher beings" feeling. I'd say, I've never seen a happier bunch.

Around 40 of them, tearing the house down with their scheeches, laughter, and innocent madness , only reminded me of my childhood. What is the difference between me and them. Seeing them, the difference seemed like a thin line. But a very noticible one, ofcourse. They were survivors, they are fighters. And they, are truly happy to be alive.

A group of volunteers were there to celebrate christmas with them. A rather (underfed) looking Santa was jumping on the balls of his feet, puncturing the constant babble with a "ho ho ho!", and an over excited and fascinated child would go poke his tummy at regular intervels, with his mouth open. They were  rounded up later and taught the christmas carols, in Hindi. How they translated and made the hindi version of all the carols, is beyond me. But it was such a delight to watch it, all the same. While the lady who runs the place was telling us about the magnitude of her responsibilities and her the constant struggle to get these children to go to regular schools, I was torn between  floating emotions of sadness and a mad desire to laugh. Who can imagine these little nutters going through any problems at all! They seemed more happy than I ever was, when I was little. Plus seeing all 40 of them, together, looked like a perpetual, non-exhaustive party.  Remember Mr. India? :)

I'm really looking forward to new year. It's going to be awesome, I already know it (like tradition goes, I'll never say it). That's one thing I was looking forward to. There's another thing. My music classes. My guitar sits in front of me the whole day. It's dark marronish. It's pretty hot. But it's rather upset at the lack of use. Worry not Mr....Anonymous (you will be christened soon, I promise), you're going to be singing a new tune, EVERYDAY.

That's all for now. I shall be updating soon. All the love and hugs and all that jazz.

Tchus.

Mary Elizabeth Frye

I came across this beautiful poem. And I couldn't resist posting it here, because I do not intend on forgetting it.

Do not stand at my grave and weep,


I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am in a thousand winds that blow,

I am the softly falling snow.

I am the gentle showers of rain,

I am the fields of ripening grain.

I am in the morning hush,

I am in the graceful rush

Of beautiful birds in circling flight,

I am the starshine of the night.

I am in the flowers that bloom,

I am in a quiet room.

I am in the birds that sing,

I am in each lovely thing.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there. I do not die.

The inside and outside of Facebook.

I came across this article, which just aptly reflects my thoughts and doubts about one's life inside the facebook page, and outside it.  A good read, which incidently also talks about another interesting topic- The Imposter Syndrome.

Read it at lesiure.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2010/dec/11/change-your-life-online-friends

Walking Through the Corridor of Time

I've got a hunger
Twisting my stomach into knots.
That my tongue has tied off.

My brain's repeating
"If you've got an impulse let it out"
But they never make it past my mouth.

Bop ba,Bop ba, this is the sound of settling
Bop ba, Bop ba...

It's been a while since I rediscovered anything-music, art, writing, places, pictures, etc.

There's something about rediscovering things. Almost eveything that is hardwired for us to know, feel  is nothing but through memories. I don't know when I learnt how to cycle. Or swim. But when I do it again after decades, I know I can connect with those first-time, emotions of when the let-go happened- an impulsive second of recklessness, freedom and unbounded joy.

I've been in Delhi for a while now. This place I call home. Home that is so wonderfully comfortable and so understandably flawed. I've loved it while my foundation years where making me what I am today. I've hated it while I've been away. And today, I know I'll still be cynicle, criticizing, and... appreciative. I'll never accept it's beauty while I walk on  it's roads with sprawling greens on either sides, and travel in the clean, shiny tracks with crooning voices inside. Outside this city where I'll leave my 21 years, my life, my world, and my past, I'll know it is irreplaceable.

We were on our usual job hunt, and Hotness and I were roaming the streets of Hauz Khaz.

Hauz Khaz is not a part of your usual Delhi. It is like a mini hill station inside the very city. The obvious temperature drop, the narrow, long road uphill and crowded array of almost squashed shops, cafe's and tea stalls, can't help but lift your spirits. Sometimes you wonder why people would be happy to have a one square feet, tiny shop that offers never-seen before curios, artifacts, and antiques, in a place which is so far away from the main city where civilization exists. Maybe because of it's exclusivity. But a romantic would tell me-it's the intoxification and irrevocable nature of the air that induces the drug of love... Death over seperation.

The ruins are so peaceful, and so calm, that you'd feel unnerved for a moment. Someone has walked those inside roads, run across the arch ways , sang the song of dusk and climbed down the rocky steps, to wave a goodbye to the dying sun, sitting at the edge of the green lake. Life seemed to have left those ruins, centuries ago. But it's still not sad, and it is still not gloomy.
The ruins, still, breath.

As we walked down that road, we visited all the cute cafe's and shops. It is amazing what one can do with just enough space to accomodate 8 people, keep a kettle in the background and call it a tea shop. It is also amazing, how this place still seems to be so innocently hidden away from commercialization.

It is all in the beauty of rediscovering that you realize that often, things we leave behind might have had more to offer than we'd known. It is not called living in the past, mind. It is called having LIVED the past.

Tuchs! :)

Over the Hill, On To the Other Side.

It'll be over soon. My prolonged illness only increased the pace of the countdown for my return. Although there may be a lot of grey areas still untouched, but it'll all be good. The unpleasant innuendos and some sudden gush of nostalgia is all mixed together in one crazed up fine blob. But no, it'll all get better.

Funnily, it is this illness which has induced a lifetime of superstition but also frequent bursts of unattainable ambitiousness for the fuuture. There's nothing more amusing. There is nothing more confusing!

I've been watching a lot of television. Mostly it's just trash in motion. And then I happened to watch Pogo and cartoon network. I think I know excatly why kids love watching cartoons. I can't believe I stopped watching them.

Very soon to come will be a brand new blog, a picture blog,. The writer and the photographer, however are on very personal and mysterious sabbaticals. But the blog will happen. It will.

So keeping the spirit of hope still alive, I sign off.

P.S-This blog shall not suffer anymore due to illness, mood swings, laziness and procrastication.

Love.

Sickness and It's Repercussions

photo credits: Aditi Sharma

Buffy and similar tales

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... :)

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.

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.

Passenger Seat.

Some observations:

*I realized that when I listen to a new song, I prefer listening to all those that start with a piano or guitar piece before the lyric take over

*My current attention span is that of a fly

*I develop a restless itch on my palm when people speak like they've got 5 chewing gums stuffed inside their mouth which slows their speech to 5 words in a minute.I like people who talk fast. I tend to consider them smart, even if their intellect may be bordering negative

*I eat food in a record time. Every meal

* Wonder years, who's line is it anyway, Simpsons, will never go out of fad for me

*I love walking, even more now. If time was a friend and my office a cousin, and we all had great understanding, I'd walk to work, right from my doorstep to my work station.

*I prefer heavy rains to drizzling

* I can live on fruits, all my life

*I don't miss facebook at work. Honest

*I have, till now, not written a single serious late coming reason, which, by the way, goes in the official records. I can't help it. The lameness of the entire exercise just makes me want to give the computer (the company) some lameness back.

* I hate the associations with the colour Pink. As much as I don't wear that colour often, I support the one's who do

*I have the most absurd dreams. They can qualify for a perfect hollywood scifi movie

*Some small shops, highly unimportant looking, ignored by most passer by's have the most fantastic/witty lines written on their board

*Women letch at women...way more than men

*It's the toughest, most heart-breaking decision to do away with your old phone

*I start making my weekend plans from early Monday morning

*It's interesting to watch people slyly message during an important business meeting

*It's interesting to watch people scowl at everyone after taking too long in the loo

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More later. It's 10 :35 PM, and I feel I am in high school again. This was the right time to sleep. I can plonk myself on the bed, right away.


Tchus.

THIS is called humor.

http://www.outlookindia.com/article.aspx?265851

Very interesting read.

I stumbled right into...

You may not be her first, her last, or her only.
She loved before she may love again.
But if she loves you now, what else matters?
She's not perfect, you aren't either,
and the two of you may never be perfect together
but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice,
and admit to being human and making mistakes,
hold onto her and give her the most you can.
She may not be thinking about you
every second of the day, but she will give you a part of
her that she knows you can break her heart.
So don't hurt her, don't change her, don't analyze
and don't expect more than she can give.
Smile when she maked you happy,
let her know when she makes you mad,
and miss her when she's not there.

-Bob Marley.

Crows are evil. So shoot at sight.

"If you feel discouraged
That there's a lack of color here
Please don't worry lover
It's really bursting at the seems
Absorbing everything
The spectrum's a to z"

Death Cab for a Cutie

With the marching steady tick-tock, I've been absorbed with a bit of too many things. Ofcourse, the major bit of the bit is work. I'd rather not make the early announcements of likes and dislikes. It's been two months. I still say it's early. Like how my Art Director once said that for the first two- three years , you'd be busy only trying to figure out this industry. So the constant shuttling, puppetry show starring you, and having series of terrible days of complete clueless-ness, is all normal. I've always thought patience was a virtue, only gifted to a few. I guess not.

Question is, whether I'm ready to be a part of this never ending queue of supposed great endings. Who's to say it is even anywhere close to being great. Maybe the mediocrity provides a comfort zone that people find easy to slide into. Will I be another added number. Or will I pull out and tread a completely new path, a new career. I still don't know where my niche' really lies. More so, does everyone HAVE a niche'? Maybe some are born to be good for nothing :P Not that I hold myself in low esteem, it's not even a question directed at my fickle mind. It's a genuine doubt.

Shifting in a flat is far from easy. The added responsibilities make me feel I'm living a life I'd be living 5 years from now. Shared work and unaided first times of everything that encompasses setting up a house, is mighty tiring. Only, in this case, you don't give up, fold your arms and say "pass".

My music hours have increased, since it's directly proportional to my travel hours. I've got no new music. I've heard and re-heard, hummed and re-hummed the same old playlist some gazillion times. It's only recently, I rediscovered my love for the old rock and roll stars who introduced me to what is TRULY called music. Before I skip to the next musing, I must express a serious concern. What is with people tagging "blues" .. and "jazz" as SOFT, lame (in the words of my colleague, 'that pussyshit'"). Really now. How can any form of music be subjected to any definition and bias if you claim to be a music enthusiast? Isn't music an umbrella term for anything that contains basic melody? I understand likes and dislikes, but who decides what's soft, hard (??), tender, sweet, bitter, pussy and non-pussy, on the basis of....er....pure idiocy, I'd say.

Eventful, is the operating word here, in this very blog, before I digress , as always.

Eventful is good. Over eventful is not. Change is good. Shift is not.

More later.

Tchus.