Jingle bell blues..

I'm miles away from home and hearth
I have, of late, lost all my mirth
To my world I'm quite forgotten, I fear.
Yes, Christmas is the loneliest time of the year.

Diseased Ramblings..

Dont say its the end of the road.
remember the flowers I sent..
i need you.. babe..
to put through the shredder in front of my friends

Dont leave me now..
How could you go?
when you know how i need you..
to beat to a pulp on a saturday night.

Rewind

Asking you to stay
the words are finally here
let's rewind, and rewind

you see, you're the only star
in the film i never made
would you rewind it all the time
rewind it all the time

in the driveway
see you pull in
then my heart stops
when you're stalling
as if the phone rang
and he's calling
now you're backing up

it's a long way out
i'm asking you to stay
the words are finally here
let's rewind

would you rewind it all the time

see, you're the only star
in the film i never made
would you rewind it all the time
rewind it all the time

do we make it to the sequel
second chance for our survival
oh we all need a hallmark ending
and a change of heart

but it's a long way back, back to what you said

swayin' on my mind

it's swayin' on my mind
it's swayin' on my mind
would you rewind it all the time
rewind it all the time

i'm asking you to stay
the words are finally here
so let's rewind
would you rewind it all the time
oh you're the only star
in the film i never made
would you rewind
would you rewind it all the time

would you rewind it all the time
rewind it all the time

would you rewind it all the time
rewind it all the time

An Irish Airman Foresees His Death

W.B. Yeats

I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above
Those I fight I do not hate
Those I guard I do not love
My country is Kiltartan's Cross
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before
No law, nor duty bade me fight
No public man, nor cheering crowds
A lonely impulse of delight
Led to this tumult in the clouds
I balanced all, borught all to mind
The years to come seemed waste of breath
A waste of breath, the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.

What ho!!

A certain critic--for such men, I regret to say, do exist--made the nasty remark about my last novel that it contained 'all the old Wodehouse characters under different names.' He has probably by now been eaten by bears, like the children who made mock of the prophet Elisha: but if he still survives he will not be able to make a similar charge against Summer Lightning. With my superior intelligence, I have outgeneralled the man this time by putting in all the old Wodehouse characters under the same names. Pretty silly it will make him feel, I rather fancy.

First or Second?

Just A Perfect Day,
Drink Sangria In The Park,
And Then Later, When It Gets Dark,
We Go Home.
Just A Perfect Day,
Feed Animals In The Zoo
Then Later, A Movie, Too,
And Then Home.

Oh It's Such A Perfect Day,
I'm Glad I Spent It With You.
Oh Such A Perfect Day,
You Just Keep Me Hanging On,
You Just Keep Me Hanging On.

Just A Perfect Day,
Problems All Left Alone,
Weekenders On Our Own.
It's Such Fun.
Just A Perfect Day,
You Made Me Forget Myself.
I Thought I Was Someone Else,
Someone Good.

Oh It's Such A Perfect Day,
I'm Glad I Spent It With You.
Oh Such A Perfect Day,
You Just Keep Me Hanging On,
You Just Keep Me Hanging On.

Void.

Empty vases
Empty cases
Empty cages
Smudged out pages

Vacant plots
Vacant lots
Vacant looks
Hidden nooks

Placid lakes
Placid flakes
Placid thoughts
Iron wroughts

Their void is felt
the feeling dealt
what once was is broken and long gone
Empty spaces linger on

Sunday Mornin' Coming Down

Well, I woke up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt.
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad,
So I had one more for dessert.
Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty shirt.
Then I washed my face and combed my hair
And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.

I'd smoked my mind the night before
With cigarettes and songs I'd been picking.
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Playing with a can that he was kicking.
Then I walked across the street
And caught the Sunday smell of someone frying chicken.
And Lord, it took me back to something that I'd lost
Somewhere, somehow along the way.

On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothing short a' dying
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.

In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughing little girl that he was swinging.
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the songs they were singing.
Then I headed down the street,
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing,
And it echoed through the canyon
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.

On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothing short a' dying
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.

Reality Check..

...whose demeanor was rather like that of one who, picking daisies on the railway, has just caught the Down express in the small of the back...

Kya kool hai hum...

So.. the following conversation between Wanderer and me establishes our 'Coolth' beyond the shadow of a doubt.. bask in our glory you lesser mortals you..

me :what're you upto?
Wanderer : programming
me : on what?
Wanderer : c++
me : anything in particular?
Wanderer : yeah..i mean i dont program to pass time, I'm not that bad yet
me : :)
Wanderer : working on the Hoshen Kopelmann algorithm for
cluster counting.. i'm redoing it to make it slightly
more efficient and iron out a few kinks
pimpin' it if you will
me : aaah.. pimpin out the hoshen kopelmann algorithm for cluster
counting.. very cool..

A word or two before you go..

Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate
Nor set down aught in malice: then must you speak
Of one that loved not wisely but too well;

It had to be you

I've been listening to a lot of old favorites lately.. The Beatles, Elvis, Sinatra.. This is one of those feel good songs thats become very relevant all of a sudden.. Now now.. dont ask me why..

Why do I do, just as you say
Why must I just, give you your way
Why do I sigh, why dont I try - to forget

It must have been, that something lovers call fate
Kept me saying: I have to wait
I saw them all, just couldnt fall - till we met

It had to be you, it had to be you
I wandered around, and finally found - the somebody who
Could make me be true, and could make me be blue
And even be glad, just to be sad - thinking of you

Some others Ive seen, might never be mean
Might never be cross, or try to be boss
But they wouldnt do
For nobody else, gave me a thrill - with all your faults, I love you still
It had to be you, wonderful you
It had to be you

Venus in furs..

This particular song by Velvet Underground remains one of my favorites.. Not just for its obviously erotic theme, but also for the matter of fact way that the theme has been presented
Shiny, shiny, shiny boots of leather
Whiplash girlchild in the dark
Clubs and bells, your servant, dont forsake him
Strike, dear mistress, and cure his heart

Downy sins of streetlight fancies
Chase the costumes she shall wear
Ermine furs adorn the imperious
Severin, severin awaits you there

I am tired, I am weary
I could sleep for a thousand years
A thousand dreams that would awake me
Different colors made of tears

Kiss the boot of shiny, shiny leather
Shiny leather in the dark
Tongue of thongs, the belt that does await you
Strike, dear mistress, and cure his heart

Severin, severin, speak so slightly
Severin, down on your bended knee
Taste the whip, in love not given lightly
Taste the whip, now plead for me

I am tired, I am weary
I could sleep for a thousand years
A thousand dreams that would awake me
Different colors made of tears

Shiny, shiny, shiny boots of leather
Whiplash girlchild in the dark
Severin, your servant comes in bells, please dont forsake him
Strike, dear mistress, and cure his heart

Serendipity..

Its one of those things you know never happens outside of cheesy romantic comedies. An accidental meeting that would make an ardent supporter of the Chaos Theory to nudge his disbelieving counterpart in the ribs and whisper magnanimously "There you go sonny.. There's your conclusive proof.." Its just too cliched, couldn't possibly be real..
And yet, off late, I've caught myself smiling, much to my surprise I assure you.. Its not the "I'm tough, I'll carry on" smile that I've been applying so often lately, accompanied by the "Meh.. what're you gonna do.." shrug.. Its the sort of quarter mile wide grin that refuses to fade away, and leaves my jaw aching and my parents harboring suspicions of pre noon inebriations..
What in God's name is going on?

Untitled

You overwhelm me.
The feel of you.
The sight, sound, smell and taste of you. It could always transcend distance, and now time as well.
The little voice in my head is yours.
My ecstasy, your laugh. My yardstick of beauty, your face.
The air at dawns seems stale compared to your breath;
and velvet seems coarse compared to the feel of your skin on mine.
Neither food nor drink can satisfy me. No nectar compares to your lips on mine.
All music sounds crass; you whispering my name, thats my song.
I do not remember you, mere memory could never do justice.
I am you.
Inseparable, absolute.
You overwhelm me.
In a good way ofcourse..

Above All... BALLS

This post is dedicated to two items of clothing that defined me through my rather eventful college life.. I am forced to retire them under muttered threats of "they won't come back the next time you put them to wash" from my mother. But they've lived a full life.. and its time they moved on..
First lets take a brief moment to acknowledge my favorite pair of jeans. Basic blue, Levi's 511, as classic as they come. They were purchased when I was 16, my first branded pair, and I'm proud to say they still fit.. They've stood by me and weathered acid burns, numerous motorcycle crashes, breaking ladders, cigarette burns, grease, paint, blood, sweat and tears.. Every rip, every hole, every hanging bit of denim has a story to tell.. I bid you farewell.. Here's to my Rock'n'roll pants..
Next I raise my glass to something that's been as much of an identifying feature as my lisp, "duuuuuude!!!" and myriad apartment-party stories.. I'm, ofcourse, talking about my blue, round neck, printed tee that read "ABOVE ALL, BALL" on the back.. It had been the subject of many a jibe, but I loved it like a brother and was hardly ever seen without it..
But now as the lettering fades and the tiny holes become larger, I fear its time for it to go to that great T-shirt heaven, and be reunited with my ManU jersey (Mum gave that one away to the maid..) and my "Its better in Goa" tee (which, sadly, did not survive a football game where I was marking Rajdeep..)
May you rest in peace..
P.S. : Wanderer, I hope you're happy now..

Dead man..

Sailing on my every step
Inching off of the earth..
It’s magnified
by the things I've done
The thing that I've become

Every lift of my hand,
Coffee cup up and back,
Is magnified
by the things I've done
The things I've seen, the things I've caused,
I'm a dead man walking.

The hammer that I once brought down
now hovers over me.
Casts a shadow, across onto me.

The hallways are all mocking me.
What I've become
they're all mocking me.

I'm a dead man walking.
A dead man walking.

All in all..

Now she's gone, she left me standing with a broken heart and baggage at my feet.. Sleep deprivation and alcohol adding to the nausea I've gotten to know so well now. Im dimly aware of all these wonderful people, my well wishers, all around. Offerring me a place to rest, offerring to lighten the load. Offerring me time, the wisdom of ages and the eternal grace of God, all in exchange for a few strips of paper I have in my back pocket. Offerring me a good time, if I was looking for it.
I reach out for her, though i cant see her. I try to follow but the weight of worldly possessions slows me down. So I drop them, one by one, as I start to run. Eyes blurred and knees weak.
I get shoved around the middle, hard, and i fall skidding across the asphalt. The sound of the fabric ripping is drowned by the screech of rubber. The nausea that had been building up overcomes me and vomit mixes with blood and tears.
I feel at peace there, lying on the hot road. Knees, elbows, palms burning. Breathing in the exhaust, looking up at the circle of those same beautiful people gathering around, my well wishers, closing in tighter. Building my wall again.
I missed you, shouldnt have torn you down in the first place. Felt naked without you. Im so glad you're back. I can finally sleep.
Goodbye.

The anthem..

This goes out to all the poor souls (including me) who've had to suffer at the hands of the vicious and sadistic pit of hell that is the ICAI.. I pray for salvation, this time around..

Fight Fight,
Never surrender..
After May,
There comes November..

Where there's a will,
There's always a way..
After November,
There's always May..

Hallelujah!

Baby, I've been here before.
I know this room, I walked this floor.
I used to live alone before I knew you.
Yeah, and I've seen your flag on the marble arch,
but listen, love, love is not some kind of victory march,
it's a cold and it's ever a broken Hallelujah!

There was a time you let me know
what's really going on below
ah, but now you never show it to me, do ya?
Ah, but I remember, yeah, when I moved in you,
and the holy dove she was moving too,
yes, and every single breath that we drew was Hallelujah!

Maybe there's a God above-
as for me all I ever seem to learn from love
is how to shoot at someone who outdrew you.
Ah but it's not a complaint that you hear tonight,
it's not the laughter of someone who claims to have seen the light-
it's a cold and it's a very lonely Hallelujah!

I did my best; it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I learned to touch.
I've told the truth, I didn't come all this way to fool you.
Yeah, and even though it all went wrong
I'll stand right here before the Lord of Song
with nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah!

The Haunted Tram

By Sir Pelham Grenville Wodehouse

Ghosts of The Towers, The Grange, The Court,
Ghosts of the Castle Keep.
Ghosts of the finicking,"high-life" sort
Are growing a trifle cheap.

But here is a spook of another stamp,
No thin, theatrical sham,
But a spectre who fears not dirt nor damp:
He rides on a London tram.

By the curious glance of a mortal eye
He is not seen. He's heard.
His steps go a-creeping, creeping by,
He speaks but a single word.

You may hear his feet:you may hear them plain,
For--it's odd in a ghost--they crunch.
You may hear the whirr of his rattling chain,
And the ting of his ringing punch.

The gathering shadows of night fall fast;
The lamps in the street are lit;
To the roof have the eerie footsteps passed,
Where the outside passengers sit.

To the passenger's side has the spectre paced;
For a moment he halts, they say,
Then a ring from the punch at the unseen waist,
And the footsteps pass away.

That is the tale of the haunted car;
And if on that car you ride
You won't, believe me, have journeyed far
Ere the spectre seeks your side.

Ay, all unseen by your seat he'll stand,
And (unless it's a wig) your hair
Will rise at the touch of his icy hand,
And the sound of his whispered "Fare!"

At the end of the trip, when you're getting down
(And you'll probably simply fly!)
Just give the conductor half-a-crown,
Ask who is the ghost and why.

And the man will explain with bated breath
(And point you a moral) thus:
"'E's a pore young bloke wot wos crushed to death
By people as fought
As they didn't ought
For seats on a crowded bus."

Verse Libre is the devil..

To write in verse,
you know it,
it often takes much time.
Its the curse
of every poet
to find a word that rhymes.

With 'moon' and 'June'
exhausted
and 'wine' paired up with 'sign'.
his ambition soon
is thwarted
to add another line

A desperate man
he'll try to
rhyme 'know' with 'how'.
His most ardent fan
would cry too,
"Alas, a dirty trick, I trow."

A poets bane
however,
is easy to divine
Its when he's vain,
not clever
and ends the last but one line,
With 'purple'..

Insomnia

I dreamed of you last night
of the resolves that seem futile
and the mirrors that just dont lie
of castles that came crumbling down
and balloons popped unceremoniously in my face

I dreamed of you last night
your words cutting into me,
like the shards I've known before.
It was different this time.
I did not bow down.
The weight was lifted.
The penance served.
of all sad words of tongue and pen,
The saddest are these,
'It might have been'
But you were too blind to see
This time, my love,
you did not hold on.
This time around,
it wasn't me.

You know you're right..

I will never bother you
I will never promise to
I will never follow you
I will never bother you

Never say a word again
I will crawl away for good

I will move away from here
You wont be afraid of fear
No thought was put in to this
I always knew it would come to this

Things have never been so swell
I have never felt so well

You Know You're Right

I'm so warm and calm inside
I no longer have to hide
Let's talk about someone else
Steaming soup begins to melt
Nothing really bothers her
She just wants to love herself

I will move away from here
You wont be afraid of fear
No thought was put into this
I always knew it would come to this

Things have never been so swell
I have never felt this well

You know You're Right

Soap Opera Baby..

A certain friend and I were recently discussing several vastly popular hindi soaps (atleast she said they were several.. they all look the same to me..) and we were rather stumped as to how it is that the women in those soaps are almost perpetually pregnant, since every bedroom scene shows them asleep 6 feet away from their husbands in heavy Kanjivaram sarees with enough jewellery on to put Bappida to shame..
And have none of these people ever heard of contraceptives? or the morning after pill (since most of these things seem to happen unexpectedly on rainy nights while taking shelter in barns)?
I'm stumped.. somebody enlighten me please..

Need I say more?

What ho!

Anybody who's had the misfortune of being cornered by me when im rambling on the subject will unquestionably know that im more than a little obsessed with the writings of a certain Sir Pelham Grenville.. Or to you lesser mortals, P.G. Wodehouse.. Following are snippets which may constitue my 'favorite bits'.. the list is by no means exhaustive..

He had the look of a frustrated tiger whose personal physician had recommended a strict vegetarian diet....

If he had a mind, there was something on it.

His whole attitude recalled irresistibly to the mind that of some assiduous hound who will persist in laying a dead rat on the drawing-room carpet, though repeatedly apprised by word and gesture that the market for same is sluggish or even non-existent.

I suppose I'm one of those fellows my father always warned me against.

He looked like a dictator on the point of starting a purge.

"And deer?''
"Several deer.''
"I love deer.''
"Me, too. I've met some very decent deer.''

It is never difficult to distinguish between a Scotsman with a grievance and a ray of sunshine.

He's as jealous as billy-ho. Smear a bit of burnt cork on him, and he could step right on to any stage and play Othello without rehearsal.

"I am rejoiced that my poor effort should have elicited so striking an encomium.''
"Wot say?''
"He says he's glad you liked it.''

He was white and shaken, like a dry martini.

It was a confusion of ideas between him and one of the lions he was hunting in Kenya that had caused A. B. Spottsworth to make the obituary column. He thought the lion was dead, and the lion thought it wasn't.

And it goes on...

The Othello Rap..

I have now been a part of two productions of "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (abridged)". For anybody who's not seen or read the play, you guys are reaaaally missing out on something.. Originally written and performed by The Reduced Shakespeare Company, the play is side splittingly funny.. for more check out the link http://www.reducedshakespeare.com/shakespeare.php
Here's one of my favorite bits from the play... The othello rap..

Here's the story of a brother
by the name of Othello.
He liked white women
and he liked green Jell-O.
And a punk named Iago
who made himself a menace
Because he didn't like Othello,
the Moor of Venice.
Now Othello got married to Desdemona.
But he went off to the wars and he left her alona.
It was a mona--A groana--He left her alona.
He didn't write a letter and didn't telefona.
Desdemona she was faithful, she was chastity-tight.
She was the daughter of the Duke. Yeah, she was totally white.
Now Othello loved Desi like Adonis loved Venus.
And Desi loved Othello --'Cuz he had a big.... ummm.... sword.
Iago said, I'm gonna shaft the Moor.
How're you gonna do it? Tell us.
Well, I know his tragic flaw:
He's too damn jealous.
I need a dupe, I need a dope, I need a kind of a schmo.
So he found himself a chump sucker by the name of Cassio.
So he plants on him Desdemona's handkerchiefs.
So Othello starts wondering just maybe if
while he's been out fighting,
Commanding an army.
were Desi and Cass playing hide the salami?
Salami, salami, s-s-salami.
So he comes back home and stuck a pillow on her face.
Kills her and soliloquizes 'bout his disgrace.
But there's Amelia at the door
who we met in Act IV.
Who says, "You big dummy. She weren't no ho."
She was pure, clean, virginal too.
So why'd you have to go and make her face turn blue?
It's true.
It's you.
Now what you gonna do?
And Othello says, Damn, this is getting pretty scary.
So he pulled out a blade and committed hara-kiri.
Do that funky Moor thing, white boy.
Iago got caught but he probably copped a plea.
Loaded up his bags
And moved to Beverly.
Hills, that is.

Physics Lab 101- Part II

Sigh.. breadboards and capacitors and microprocessors.. Oh my!

Out of the Darkness and into the light.. or the other way round.. Mr. Prothit Sen

Lovely picture aint it.. bet you cant guess how this one was taken..

Neon Laser exposure.. Thought it'll make a cool picture.. sadly it also fried my picture circuits..

This is one of my favorites.. its a image of a hand held lamp, projected via a lens, onto a white wall..

Physics Lab 101..

Back In college I was rarely without my camera.. and the duller moments of the lab class (dude.. it was 3 hours long) were spent in taking random pictures.. Some of them came out really well..
I Spy With My Big Eye.. Dear ol' sid..

Dispertion pattern (prism.. i think..)

The Terminator.. aka Jethin B. Raj..

Walk into the great white light...

Anybody ever played Mortal Kombat? this sooo looks like Goro to me.. (sorry Miss Joseph)

Whats so Happy about it?

I turned 23 today.. Gulp.. 23.. I feel ancient.. and my friends keep reminding me of it..
I'm being asked, by several people, as to what im planning to do today.. and the only reply I have is "Work.. High pressure client.." I think I am getting old..
Whatever happened to 18 till I die? But then even Bryan Adams looks like a grandfather now..
Bah Humbug!

I love my Willy..

This is not an obituary.

This is not a goodbye, nor is it a reminiscence.

This is a celebration.

Of a life well lived.

I celebrate as one of the countless who were nudged towards wherever we wanted to go, thanks to you. I celebrate because the happiest days of my life could not have been the same without you.

Your easy smile, your fierce pride, and your undying belief in tradition was an inspiration, though you never meant it to be.

I celebrate the life of the greatest personification of Stephania that I had the privilege to meet.

You will be missed.

Trapped..

I wake up in a familiar place. Raise my head and look around. The curtains, the furniture reminds me of some place I once knew. Familiar. I lie back down. Awake but motionless, staring up at the ceiling, trying to recall where I am, what I’m doing here.
What time is it? It’s too dark for me to make out the hands of the small clock across the room. Come to think of it, I don’t even remember what day it is.
I sit up slowly and reach instinctively for the light switch that I know is on the wall beside my bed. Just within arms reach. Damn, no power. No wonder it’s so hot.
I can see outlines of stacks of books on the table against the opposite wall. Sheets of paper scattered everywhere. God, my throat’s parched. I reach for the bottle of water on the small bedside table, accidentally knocking over the glass beside it. I brace for the shattering sound that never comes. There was a rug under there, now that I think about it. The water is warm, tastes stale, but I’m too thirsty to care.
I try to get up. My legs are stiff and creaky, they tremble and my knees give a little as they get used to my weight. How long was I out? I walk to the table and pick up the clock. Stopped. Walk to the door and try the handle. Locked. Typical. Parting the curtains reveals a barred window, with glass just beyond the bars. I have a vague memory of looking out at the woods through this window. But all I can see now is a high brick wall a few feet from the window, and a small patch of sky above the wall.
It feels like some place I know. Feels like home, but not quite. Like those concrete and plaster caves and artificial moats they build in zoos. Familiar, somewhat comforting, but incontrovertibly a prison.
Somehow, the panic I would associate with the realization of being imprisoned just doesn’t set in. It’s like I’ve always been aware of it. Some part of me seems to have accepted the status quo to be an unalterable fact. Like somebody sat down and explained just why me being locked up is the best thing to be, I’ve just forgotten the arguments at the moment.
How long have I been here?
How many times have I woken up like this?
Alone in this familiar prison.
Trapped.
I hear a click. It rings, loud as a gunshot in the stillness of the room. Is that the door? Is somebody out there? I rush to the door but it seems to go further away. It was five steps! always five steps, I counted!
I run towards the door that opens a crack now. I can see the light streaming in. Almost there, just a little further. I reach out for the handle, my fingers can almost touch the cool steel when i get yanked back by my ankles falling hard on the stone floor. My head hits something smooth and cold, my eyes close momentarily.

I wake up in a familiar place.

This looks like a job for...

I've been reading a lot of C&H again.. been a while though.. and i'd forgotten just how good waterson was.. this is one of the more thought provoking ones..

On the First day of Christmas...

Private little joke.. for those who dont get it, go listen to 'The 12 Days of Christmas'..

Smashed..

Darling, you left my heart
In pieces on the floor
So tell me why shouldn't I
Break some things of yours?

I'll smash your lamp, the antique chair,
That stupid thing you always wear;
I'll smash a vase, the radio,
Those little teacups from Limoge;

Your wacky paintings on the walls;
Darling - POW - I'll smash 'em all;
Lover, it's just a game;
Cupid can take the blame;
I'll take the place apart,
But don't worry - I won't smash your heart!

Closure..

She closed the door.
What? Again? What did you do this time?
I don't know.
You can't help yourself can you? Always fucking things up?
She promised she won't leave if I didn't give her a reason to go.
And I'm sure, like always, you gave her plenty.
I dont know. I tried not to.
Stupid fucking prick. You deserve this.
I do?
Ofcourse. Fuckpig.
I do. Now what?
Is that even a question?
You mean..
Exactly.
I suppose. Goodbye then.

I wonder..

I surprise myself sometimes.. do things i never though i was capable of.. in a good way ofcourse..
I feel calmer.. and im done setting standards.. gonna go with my gut now.. feels right that way..
Things have never been so swell, I have never felt so well.. In a good way ofcourse..

Something Stupid..

"I love you" he replied, almost mecahnically.
It was a game they played. Like a volley. He did not know if he meant it, not even what it meant.
Sure he cared about her. And desired her. And loved to be with her. And got a nasty little twinge when she paid more attention to others. But did he love her? In the all consuming way that one reads so often about? He did not know. And I guess he did not care.
He had her. Mind and body. She was meant to be his own. Always there beside him. An extention of his self. He posessed her, or so he thought until he pushed her too far.
It was hell. How could she leave? That wasn't how things were supposed to be. He was hurt, lonely, afraid, indignant.. ashamed at his deed and his weakness. Why did it hurt so much? Was it because he loved her? He did not know. But this time around, he did care.
One fateful night of revelry. He had her again, mind and body. But it wasn't enough. Something did not feel the way it used to. Is that what he missed, that undefinable something that he could feel but never express? Was that love?
"Must be" he said to himself.
"I love you" he replied, almost mechanically.
This time around though, he knew he meant it. He always had.

Something Stupid - Frank Sinatra
I know I stand in line, until you think you have the time
To spend an evening with me
And if we go someplace to dance, I know that theres a chance
You wont be leaving with me

And afterwards we drop into a quiet little place
And have a drink or two
And then I go and spoil it all, by saying something stupid
Like: I love you

I can see it in your eyes, that you despise the same old lies
You heard the night before
And though its just a line to you, for me its true
It never seemed so right before

I practice every day to find some clever lines to say
To make the meaning come through
But then I think I'll wait until the evening gets late
And Im alone with you

The time is right your perfume fills my head, the stars get red
And oh the nights so blue
And then I go and spoil it all, by saying something stupid
Like: I love you

Happily ever after..

The golden princess locked in a tower,
that schoolgirl dream of an idle hour.
That worthy steed, that gallant knight.
That gleaming sword, the righteous fight.


In the million stories that I weave.
I do believe, I do believe.


The fool's gold, that crumbling tower.
Those sweet delights, they end up sour.
That passing day, those lonely nights.
Those streaming tears, that endless fight.

And as through powdered glass I sieve.
I still believe, I still believe.

Those withered dreams, that haunted tower.
Those faded pictures in my bower.
That childish notion of wrong and right.
That blackness that consumes my nights.

Makes me wonder how I was so naive
I'll never believe, I'll never believe.

A dawning day, her sunlit tower.
She'll soon awake to find that now her
demons flee in the morning light.
She's ready now, unafraid to fight.

The time is past, she knows, to grieve.
She will believe, she will believe.

Its been a while..

First heard somebody in college sing an acoustic rendition of this song.. fell in love with it instantly.. never managed to get my hands on it though.. you see.. i dont download music.. not for some big moral issue.. but simply because im quite useless with the internet.. FINALLY downloaded it yesterday (thanks sid).. and been listening to it non stop.. makes sense to me.. wonder if it does to you?

It's been a while
Since I could hold my head up high
and it's been a while
Since I first saw you
It's been a while
since i could stand on my own two feet again
and it's been a while since i could call you

But everything I can't remember
as fucked up as it may seem
the consequences that I've rendered
I've stretched myself beyond my means

It's been a while
since i could say that i wasn't addicted
and It's been a while
Since I could say I love myself as well
and It's been a while
Since I've gone and fucked things up just like i always do
It's been a while
But all that shit seems to disappear when i'm with you

But everything I can't remember
as fucked up as it may seem
the consequences that I've rendered
I've gone and fucked things up again

Why must i feel this way?
just make this go away
just one more peaceful day

Its been awhile
Since I could look at myself straight
and it's been awhile since i said i'm sorry
It's been awhile
Since I've seen the way the candles light your face
It's been awhile
But I can still remember just the way you taste

But everything I can't remember
as fucked up as it may seem
I know it's me i cannot blame this on my father
he did the best he could for me

It's been a while
Since I could hold my head up high
and it's been a while
since i said i'm sorry

The muddlehead..

This is the translation of a Russian poem written by S. Marshak, a poem I read in school. Itremains one of my favorites. Its as funny as it was the first time I read it, even though I must've read it a hundred times. If you're from CBSE, you must've read it as well. I liked it so much I even made up a little tune to go along with it(ok.. I probably heard the tune soemwhere and didn't remember, and adopted it to this... anyway, it wasn't much of tune, it was more like "naaa na naa na nanana na naaa na naa na nanana")

I knew a man from Petushkee
As muddleheaded as could be.
He always got mixed up with clothes;
He wore his mittens on his toes,
Forgot his collar in his haste,
And tied his tie around his waist.

What a muddle head was he,
That man who lived in Petushkee!

They told him as he went about:
“You’ve got u’r coat on inside out!”
And when they saw his hat, they said:
“You’ve put a saucepan on your head!”

What a muddle head was he,
That man who lived in Petushkee!
At lunch he scratched a piece of bread,
And spread some butter on his head.
He put his walking stick to bed,
And he stood in the rack instead.

What a muddle head was he,
That man who lived in Petushkee!

He walked upto a tram one day
And climbed in very sprightly;
Conductor thought that he would pay,
Instead he said politely:
“Parding your beggon, Kister Monductor,
I’m off for a week’s vacation;
I stop you to beg your cramway tar
As soon as we reach the station.”
Conductor got a fright
And didn’t sleep that night.

What a muddle head was he,
That man who lived in Petushkee!

He rushed into the first café:
“A railway ticket please, One way.”
And at the ticket office said:
“A slice of tea and a cup of bread.”

What a muddle head was he,
That man who lived in Petushkee!
He passed the man collecting the fares,
And entered a carriage awaiting repairs,
That stood on a siding, all by itself.
Half of his luggage, he put on a shelf,
The rest on the floor, his coat on his lap
And settled himself for a bit of a nap.
All at once he raised his head,
“I must have been asleep”- he said.
“Hey, what stop is this?” he cried
“Petushkee,” a voice replied.
Once again he closed his eyes
And dreamt he was in Paradise.
When he woke, he looked about,
Raised the window and leaned out.
“I’ve seen this place before, I believe,
Is it Kharkov or is it Kiev?
Tell me where I am,” he cried.
“In Petushkee”, a voice replied.
And so again he settled down
And dreamt the world was upside down
When he woke, he looked about,
Raised the window and looked out.
“I seem to know this station too,
Is it Nalchik or Baku?
Tell me what its called,” he cried.
“Petushkee’ a voice replied.
Up he jumped: “It’s a crime!
I’ve been riding all this time,
And here I am where I began!
That’s no way to treat a man!’
What a muddle head was he,
That man who lived in Petushkee!

A broadway dream..

My first attempt at a story.. well not first.. but certainly the first that anybody else will read..

She drew a long breath.
"I- "
He interrupted her hoarsely.
"Is there anyone now?"
"Yes," she said, "there is."
"You dont love him, do you?"
"Love him?" She laughed bitterly. "No; I dont love him."
"Then come back to me." he said.
She shook her head in silence. He sat down, his chin resting in his hands. She came to him, and ruffled his longish floppy hair.
"It wont work Angel" she said. "Honestly, I have no idea how it lasted as long as it did. Listen, when I first met you, I rather liked you. And I did fall in love eventually, as time went by. But you never did. I dont think you realize that. It was always about you. And it was always the 'Idea of being in love' as far as you were concerned."
"Was it love?" he mutterred, with an attempted half smile. "or was it the idea of being in love?"
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing," he said sheepishly. "Just this Floyd song. Nevermind."
"You see now? You see why we weren't meant to be? You never loved me. You thought you did, but you didn't"
"I love you." he muttered. She either couldn't or chose not to hear him.
"You'll forget me. It was all just a dream, if not a lie. Not love, just the idea of it. It hurts, I know" she added. "But I've moved past it and I'm sure someday you'll be glad it ended too."
She stooped and gave him an awkward hug.
"I'll miss you" he said. "No, you won't." She replied softly, and was gone.
He sat on, motionless. Outside, the blackness turned to grey and the grey to white. He got up. He felt very stiff and cold.
"The idea of being in love" he muttered.
He went to the bookshelf and took up the photograph. He carried it to the window where he could see it better. A shaft of sunlight pierced the curtains and fell upon it.

Potato Chips are the Devil..

I've been slothing at home for the last four months.. feeding on a steady diet of rich home food and absolute trash.. im upto a pack a day.. pringles sour cream and onion that is.. and sadly.. though not unexpectedly.. am now fat..
i need to drop four kgs... which i know i will if i can get off my ass and go for a run everyday instead of once every year or so.. but im still stuffing my face.. and am the heaviest i've ever been.. my brand new mountain bike is dusty and rusty with deflated tyres.. and my running shoes have birds nesting in them..
somebody help..

..............................................................................................................

11 April 2009

P.S. : I.ve now successfully dropped 1 kg.. knew i could do it..

Air..

Drink this rain-dark rum of air
column of breath, column of air.

Ready.. Set..Go!

This is to announce a new beginning.. to a better life.. a step up..

This is to celebrate freedom.. from who i was.. from what i'd become..

This is to bid goodbye.. to everything that dragged me down.. including my own self..

This is to cry out to the world.. im back.. ready or not..

I feel.. I breathe..
Vedder was right, the curse is broken..
and im still alive..

Hurt..

I hurt myself today to see if I still feel

I focus on the pain, the only thing that's real

the needle tears a hole, the old familiar sting

try to kill it all away but I remember everything

what have I become? my sweetest friend

everyone I know goes away in the end

and you could have it all, my empire of dirt

I will let you down I will make you hurt

I wear this crown of thorns upon my liar's chair

full of broken thoughts I cannot repair

beneath the stains of time the feelings disappear

you are someone else I am still right here

what have I become? my sweetest friend

everyone I know goes away in the end

and you could have it all, my empire of dirt

I will let you down I will make you hurt

if I could start again a million miles away

I would keep myself, I would find a way

Pieces..

Shards, Shatters
Strips, Tatters
Rags, Fags
Withered hags

Bent, Broken
Silent, Spoken
Quite quiet
Storm, Riot

Pentup, Raging
Battle waging
Hazed pages
Phases, Stages

Sacred, Scarred
Woodwork's charred
Standing still
Run of the mill

Roadways, Alleys
Gorges, Valleys
Splatters, Stains
Cloudburst rains

Pieces, Passes
People, Masses
Faltering glances
Fading chances

The last goodbye..

If I knew it was the last time
I would've held you longer
If I knew it was the last time
I would've watched till you were out of sight
If I knew it was the last time
I would have said so much more than i did
If I knew it was the last time
I would have made time stand still
If I knew it was the last time
I would have held on to that last 'I love you'
If I knew it was the last time
I'd have never let you go

I walk the line...

I hadn't listened to Johnny Cash in a while.. Fixed my tape deck yesterday and have been listening to him ever since.. Here's a song thats always meant something to me.. and always will.. because sometimes you need someone to fix yourself for..

I keep a close watch on this heart of mine
I keep my eyes wide open all the time
I keep the ends out for the tie that binds
Because you're mine, I walk the line

I find it very, very easy to be true
I find myself alone when each day is through
Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you
Because you're mine, I walk the line

As sure as night is dark and day is light
I keep you on my mind both day and night
And happiness I've known proves that it's right
Because you're mine, I walk the line

You've got a way to keep me on your side
You give me cause for love that I can't hide
For you I know I'd even try to turn the tide
Because you're mine, I walk the line

I keep a close watch on this heart of mine
I keep my eyes wide open all the time
I keep the ends out for the tie that binds
Because you're mine, I walk the line

Hare Krishna.. Hare Ram..

At a recent social event.. dotted with leaf and spin and poker and chili and really really lousy champagne.. one got into a very drunk discussion on religion and society and life and the futility of working towards change.. the following conclusions were reached.. though obvious.. one would still list them down..

• All change is relative.
• All change is inevitable.
• All change is necessary.
• Its easier to see the positives and the possibilities from a vihangam drishti, bird's eye view.
• Its easier to see the negatives and hurdles from a insider's perspective.
• The status quo is the point of greatest negative free energy, ergo point of least potential.
• The status quo is time based and variable.
• The status quo, if disturbed, does not revert back to erstwhile status quo, but finds path of least responsibility to a new and relatively close status quo.
• All views are inherently flawed.
• All perspectives are inherently distorted.
• All opinions are relative and driven by self.
• Hypocrisy is the most primal human trait.
• All change is desirable.
• All change is futile.

The River..

Me and mary we met in high school
when she was just seventeen
We'd ride out of that valley
down to where the fields were green

Now all them things that seemed so important
Well mister, they vanished right into the air
Now I just act like I dont remember,
and she acts like she dont care

At night on them banks
I'd lie awake
And pull her close
just to feel each breath she'd take.

Now those memories come back to haunt me,
they haunt me like a curse
Is a dream a lie if it dont come true
Or is it something worse?

Missing in action..

Im really clueless as to how many people actually bother to read this blog, inspite of my shameless self advertisement. This cluelessness is partly because nobody leaves any comments.. So i've devised an ingeneous ploy to seperate the wheat from the chaff and figure out who my true and loyal readers are..
All reading this please leave a comment.. any comment.. with your name.. and i shall reward thee in full with many more years of Rambling on.. as for those who dont.. a cruel and bitter fate awaits them.. What? you ask.. BOOOAAAAHAHAHAAAAHAHAAAA... just you wait..

Live Forever..

A coupla days ago I was sitting in CCD.. gossiping about people from work with a colleague.. the customary Tropical Iceberg (no chocolate sauce.. no whipped cream) at my side..
I was beginning to feel rather nostalgic and it did seem like the ideal day for coincidences.. and the radio was playing "Dont look back in anger".. So i wasnt very surprised when in walked a gaggle of giggley DhikChik Girls. They were, no doubt for some very good reason which unfortunately illudes my trivial intelligence, wearing rather large sunglasses at seven in the evening, indoors no less..
Thinking it was probably Conjunctivitis, I though it prudent and polite not to stare.. Until that is, the familiar and oft heard sound of a high pitch cackle that always makes me say "I dont think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto", sent me spiralling down a nostalgic rabbit hole..
I though of the days long gone.. where many an hour was spent with coffee and conversation and cackles that would put them sunglasses weilding women to shame.. My thoughts dwelled on my now estranged partner in crime, with her soap opera existance and the resulting infinite wisdom.. I remembered maniacal car rides for bootleg liquor and crazier midnight bike rides with screams galore.. I remembered Virgina Slims and Wibbling Rivalry.. I remember laughter and tears and phonebills and fuming parents.. I remember fistfights at birthday parties (im soooo sorry) and obsessing about the twins.. Life was always an adventure with you around..
But tales of Cows and Uncle Monkeys do not last forever..
I hope you continue to wreck havoc on unsuspecting mortals wherever you go.. and i hope its always about the myooooosic..

Maybe you're the same as me.

We see things they'll never see

You and I are gonna live forever..

All the best..

Gets me through..

"Why do you keep calling me?" I kept trying to figure out the answer to that one all day today... and as always the Gods of Rock'n'roll came to my aid... from an unlikely source though.. So in the words of the immortal Ironman..

I'm not the kind of person you think I am
I'm not the anti-christ or the iron man
I have a vision that I just can't control
I feel I've lost my spirit and sold my soul
Got no control
I try to entertain you the best I can
I wish I'd started walking before I ran
But I still love the feeling I get from you
I hope you'll never stop cause it gets me through yeah
It gets me through yeah

The feelings that I hide behind
Sometimes reality's unkind
The nightmares stalk for me at night
I dread the long and lonely nights

I'm just trying to live yeah

Sad but true..

Amoris vulnus idem sanat, qui facit
The wounds of love can only be healed by the one who made them

Insomnia..

I dreamed of you last night..
of accidents accepted and cherished..
of burning questions,
that ceased to matter..
of memories and moments..
of all the nothings that remind us
of the love that cannot fade away..

I dreamed of you last night..
it was different this time..
every word was real..
every laugh a treasure..
as we embraced that which once was..
that which will always remain..
Leaving no room for regret..
well maybe a little..
The best laid plans of mice and men
often go awry..
atleast we had our goodbye..

Closure..

I completely broke down last night.. It wasn't anything monumental that set me off.. Just a picture in a frame.. I'd kept it away, found it while rummaging through my cupboard for my "makes me look like a retard" monkey cap..
I was sifting through a rather full drawer and i cut my fingure on something sharp.. i pulled out the offending object to find the picture.. the frame had bits of glass stuck on it..
I just broke down..
It was wierd.. I cant cry easy, wish I could.. I get this knot inside me and i keep feeling like im gonna throw up... which is usually followed by a severely claustrophobic feeling, where my clothes, the room, everything seems to be strangling me..
This is also about the time when reason leaves me and I do "It seemed like a good idea at the time" things..
something different happened yesterday though.. after putting the "Good Ideas" into action, actually, during it, I broke into this almost violent bawling (yup, bawling seems appropriate) fit.. And i couldnt stop.. I mean waterworks galore...
And then somebody came to my rescue.. somebody who herself is rather fragile and scarred at the moment.. somebody who I've nursed through irrational fits of her own.. But she, with her infinite wisdom, did not get me to stop crying, which is what I always tried to do for her.. She instead just kept quiet and listened till I was done screaming and crying and complaining and then proceeded to tell me that all my worst fears are probably true..
"I don't think she's coming back"
"Yes you did bring it on yourself"
"Ofcourse you're being selfish by not giving her space"
"Duhh! Ofcourse it hurts.. It will probably be months, years before it stops.. if at all"
All of this while washing a shirt for work today and for a few gross minutes, brushing her teeth..
And wierdly enough it calmed me down.. Not the sort of calm that came with locking stuff inside and not thinking about it.. but the sort of calm that comes with accepting a bad situation, shrugging and carrying on, swearing a little ofcourse.. The sort of calm I had only felt once before, when my folks hugged me inspite of me having screwed up really really bad..
I slept better than I have in weeks..
I woke up today.. stretched a little.. let myself feel the cold morning air as I stepped into my backyard.. embracing everything I had and lost, everything that remains.. and with one grand gesture of throwing the pieces of the Cat's Eye as far as I could,

I let her go..

Stagnation..

The sun still climbs.
The day still starts.
The sky still runs through shades of blue.
The waves still break.
The tides still part.
The sands still take a vacant hue.

The rain still falls
from clouds of grey.
The water still is icy cold.
The birds still call.
Of times they say.
The world still seems to grow old.

The cuts still bleed.
The blood's still red.
The life still slowly drains away.
The pain's still fresh
from broken words
of a greater good, a better day.

Yes, she still smiles
the way she did.
Yes, she still gently braids her hair.
The world still feels
the same but I,
Its just that I no longer care..

Dusk..

When the tide climbs high,
and the pier disappears.
Muffles up the silent cries.
Washes away the stagnant fears.

Under the greying skies
shadows criss cross in haze.
Time starts bending momentarily,
in strange and unnatural ways.

Twilight is upon us;
coulurs fade away.
The disparities of the world
are engulfed by a uniform grey.

Darkness splatters and gurgles
like thikish black tar.
While sounds of guns and war cries
still come up from afar.

Waging a lost battle,
a solitary lamp does stand.
Flickering, fading, fighting on
in need of a covering hand.

The sun is set. The day is done.
The night is here to stay.
Into this starless, inky sky
we all will fade away..

Another Day Another Frostbitten Finger...

The worst thing to do on a winter morning is get out of bed at 5:30 am and take a bath... not to mention drive 11 kms to a highly boring but highly necessary four hour class.. blind as a friggin bat with nothing in sight but the flashing hazard lights of the car in front of you..
Needless to say the little half hour vigil in sight of the express building gets more and more painful.. especially on an empty stomach.. and especially if it turns out to be fruitless yet again..
but then i have the joyous 10 km bicycle ride later in the day to look forward to... not to mention another equally boring but equally necessary class..
Ah the joys of winter in the city...
Humbug..

Nobody Else Will..

If not for you,there would be
so little of this part of me.
If not for you, the skies above
would not be blue or even high enough.

I see the skies... I see your eyes...
I see the colors are passing by...
I'm staying here, with you, my dear.

If not for you, there would be
a bigger hole inside of me.
If not for you, the stars above
would not be new or try to carry love.
I see the skies... I see your eyes...
I see the colors are passing by...
I'm staying here, with you, my dear.

I'm telling you the honest truth.
I won't let you down again,
I just want to be a good man.
Won't let you down again,
I just want to be your best friend.

And I'll be there for you,
in darkest nights when love is lying still.
I'll be there for you, to hold you tight.
Be there for you when nobody else will.

Hazel eyes..

Standing on the corner
I used to watch her
and how she smiled with her hazel eyes.

But a child she was
so unaware
of the things she could do with her hazel eyes.

Such a joy she was
than elven child
made your day with one look from her hazel eyes.

Like limpid pools
they called to me
to look beyond her hazel eyes.

And tell her that
I, too, can feel
the pain she hides behind her hazel eyes.

I took her hand
and swore to fight
the fears that darken her hazel eyes.

So I can stand
and watch again
while she smiles just for me with her hazel eyes.

One day at a time..

Things are different.. It doesnt hurt quite so much.. Its easier to breathe.. to smile.. to go on with life.. to set goals.. to work towards them.. im not the desperate inconsolable wreck that i was.. but that doesnt mean i've given up.. doesnt mean i've stopped believing..
Life's a lot longer than what you and i may think.. and time changes us all.. for the better or worse.. our paths may have parted.. but they will cross again.. and again.. and again.. because some things are just meant to be.. and love waits for when the time's right..
I will hang on.. in that stubborn as hell way that i always do.. and you may hate me.. or just not care.. but you wont forget.. not the pain i caused.. nor the life we spent together.. nor the fact that I will always be there when you chose to turn around and look..
One phonecall a day.. and one day at a time.. I have all the time in the world.. I have a lifetime..