So It Ends...

So it ends.

I am not going to indulge in a flashback of the year this was. It has been the worst year of my life and nothing can change it. So I bid goodbye to all those things that could have been, for I hope there's something better waiting to happen.

And so it ends... here.

Thankless!

Recently I was asked what my last post 'I Quit' was about. At that moment, it was just that.. a post! But I don't think it deserves the lack of introspection. So, here goes...

I don't expect you to thank me, or even return my favour. I don't even want you to, because then it would just demean everything. Having said that, I want you to know that I am not to be taken for granted. You don't own me. I am not somebody you can just come to every single time because you are in deep shit. I am not your anchor, who you could just throw away and expect would do all the work needed for you. I am not a selfless idiot, who you think does everything for the sake of humanity or for maintaining a good image. I seriously don't care if you think of me as a saint or a satan. I don't do it for you, I do it for myself.

This bond or whatever it is, I have put you above everything else for a long time now. But now, I am just getting tired. And I quit. I quit being your last resort. I can't be of use to you. I have reached my yielding point, and this is all I could do. I don't want you to understand, or even try to. I don't want to explain anything because I am not interested in listening to your explanation. I believe that one should return favours sometimes, but then I have nothing to ask for in return. I have given up.

A Day Without Cell Phones.

Those who know me, know that I am married to my cellphone. I don't leave it for a single minute, even if there are no calls or messages or anything. I lock and unlock my phone to check if there are new messages or if I missed any calls. I take it with me when I take a bath, so I can listen to my favourite music at full volume. I sleep with it, will check it whenever I get up in the middle of my sleep. But to say that I cannot survive a day without it, wouldn't be wrong. I can live with it, I mean without it. I don't think so, but I know so, as it happened today when my phone decided to commit a suicide and give up on me!

I have so much of things going on around me, and there is just so little of me who's willing to do them. I just feel like sleeping entire day and night and again. But it's not my destiny to have it my way, so I wake up every day, make a list of what all I have to do, and what all I will do in a day. I had been waiting for today for so many days now, Monday, is when all the offices would be open and I can do all the stupid stuff that I have been doing. So I decided to wake up early, get ready and start with the task. I went from one place to another and to another, hopping between places like I was David Rice of 'Jumper', emerging at places in no time. Of course it didn't happen that way, but I did manage to do a portion of my task that needed me in three different places. It was all fine, until I realized that my phone was off and it wasn't turning back on. I had charged it all night, so I know it wasn't the battery problem, it was just the periodic realization of my phone that it runs on Windows OS. How much I hate it!

There was so much other stuff that I needed to be done with today, but since my phone decided to just quit, I couldn't do any of it. I thought you can live a day without your phone, because I am not really addicted to it, but today was impossible. It was today when I realized that PCOs have become obsolete, and there are none present at public places where you would expect them to be. I remember the phase when I used to go to the nearby PCO and make calls, and they were everywhere. You could see handicapped people running a mobile PCO unit on their vehicles, some sort of government plan or something. But they have become these vestigial entities that are no longer into existence, and I am not into a habit of asking a stranger for his cellphone so I could make a call. If it were one single call, I might have asked someone to lend me his phone, but I needed to make so many calls which probably would have consumed a considerable amount of money off their credit balance. 

It is just so disappointing that the PCOs that were once in abundance have just ceased to exist. It might be a positive thing that everyone has a cellphone these days, so there's no need of them, but doesn't people lose their phones, or run out of battery or doesn't their phones give up on them? I can't wrap my head around the fact that I couldn't do so many things today only because I didn't have a phone with me. Has life become dependable on an inanimate object like cellphones? I never thought I was so dependable on a phone, but 'today' just proved the point!

This Journey..

This car journey is the reason I never wanted to grow up. I am surrounded by so many of my cousins and uncles and people I don't even know - they are relatives, that's all I know, but I am not sure how are we connected. 

I have always been this ignorant child of the family. All my brothers and sisters can recognize people when they come visiting us at our home in the city, from the village I used to hate being connected to, but I would always tell my mother or my father that 'an uncle/aunt has come from the village', to which they would just smile, knowing that this was the best possible description that could come from me.

I remember my childhood when every summer vacations, we used to pack our bags and head for our village. I still find it amusing how every summer, without a miss, every summer, someone or the other was getting married, and as a part of our family tradition, we were supposed to attend the function. I cannot say that I hated going to the village, but I wasn't fond of it either. The only push I needed to go, was that my mother was going, and I couldn't stay back in Delhi without my mother. So, we packed our bags and happily headed towards the village.

We would rent a car and put all our stuff at the back of the white Ambassador. My father was fond of those cars, Ambassadors. I always fought with my brother to sit on the front seat, and would end up sharing it with him. My father would tell us stories of our forefathers, how ours was the most royal family in the entire region at that time. I was fond of listening to the stories about our haveli, the treasures, my grandparents and our royal lineage. I grew up without any grandparents. I never saw any of them. My mother tells me that I was raised by my Naani for a few years, but I was too infant to remember her now. So my parents' stories were all I had of my grandparents. My friends in school used to boast about their visits to their grandparents' place in summers, and all I had were these beautiful stories I grew up listening.

I, being the youngest, never thought that I would be needed to learn about my relatives. It wasn't my job to entertain the guests from the village, or to know how many millions of cousins or uncles or aunts I had. All the gaaon related matters were dealt by my father - the relatives, the lands, the disputes, the functions and everything. So I never thought that I needed to know. On days when our colony's power was down, all the family would take mattresses and pillows to the terrace and arrange on the chaar-payis and khaats, where we all would fight to get the second best khaat or chaar-payi to sleep on - the best one was reserved for our father. I used to share mine with either my mother or my elder brother, I was afraid of sleeping alone. They used to be long nights, and on many of such nights, my father was posted on night duties in some corners of Delhi, and on the nights that he wasn't, he would assemble us all on the terrace and tell stories, he would quiz us on villagey terms, idioms and phrases. I never knew any answer but I would try guessing, and whenever I was a little close, my father would give me a one rupee coin as a prize. That one rupee coin was the incentive I needed, to know more about our gaaon. 

I was oblivious to my relatives in the gaaon for a long time, until today, when suddenly I have grown up. I am made to talk to people who are connected to me through my father's brothers or sisters or their sons or daughters, etc. It is such a huge khaandaan, I can never remember all of them. My mother tries her best to make me remember their names and their relation to me. My father used to introduce every one of them to me. He always used to say 'you should know your relatives, you will need to know them some day' and I always wondered 'when, when would I need to know them?' I think I know now. This is when I am needed to know. I miss my father because he's not here to introduce these people to me, and my mother can't do that because she's forced to hide herself from everyone for 4 months and 10 days. This isn't fair. I don't want to know any of these people, but my mother tells me it's important.

I didn't want to grow up. I never wanted all these responsibilities put on me. I was supposed to stay 'the youngest kid of the family'. But suddenly I am surrounded by all these people in that same white Ambassador, and I have no idea who are they. I don't even speak their language, I can understand every word of it, but I can't speak, so I just sit here sandwiched between two of my distant uncles (that's all I have picked up from the conversations) and I keep nodding when they direct a question to me, or I smile when they pass a comment on me, or on someone and they expect me to acknowledge. This car journey is the reason I never wanted to grow up. This is the reason I need my father, to save me from all of it, to evict the purpose of this journey. I shouldn't have to be sitting here, nodding and smiling. I wish I wasn't!  

I Quit.

I am simply tired. I give up!

The 17th Post... To Mitch

I spend all day, doing things in my head and thinking 'this' or 'that' would go right in the blog. Like people click photos especially for their fb accounts, I think of words and things especially for here. I am not exactly a writer per se. I write for the sole purpose of venting out. My purpose has changed... with time. It didn't start with 'venting out' at first, but then it just became that.

I found this blog from somewhere, and I haven't stopped reading it. I usually find blogs, I read them and just forget. But this one was different, so different that I bookmarked it. That's a very weird thing if you don't know me. I don't bookmark things, nothing at all. But it was Mitch's blog. I don't know who he is, and I have no recollection of how I ended up at his blog. But it felt like a personal connection, like I knew Mitch, like I have known him for a long time. But in reality, I don't know much about him. Let's see what all I know... he's just a random person who is into writing, who loves his family, who loved a girl who probably dumped him or something went wrong between them, and that he is into writing, a lot into it. I am not into a habit of following a random person's blog, I find it much like stalking, and am not a fan of that either. But lately, I have been trying to get rid of unwanted thoughts in my head. I was advised to try different things so I could move on, but nothing has helped till now. And I have tried like a million things...

So, Mitch is a good writer. I like what he writes, and how he writes. He and I are so much alike and yet so different, I think. He's not as confused as I am. He knows things, and he's a doer, unlike me. So yes, he's the better man between us. But he's stuck over a girl who was clearly an important part of his life. I have no idea what happened between them, because he doesn't write openly about it (like myself) and I find that annoying. Either he's one of those innocent guys who fall for the wrong girl, or he's one of those who are just stupid enough to get attached to everyone they meet. I am not sure which one is he.

I have no clue why exactly am I doing this. Mitch is a stranger and I have no business trespassing the limits of blog surfing and intruding in his personal life. But I just needed the 17th post, so I could live in peace with myself. And his blog makes it possible. He gave me this post. So, I owe it... to Mitch!

..

What is it that changes everything now? The nonstop sessions of Grey's Anatomy makes me wonder. You see a lot of things and it feels like.. like you know what could have been done.. It was just an ordinary day; yes, a day inside that stupid building, surrounded by weird smells, hideous wounds and whatnot.. yes, that had been an ordinary day for me for a long time now. It wasn't the first time I stood outside the 'authorised personnel only' area, waiting for someone to call me inside. I just didn't know what to do when they did. It isn't like me to worry about his well being, or notice any change. He had been the same for a long time now; but it wouldn't have hurt to have a second opinion. I am bad at being open. But I tried, the best I could. 

It's insanely weird that you almost believe everything they show you in that TV series, like you now know a thing or two about medicine, surgeries, etc. I had just visited him and he was perfectly normal, for a long time the definition of 'normal' had been him lying still. I feel queasy in hospitals; I cannot really point out what exactly makes me feel so, but I hate hospitals more than I hate anything else. So yes, I felt uneasy visiting him in that intensive care unit, and looking at all those machines hooked to him. Grey's Anatomy has taught me enough to know that those machines were what's keeping him alive. But he was.. he was alive.

The doctor had just told me that he was improving. There was no comfort in his words, but there was a certain relief. I cannot stay in hospitals for more than a few hours, I just wanted to run from there and reach home. I remember sitting in front of the computer, watching that show again; no matter how restless it made me feel, I was still watching that show. It was a normal day until..

My phone does not ring at 11 pm. Nobody calls me, or atleast nobody was calling me lately as everyone I knew was busy or not in Delhi. But the phone rang. It wasn't mine. But I could hear it ringing on the second floor. Isn't it weird that the phone stops ringing and you know that someone has answered it, and yet, there is no sound, just silence.. I have a tendency of feeling bad about anything unusual, but I just wanted to delay the rush, the fear.. the truth. He was normal. He was alive. And after just one phone call, he wasn't. That's absurd, that's weird, that's just not an ordinary day. Suddenly there's all this chaos all around me. I do not remember anything what happened in that moment. Any other day, every other morning, I would have been prepared, but he was normal that day, I had just visited him, he was alive. 

Many days pass and you cannot stop the thoughts that come to your mind. I blame it on the excessive watching of that TV series. You see all these things in those 45 minutes and you cannot stop wondering what happened, what changed.. How a person goes from being normal and alive, to just not existing! You play those moments in your head over and again, trying to find out what could have happened inside that room. How it must have started.. How he must have felt.. Was it peaceful? Was it chaotic? You close your eyes to look for an answer... You just can't find one. I blame it on the excessive watching of that show..

You used to get up every morning and peeked inside his bedroom, fearing that moment. You notice the movement of his blanket, and you knew he was breathing. Then one day, you wake up and you have just lost that job.. You don't know what to look in that bedroom for. You still hear the sounds, like it is still one of those mornings, and yet you find it impossible to peek inside that room.. You go over every word that the doctors said, inside your head, trying to find what could have happened inside that room. He was alone in that room. You visited him and yet he was alone at 'that' moment. What changed. How? He wasn't a man with known heart conditions, then how do you believe when they tell you it was a cardiac arrest? You have seen enough Grey's Anatomy to know that it couldn't have been, but you know not enough to find what it was. No matter how many times you close your eyes and no matter how hard you try, you cannot fill the gap, you cannot create a reason..

It's hard to know beforehand that the last time you're seeing a person is actually 'the last time' you are gonna see him...Wouldn't you just give everything to know that it was!

Void

It's been almost twenty days.. doesn't feel like. You go to that place atop a mound, to pray, to repent and more than anything - to fill the void. It wasn't until that very moment that you realized how huge this void was becoming. You have an outer shell that you wont penetrate through and find out who you really are. People say all kind of things, to comfort you and you just listen, knowing exactly what they mean. Their words are just shallow, and no, they aren't fake; they are just not comforting! 

He was the reason you never wrote your name on your design sheets; he taught you humility, taught you that 'showing off' is inhuman. He was the reason you think twice before jumping a signal; he taught you to be patient, taught you that everything happens on its own, just in time. No, you weren't exactly close, you cannot put words to what you were. You never got time to delve deeper why exactly was there that certain disconnect between you and him. 

Now you just go there everyday, you look at that headstone and reminisce about all those memories you had completely forgotten over the past few years. You remember the trivia quizzes he hosted on certain nights, at the terrace, when the power was gone. You remember him awarding that one rupee coin for your right answer, even though you weren't. You think there wouldn't be much to look back, but there is just so much.. He's given so much to you, it is just weird that men in your family are so introvert about affection and sharing things openly. You never exchanged more than a few sentences, and yet you know there was all this care and love unspoken and undisplayed. How he wanted so many things from you.. for you.. is beyond your understanding, and somehow it all just fits in right! He was your old man.. He was your ideal.. He was the reason for everything you boast about!

It's too long ever since you tried remembering all these things... But somehow all those quizzes, outings in the car with the red light, lessons on life and so much more... everything just stays with you, while he's far away in a much better place. You do miss him, you just won't show..

What Is It That You Do?

What is it that you do? And why?

It is strangely peculiar that people call you ‘selfless’. That is such a shallow word – almost hypocrisy. Are they returning you a favour? But why does it hurt so much to be called that. To them, it is almost a reverence to be known as what they are not, then why should you think any different! You are not selfish and you are not selfless either, you are somewhere in the middle, or maybe you do not lie on the track that connects the two. You are different they say, but you don’t want to be.

Humility is such a superficial attribute. Everyone has an ulterior motive behind everything they do; that does not make them selfish. Isn’t it only logical that everything has a sense of reason behind it, or else wouldn’t it be just plain stupid to do things for no reason? Why does it have to be so visibly defined; the reasons? You do what you like. You do not do it for anyone else either, if not for yourself. 

Maybe they tell you differently, but you are just another piece in the puzzle that the world is. Wouldn’t you just want them to stop? Can they not just take it without having to show a shallow affectation that makes all your work look a result of vanity? You are not a saint. You are not a selfish bastard either. You are just somebody – any other entity.

Confessions Of A Bad Ass Brownie..

I was supposed to be an innocent brownie; a piece of soft cake. I was meant to make merry, among people who were in much need of it. Irfan, being the baker boy (in the absence of the other professional bakers of the group) was much excited to assemble me from parts to a whole – an innocent joyful brownie! But, somehow I decided that I did not intend to do what was expected of me, poor Irfan.. I was supposed to be one whole cake, but he decided to part me into two and alter one-half of me. The first half of me did work in making people merry, even though it wasn’t supposed to mean anything to these people. However, the other half (that was supposed to add joy to these poor people’s lives) did not turn up the way they expected. So henceforth, we will call the first half ‘the normal’ brownie, and the second half as ‘the bad ass brownie’. The normal brownie was all joyful and ‘normal’ and hence it has nothing to share with you all, it’s pretty much happy with what it achieved. On the other hand, this is me – the bad ass brownie, who is pushed in to making confessions of a crazy kind..

I am a brownie, very much the same as you would find if you go to any decent bakery that serves healthy food, but my creator had decided to alter my ingredients and thereby making me different from the rest of my clan. This however, wasn’t done for the first time across the globe, there have been several million people who have tried me, but poor Irfan and his friends were the first timers. They had googled me and were indeed happy with people’s reviews. Irfan made sure I was made as good as it get, and I did turn up good; a bit too extra good.

I was the victim of an even share between six people, but there were eight parts; Irfan and his other hyper excited friend wanted extra share, and one eighth of me was saved for a future guest. They ate me up like they all hadn’t eaten up anything the whole day and I was their first meal, they were barbarous. I intended to make things good, so I decided to remain calm for about an hour and a half. All the six people who had eaten me up called each other and started complaining about my inability to make them happy, or my inability to even work. I was hurt by these people’s allegations, and so I decided to show them all what I was capable of… After an hour or two, when each one of my consumers had gone and settled at their respective places, I decided to start with a little joyous work. Ah! Indeed all six of them were happy, they were now convinced that I did work, and yet, they complained about me being slow in my work. Well, good things come to those who wait.. they should have known and believed, but they decided to be thankless to me, and I for one, wasn’t happy!

You know, if they had done their Googling work properly, they would have known how gradual my effects were, and what was I capable of, but the researcher in Irfan had taken a leave that day. Tch. Tch. So, just when they had gotten a minute’s happiness, I decided to elevate my effects. I was so happy when they were starting to get scared of me and my capabilities, but I was in no mood to spare those who had false complained about my effects and abilities. Irfan was shit scared.. poor guy had to call up each one of the six to get a reassurance that he was fine, but no, he wasn’t and there was no way he was going to get that reassurance. He called up everyone and was even surer that my effects were starting to show. How hard he was trying to pretend to be ‘normal’; poor guy didn’t know that he was normal, it was all just in his mind. He decided that it’s been an hour since my effects started kicking in, so he should better go to bed before it got worse; he checked the time to realize that it had only been five minutes what looked to him an hour. How sad!

I am a bad ass brownie, and this is not a coincidence that I got a name so apt to my behaviour. Just when he laid on his bed to get a good night’s sleep, I decided to shift the gears and make things worse. It was such a funny thing to witness, when that poor guy was assured that he was dying and it was the last night of his life.. How cruel it might sound, I didn’t stop yet! When Irfan started calling everyone to help him, he was just convinced how soon he would be dead, and with him, will die at least three other people. His attempts were failing, and I was winning. A few minutes (hours to him) later, when he concluded that it was impossible for him to sleep and live, he decided to call up a friend who had not consumed a portion of me. Maybe, he was looking for someone ‘normal’ to normalise him, little did he knew that there was no normalcy he was going to achieve. Right now I was feeling like the monster created by Mr. Frankenstein, who just decided to take revenge on his creator. Poor Irfan.. what a mistake he had done by creating me!

I am usually a very calm, peaceful and joyous creation, but it was a bad day for the six.. err five of them. The sixth is just too used to me! Like I was not happy with ruining the night for the five of them, Irfan helped me by ruining a sixth one’s by showing up at his friend’s door and pleading to save him from my effects. Wow, that even sounds cathartic. You know if there were no such thing as Google, Irfan wouldn’t have ruined his own night, and also his friend hadn’t saved his life. I hate Google for that! I am sure Irfan is thankful to his friend and his googling abilities; because he started to feel better soon his friends had tried all the remedies given on the Internet to help reduce my effects. Irfan was now little doubtful about his death, so he took the courage to go back to his place and try defeating me by going to a sound sleep. But I had other plans.. He was sure that he wasn’t dying, but it wasn’t possible for me to just let him sleep so easily, and poor guy spent all his night staring in the dark, thinking all kinds of thoughts and just trying hard to prevent him to sleep which he thought would result in his immediate death. Haha, how idiotic he was!

People had told him that my effects lasted for four to six hours, until someone told him that it might last till 24 hours. Poor guy was in deep trouble, thinking he wouldn’t ever get normal. I didn’t let him sleep or be normal for the entire night and the next entire day. Anxiety is just a word, it has no meaning, it is all psychological and I took full advantage of it. The next day, Irfan enquired about his fellow victims, who he was sure that at least one of them would be dead by now, but to his utter surprise everyone had returned back to normal and were in a better condition than him. You know he should have felt relief knowing that he is just like them, and sooner or later, he too would get normal. But he was a serious case of anxiety disorder and nothing in the world could convince him that closing his eyes for more than a minute wouldn’t mean his immediate death. How funny it looked when he bothered all his friends and made them miss their lectures and college attendance just so he could keep his mind diverted and prevent his death. It did work actually. He was acting normal, tried forgetting about me and almost got successful, watched all the episodes of a nonsense TV series just so he could divert his mind and doze off to sleep, until all the episodes were over and he got tired of watching it. No, I hadn’t left him anytime soon. It was more than 24 hours later and he was still living in the fear of his death… Poor guy spent another night thinking he would die, until finally in the morning he got his much awaited sleep of mere five hours. Damn, he was all the more sure now that he isn’t dying anytime soon. He decided that it was in his head and so he succeeded in defeating me, but I already had my fun and I cared the least now…

You know I was supposed to be an innocent brownie, but he wanted me to be bad ass, or else he wouldn’t have experimented with my formula. He lives.. but I still haunt him through THC levels in his blood test reports, haha!

And that is how I know, he wouldn’t dare to be another Frankenstein ever again!!

Best Laid Plans...

You don't like it in the shadows
You won't let me shine a light

It is against everything I stand for. It is clouded by confusion. What do you want me to do? And, why? Why can't there be just one solution? I am tired.. by these questions, for am not looking for an answer and yet there they are, so many! 

I would wash away your troubles

If I look right, or did right. But then, 'right' is not compatible with me.

But it seems ...
The more that I hold on
The more that you let go

This is not what I planned. Or, maybe I did. Plans are not my strongest suit.

Tell me why all the best laid plans
Fall apart... 
In your hands

If it weren't for the promises I made, maybe I'd stop one day. Maybe... But you wouldn't let me. You have a remedy to keep the promises that were once mine. I am trying to take it all back, and yet I can't. Something tells me it's all going to be okay, someday perhaps; and so, I wait...

And my good intentions never end,
The way I meant  

This is the time when I should be losing it all. I ought to make less promises, and keep more. I am at my wits' end, and you ask me to remain calm, to not look back... to wait, for a future that's mine..

If we don't talk about the future
Then should I just, follow you into the dark?

I ought to keep more of my promises, and you need to make less of yours. I am blinded by everything that I have failed at, and yet I am ready to be blinded again. This dilemma is itself the solution; when I know I shouldn't be losing faith... I shouldn't be having a hope!

Yeah, and does your silence keep you cold
While the cracks form on my heart?

I wouldn't let this happen again, but what choice do I have. You are after all, the one thing that's closest to what I break down to. This is pure torture, to not give up, after all that's happened and before everything I know would come. I am finding it hard to lose the faith, to quit the hope and to just give up on you. You have your ways of working wonders even though it doesn't serve me peace, it doesn't answer my questions, but still somehow it's all the promises that you have made and kept. I swore to not keep holding to what's gone, and yet all these visions of a distant future keeps me stable, keeps me in the past; like the present hasn't happened. 

It seems to me some fine friends have watched you turn your back
It seems you only want the things that you can't have.   

This is the working principle of your world; wanting things you can't have, you won't have! I have probably fallen for it.. the promise that there is nothing which you can't have. You have your own ways and... I have mine.

It's only that....

...all the best laid plans fall apart 

Life Recedes

It is funny how life takes a U turn at times. You are almost there, reaching for your aim and then there it is, the big halt; you are then receding, or everything else is progressing. You are back to where you started. You don't understand what or how something went wrong. But something sure did go wrong! Yes, life is funny. If funny is the right word, but then that's the closest.

Words...

It is difficult to put down a book... any book! It's like you have made a pact, signed a contract or promised someone that you'll read their story, listen to it with patience; and you cannot betray your own words for that. How real is it!

A story unfolds as you turn the pages diffidently, not wanting to miss anything; to savour every word till the last stroke. People call you a fast reader, accuse you to insult the precious book because you haven't enjoyed it as much, you haven't taken three times the time it needed. But you cannot explain, why or how! You have savoured each alphabet, each word, dot by dot and it has meant so much more than it should have. You cannot explain, how you can live the words you read effortlessly without having to go through them twice, or thrice! You are living the words, it's a different world; this one, you enjoy, to your own surprise.

You close your eyes and there they are; people from that world, alive and breathing. Words metamorphose into reality as you converse with them, share the same space as they do. You try to understand them, their perspective about things, their story, their pain, their agony or merely the fact that they are real. You are in their world, you are them! An English man full of hatred and revenge is as real your reflection as an architect who's defying everything and everyone. You are the drunkard of Picaddily, you are the alien from the vicinity of Betelgeuse; you are the resilient comrade under a tyranny, you are the ex military doctor slash sidekick to a detective! You are so much, you are everyone and you are nothing! 

It is solace you find in the words written by  men unknown to you. You are trying to find a source of the reflections you have seen. You are looking for an identity, you are looking for reality in what they blatantly call fiction. Perhaps, someday you might. 

Someday you will! 

Utopia...

I wanted to write so much, about something so important; but then, it just slipped my mind, the very moment I decided to write, like it was waiting for the very exact moment. I remember someone told me 'if you cannot remember what you wanted to say, then it wasn't worth sharing'. I know it wouldn't have been so important to strike a difference anywhere, but then it is pretty irritating to know that there is something stuck inside your head and you just can't find a way to pull it out of its place. It is almost tragic that you don't have access to the internet in places you would have written the very thing you wanted to, now even if it comes back to your memory, it wouldn't be as good as the 'original thought'. 

You should have taken a laptop to the place where you had just done 'nothing' for the last three days; where you realized that even 'doing nothing' was achievable. Your head was whirling round and round about something so unimportant, and yet it didn't create a headache like it does now. When you were focused too much on the words inside the book you were reading, that you could see the words dancing and making weird moves in front of your eyes. It wasn't a dream, it wasn't a hallucination, it was all so real, it all existed. You hadn't had a care in the world, about what day it was, what time of the day it was, or if you had missed a meal or had eaten too much, you just had to lie down on the hardwood bed staring at the book, deep inside the places it took you to. No, you cannot recreate the exact events, your memories are just a tweaked replication of them; it wouldn't be justifiable to recreate the past for present's convenience.

It was a break, a break well deserved. True, it wasn't the perfect place and you missed so many people you wanted to be with. But then again, such a break (the perfect place and the perfect company) is well... a perfection, and perfection isn't possible, it isn't human to be perfect. You had realized it long ago, and yet you make futile efforts to achieve perfection. Well, this break wasn't perfect, and you are relieved because that makes you feel that there could be 'more' and if this distorted perfection was such a relief, the actual perfection (or our illusion of what perfection is) would be heavenly. It makes you smile, reminiscing about the past few days and the hardwood bed..

The aim of the getaway wasn't the break that you needed, it was entirely orthodox; your future, your career, your life, et cetera, and to get something more out of it, was an unplanned success. You have 'almost' achieved everything, almost... If it weren't for the little glitch that occurred, you would have achieved humanly perfection. 

To live without a care in the world, is a utopian dream of every human, and to have lived inside that dream, even if for a few days, was well worth... 

It isn't fair when you cannot put the exact memory to words, when you fail to animate the words with the feelings you have for the events they describe. You are going to try, and never give up nevertheless, for if perfection is God-like then striving for it is purely human!

To have lived the perfect day

I would give my soul away

If you tell me perfection isn't a thing

I wouldn't mind even the present day!

I Am You...

You come across a stranger’s unfinished blog, and suddenly in the middle of your reading it, there is no stranger-ness left, it’s like you know who it is by, who it is for, like it was waiting to be read, or recognized  I am not the only one leaving posts midway. We think alike, almost too same; it’s scary, it’s fun, it’s a relief and it pains. What is more funny (or scary) is the fact that you are also a designer. Well yeah, I am not a ‘designer’ per se, but that’s too strange of a coincidence. You said something about feeling frustrated all the time, wanting to hit a stranger with a shovel, and well, a lot that goes on in my mind. I am starting to almost believe that I do know you. Maybe we’re both hiding from each other. Yeah, a place to vent; what better than here. 

You Have No Idea...

I often wonder if life is the same for everyone; I mean, everyone goes through all these phases of happiness and sorrow, surprise and relief, pain and love, so it doesn't make much sense when you tell people 'you have no idea how painful/hard/sad/joyful/... it is for me'. We all have our 'you have no idea how much...' moments. But then, it is impossible to not share, to just assume the other person already understands... But then everyone has their own meaning of things, of moments, of people... of life! So, no, life is not the same for everyone after all.

People will always tell you how you will never be able to achieve something; and friends, well.. it is their job to boost up your confidence and tell you how you can do anything and everything in the world! It doesn't feel bad when everyone else have no expectations from you, but it feels bad when your friends have all the expectations in the world from you, and not only because they are doing their job of being a friend, but because they truly believe you can do what you think you can't; what you know you can't. Life is broken down to 'expectations' for you; expectations from your parents, your friends, your colleagues and above all, from yourself. They know they are better than yourself, and yet, your friends will always tell you 'you are the best, man'. They will say the shittiest things, just to make you happy sometimes! Friends...

It Is A New Day!

The colour red is too prominent in my eyes today; they need rest, some sleep and 'peace' if it exists somewhere. The clock says it's only 9.22 pm. A smile plays up inside me 'You are getting old, and getting there fast!' It is too early and I am not ready to give up to the teary eyed sleep in me. If only I had no office tomorrow, there wouldn't be any red in my eyes. Yet, I am glad it is there; helps me keep so many things out of my head, so many people, too many days! 

And still, none of this can make it go away permanently; all that will somehow find a way to get there in your head. A look at that watch brings back the time. You pick that old bag, and it reminds you everything you are holding back. It is funny how someone who used to be everything to you is reduced to those lifeless things of your time with them. I have always been a victim of 'change' and I thought I had pretty much accustomed myself to every possible change life could see, and yet you just feel helpless every second time. And it is quite obvious, for it is not perceivable how things can change so enormously, leaving you speechless and wondering. Why 'that one person' who you thought could not hurt you, leaves you worse than anyone else could. 

But then you always knew life, however weird and funny and helpless it was. Everything changes...

Science Project

Only if it were a perfect world, if at all... if life was predictable, or at least traceable; I wouldn't be sitting here and thinking 'what changed?' Someone once told me, "You are the most complicated being I have ever met, and I have met like half the world." I nodded in agreement "You do not qualify for a human, you are God's science experiment" she went on. I failed to assess the truth in her words.
I am God's science project. I am starting to believe it.

Treading Time

I am the youngest in my family; hence, has always been distant from responsibilities of the household. I have always been pampered by my mother, being the youngest of her nine children, and quite obviously I have enjoyed this gift. I remember not doing anything at home, not knowing what went deep inside the family. And then, suddenly I grew up, burdened by all sorts of responsibilities. How did this happen? One day, I am just the ignorant youngest child, and the next, I stand facing life's reality; getting a job, paying the bills, parents' hospital trips and whatnot. How quick it all changed, I wonder. I am supposed to earn a living, take care of my father's health, make sure the bills are paid, etc etc. I didn't want to grow up, leaving the comforts of childhood, and yet here I am. Life's not fair, but then nobody said it would be!

Crazy. Stupid. Love

It has always been difficult to put her into words. She's been the one person I have adored for various reasons. Above everything else, I love her for the madness she so radiantly projects. I have no recollection of how it all started, but sometime back years ago, I met this exceptionally awesome girl who had a charismatic aura about her. You cannot 'not' fall for such thing, in the most friendliest possible way.

It is her smile I remember from that Friday years ago. Smile. Nothing else. She was almost hiding beneath the killing smile she wore. But then, it was hard to tell; she was one-third of the trio, the mysterious trio to be precise. Nobody knew what went in their minds, and they were pretty good at keeping that a secret. And today, years after that Friday I know what was hiding behind that mischievous smile of her.

I have vague memories of being distant from this weirdly amazing girl; for reasons best known to either of us. And then, there was a switch. I am reminded of that crazy long drive on a rainy day, that changed it all. It brought me closer to what the mystery was. I can clearly recollect our stupid conversations over the phone, sms-es, online chats, etc. where we had the bizarre of the bizarre-st possible discussions, over well... nothing! She is one crazy girl who never cease to amuse me.

The rebellious brat that she was, has always inspired me to do things my way. I am clearly in awe of her, if 'love' is too cheesy a word to describe what we have. Be it the feminist regimes she heads, or her wanting to go to certain 'barred' areas, or one of the several of her defying moods, she has been something of a charm. But it is not only her non-conventional or rebellious attitude that I have fallen for, it is her ability of being the bestest of friends, without needing to be. She can say such silly things, and still please you and sweeten up your bitter moods. 

To one of the craziest, loveliest, awesomest rebel I have ever known.  

To all the stupid discussions that we had, or wanted to.

To, well... you.

Birthday Wishes.

Tavalodet Mobarak, for the half Persian that you are ;)     

Love.

Forever.