No Big Words, Please!

On the couch.

2012-02-06T09:58:00.001+05:30

Do you know how what you're feeling can twist things up in your mind to the extent where you end up feeling like what you thought was right, and did thinking it was the right think to do, may not have been all that right? I know that feeling - it's only too familiar. It feels like my conscience has been hammered to a level where I can hardly differentiate between right and wrong now - everything that I do seems wrong to me. Ergo, I think a million times before I do or say something to make sure that it's not a mistake, and I end up feeling like it is a mistake after I say or do it, anyway.

So, here's a transcript from my first ever session to see a shrink. I'll skip all the introductions and head straight to the core. At 600 bucks a session, I think I might as well get a couple of comments out of it. Humor apart, she's a fine lady and she can really make a mind-fucked person feel at home. So, without further ado, here it is (You do know that I'm obviously not going to put in everything that happened?):

Shrink (Who shall henceforth be referred to as "her"): Before we start talking about anything at all, I want you to be comfortable. Just remember, whatever you say to me remains only between the both of us. You can be rest assured.

Me (Who shall always be referred to as "Me", "I" or "Myself"): Um... Yeah. I was wondering whether I can actually record this?

Her: You do understand that if you do, I wouldn't be able to guarantee confidentiality? I mean, I'm not going to mention it to anyone, but then there are people who could listen in on what you've recorded. Right?

Me: No one that I don't want to mention this to will be able to hear it. But you wouldn't have a problem if I recorded it, right?

Her: I told you. Feel comfortable. It's entirely up to you whether you want to share your conversation with others, or you want to keep it to yourself. From my side, I won't be repeating this to anyone else.

Me: I know, I know.

Her: So, tell me. Is there anything in particular that you wanna talk about? Some particular issue that you want help with?

Me: Uh... Well, I don't really know if they're issues. I mean, I just wanted a professional opinion. There are quite a few things bothering me.

Her: Well, I'll try helping you with whatever I can. Don't worry. We can find solutions to almost anything and everything.

Me: Okay. I don't really know where to begin though. Um...

Her: Maybe we'll give you a cue to start off from? How old are you?

Me: I'm 22.

Her: Good. I'll fish a little bit, and ask you - is it something to do with your studies? Or college? Friends at college maybe?

Me: Um.... Actually, all three.

Her: Hmmm... Okay. Why don't you start telling me about your college then?

We talked quite a bit about my college and how my studies are, and things that I hope to achieve. We then talked about my friends at college, and she came to ask me about my other friends. I mentioned a problem that had been bother me till then.

Me: I think I might be suffocating them.

Her: Why do you think that?

Me: I've had this experience till date - I get really attached to my friends, and I go to the extent of doing anything for them. But then, I don't know if something is wrong with me or if it's just because I end up giving them little or no space. Most of them start avoiding me after a while.

Her: Okay. Tell me this - you said you go to the extent of doing anything for them. Are you sure it's not something to do with trying to please them?

Me: I don't know. I mean, no. I know it's not something to do with pleasing them. I consider them family. I just want to be there for them. At any given time.

Her: That's always a good thing. But if that's the case, why do you feel you're suffocating them?

Me: I guess I tend to get too close for comfort?

Her: Have you ever asked any of your friends about this? The ones who avoid you, at least?

Me: Yeah. I mean, not the ones who try and avoid me, but the others. The ones who're still around.

Her: What was the general opinion?

Me: That I haven't been doing anything like that. That they don't really feel like I'm suffocating them or anything.

Her: And that doesn't reassure you?

Me: No. Well, it's still been happening despite that, hasn't it?

Her: It might not be what you think. Tell you what - do you feel you've ever done something wrong with your friends? Something to hurt them?

Me: Um... Apparently, I hurt them by not bothering to keep in touch regularly.

Her: Apparently? As in?

Me: They've never exactly told me about it. I mean, there are just these set of people from my previous college, and the only person that they mention this to is my girlfriend. She's the one who tells me.

Her: Girlfriend? You're in a relationship?

Me: Yeah.

Her: Okay. We'll get to that a little a later. But tell me this - after you've heard all this from your girlfriend, have you ever confronted the people who've told her about all this?

Me: I've done it just the once. Recently. I mean, not all of them. Just one of my friends. We were on a conference call. My friend, my girlfriend and me.

Her: How did it go? Was there an argument? Did your friend tell you why they'd been feeling the way they did?

Me: Yeah. He did. And I explained things to him, and tried to reassure him that I wasn't doing anything that they were all imagining. That he was missing things in plain sight. That he was misunderstanding me.

Her: How did he take that?

Me: It was a long conversation, but he did understand and realize a lot of things after I talked to him.

The conversation went this way for a long time. In the last 10 minutes of the hour, she asked me about my relationship. The session lasted an hour, and I will be going back for another one this coming week. I'm trying to sort out my mind, so I'll be able to think clearly. So that I'll be able to stop hurting. I thought I could do it myself, and I probably could have. But thanks goes to one person who was patient enough to listen to me firsthand, and suggested that I see a professional before deciding anything at all.

Oh, and there was one thing that burst out of my mouth when I was about to leave the Psychologist's place.

Me: Um... Do you think I have bi-polar syndrome?

Her (Smiling): Do you think you have it?

Me: I think I might. It's a possibility.

Her (Chuckles): Then, in all probability, you don't.

There's much more to find out, I guess.

Cross Talk

2011-10-17T20:43:00.000+05:30

Cross-talk. It happens every single day, where Ilive. From where I come, I’ve heard cross-talk ever since I was old enough todecipher what people were talking about. I like calling it cross-talk. I don’tlike calling it arguments. Arguments make it sound like I’ve had a badchildhood, and I still can’t really say whether my childhood has been good orbad. That’s a judgement call – one that I have no right to make, quite as yet.But still, I don’t think there could be any harm in telling people that I’veFELT like I’ve had a bad childhood because of both the presence and the absenceof money.

Suddenly, I don’t feel very uncomfortable aboutputting up stuff about my past on my blog. It so happens, that I’ve discoveredthat there aren’t too many people reading what I put up. Earlier, I used torestrict stuff like this to my journal, but suddenly, today, I feel likeputting it up in here. Maybe it’s because of the convenience of my laptopsitting right next to me. Maybe it’s because someone might just understand whatI’m ranting about, and empathize. I don’t really know. I do not that I’ve nothad the worst of it, that I might not have even faced anything compared to whatso many others might. But hey, to the average person, their own problems alwaysdo seem bigger than another’s, doesn’t it?

From 21 years of life, the one thing that I’velearned so far, which people cannot go without is money. I wish I had loads ofit. Oh. I don’t have any fancy dreams about money anymore. Those castles wererazed to the ground by the sonic booms of clashes for money. If I had loads ofit, I would give away enough of it to keep people’s mouth shut, and donate therest. Maybe keep some for myself, to get my own life started. And earn whatevermoney I needed to keep going. Debts, and mad-rushes to make ends meet, andnasty, screaming money-mongers at our doorsteps, night-long arguments aboutmoney owed and money given, and relatives bitter from the impatience of waitingfor money owed to them – people have always thought that I have paid no heed toall this, sitting in my comfort zone. It’s probably because of the way I’vewaded through life so far, giving people the impression that I’m carefree aboutall this.

Truth is, I have been carefree. And I wish now morethan ever, that I had done something about it a long time ago. It took me thislong to realize that I’ve made more mistakes that I could possibly bargain for,and that’s sunk me a long way down into a sea of problems. When I’ve come tothis side of it, from where I can get a glimpse of life, I realize where Istand, and now, I can’t help but suffocate on the fear of what could happen inthe morning, every single night as soon as my room fades into the darkness.There is that constant urge, that incessant temptation to fling everything thatI have, and brush away my life – to run away somewhere, and start afresh, evenif it spells a whole new world of difficulties. At least then, I won’t benagged by the consequences of all my mistakes. But then again, I’d just bemaking a new mistake.

If there are things that have bothered me even morethan these arguments, it’s the aftermath. That eerie silence – that plunge intoa cold war where the lack of words spell despair and desperate attempts at strikingup a conversation lead to futility. Try as I might to steer things away fromthe tension, the grasp at this cliff’s edge seems inadequate. Somehow, thesense of humor and curiosity seem which could once bring truckloads of laughterare always submerged beneath all that anger. And this silence clasps my headlike ice cold hands, dragging me further away from everything else that I couldpossibly do to salvage what little good is left of the situation.

Coupled with this is the fact that somewhere downthe line, I seem to have developed the knack of making mistakes even when Iintend to do something good. I wish that I didn’t. Nobody could possibly hate thefact that I keep messing up more than I could. It’s not like I don’t try. Itry. As far as I can. Even when I’m careful, I keep messing up over and overagain, and the fact slices me like a very sharp knife. I wish that I could stopit. I wish that something, somewhere would offer me the help that I need tokeep going, because as of this moment, life seems like it’s at a stand-still.

All of this did give me the perspective of who Ineed to be, and what I need to do in order to avoid this brutal beating that I keeptaking inside. Because, the sort of person that I am, I tend to take it inquite deep, and then I forget to exhale. Maybe things will start to look up.Maybe I’ll get my chance. Maybe someone, somewhere would read all of this andnot think of me as a nut-job. Maybe there's a bit of solace they could offer. Maybe.

Between the same soul.

2011-09-19T00:25:00.002+05:30

What keeps me alive now is the fact that I knew that I never disappeared under my cloak when you were hurt. No matter how far I was out in sea, I know that I bled for you when you were in pain.

I bled for you from where I was, and I knew that it would offer company if not comfort.

I bled for you when YOU were in pain, and now when I am, you're not here to stem my wounds.

None of you are here to stem my wounds...

--The most moving lines I've ever known, by far. My heart goes out to her.--

Link: http://anothertesttest2.blogspot.com

Poker Face.

2011-09-04T03:47:00.001+05:30

It's called my poker face. No, it's not a face which I portray by screwing up my nose and eyes to form a grotesquely funny reaction - on the contrary, it has nothing to do with making up any kind of face at all. It's the face that I like to keep when I know that my hand's good, there's only the river left, I have a good bet on the table, and I'm mocking the guys around me to try and read my expression to find out whether I'm bluffing or I have something up my sleeve - and I know they can't find shit. It's the face that I like to keep when I hide everything inside me, look down at the floor, with a melancholy soundscape only I can hear.

It's the expression I have when I ride through traffic like it doesn't exist, not knowing who's going to cut across into my lane, with heavy bass ringing in my ears and a thousand different thoughts flooding my head faster than I could ever hope to go without tearing my flesh clear off my skull. It's the face that I like to show when I know that these thoughts are rolling around inside my head like a monochrome movie on never-ending reel, showing me pictures that only I can see. It's the way I like to keep my lips pursed tight when I've got my earphones on, and I'm lost in a world when tumultuous music is camouflaging those small words and phrases that I like to listen to and relate to, and create fuzzy, technicolor visuals with in my head.

It's the way I like to close my ears and pretend the other person is just a speck, when they're frowning and trying to judge me about something which they only know a fraction of. It's the way that I like to hold back a smile when I know that I have a myriad different reasons not to seem happy, or the way that I like to hold back a tear when I don't want to give a damn about the world and just disappear. It's the way I bite my lips without anyone ever knowing that I am, because the ghosts of the past keep swirling right in front of my eyes, reminding me of all the sins that my life's made up of.

But you know when I like my poker face the best:? It's when I look straight into the other person's eyes, and I know that they think that I'm giving away everything inside through my own, and I smile inwardly knowing that I haven't given them anything - because I can turn around and make that person disappear just by bringing another in his place.... It's the poker face that I show you before I go all in, lose everything I've got, and still smile - emptiness is a familiar feeling.

Fold.

Your smile, my old friend... It's fake.

2011-07-06T22:45:00.002+05:30

Snake-like hands, yours are,
They'll wrap around my shoulders,
Hypnotizing me with that mystic smile,
A smile flitting in and out to savor prey,
Before you tighten and crush me slowly...

And you'll watch with your wry smile,
On your scaled, emotionless face,
You heartless trickster...
You'll watch me squirm with pain,
Waiting for the cry of anguish...

Sadism is an old friend.
She's paid me many a visit,
But even she seems tame in front of you,
And the ruthless and devious schemes you plot,
To inflict misery and draw blood...

But tonight, there will be no tears,
Nor pain,
Nor sorrow,
Nor joy,
For I'm alive from the death you brought in me..

Foggy Dreamscapes

2011-06-28T00:09:00.002+05:30

Life's a bit blurry sometimes..

Dreams are the essence of life. They're a vibrant splash of technicolor whims; all of your fancies balled up together, a collage of the myriad flashes of life that you've already faced, or want to face, to share with the ones you want by your side. They're a palette of colorful thoughts covering the canvas at the deep recesses of your mind, waiting to burst to into life in the empty abyss that fills the dormancy of your consciousness.

Isn't it true? No matter who you are, what you do, regardless of the monotony that dominates your life, in spite of the innumerable problems that you have to face day after day, minute after minute, dreams are a part of your life. In fact, they make up all our lives - they give us reason to hope, they give us goals to achieve, and a tomorrow to look forward to. And they have an array of avatars waiting to take shape, because no matter how many of them die, our minds and our hearts still give birth to a new one. Or something comes along every now and then to resurrect the old ones from the dampest corners of your life.

It IS true. No matter when, or where, regardless of reason or logic, there are always dreams. It's a different dimension that we envision. In sickness and in health, till death do us apart. Yes, we're married to our dreams. All of us. I'd like to think so. Because it makes a lot more sense that way - a lot more sense that a lot of us spend a considerable part of our lives chasing them. I've seen people while away their time dreaming. But more often than not, I witness people chasing relentlessly after their dreams - big or small. This would probably be a good time to mention a person who is no short of a miracle in my life - a person who perseveres and constantly chases her dreams, who's a constant source of inspiration and so much more than that to me.

I'm a person who has had quite a few dreams, but I have this bizarre knack of being able to turn almost all my dreams into incomprehensible nightmares that I live through. I scrape through life, facing dreams that turn into nightmares, courtesy of my mind's very beguile attitude. They disperse even before they start taking shape - these said dreams. Come to think of it, it's like groping in my hat to pull out a rabbit that's already fled in a bid for freedom.

But things, maybe, are starting to take shape now. Or at least, they seem to be. It's my miracle worker - she's the one dream that keeps me looking forward to the tomorrow that I want so bad. I know that this far, I have been very ambiguous about these 'dreams', but hey? Haven't we occasionally had that one dream that was perhaps too blurry to make sense of? ;)

That Jar Full of Smoke

2011-04-29T02:03:00.000+05:30

The corner is what I reach out for,
For ever the corner which is dark,
And I know this way I wasn't always.
It was the incessant nudge that you gave,
Time and time again,
That I grew in love with what you threw...

And I watch you from my corner,
Your glowing smile, your inviting laugh,
The butterfly that you become,
Shimmering in loud colors of joy,
Fluttering among those of that same shade,
I watch you in awe...

And I watch you from my corner,
The flame that you engulf yourself in,
Nodding in approval, those around you,
Watching you turn into scented smoke,
The essence of amity that wafts,
I watch you in hunger...

And I watch you from my corner,
Comfort the others,
Embrace their love,
Sympathize with sorrow,
Arm in arm, fingers together,
I watch you, aching within...

And I watch you from my corner,
With my loathing eyes,
My twisted frown,
Watch you with others I once was,
Caught in your trance,
I watch you, with disgust...

I turn to my corner,
Now full of hate,
Wishing you'd see me,
Now good as dead,
For once there was us, and you talked to me,
And now there's just me and my red diary...

I wish there was a jar with which I could catch that smoke she's become. Not to make it mine, but to shut the jar tight, hide it in a corner, and walk away sneering at the sadistic joy of making you see what it's like to be me.

Lurking Somewhere Deep Inside...

2011-04-19T14:16:00.003+05:30

It does not take much to write now, but it takes a lot to be able to put up the arid thoughts creeping behind all those words. I preferred the age old convention - paper and pen. And then, some fire. Just to give myself the satisfaction of watching my thoughts and words go up in smoke.

This morning, I found something that stirred thoughts of mine which I had managed to strangle and chain to myself without ever acting on them. I found resilient force that had been covered, but etched deep enough nevertheless. Suppression works only when the mind is clear, and devoid of the roots of depression and ire. One could argue that it is only our mind, and we should be able to keep our minds under check - stop the depression, control the anger and look at the positive side. But my argument to that would be, "My mind. My will. I want to be a fucking pessimist."

And with the shade that hovers low over a deadbeat mind,
Comes the throb of an abject heart,
Yearning to splay the draining emotions latched to my pulse,
With a sadistic urge to slice my cyst,
To feel the sudden rush of forbidding guilt trickle away.
The opium that it is to my wretched heart and mind,
To quaff a 3rd of scotch and flail my insanity...

So sweet, so sharp and shiny. Help me. I have been engulfed once again. Join me. Let's go high and listen to Cobain impute pain through ballads of bass and treble.

Holler at me, if you know what I'm talking about.

Constant Variables

2011-02-17T20:22:00.007+05:30

To say that I'm rusty because of my absence would be an understatement. Then again, my writing has always been for my personal pleasure - or at least, that's what I thought it was for, until I discovered that it burns me inside to know that my words aren't flowing through as easily as before. I didn't have to pause for a moment to think, I didn't have to wait for a minute to word what I wanted to word - it just used to come out so easily, letter for letter, word for word. I guess it might just take me some time getting used to letting things out as easily.

What's more important right now, is the fact that I'm not at a loss for words. Hey, if no better, I at least get what's on my mind out in this way. And lately, there's this one issue that's been on my mind - me as a person. The funny thing is, this is something that I thought I had figured for a very long time, until the point someone questioned it, and I found myself strangled for an answer.

I've been a number of different things with a number of different people. A lot of people have seen me as someone who likes to talk a lot, someone who hangs out with them all the time and someone who can never get upset or depressed or angry. I know how patient I've been with a lot of people. I know I never call people, and I never text anyone without a particular reason, with a couple of exceptions. Another side of me? Reserved, perennially depressed and disintegrating piecemeal. Constantly frustrated, and ever impatient. My temper is at the brim, and it takes very little to set the firecracker off.

Wait. Let me stop you there. Does one side outweigh the other? Is there any one side that seems too artificial? A lie? A fake personality?

Sans cognizance, I displayed different facades of myself to everyone around me, and as someone rightly pointed out, only 2 or 3 people could actually name some of the traits I had per se. A lot of people who really mattered a lot to me didn't know the real me. It wasn't deliberate, and I didn't know it myself until this certain someone pointed it out. Then of course, there came a dilemma with me constantly questioning who I was. Rather, WHAT I was.

Although the realization that it was okay for me to be the chameleon that I was came quite quickly, there was still a fact that I was toying around with, before I came to terms with it - the fact that it was only okay for me to be "a change a minute" as long as I really knew what I was inside. And as always, the ever-wandering mind of mine (which has proven to be a pain in the er... quite a few times), set course on finding an answer to the zillion forms of the same question.

I can't remember how exactly I was able to settle on an answer, but when I did, it was unequivocal. I'm an extrovert, and an introvert. I'm sensing, but I like to be intuitive. I'm a thinking person, but I'm equally an emotional fool, and I'm judging but I perceive as well. What I am, is a person who adapts to the option that's nearest to me, and makes me feel right at that time. Because, I know for myself, that the different sides I show are just that - different SIDES. Not fakes.

I feel far more comfortable knowing what I really am now, and it drives away a lot of bootless questions. I'm guessing now that the same holds true for everyone else as well - that it's not necessary for them to show who they really are to everyone - not even the people who matter need to see it. But they definitely need to KNOW it. It's okay to adapt to make the people around you feel better, and that's something else that I managed to learn. At the end of the day though, when someone asks me who I am... the answer?

I'm a constant variable. An oxymoron. But I like to be called a paradox, because it's cooler. :D

Enter thoughts and words. ;)

Back to the old ways?

2011-02-16T00:47:00.002+05:30

I retract my prior statement. I won't be shutting down this blog, because it means too much to me. I won't stop writing in it either. Because it means just as much to me to keep it going. Let's just call this very long period of absence a short break, okay? Okay.

I have a paused movie that I'm halfway through that's open on my desktop and considering that it's a thriller, it's pretty huge that I now find myself in an obsessive-compulsive need to rant about the single thought that is monopolizing my mind at this very moment - that to a lot of people I know, I haven't been a very good person. And I've managed to nearly destroy every fiber of a good relationship that I share with a really wonderful person, probably even half of whom I don't even deserve.

I don't know how many of you out there toss over this on your bed, but when you've shared something amazing with someone really special for so long, and you've ended up ruining things time and time again, and you've ended up maiming them to the extent that they're afraid to trust you anymore, then I guess you feel impaled even by the delicate creases on your mattress too. Holler at me if you do. All of it just makes me feel like I'm falling a foot every time I try to climb an inch.

Irrational as it seems cribbing about my faults to my monitor, somehow, for now at least, I'm hoping that starting off from a place that seems a downtrodden mess would help me find solace and trails of a path that leads to a miracle that might help me sort all of this out in a jiffy. I know it'll take a really long time, and it feels awful knowing that, but hey, hoping otherwise doesn't hurt anyone does it?

♪♫ I'm hoping that trance beats and an accordion will soothe me some, and help me find a way from getting swallowed by what I'm not.

Good to be back. And now, the tomatoes.

Well...

2010-09-14T20:16:00.000+05:30

I won't be writing on this blog any longer. I won't be shutting this one down, because it means a lot to me as such.

I'm planning to start a new blog. If you'd like to know the address of the new one, mail me at esh.insidious@gmail.com, and I'll let you know.

Take care.

Thanks.

I pray the lord, my soul to keep...

2010-09-11T17:48:00.000+05:30

I don't like to wait. They don't mind. I am impatient, they aren't. I'm inconsiderate, they aren't. I'm self-centered, they aren't. I'm insensitive to a third person's feelings, and they aren't. I'm inhuman, they're human. I'm selfish, they're selfless. I'm sad, depressed and angry all they time, and you know what? They aren't. I hurt for silly things, and flinch for small wounds, and you know what? They aren't. I'm a coward. They aren't. I'm over-reactive, they aren't.

They aren't, they aren't, THEY AREN'T!

And you know why? Because I'm a wretched soul.

A Dash of Rain

2010-08-10T19:23:00.000+05:30

A menacing growl from the sea above,

Casting a tender gloom from a sea of longing,

A sorrow smile flashing from the blissful belly,

Of a thousand stories which lie unseen... untold...

The scent of bliss wafts down from a painted canvas,

Urging you, beckoning you to pine for a shower to come,

Leaving you, teasing you to look wistfully up,

In hope of seeing arms wink willfully and give in...

It happens then, as lifeless drops come cascading down,

Thriving on the aura of holding the joy of us mere mortals,

Ostentatiously plunging into lives that they never held,

Subtly caressing a carnal hunger that is poetic...

Each drop unfolds a feeling of mutual despair,

Of separation that neither the drop nor you had shared,

And the haze brought down from the purest thoughts of heaven,

Land on clouded heads and trickle down to parted toes...

Have you ever wondered why a spell of rain so cold,

Can invoke thoughts of its own kind or of warmth,

Either as unpredictable as the dash of rain itself,

Or as ungraspable as the water falling down?

Look up at the eons of gloom that spread happiness...

Sweet Ire...

2010-07-18T07:26:00.000+05:30

It wells up deep within,

Screaming and thrashing around,

And in this tortuous, malign world,

It seems but inanimate and paltry...

It wells up deep within,

Climbing up from my core,

Stinging, burning and inching its way,

Feeling like a piquant aspic.

It brings to the pit of my stomach,

An insatiable appetite for dread,

A craving for knives and needles,

That can draw old wine from new veins.

It trickles slowly into unwitting arms,

It moves into my debilitated fingers,

It poisons my every nerve with a need,

A beseeching need to tear...

It is a gripping poison of pleasure,

That fills you with the unquestionable want,

With a sensation that makes you yearn,

For the power to make the world writhe.'

It is this little thing called anger,

And this little thing devours like fire,

And yet, upon its incessant scream of arrival,

All we I can do is turn away and suspire...

In the light in front...

2010-06-16T07:43:00.000+05:30

A smile from the depth of a cold abyss,

Tearfully looking at the warmth of the light,

In remembrance, that some day, some way,

We were not two, but one and for each other...

Under the same soft light once,

And it hurts now that we have different shadows,

And kills to see you in the hands of my traitor,

The one who wooed you in to his untrue breath.

He makes you laugh, he makes you cry,

With tears of joy and twisted lies,

Holds you captive with sparkling eyes,

He makes you want to jump and fly.

And now I seem just a morbid thing,

With neither joy nor light in front,

And the thought of a longing need for you,

Seems like rags in your present dream...

Its hard to see now, not for me but you,

That chaotic fog around you blurs your light,

And when you grope in your dark abyss,

I'll look back from a light far beyond...

...And this time, I will only turn away....

From beneath the ground...

2010-05-02T10:09:00.000+05:30

In a haze, the roses flew from above,

On to my chest, my heart, my lungs,

And all I saw were the apical thorns,

Falling, landing sharp on my chest...

My noiseless, dead-still chest.

The earth around me seemed like towers,

Cradling me in the arms of a grave,

Whispering stories of a dead-end,

Against the inaudible, morose epitaph,

My own epitaph being murmurred above...

The whistle of the wind teasing my ear,

The image of a tombstone buried deep,

The salty tears that fell on damp earth,

From blood-red eyes with soiled mascara,

Calling my name out ethereally...

And then I was tempted by the limp brain,

To lift my scratched, heavy arms,

To arch my senseless, rebellious spine,

To move my worthless, inept legs

And sprint away from my lifeless dream.

I woke up in a sweat, and a frown,

A drink of water, and two breaths later,

I lay back down and pulled my blanket,

Crossed my arms and closed my eyes,

And fell into an inanimate crypt again...

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I did really have this dream about two nights ago, and it was one of the few dreams I could clearly remember. When I tried to write about it, it came to me in the form of a poem, and I put it up here. Hope you guys like it.

Cheers.

The Autumn That Never Was

2010-04-13T11:06:00.000+05:30

When what is set in rock melts from the cold,

All that will be left is the rivers that flow,

The ones that flow beyond lands and seas,

And the twigs shall reach for thorns,

The wind that turns tress around

Will leave a heavy trunk scarred...

Out comes a river of a different shade,

The kind that leaves the warm snow to blush...

An autumn that is dreaded beyond words

Brings grief to the leaves that shower the earth,

An autumn that follows the white winter,

An autumn that leaves naked the heavy trunk...

The truant leaves bring a silence so dour

That the sweetest fruits seem so cloying,

And the shades above so much in contrast,

And yet so in tandem with the blush of the snow...

It shakes,

It shivers,

It bends,

It sways,

It curls,

It withers,

It twists,

And then comes the spring in which blossoms

The truth of the autumn that never was...

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I came up with this one with two different perspectives in my mind. One, is the poem relating to nature, to a tree. And the other, a morose sense that people can sometimes relate to.

Enjoy it in the way that you will. Feel free to leave your comments.

Cheers.

The Elephant on Her Sofa

2010-04-06T17:52:00.000+05:30

This post is in reply to what Adrita Das had to say in the post "The elephant on my sofa" on her blog, The Elastic Chaddi Chronicles. Before I go on to make any further comments, let me say, Adrita, if you're reading this, I've only recently started following your blog. Your writing is very intriguing, and you have the skill to attract people to read it without having to resort to fancy templates or sophisticated names, unlike mine. Kudos. (And this I say in hope that you will drive more people to read my blog. :P)

There is just too much resemblance in what you had to say, Adrita. Too much resemblance to what I wake up to everyday. Earlier on, it used to be exactly the same. Waking up to an empty house, get used to the eerie silence, laze around having breakfast. And then my first real communication to the outside world - the internet. Facebook, Skype, Gtalk, Yahoo. Something or the other. Only after that part of the routine do I feel complete. Do I feel like I'm living - that everything around me isn't dead. Seriously, I wouldn't be too surprised if you too had felt some sort similarity watching movies like "I Am Legend". Waking up to an empty world - home is after all, where the world begins.

I know for a fact that 9 times out of 10, I find myself with a longing for company. Someone who would look at me, talk to me. No, telephones and messages won't do. They're disembodied too. A voice I can hear outside my head, a person I can see outside my mind - some physical being who could remind me that I am not a ghost. Perhaps, over time, I have started fading away. Becoming transparent. I can date the transition to about 2 years back, when I went through this phase. I wouldn't talk to anyone, because people I really wanted to talk to had stopped talking with me. I could, and did spend days together without talking to anyone. No, I didn't have the need to talk to my parents either - I did wake up to an empty house every day. Depression caught over me, and I liked the idea of depression. At the time, self-pity seemed like such a wonderful thing, and drowning in sorrow was musical. That's when I started talking to the rest of the world - through the net. Then came blogging, and suddenly I was caught up in a world where the monitor and a url meant more family to me than anything else.

I like myself now, so I wouldn't call myself anti-social. I just find my idea of society connected to a modem, with a display picture and status messages. I am quoting a part of the post that got me to write this entry :

People say that the internet is making an anti-social out of me.
I know for a fact,they are probably right.
They say that it is so addictive,almost a tech drug.
But there is a reason for it.

And the reason goes deep into human psychology and the basic urge of every human.
I wake up,along with millions of other kids to an empty house.
If I could,I would tell you how amazingly,startlingly shallow your life feels in that one moment that you realise that your father has left for office,you mother has left for her work and your sister is at school and you are all alone.

I'd have to say that she's put it in a way much better than I ever could have. That one moment when you wake up to an empty house, it feels like there is no meaning to anything that you can see, feel, hear, touch, sense or experience at all. It feels like you've suddenly sunk out of sight, into a world where you have the privilege of all the privacy you want. No, wait. I'm not sure it feels that way. Come to think of it, I don't think I could point out exactly feel like. What I could pinpoint is the supreme satisfaction that I get in typing out something like this and seeing your comments on it the next day.

If you have ever felt anything like this before, you know you have something to say. I want to know that there's something to hear.

PS - Oh, and Adrita? I like Muesli too. Let's share some sometime. :)

This one's for you, love.

2010-03-25T23:49:00.000+05:30

I want to hear your voice,

See you shiver and shake,

In spasms of love oozing out,

Filling you with a sense of want,

A want that will only lead you to me.

I want to feel your touch,

Feel you edge closer,

Eager to lean on me,

But restraining from rushing,

And yet, quick enough to please me,

I want to hold your hand,

Cover it with mine,

Feel the softness,

Smiling lightly at how good it feels,

To know yours fit mine perfectly.

I want to feel your warmth,

Your head on my shoulders,

Finding the spot that feels like heaven,

And slowly move my arm around you,

Pretending that you don't know I want to...

I want to hear your breath,

Close to my skin,

Share the air with you,

As I share with you, your lips,

And give my breath away in your wake.

I want to look up and smile,

At a beautiful sunset with you beside me,

Silently thanking god,

To give me that sunset and it's better part...

You...

The Line of Difference...

2010-03-20T01:17:00.000+05:30

Home is a place which you return to at the end of the day, expecting it to offer you some sort of peace and happiness. It is a place which offers you a feeling of security, and safety that possibly no other place on earth could ever offer you. It is a place which you turn to when you want to some privacy – if nowhere else, it is the one place on earth where you could have your personal space. It is a place which could offer you warmth that rushes down your blood, flows through your heart and places a reassuring hand that tells you that you’re safe. How many times have you thought of home that way? I can answer that question truthfully for myself – every day, every moment that I dread returning to my home.

Writing about my personal problems was the last thing that I intended to do on this blog when I started off with it. Talking about my life in any perspective but the one leading towards what my family is like was what I wished to do. Unfortunately, things change. People change. Every now and then, you have this little fungus growing inside you that adds to your disgust and misery, which you really want to rip off and fling. That is exactly what I am intending to do. I don’t want to let the world in on everything that goes on inside my house, but I want to get rid of my agitation by at least letting people reading this know that I just said “my HOUSE”, and not “my HOME”.

There’s a world of difference between those two words, and the word “home” includes everything that I had talked about at the beginning of this entry. “House” is a place for you to live in, granted. But it is not a place that will offer you the kind of warmth or peace that you would want. For 15 years now, it has always been a house to me, and nothing more. I have never expected to return to my place in peace unless either one or both my parents are out of the place. I think I make my meaning clear – I’m being brutally translucent here, and if I try to explain anything more, I would rather invite you home to watch whatever is going on.

I think people who know me closely will be able to understand why I call my friends my family. Why my friends are more important to me than my immediate family, or why I spend more time away from the house than in it. There is not much I can do. I tried for years together to grasp that elusive warmth, but it has always pranced away from reach. Besides, what could I possibly do to make two people like each other when they have very clearly made up their minds about not wanting to do so? Hate, anger and disrupt have been more a part of my experience at my place. I look to my friends when it has anything to do with bonding, sharing, care and love. Not my family. Does that make me such a bad person?

Not too many of my friends know about everything that happens though. The ones who are closest to me have an idea about what my problems are, and the ones who are not are still under the impression that my address is “B-3, No.11, Paradise, Heaven“. The few people who I have talked to about my predicament have always been sympathetic and understanding. They’ve been the ones who’ve offered me any hope at all, and keeping their fingers crossed for me, wishing that things get sorted. But the one person who knows the nook and cranny of what I’m talking about offered me a different kind of hope, and asked me to see things in a different manner – “It’s just a 3 or 4 years, and then you’ll be living a life of your own. You’ll get the fresh start that you wanted. Bite your lips and wait for it.” That is exactly what I’m doing now.

I am going to shut up now. I think that's the threshold. I know I keep complaining, and I know it can be nagging. VERY annoying. So, yeah. *zip*

Undercurrents

2010-03-06T09:22:00.000+05:30

Things have been really hectic in the past month. I mean, really hectic. But first thing's first - I got myself a camera! At last! I mean, I've been saving since god knows when, and I really had to hold myself back from splurging on the new models that kept coming in to market, JUST so I could save enough to go for the camera I REALLY wanted - a D-SLR. I had saved up about half of what was required, and I talked to dad, and he agreed to pitch in the other half that was required.

Ever since, I've been working on toning up my photography skills. I've been trying to get out of the "Auto" mode, and now, I can say that I'm somewhat better at shooting in the manual mode. I'm yearning to try out better lenses already, but that'll take a lot more time. I mean, can you believe that the next level lens costs me around 13000? Man. Still, I AM satisfied with what I have now, and I'm trying to make the best use of it.

On the 21st of February, I took a trip down to Mysore. My girlfriend had got a call letter from the Indian Air Force, and she was to appear for her selection there. Her Dad had met with an accident 2 days prior to her leaving, and ended up with a broken leg. When I met her before she left, I could really see the disappointment in her eyes - she shares a very close bond with her father, and she was really disappointed that he couldn't go along. Instead, her cousin (my classmate) was supposed to be accompanying her there, and he invited me along. At first, I said I couldn't go, but then, after much persuasion, I decided to join them at Mysore the next day. Obviously, the camera was part of my luggage. :D

I landed up at Mysore on the afternoon of the 21st, and the rest of the day went by lazily. I was happy that I was able to see her, and I kept hoping and hoping that my presence there was offering at least SOME sort of support. Getting in to the Air Force was her dream, and it meant just as much to me that she did well. Her screening tests were scheduled for the 22nd, on the morning of 22nd, we dropped her off near the railway station, where she was picked up along with a crowd of other girls, by the Air Force representatives. I wished her luck, and I hoped and prayed that she would get in. After she had left, her cousin, his mom (who had also come to Mysore) and me went off for some sight-seeing. 10 minutes into it, and I began to miss her sourly. I thought it was only because I had spent so much time with her the previous day, but then, as the day went on, I started missing her even more. At one point, I was holding back tears. I wasn't really enjoying anything that I was seeing, and I was more than glad to get back to our room at around 3:30.

She messaged my cousin at around 4. She had lost out on the penultimate round, and was to return the same evening. Those ten minutes were a haze, because I thought she must be joking first. I knew how hard she had worked, I knew she had the aptitude, and I knew what it meant to her to get in. I couldn't hold the disappointment myself, and that was the second time that same day that I had to control myself from the tears. I then heard, from my cousin, who had just received a phone call from someone else, that she was crying uncontrollably. I started palpitating. I felt useless, because I could do nothing to stem her tears. I couldn't even talk to her at the moment. I felt the worst that I ever had in my life, because I really love her, and I could do nothing to help her.

By around 5, we learned that she, and others who had not been selected would be dropped back at the railway station, and her cousin and I started off. We waited at the station for a couple of hours. When she arrived, finally, she looked fine. She looked very composed, and when I talked to her, she seemed to be normal. She had taken it in her stride, although, I knew that deep down, she was very disappointed. We got back to our room, and soon, hit bed. I couldn't sleep that night. There was something nagging me, and I couldn't get rid of it. It was around 2 or maybe, 3 in the morning when I finally slept.

We had booked tickets to leave on the night of the 23rd, and hence, we had nothing to do the next day. All of us lazed around the entire morning, and then, we decided to visit the palace again, because she hadn't seen it the previous day. This time, we didn't bother going in to the palace, and walked around it, discovering the lovely gardens and the sights around the palace. I clicked a few photographs, and gave my girlfriend the camera. Much to my surprise, she was really apt at handling it, and took a few very good photographs. The day went by well, but it always seemed shadowed by what had happened the previous day. Not before long, it was nightfall, and time for us to leave. Even in all the disappointment, a part of me wished that the two of us could have stayed back for just another day.

We were back in Chennai the next morning, and back to our everyday life. It's been several days since the trip, and I think she's gotten over the brunt of the incident. She's also got the results of her CAT exam recently, and it hasn't turned out too badly. She seems to be in unrest about what she's going to do next, and I'm trying to help her out the best I can. There are still times when I feel completely useless, seeing as I am not able to help her on to something really concrete. I'm praying for her all the time, and I hope whoever has to hear those prayers hears them.

I've started detesting the slob that I am, and in a surprising move, I have joined a Gym. From 5 to 6, every day, I rip my body apart with the help of a trainer there, in hope that I can look better. Pfft. Let's see where that leads to. Nothing much otherwise. I don't really mean this when I say it, but if it helps soothe my heart... All is well.

Take care.

A Scream of Love...

2010-02-12T01:24:00.000+05:30

He was a mountain of a man. Not by size. In fact, by size, he was relatively average - the kind of person who could be lost in a crowd of people. The kind of face you wouldn't be able to recognize easily in a sea of heads. No. He didn't stand out in any particular way in his physical appearance. What really made him stand out was his character.

They say that some kind of people are only found in fairy tales. Whether you would take this to be a fairy tale, or coincidence, is something entirely up to you. He had every character that a perfect person would need. He was patient as a rock. He wouldn't budge until it was really the right time, and could hold back on anything. He didn't give in to his emotions that easily. He was charming with anyone and everyone. To say that he was an extrovert would be an understatement - he was nothing short of a social butterfly. He was in all the right places at all the right times, and it didn't seem possible that he could have a hard time fitting in anywhere. He always said and did just the right things, and he wasn't arrogant in spite of his success - he always meant good to everyone around him. He never intended to make enemies, but enemies are always made in the path to success. There WERE those who hated him to their core - the people who could never match up to him, or those who could but felt threatened by his innate qualities and nature. After all, it is only human nature to distrust something that would give too much good and seemingly ask for nothing at all in return.

In fairness to the fairy tale nature of this man, there was indeed, love in the air. Oh, yes. Those who were of the opinion that he could only find the perfect match were indeed right. Naturally, as with all good things, he found her soon enough. It was not love at first sight though. They took their time getting to know one another. They spent endless time together, watching movies, having dinner and taking long walks. They thoroughly enjoyed each other's company, but only on that pleasant night, after a cup of coffee and a kiss at her doorstep did the two of them realize that they were meant to be. And it wasn't too long before the entire circle of people around them got to know of the impending love. Yes. The damsel of dreams, the maiden of glory, "That pretty girl who came from nowhere", as the elders put it, had succeeded in winning his heart. They were a pair who invoked envy in all those who thought the world of their own love, and they were the gem of everyone's eyes. What could possibly go wrong between them?

The bond grew stronger, and it was apparent that they fell deeper in love with every passing moment. It therefore came as no surprise to anyone at all, when the two of them announced that they were engaged-to-be-wed. The fiesta loomed in the corner, as every friend who claimed to be, closed in from all directions for the perfect wedding between the perfect couple. As some of them had even pointed out, "Where is the need for a ceremony? They're husband and wife and everything more already." The knot was tied, and vows exchanged. The dreamy quality of their relationship floated on into the next two years. Until that night. That one night that had ended it all.

Why does love always seem to fade between the two people who always seem more compatible than all the rest? Is it protocol for it to happen in a wonderful life, as between two fictional lovers? No one, and everyone could have foreseen it. That one night. He was to leave the country for a week. The most sensational opportunity had come his way, and it would take the worst of fools to let go of it. The couple kissed each other, nearly in tears, for both were dreading the moments that they would have to spend apart for the first time since their marriage. It takes only moments for luck to turn. A nasty storm had erupted, and his flight had been rescheduled for the next morning. In the joy of being able to see his dearest for a while more, he rushed home in eagerness.

The lights had been turned off, and he figured that she must have fallen asleep. He silently made his way to the bedroom upstairs, wanting to surprise her, and to see her face light up with delight. He crept up the staircase, in fear that his traitorous heart-beat would give him away. And the moan came then. It seemed for a moment, that his heart had heard his intentions - it had frozen completely. The moans grew louder, and they certainly did not seem to be moans of pain. They very clearly betrayed hidden pleasure. He wanted to walk away, and tell himself that he was only imagining the male voice. That his excitement was playing tricks on his mind. But walking away from curiosity can be the hardest thing to do, sometimes. He forced himself to peep cautiously into the bedroom. It was dark, and he could see nothing. He wanted to turn away, but it was a moment too late. A flash of lightning was all it took to betray the years of love he had built up inside himself.

Not wanting to be around dread, he made his way quietly down and out into the garage. The claps of thunder and the bullets of water hitting the ground and the roof were enough to drown the screaming in his head. He wondered whether it was the lightning outside that was sending him into the daze that he detested. He could no longer hold it inside, and started screaming. A silent scream, with the mouth open grotesquely, suggesting pain beyond anything anyone could endure. He clawed at his face, scratched his arms and pulled his hair, tears streaking his cheeks in all this while. Tears flowing down in such ferocity, that he could taste the salt. In all this while, his mouth was open in that constant but silent scream. It only took a moment, when he spotted the blade lying on the scattered shelf. It only took a moment, before he seized it and slit his wrists, slumping down on to the floor, in the room's corner.

Her lover silently slipped away, unnoticed by anyone else, and the storm died down a few hours before dawn. Seat number A3 was unoccupied as the plane turned into the runway for the take-off. The morning went by smoothly, with her going ahead with her work as she would have, every other day. The phone rang only once, and she answered it, spending an hour smiling into an inanimate receiver. Later that afternoon, when she opened the garage door, she found him, sitting slumped against the corner of the garage, in a pool of blood. He was staring into nothingness, and his skin was pale. Gone was the color of a man who was once so filled with it.

He was a mountain of a man, and all that it took was a fraction of a second....

DISCLAIMER: This is just a story, and everything in it is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any living person or incident is purely coincidental.

I just wanted to try my hand in a work of fiction, and this kind of a story just popped into my mind. I know it may not be all that good, but I really wanted to get an opinion from you, if you're reading this. If you find flaws, or have any kind of constructive criticism, please feel free to point out. I'd be most obliged to work on it. Even otherwise, please do leave your comments. I'd appreciate it.

Cheers.

Mind Control

2010-01-26T02:31:00.000+05:30

The mind is a fickle thing. I am telling you, your best friend and your worst enemy can be your mind, and your mind alone. Why shouldn't it be? After all, it does control the rest of you. It can store memories, both good and bad. It can choose, both right and wrong. It can sense, both safety and danger. But worst of all, you can use your mind to overpower the rest of your body. And that includes your heart.

Isn't it funny? You see something that you want very badly. You know it's right there in front of you. Your heart is aching for it. You're very close to reaching out and grabbing it. But your mind gets in the way. Your mind dictates that it is not needed. Your mind tells you that you can do without it. And hence your heart compromises, and you let it be. Very rarely does your heart have the capacity to clobber what your mind wishes for. A very frustrating feeling at times.

You can never hate a person you love unless your mind tells you that you want to hate that person. Your heart will still yearn for that person, but your mind overrides that feeling. You can never stay away from someone you love, regardless of the reason, but your mind tells you that you have to, and hence you refrain. You know for yourself that what I'm saying is true. How sad it is sometimes, that people can think much more than they have to. How much worse it is made by the fact that people are forced to think much more than they WANT to. You can't tell me you haven't felt the same - how many times have you been nauseated by choices? How many times have you wished secretly that you wouldn't have to make a choice, or that decisions could be much simpler to make? You know I'm right.

At the same time, your mind helps you too. Doesn't it? When you're sitting in an exam hall, and scratching away at the paper, taking problem after problem, who's doing the math for you? Your heart, or your mind? When you need to choose between right and wrong, how are you able to differentiate clearly between the two? Yes. The fact that you decide to go with the right, or with the wrong also comes down to your mind - that is altogether a different issue. But you know that it's your brain that tells you the rights and wrongs, and the dos and don'ts. At least, it's your mind that tells you clearly. Sometimes, you do face a conundrum, where what your mind tells you is right feels wrong in your heart. Even so, 9 times out of 10, it's your mind which will rule the decision.

Why, it is my mind that keeps me awake at this hour. My body yearns for rest. It is physically unable to keep awake. And yet, my mind tells me that it doesn't want to sleep. My mind is of the opinion that I am troubled by something, and hence, I should not sleep until it is solved. There is of course, a point where your mind's control over your body reaches saturation. After all, everything has a physical limit. I am pretty sure, that maybe in an hour or two from now, my mind too will start taking in the fatigue and give in to some sleep. But until that point of satiety, your mind is strong enough to mess you up in all the ways you think possible. Have you really been thinking, that all along, your mind was in your control? Wake up. It's the other way round. It always has been...

Oh! Hope you like the new look. And the name. Feel free to comment.

Cheers.

The Puddle Of Sorrow

2010-01-06T23:18:00.000+05:30

A single tear rolls down your cheek,
A tear that joins the ocean below,
An ocean that is no more than a puddle,
A puddle lying beneath your red eyes,
A puddle that tastes of salt and sorrow,
The tears that make you hate tomorrow...

The trying eyes that look behind,
Behind at the past that seemed divine,
A past filled with the sweetness of joy,
The joy of having a friend that true,
Never did it seem that a rift would follow,
A rift that would scoop your heart out hollow...

All that seemed so well is lost,
That smile which twists your guts is found,
The smile which once, made you lighten up,
Is now the smile that pulls you down,
Down below into a hellish abyss,
Away from the seemingly dreamy bliss...

Languish all you like for the past,
The past that seems as pale as a ghost,
So pale that it seems to ebb away,
Slipping through your fingers like water,
The water that makes you fear tomorrow,
The water that forms the puddle of sorrow...

And when shall you stop clawing your arms?
Digging your nails in the search of blood?
The incessant pain that yearns forgiveness,
The unfair sin that you never committed,
The unfair sin that left your bond so burned,
The bond which love to hatred turned...

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I actually came up with this poem as I was sitting in class today, and had nothing better to do. The first two lines popped up in my mind quite suddenly, and I ended up writing the rest of the poem during the remaining time. I found the paper I had scrawled this on, while rummaging for my house keys. Thought I'd put it up. Do leave your comments.

Cheers.

Throttle wide open

2009-12-26T21:20:00.000+05:30

Brake, Shift, Blip, Lean, Knee down, Power up, Throttle wide open...

Funny that I should be writing about this now, considering that it happened over a week ago. But, what the hell. I want to write about it anyway.

December 18th was a good day for 4 particular reasons - it was my birthday, I met up with my lover girl, I met up with a good friend of mine after very long, AND I had a proper, amazing track day with members from our club, xBhp. It was as good as it could get, and I enjoyed the entire day to the fullest. I still wish that I had more time with my girlfriend, and my friend, but yeah. Considering that I did spend a whole lot of time with her the past week, I'm not all too disappointed about it. Still...

At 6.30 a.m, on Friday, 18th December 2009, I tied up my boots, put on my jacket, my helmet and my gloves, and thumbed the starter on my bike. As the engine roared into life, and the vibrations started to creep into my fingers as the bike idled, a "feel good" weight sneaked into the pits of my stomach. I had a feeling that the day would turn out to be really good. Moments later, I shifted into gear, and was on my way to the Madras Motor Sports Club at Sriperumbudur.

I did feel slightly nervous as I entered the track. It had been quite a while since my last ride on the track, and it had been raining the past 2 days. Wet spots were likely, and my bike was pretty ill-equipped, and in a bad shape to handle too many daredevil endeavours. Nevertheless, a day at the track was not to be missed. Besides, my friend was very specific and to-the-point when I asked him if I had to come - "You had better get your ass down there, or else..."

Formalities took a while to complete, and about 30 minutes were spent in the pit, trying unsuccessfully to get rid of my bike's console, and slipping on my knee protectors. After all the hullabaloo, I was ready to enter the track. I was cautious on my first lap, not crossing 70 kmph, wanting to get to know all the wet spots, and to get a proper feel of my bike. 3.74 kms later, I crossed the home stretch and opened throttle, taking the first corner at 108 kmph. My bike wobbled a bit, but I knew her, and I knew enough to realize that she was going to grip the surface enough for me to push her to her limits.

The final corner into the homestretch was a scare quite a few times, as there was a huge water puddle there, and I lost my rear twice or thrice, pretty badly. Luckily, I didn't have a crash. My dad wanted to be there to watch me ride. The real intention was for him to take a look at me to consider sponsoring me to enter professionally. He never turned up, but after a talk with him, he's agreed to let me enter the sport in a professional manner. It's only a matter of time now.

Track day ended soon enough, and the rest of the evening went in a haze, with me spending time with my girlfriend on the beach. I kept wishing that I could have spent more time with her, but yeah, every moment with her is precious. People at the track caught a few pictures of me, 2 or 3 of which I'm putting up on my blog. I'm itching to go back to MMSC again, soon.

In other news, I'm heading to Delhi tomorrow morning, and I'm back only on the 6th of January. Hopefully, I'll have a lot more pictures to put up and a humongous amount of stuff to write about, considering that it's an entire tour. I'm covering Amritsar, Ludhiana, Chandigarh, Delhi, Jaipur, Mathura, Agra, Rishikesh and Haridwar. *sigh* I'm going to be missing my best friends and my lover girl like crazy. :(

Well, to all of you who read my blog, and to my friends - if I'm not able to contact you for New Year's, I'd like to wish you all a VERY Happy New Year. Take care.

Thank you Templates Block!

2009-12-23T09:02:00.000+05:30

How does the blog look now? Good? Snazzy? Or don't you notice the difference? Well, there is a difference, and if you have visited my blog before, you'll be able to notice it. If not, I'm telling you about it now.

Having completed 20 years myself last Friday (18th December), I decided that I needed to re-christen the blog, considering I'm not a teenager anymore. I haven't thought of any names yet, but suggestions are welcome. Along with a new name, I felt that a slightly corrected theme would be splendid. Unfortunately, my knowledge of HTML or Javascript has a barrier, and I needed help from someone.

Volverene from Templates Block was kind enough to hear out my requests and modify my existing theme exactly the way I wanted it. It now has a transparent background, rounded edges, and separated blocks for each post. I'm still using the same old background, but watch out - that might be changed in a short while too. I just wanted to put up this post to show my gratitude to Templates Block, in helping me customize my blog.

Apart from helping you customize your blog, there are a NUMBER of other templates available for blogs there, and they come in all assortments. They're all free for use without any copyright infringement. So, if you're bored of using those limited templates from Blogger, head right down there and spice up your blog.

Cheers!

PS - Leave a comment! Tell me how you like how it looks now - I'm sure Volverene would love to hear, and so would I. And while you're at it, suggest a new name for the blog too!

Bengaluru!!!

2009-12-15T09:50:00.000+05:30

I had driven down to Bangalore last weekend. I started from Chennai on Saturday, and Dad and I drove down there by car. The trip was amazing, and I had some serious fun (oxymoron?) driving down all the way. Earlier, I had planned to catch a train to head there and back, but I'm glad I didn't get tickets. Since Mum was away at Vizag, and Dad had nothing better to do sitting at home, I managed to convince him for the "road trip." He didn't regret it either.

By the time we got started from, it was around 4:15 in the morning. We were behind schedule. According to what we had planned, we were supposed to have left the house at 3:30 in the morning. We got moving as quickly as we could. I took the wheel first, and it was still dark outside. The roads inside the city were pretty empty themselves, except for the fair truck or two (and occasionally an accident-prone drunkard sleeping bang in the middle of the road). We were able to hit Porur junction by 4:25 a.m. , and from then on, we could stop worrying about city limits. We desperately needed to find an ATM, and after scouting quite a bit, we managed to find one. A 5-minute stop there, and Dad's wallet was full. We were on our way, and by around 4:45 am, we had hit what I had really been thirsty for - the NH4. National Highways are so much fun at night. As long as one of our best friends don't decide to surprise us. They are killed by the hundreds every night, and somehow, evolution doesn't seem to give them the sense that crossing roads when a car's approaching might be a bad idea.

I decided to take the risk, and started speeding up. Music was on, the roads were smooth, and the gas pedal was floored. It was a VERY smooth sail all the way from there. When we had clocked about a 100km from Chennai, we took a halt. Dad wanted to get out and stretch his legs. Hmmm... He's 50. We were there about 5 more minutes and then we ploughed on. I enjoyed driving. By the time we took our next break, it was first light. Actually daybreak was sharp at 6 a.m., and we stopped at Vellore at 6.25 a.m. for a cup of coffee. After stretching ourselves, we decided to continue the journey. Dad took over the wheel this time, and I relaxed myself, watching the scenery.

By around 7 a.m., I was no longer able to stay awake.

I reclined my seat, turned off the music (much to my dad's relief - he hates rock) and I dozed off. When I woke up, the time was 8 a.m., and we were at Krishnagiri. We stopped to get some breakfast, but there were no restaurants in sight. We didn't want to go around town scouting for an eatery, and ended up having cream buns and tea. I decided that I would take over the wheel again, and cover the remaining 90-100 km to Bangalore.

The stretch between Krishnagiri and Hosur took us about 45 minutes, 2 packets of Lays Cream and Onion, and a packet of 50-50. The stretch was about 50 km long. My dad's always preached that highway driving is an art. But only today did I realize, that highways themselves could be art. The roads in this particular stretch were simply picturesque and amazing. To give you a taste of what it looked like, imagine polished black 4-lane roads, with lush, green plants down the middle and mountains on either side of the road. Adding to the pleasure was a sky that was overcast. There's a fair bit of humor on these roads too - trucks which try to race against each other at crawling speeds of 10 to 12 kmph. For us, the stretch of road ended too quickly, and we hit bangalore by 9.30. The place was flooded with flyovers and vehicles, and construction sites from the beginning of the city limits. Enter reality. We had a hard time finding my uncle's place, where we were to stay.

A little help from him and his wife, over the phone, and we managed to find where they lived and how to get there with a fair bit of ease. A brief rendezvous, a nice wash and a light brunch later, I was itching to leave to visit what I had actually taken the trip for.

Dad and I had to make our way down to Bangalore Cantonment in an auto-rickshaw as we didn't know the exact route to get there and we didn't want to end up getting lost. Dad had spent a brief part of his career in Bangalore, but the city's been changing in counts of weeks, and we

didn't know where the one-ways and the no-entries were. Getting on the wrong side of the law, with an AP-registered vehicle would be a pretty stupid thing to do. We reached the Cantonment in about 30 minutes. After having purchased platform tickets, we took the foot-over-bridge to cross the track, and received quite a shock, as we saw HUNDREDS and HUNDREDS of school children waiting in a queue that stretched to the end of the road, all just as eager as me to see the Science Xpress.

I don't really know how I managed to get through the queue that quickly, but a short visit into the train and Dad and I were out by around 2:00 in the afternoon. We switched 2 buses to get back to my Uncle's place - might I add that the bus service, especially the Volvos, in Bangalore is simply amazing? The tickets are priced moderately (not as heavy as the minimum Rs.17 fare here in Chennai), and the frequency of these A/C buses is more than adequate.

We spent only a few minutes at my uncle's place, and then left for my friend's place, to collect my Knee Protectors and Gloves (which I had asked him to purchase and keep, until he was able to courier it across, or I was able to go to bangalore to collect it). Now, this was one of the 2 main reasons that I wanted to take a trip down to Bangalore. We spent another hour there, and by 5, we were on our way back to my uncle's place, once again, by bus. It took us about an hour to get there, by which time our uncle was already back from work. We spent some more time with them, and around 7, decided to take a trip to check out the mall nearby.

"The Forum" is a simply breathtaking mall! I mean, yeah, we do have our own Spencer's and City Center, but they're nothing like this one. This mall is VAST and is crowded with people, has an amazing number of shops, and it also has a McDonald's (yum!). Unfortunately, we didn't have too much time, nor money, to spend there, as we had to get back

for dinner. We window-shopped for about half an hour, and then took an auto-rickshaw back to our uncle's place. The driver was either drunk, or a complete buffoon, because somehow, he managed to take us to the other side of town and was trying to convince us that we were in the right place. With the help of another driver's judgement on the issue, and a whole lot of persuading, we were able to get the guy to drop us in the right place, without any further arguments or paying anything above what we had agreed on in the first place, both of which I think is quite an achievement. Considering that neither my dad nor I were proficient in Kannada.

Dinner was a pleasant affair. For the greater part, my uncle's 1 year old and 6 year old sons provided quality amusement, in tandem with the Indian Cricket team, who for once, managed not to embarass themselves chasing too big a score. We talked with each other for a while, and then decided to hit bed around 10.30 p.m. Dad and I had planned on leaving early in the morning.

It was pretty difficult waking up at 5:00 the next morning, as the weather was cold and our beds were warm and pleasant. We had a cup of tea each, and then bid farewell, and started by around 5.45. We managed to find the exit route, and by around 6, we were well on our way, towards the twilight prior to the morning sun. I definitely am going to return soon enough, but next time, by bike. ;)

And what happens?

2009-12-05T23:12:00.000+05:30

(Cotd. from Reflecting the Needles...)

They were taking their test at SRM university. I got to the station near the university and remained there. I didn't want to go in considering I would feel odd. I had arrived there 20 minutes early, and I waited before I called them. Their phones were switched off, and I took to looking around and taking a short walk on the highway. I walked to the gates of the university and then turned back, as I didn't want to hang around there. I trudged back towards the station, calling my friends in the meanwhile. This time, they picked up and told me that it would take a while for them to get out, as it was a huge campus, and they were deep inside.

I just sat outside the station. My decision to stay away from the campus didn't make it any easier for me. As I sat there waiting for them, the place was suddenly surrounded by students from one of the best universities in the region, aspiring engineers and people who had just taken up their MBA entrance exams. At that moment, as dozens of them walked past me to enter the railway station, I felt no better than the beggar sitting on the far side of the staircase...

I might have considered jumping in front of a train if I hadn't seen my girlfriend. Somehow, seeing her goes a long way in soothing the pain inside. And brings me to my senses, about all the other people whom I care about. I hope things get better soon...

Reflecting the needles...

2009-12-04T23:09:00.000+05:30

One of my best friends is taking up his CAT examination tomorrow. So is my girlfriend. I'm not. Why? Because neither have I prepared, nor am I interested in an MBA right now. I'm looking at going in for my Engineering next, or a Post-Graduate course. Then again, I'm feeling pretty bad that my friends are taking up an examination that I'm not. Weird, isn't it? A person would usually enjoy the site of others having to take up an examination and not having to take it up themselves. I guess it's the other way round when it involves something that could decide your career. Or maybe, I'm just plain weird.

My friend asked me to go along with him to his examination center. My girlfriend and him are both taking up the exam on the same date and at the same venue. Of course, he was only kidding when he asked me to come along, but then I agreed to go, rather seriously. As soon as I did, the first thought that struck my mind was - SO many other people of nearly my age are going to be taking up the examination tomorrow, and I would be the only one standing there watching people I know go in, take the test and come out describing how they did. And that would certainly make me feel pretty strange on the inside - like a complete failure.

I was talking to my girlfriend this evening, and I asked her if she would feel better if I came along. I was still in two minds when I asked her that. She said she would feel better if I were there on the way back, and not on the way there. When I asked her what time she'd be getting out, she said 5:45 p.m. At first I misunderstood, thinking that the exam was for 6 hours. I thought they were going there at 11. Turns out that they were required to report 2 hours earlier, and that the exam was to start only at 3:30 p.m. We were laughing about "6 hour examinations", when I suddenly remembered that I HAD taken 6 hour examinations when I was in the 12th grade. IIT. AIEEE. Mock papers.

It was then that I realized what a complete failure I was. I had aspired to be an engineer, and had prepared for all those examinations. But to what avail? Here I am, doing my B.Sc. in Electronics, and my average is WAY below distinction. And here I am, sitting and consoling my best friend and my girlfriend, and assuring them that they needn't worry, and that they'll come out with flying colors. I know they will. They've been working hard for this. On the other hand, I have no right to be assuring them like that now, as if I've achieved anything at all. My family seems to have lost faith in me, and that includes my parents, all of whom openly worship my cousin who's now gotten into Aeronautical Engineering. When he's there, I'm sidled out and left to brood in my own wake.

I really wish that I had a break from all this. I really wish that right now, I were given the opportunity to prove myself and achieve something good. But knowing me, perhaps, that opportunity has already passed me by. Dear god. Somebody, please help me. I feel like I'm not worth shit right now.

Stark White Bliss

2009-11-18T23:41:00.000+05:30

As the darkness closes in, as would a comforting friend,
I feel the blood running inside me chill to an end,
And just that hate that was so cruel, t'was once a fear,
Is now the non-existing entity that I hold so dear.

Soul and hatred reunite, to form a bond so strong,
It feels like both have been but hand in hand, all along,
And this venom rushes through my vein like melting ice,
I beat myself down inside with wicked thoughts and lies...

The bleeding heart looks in corners for a light that's dark,
And it comes across the thorn of realm, so stark,
A bleeding wrist holding severed hands, grasping the cold night's air,
Reaches out for a smile in a world that seems just so unfair.

As the unforgiving eyes which see all hold a shining tear,
The unthinking mind inside yearns for the edge, so near,
And all but left is a plunge down towards the caressing ground,
As the pain plummets downwards, towards the solace that I've found...

And the white bliss ensues....

Salveo

2009-11-08T00:04:00.000+05:30

A promise wielded by the path ahead,
The path behind is hush,
A silence that seems like all is dead,
A stupor, the only rush.

Your silence betrays my pain and grief,
And stabs an empty soul,
Like the dagger in my belief,
Or the heart, a witless hole.

My mouth, now, has no words to speak,
Nor a wail or moan,
I'm taking a path I do not seek,
The one where I'm alone...

If you found my meaning, then I hope I meant every word of this poem.

I guess I have nothing more left to say. For now, I'm closing myself. Perhaps, I will be back later on. I'm sorry.

In a language I wish I knew fully, Valete.

My fickle mind

2009-11-06T17:49:00.000+05:30

I was staring at my forearms and I noticed the cut marks. Cuts that I'd inflicted a long time ago. Something that seemed like eons ago. A different life. When I was possessed by grief, and the temptation to make myself fall into more grief, JUST because the deep, dark abyss seemed such a orgasmic reprieve from a pain far beyond comprehension. Ironically, I had scissors in my hand at the moment. Only, no temptation this time. Just faint memories. Her voice came over the speaker.

"Are you there?"

"Yeah, I'm right here. Go on."

Somehow, what I'd been hearing during the conversation kept pushing me to do it. To slice again. Just for old time's sake. Or maybe, just to feel that rush once more. I put down the scissors and forced myself to listen. I wasn't about to break a promise on whims and fancies.

Have you ever found a friend when you were completely new to a place? It's something else. It's a separate feeling that you get. A joy. And when that friend turns out to be just like you, and has pretty much the same wavelength, things can only get better. I've had this best friend for over 5 years now, and we've been through so much (including getting drunk the night before my Physics board exam).

Things move on, a year or two passes by quickly, and you find yourself moving out of that place, to another. Stuff happens around you, and you find another very good friend, who also has a similar wavelength. You share joy, sorrow and much more. And you're still in touch with your old friend. And he decides to visit you, and during his visit, you introduce him to your other BFF. They both catch on really well, and things are as good as they can be.

He goes back, the three of you are in touch with each other. Suddenly, one day, as life keeps you busy, you find yourself out of touch for a few days. Perhaps a week or two. And when you've finally been able to catch up again, you find out that your best friends have caught on really, really well. You can be happy. Until you know that one of them has told the other stuff about themselves - stuff that YOU'VE never heard from them. It leaves you in a whirlpool, where you now feel left out of the loop. It might feel like you're losing one or both of them. It could be true, or an illusion of your fickle mind. Either way, that's one of the worst feelings that I've ever had.

Those scissors seem really tempting.

A Biker departs...

2009-10-12T20:20:00.000+05:30

The only thing you take with you when you're gone is what you leave behind.

That was a quote by John Allston. And I began this blog entry with that quote, in memory of Kriss (Krishna Chaitanya). May you rest in peace, brother. Kriss was a member of our biking community, xBhp. On October 11th, 2009, he left the rest of us behind in an unfortunate accident. He leaves behind a young wife, family, and innumerable number of xBhp members across India who have had the privilege of interacting with him. I hope he has found a place which is far better than this world. His soul will live on in all of us, every time we are on a bike, and every moment we're not. Pray for him. Pray for his family.

Please.

Yes. I'm an avid bike enthusiast. Bikes are third love. Don't ask me what the first and second are. I won't say. Perhaps, if you have ever read my posts till now, you will know for yourself.

On Sunday, the 11th, after quite long, I attended one of the G2Gs (Get Together) that members of our club hold. It's been around 2 or 3 months since I last attended a G2G, and I didn't expect to know too many members, as there are always new ones turning up for the meets. I was in luck, however. A lot of the old members turned up for the meet. Our plan was to originally meet up at Elliots Beach and take a ride from there to the ECR Dhaba together, have dinner and use the time to plan a group ride for Diwali. Like the one we had last year (here). Unfortunately though, we never did feel like going all the way there and decided to stick around at the beach. We stayed there, getting fresh fruit juice, and discussing about DSLR cameras and bikes - two topics, at least one of which we're all mutually interested about. Time passed by pretty fast, and before we knew it, it was time to leave. It wasn't a grand entrance, but the exit was good enough - every pair of eyes were on our pack as our bikes growled and howled their ways through the road.

As I hit my favorite road, the Taramani express road, I weaved through the few vehicles at the entrance, and opened the throttle to the fullest. There's this fear that a few people have about going too fast on two wheels, but for me, and several others I suppose, every second of that speedometer ticking upwards is a rush of adrenalin from toe to brain. I cannot force myself to slow down, brake or even shut the throttle for a second unless I necessarily (read: NECESSARILY) have to come to a complete halt. By the time I was at the end of that road, and had to apply the brakes to stop at the signal, I glanced at the speedo, and it read 126kmph. And there was a grin plastered on my face. Rarely does the opportunity of a near empty road pop by, and a biker of the truest sense cannot pass it by. *Still grinning*

The rest of the ride back home was pretty subdued. With "Breaking Benjamin" ringing in my ears, and a cruise on near empty roads, I got into a groove that I hadn't been in for a very long time. I found myself pining to take a really long ride on the highway. I remembered the trips that I had taken before, departing at dawn or before, being able to catch a beautiful sunrise, as the golden rays caressed me as I cruised on the highway. It really is something else. I've been looking at going somewhere for really long now, and I'm really considering taking a trip to Coorg this December. Nothing planned in detail, but then it's seriously under consideration. I can't start the planning until I'm done with my semester exams, which are around the corner. I hope that it turns out well.

Only after I got back home and logged on to xBhp did I discover that Kriss had passed away in a very, very unfortunate accident. That put me off a bit. No one deserves anything that cruel. Time is very cruel to good people, and fate, even more so. I really hope that his wife and family are able to get through this soon. As I lay in bed that night, I thought to myself - there was one thing in common that Kriss, thousands of others and I possessed... It was the soul of a biker.

And that is something which will never die...

Resilience?

2009-10-04T09:59:00.000+05:30

Pliable, not by choice, but by force,
For the repose of questioning is hated,
And so I try to keep things in my mind,
But my silence, to you, is overrated.

Always in search for the right word,
Never the want or need to hurt you,
And yet the undertow that misleads me,
A whiplash from everything that I held true...

An urge to wrap my fingers 'round a blade,
An urge to run the blade through my wrist,
But not an urge to run it 'cross my neck,
For there's a need for pain, and not a tryst.

A choice not to do so leads to a dead end,
And so the use of something else, my nails,
A search for dark corners and shadowed places,
To crouch out of sight and scream a silent wail...

A side of me that I've been trying to get rid,
The side of me that leads me to despair,
And yet that side still remains in me,
Giving me the immaculately silenced air.

A will not to break from the thoughts in my head,
It feels like there's only pain in my veins, not blood,
And I wonder how long it will take to clear
The resilient mind that these thoughts seem to flood...

Hell Personified...

2009-09-27T10:45:00.000+05:30

And I died.

No, no. Just metaphorically. Somehow, I've always wanted to begin a blog entry like that. Guess I've finally done it. Whatever.

Things have been hectic. Really hectic. Things have been hectic right from the start of the month. I started off on a bad footing. I managed, somehow, to catch a viral fever during the first week. I was down and out for close to 8 days, unable to even get out of bed for the first 2 or 3 of them. I still remember how I scared the soul out of my mum - the night I got the fever, I woke up screaming at around 1 in the morning, unable to bear the pain. I was yelling at her - telling her that I couldn't bear it. That I wanted to die. Man! That must have scared her out of her wits. My lunch had more pills in it than food.

Well, at least, I'm better now. But, to tell you the truth, I'd rather have the fever. I hate having to go to college these days. There's been a huge fiasco regarding my department's inauguration, and my much-less-than-expected involvement in it. You see, I happen to be the Department Secretary. No. That's not a good thing. Seriously. It just means that they give me a badge, put me on the student council, make me run around more than usual, and then shout at me for running around and missing out on classes. And they seem to be doing their job very well. One of my duties is to ensure the proper preparation of the Department's annual magazine. This year, however, my "revered" H.O.D (read: Bitch.O.D) decided to appoint a committee for the magazine. A team of 6 other people from my class who would be responsible for the magazine. Sigh of relief? Nope. Bad guess.

They did a good job in preparing the articles, and the rest of the magazine, but then came the time for proof reading. I was supposed to proof read the magazine, and hence asked the people in the committee to send me a copy of what they'd prepared so far. The Bitch.O.D chose this time, this particular time, when the 7 of us were gathered, to come and tell me that I was supposed to proof read the magazine perfectly, prepare the editor's note, and put my name in as editor, and the names of people from the committee as sub-editors. Somehow, the others didn't seem to think that this was such a good idea. They didn't like me stealing credit for the work that they'd done. Little did they realize that, regardless of what anyone instructed me, I would have never done the same - I know how it feels to have your credit stolen from you. It happened to me last year. I'd never do the same to anyone.

There started the in-fighting. The misunderstanding led to an incident the next morning, where I went in to submit a proof read copy of the magazine, and the others were standing there with a completely different copy of it, proof read, with a few more articles in theirs. What hurt was that, among the 6 members, was a good friend, who also seemed to think that I would really stoop to such levels of stealing their work. I washed my hands off preparing the magazine right there.That REALLY started the trouble. I went ahead and helped people from the English Dept. finish their magazine, and did some work for the other departments. I still continued to work for my own dept. Just not the magazine. And the Bitch.O.D seemed to think that I was only working for others, and she started making my life hell. When I tried to explain to her about the entire issue, she refused to believe me, and so did the other people in the department. I had a hard time, following that. The girl whom I love believed what my friend had to say about me, and had apparently taken in what he had said before she asked me about it. Yeah, things got sorted, and I gave her the truth. But the fact that she had jumped to a conclusion about it even before asking me, hurt. It made me feel that she didn't even know the first thing about me. It hurt a lot more. Anyway, that's past. We're good now.

Ever since, I've been treated like a clerk at the department. I run around, get work done, report to the lab at the end of the day, and get shouted at for not doing anything properly. I guess things are sorted out with my classmates, at least. But I still hate having to go back to that dump every day. I hate having to be part of a department which won't respect me even as a person. I hate being part of a crowd who don't know who I am, and don't trust that I see them as friends first.

Apart from all this chaos at the department, I've been confused a little bit (read: lot) about the relationship that I share with my love. I realized that, apparently, I've been a little self-centered about the entire thing, and a girl as wonderful as her deserves much more than I've given. I really owe her an apology for the ass I've been, and I hope that things will be better between the both of us from now.

So, that's that. In a nutshell, life's been hell. Things have started to look up in the past 2 or 3 days, and I hope that they'll continue to improve...

Cheers

Like thorn and blood.

2009-09-08T13:57:00.000+05:30

Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned...

Always kept waiting, Always in the dark
The urge to stir free always soothed underneath
A patience which demands no reason, only will
Listening to the liar's soul, always trusting.

Words of poison, Thoughts of disgrace,
Unwanted among the closest, absorbing their act,
Wanting to move away, but kept rooted,
By a hope that destroys more than trust.

Known to you dumb, and deaf, and blind,
Oblivious to the cuts and stabs you give,
Holding on tighter with trust,
Only to be disproved violently.

And one day, your queer, sick way will be seen,
And time shall come when the blindness fades,
And light shall fall on the past to show,
That your soul is made of thorns and your love is poison...

Another New Look...

2009-08-23T15:51:00.000+05:30

Don't be too shocked. This is just a new template that I'm trying out. I customized it myself. I personally liked the gothic style a little bit, but I'm still looking for an opinion from others.

Please let me know whether you like the new theme, and whether it's any good. If you think it's better than the previous one I was using, give me a thumbs up. Do leave your comments, in any case. Accordingly, either I'll stick to this one, or use the previous one.

Thanks a lot.

PS: About the collage of pictures I was using before - just because the collage is now gone, it doesn't mean that you guys aren't friends (read: family) anymore, dos it? :)

Gothic Escapades

2009-08-22T10:39:00.000+05:30

You turn your tide as I watch you walk on,

My lips sealed by the knives of your betrayal,
A desperation to slide the silver blade 'cross your neck,
In the silence, piercing it through my own veins.

The blood's started trickling, red with ominous black,
I look up in painful content at scarlet sky and dark clouds,
A wish for the rain of searing death from above,
And blessed with a crucifixion of the wretched heart.

A look back at the fathomless horizon but shows,
You and my shattered belief walking into the black haze,
Shrouded by truculent pleasure and unhealing wounds,
The blood spilling out, and emptiness sinking in...

A silent scream escapes the lost soul...

Impending Decisions?

2009-08-13T21:12:00.000+05:30

More than a month since I've written in here. Tch tch. Or maybe it's a good thing, seeing as I've been able to keep my sanity for more than 2 weeks at a stretch. Yay me.

August seems to be filled with birthdays. First there was the birthday of someone really close, on the 5th. Then, there was my mum's on the 10th. That was almost immediately followed by my good friend's (may I say "sister"?) birthday on the 12th. Effectively, I was able to give 2 of them a good birthday. Or so I hope. I couldn't do much for mum's birthday though. We (mum and I) went on this trip together to a place named "kolli hills", which happens to be an 8 or a 10 hour drive from where we live. The drive to the place is amazing, and the Ghat section drive was ecstasy. Even though I was driving a car. A car. Ew. I'm looking to go back there on a bike soon. 250 miles followed by 70 nerve-wrecking hairpin bends is biker haven. Mum and I were there on the 8th and the 9th, and hence, I was unable to arrange a good enough birthday for her. I'll try and set that right sometime this weekend.

Well, well. The entry does seem very optimistic so far, doesn't it? Snap back to reality. I'm not Barney. I don't always smile (and I'm most certainly not purple). I had a huge argument with my parents this evening, and you won't believe where it started - basketball shoes. Yes. B-A-S-K-E-T-B-A-L-L S-H-O-E-S. I kid you not. I don't think I've mentioned this before, but I happen to be on the college team ("team" could be a stretch here, mind), and I managed to tear up my sneakers in the last game (which we lost anyway). Well, after a fair bit (read: WAY TOO MUCH) persuasion, dad and mum finally agreed to pitch in half the price each, to get me a new pair of sneakers. Joy.

We headed to the Nike showroom, and I found myself a snazzy pair of shoes which, incidentally, matched my jersey (and a price tag that my father would approve of). I tried them on, walked around, jumped around, turned around and got the nod of approval from dad. I knew the signs were too good to be true. 10 minutes at the billing counter, and my father gestured to me. Enter disappointment. Somehow, the bank had declined the transaction on his card. I don't know how he does it, but he has a knack for getting me all worked up with excitement about getting something new, and almost invariably ends up disappointing me. I have never learned my lesson. Not until today at least.

Next step. Turn to mum. She was at work, and when I called her, said that she couldn't pool in more than half, as that was all that she had on hand (pay day wasn't exactly around the corner). Cherry on the cake - I couldn't contribute the remaining half required, as I haven't started earning yet (refer: "college" basketball team), and I had recently lent my dad some money from my own account, and he was yet to return it. Predicaments, predicaments. I couldn't speak because of the disappointment, as was expected of me. Somehow, my dad seemed to have a problem with this. An argument ensued. And for the first time in my life, I was dead calm. I didn't even raise my voice.

I made some decisions. Ok, wait. I had actually made these decisions eons ago, so I guess I had made a decision to act on the decisions that I had made earlier. What I have decided, of course, stays with me. It doesn't come out here, because then I'd have ignored one of the decisions of the many different decisions that I have decided upon. I'm hoping that they'll work out for me. Wish me luck if you feel what I'm saying.

Cheers.

Whirlwind inside my head...

2009-07-02T11:43:00.000+05:30

Paranoia. That's what I like to call it. I've always been a little sensitive. Or rather, a little vulnerable. What the heck. Same difference. I've probably said this about a thousand times, but the smallest of changes affect me. Small fluctuations send my brain reeling over the edge about possibilities of an occurrence, and let me tell you that it's more often negative than not. This is one perspective that I've been trying to change for as long as I can remember, and I haven't gotten rid of it completely.

I know that you're probably thinking that I should be in a straitjacket. But remember this - I'm crazy, not stupid. I know I always look for subtle changes and end up imagining things, but even I could recognize a good hint when I'm not wanted. And it's my worst nightmare, especially when I'm being shunned by a good friend. It happened last night. As always, this is the only place I can crib about it.

You meet this person, and you help them out on your first meet. You help their friend too, and you become good friends. Really close. You start meeting them everyday. You hang out together. You share a lot of things. They start telling you everything too. They start going through different phases, and you're there to soothe it out for them. The bond becomes stronger. Things are going well, and they leave for a while - be it education, work, life, whatever. You start missing them a lot. When they're back, you think things are the same. It all SEEMS the same way. Until they are too busy to get back to where you are. That spot is now gone. One needs to recognize that particular sign-post, and move on to other things. Maintain something cordial. This is what happens when you don't:

"I didn't realize that you talked to very few people and that I was one of them. I just wanted to give you some space to sort out issues in your head. We didn't want to give you our sympathy."

SLAP! That's what that feels like. I have nothing to say to this. Just THAT much ruined EVERYTHING that we shared. Let's go back to the issues in my head - the paranoia. Here's the question that I leave you with, after reading this - You have a good friend, and you know that they are paranoid about losing friends. Maybe something happened that they don't want to talk about. But you know that much. Do you stick with them to reassure them that you're there for them just as much as they're there for you? Or do you move away without any warning, and "give them space to sort out those issues"?

Life can be a bitch sometimes...

The New Look

2009-05-30T09:00:00.000+05:30

Well. I got bored of the colors that I had been using till recently. I guess white and green wasn't really my thing. So, I decided to go with this color. And I've modded the background with a collage of pictures of the people closest to me, and some other random pics.

If you know me, and you're reading my blog, and your picture is not in the collage, then please don't take offence. Constrained space limits me to only a few pictures, and these were the ones that popped into my mind first. Please don't take it wrong. You know me. My friends are first family to me.

Give me your views on the new looks.

Cheers.

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Unsought Chivalry

2009-05-29T03:17:00.000+05:30

I like to be a little old-fashioned at times. No. I don't mean black and white movies - I don't have the patience for them. They give me the delusion that I'm color-blind. I hate black and white movies. And I don't mean multi-colored shirts, bell-bottoms (or boot-cuts; whatever) and flip-flops either. In fact, I like to be old fashioned only with respect to one thing - chivalry.

I do not pride myself on it. But it's always there, and it's something that I haven't been able to get rid of - come to think of it, until this day, I've never really thought about whether it's right or wrong. It has always struck me right to treat a lady with the respect that they deserve. When I go out with a girl, be it my cousin, or my friend, I tend to be a little chivalrous. Not that they need take notice of it. I just do it for my own satisfaction.

I open the door, and always let the lady walk in or out first, and then follow. When I can, I pull a chair for them to sit. But something that I always follow - NEVER make the lady pay. To me it's disgraceful. If you're a woman/girl reading this, please don't mistake my meaning. I am not being a chauvinistic pig. I entirely agree that a woman can share a man's burden. I know that you're capable of paying. But my point is not that. To me, it's not manners to make a woman pay.

STOP ROLLING YOUR EYES! I'm not bragging. Honestly, I've always found it uncomfortable to allow a girl to pay for dinner, or something else that we might have just had. I might be a hopeless romantic, or a movie-addicted fool, but from the chivalry that I have observed, a man never makes a member of the fairer sex pay. And I keep to that too. I am not sure whether this is a weakness. I honestly don't see anything wrong in some old-fashioned chivalry. It's nice.

Unfortunately for me, until very recently, when out with a few friends, I never realized that what I was doing could also be a mistake. You see, in as much as it might be good manners not to allow a woman to pay, I only just realized (maybe a little too late) that the chivalry could be misread as a blemish on a woman's independence. Such a thing might not be noticed in girls, who are perhaps the shy or the romantic kind, who love the "old-fashioned" gestures. But it won't be tolerated by someone who is fiercely independent.

The fault is definitely not theirs, for wanting to be independent. There is absolutely nothing wrong in being self-contained. But the conflict here is, IS the fault really on those of us who are tuned to these habits? Or is it something where there actually is no fault, and both are natural traits that always clash with each other?

Hard to decide, isn't it?

A subtle change...

2009-05-14T19:48:00.000+05:30

I have been watching. I have been learning.
I know that things between us are turning.
I won't lie to myself, because this truth can never hide,
And this change is really killing me inside.

It's been pretty long now. I haven't written in here in ages. I haven't found the need to write in here either. Because I had so many friends around me whom I could always talk to about my problems. And I've only ever had problems all this while I have written. Don't take that in the wrong sense though - I meant that it was nothing other than problems. But what if it comes down to frustration that I need to let out? Would it do justice to vent it on my friends or the ones I love? I don't think so.

Speaking of love, I am now in a relationship with the most wonderful girl I have ever met. Or something very close to a relationship - she is taking her time to tone things up or down before she gets into something serious with me, but I'm happy to wait. The fact that I know that she likes me is in itself a talisman. It keeps me going. It even erases some of the frustration that I face. Every time her face pops into my mind when I'm angry, or frustrated, it just magically eliminates any frustration that I have at that point of time.

Then again, there are those extreme cases which don't really go away just like that. Those cases where the frustration only seems to be driving you to a point of insanity. That's where writing comes in. Writing, to me, is a liberation of everything negative that I'm feeling. It seems to take me into a whole new world, where I'm in a high, where a tornado of words slip out to form anything that I need to take my frustration out on. Figuratively, of course. I agree that it doesn't clear things up, a 100%, but more often than not, it helps me out of the situation I'm in.

Have any of you ever faced a situation where you feel things are changing too fast? Where you feel suffocated because none of those changes are to your liking? You look back to see what you've gone through, and it all looks prehistoric from where you're standing. You seem to be slipping away into oblivion, and you try everything you can to put a cork on that opening, so things would slow down enough for you to cope with. But to no avail.

Today, I'm in the heights of frustration, because I feel like I'm losing a friend. I'm losing not just any friend, but someone who has been as close to me as family. I would even say closer, because I have never been as close to anyone else. Things have been changing between us for quite long now. We started off as amazing friends, when almost nothing could separate us. We were always there for each other. Then, something happened (which I'm unable to figure out to date) that started changing things between us. Our happy and unshakable stance turned into one of constant irritating spells, and emotional disasters (to me), which I was unable to handle. What do we have today? I'm not really sure. Today, I have an acquaintance, who is maybe formal with me, who seems distant, whom keeps me wondering whether they're still there for me to count on, to pour out everything in my mind to.

I have no idea whether it's my paranoia which is driving me to all these feelings. Maybe the change I have described is not as written, maybe it is. But to say that things haven't changed would be nothing short of a lie, and I am not going to live in denial to that change - I am not stupid enough not to notice all the subtle changes that are taking place. And I'm pretty sure that these changes are only with me. To date, I do not know whose fault this is, and where exactly all this started. But the pain of change is agonizing, and I hope that either things go back to what they once were, or that I can stem the tears and move my way...

Pray.

After this....

2009-04-18T15:55:00.000+05:30

I can't believe how much is actually hanging in the balance right now. I guess loads of things come down to what I'm going to hear today. I won't really talk about what today's all about right now.
But at the end of today, either I'll have a lot of things to say, or absolutely nothing to say at all. Keep your fingers crossed that something good happens...

2 races of human...

2009-03-29T16:41:00.000+05:30

I wish I could say that I was writing this note based on my own thoughts. In a way, these are my thoughts, but these are thoughts provoked by something else. I came across an entry in my friend's blog that really made me think, and think hard (which is not something I'm used to). The thing is, when I went through her blog, I found that I could relate to everything that she was saying. I'm sure that you will think about what I'm about to say as well - if you read through this completely, that is. My note has two sides to it, and I've been on both the sides. I'd like to see how many of you have been on either one of the sides. Please do take the trouble to leave your comments. It'll be appreciated.

Through my life at school, and in college so far, among many other groups that I've come across, there are only 2 big groups which people are broadly categorized into. If you haven't already recognized them, these groups are the "cool people" and the "uncool people", or the geeks or nerds or whatever you call them. Any of you in here will only know me as having been in one of the two groups - either the cool, or the uncool. But then, I have been in both, and let me share what it's like.

The cool people. I've been among them. The ones that set trends, who make decisions which others follow. The people who live on the edge, who make choices which others follow. These are the ones that the others look up to, in admiration and wishful thinking, wishing that they could trade lives with the "cool" ones. But then, there are times, more often than not, when the cool ones sidle a certain group of people who they see "unfit" to be in their group.

Who are these people? They're tagged the "uncool", and you can find them scattered everywhere. These are the people who are not privileged enough to join the ranks of the people who have shunted them away from the cool status. These are the people who are made fun of by the cool ones, are tagged and thrown into a non-existing oblivion. They form rings amongst themselves, but there are the ones who feel alone all the time. They're driven into depressions which drive them to do stupid things which we see in teen movies.

There are a few lines which I heard in a song, and they go:

No one sits with him, he doesn’t fit in,
But we feel like we do when we make fun of him,
'Cause you want to belong, do you go along?
'Cause his pain is the price paid for you to belong

I have been among the cool people, and I've pushed away loads of others into the "uncool" section. All that time, I have never thought about what they would feel like, or even consider what would happen if I were to be pushed away just like them. Here's a thought about the cool ones - would they be cool, if there weren't people who are uncool? Like the lines say, do they only feel like they fit in because they decide who don't?

Please don't mistake me, but these are questions that I should have asked myself too. But then, there came a phase when I had to come to a different place; where people began to see me as one among the uncool. This was a phase when I was being shunted just as I had tagged loads of people, and I finally knew how it felt to be a misfit. It never occurred to me then to write such a note, but I did end up deciding that I could never do the same to anyone else again.

Fortunately, I can say that I have not treated anyone that way since. But, I cannot honestly say that people have stopped treating me that way. It's funny, but now, I live two different lives, among a dozen different groups of people, some of whom see me as a cool person, and others who see me as a nerd. It feels funny being in both situations - and by funny, I give you nothing to laugh about.

But I wish to leave a couple of messages to all of you who are reading this. Those of you who think you're cool - think again. Would you still be cool if you didn't have people any different from you? Those of you who're uncool - it's not the end of the world. It doesn't even matter. But don't sit down and let yourself be trampled upon either. And to those of you who aren't sure which "class" of humans you belong to - I'd give anything to be in your place right now. Don't try to figure out where you belong...

Disclaimer: The idea of this note is not entirely mine. In fact, I should be taking my hat off in respect for my friend who first wrote an entry which could knock a lot of sense into a lot of people's heads, and then encouraged me to write a note on facebook. I won't say who my friend is - he/she will tell you if they decide to. I'd appreciate any comments.

A late but early thought....

2009-01-23T22:34:00.000+05:30

This is not just a blog entry. It is more of a realization that struck me, pretty late indeed, but nevertheless, in time before something bigger. I won't elaborate on what more it could be - I'm going to dive straight into the topic. The rest is for you to judge, although, I would appreciate it if you read through this and leave a comment.

In the usual course, you would see me as a plain, ordinary looking kid. A teenager, more like. I control myself in most situations. But even the best of people have a flip side. I do too. My flip side is riding. To those of you who haven't made this out already, I'm a biker, and I'm proud to say that in every sense of the word. I love my bike, and all bikes. Motorcycles - they always raise my adrenaline. All kinds of motorcycles - vintage, cruisers, thumpers, sports, tourers - ANYTHING. In most cases, I can safely say that I am a responsible biker. I always wear a helmet and gloves while riding, and when I'm going for longer distances, a padded jacket and knee sliders too. Then what makes this a flip side?

Well, you see, unfortunately, the moment I'm on a bike, alone, I lose control of myself. When on a bike, you will most probably see me zipping through roads, precariously swerving on my 200cc beast, through some of the most unpredictable and hazardous traffic in the world. I have to admit that at most times, I am a reckless show-off who finds great pride in weaving carelessly through municipal buses, auto-rickshaws and two-wheelers. I have to be thankful that I find wearing a helmet while riding very indispensable. More than once, I have had the fortune to escape being pasted on the road, beneath the gigantic tires of our "very polite and traffic-friendly" municipal buses. I have always acknowledged these facts, and yet, I have done little about it.

I met with an accident sometime in July, and was down for nearly a month. I was unable to walk properly, thanks to a few stitches in my knee, and I had pasted my bike. When I got back on two-wheels, I was even more furious, or even more reckless. The way I rode only doubled intensity, and I had little to care about in the world. Mind, this was after an accident that knocked me cold for two hours, before I woke up to find myself on a hospital bed. I started racing on the race track, and visiting night-time drag sessions on near empty roads. Yes, I was indeed very stupid, in not having turned tide.

Today, I met with a very, very small accident. While I was taking a turn, quite suddenly, out of nowhere, a kid came running on to the road. Now, unfortunately for me, I was mid-way into the turn, and there was a bit of loose gravel on the road. In my attempt to avoid hitting the child, I braked hard and lost traction of my front tire, taking a slide across the road. Thankfully though, I was maintaining quite a low speed this time, and was not knocked unconscious. I got up, back on my feet, and I rode off.

Later on in the evening, when waiting at a traffic signal, I watched and waved at a very small girl, sitting on a motorcycle, behind her dad. With about 30 seconds left to go for the signal to turn green (AND seeing as I'm usually the first to zoom off from a signal), a sudden realization hit me. To me, earlier on during the day, the accident was as simple as getting up, brushing off dust from my shirt and zooming off. I was thankfully left only with a cut on my hand. But I thought about it - what if I had hit the child? What would have happened if it's mother had watched on, seeing her child getting trampled by a 145 kilo bike? I could never have forgiven myself if something had happened to it.

It was never my fault today, when I had that skid, and yet, I know for sure, that had I hit the child, I could never ever have forgiven myself. I could never have compensated for the misery I would have put the child's mother through. It would have haunted me for the rest of my life. I have access to a racetrack here at home, and I'd much rather put my skills to use there only, in a legal and safe manner. I would not be harming anyone. It would actually do some good.

The realization hit me, as another youngster standing parallel to me at the signal, opened his throttle repeatedly, as though throwing a challenge to race. The signal turned green, and apparently, so did my brain, as I shifted into first... and let him race forward. I had just been drawn back from a very dangerous road, and I had no intention of going back there again. This time, I'm sure my realization will last long enough...

The Fear of Loss...

2009-01-07T00:38:00.000+05:30

I am putting up this entry in complete confusion. I am not sure whether I am cheerful or still fearing things right now. I have absolutely no idea. And yet, I wish to put this up, only because I have nothing better to do. I just hope I can come out of this stupid confusion soon, and feel more secure. I could never excuse myself if my stupidity were the sole reason of ruining something that is priceless to me.

- 9th January, 2009, 1:12 a.m

Well, I've not been busy or anything. But for the past few weeks, I have had absolutely no access to the internet. Finally, I have something of a system set up and an access to the internet now. At least, I have access long enough to make a note in my blog. So, for those whom I've missed out, please don't take it to heart - Happy New Year!

Coming to the point, how many of you out there have actually felt what it is like to slip down a ladder? You're all the way near the top of a really long ladder, and putting one hand on the top step to hoist yourself entirely to the top, you find yourself suddenly slipping. Have you experienced it? An extremely long but definitely deadly tumble, with your hands flailing around in desperation to find something to grasp, knowing in all your senses that when you hit the bottom, you will only be left with.... nothing. I felt that. I felt that sensation. I still feel it. I feel the free-fall and I am desperately looking for something to grab hold to suspend my fall. And in all my helpless state, I find nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Every single time that I see the one person who took me to the top of the ladder, that invaluable friend who is one of very few reasons for me to stay, I feel an ecstatic joy in the core of my heart, and it only spurs me to greater heights. I come to a point where I am 100% confident that nothing could possibly go wrong as long as this person is there, is with me. And then, when I see that same person letting go of me, in all their anger and sadness, I feel forsaken. The small butterflies in the pit of my stomach turn to lead bricks, as every single hope that I have for myself plummets and every single drop of happiness is drained. When I see them in misery, or depression, or anger, especially the anger which results due to me, I feel lost. I feel that I have lost every single thing that I was living for, and without this person's happiness, I would be left with nothing at all in this world.

Whenever I see that I am not able to help this person, I can't help but feel that I am completely useless. Wouldn't you? If you were to find today, that you were unable to cheer up the one person who could bring miles of smiles to your face merely by their presence, wouldn't you completely let go of yourself? I don't know how many people out there would agree with me, or how many people would think I'm completely cuckoo. But the fact is that, when I come to such a situation, I feel as if I am falling through a bottomless crevasse. The fear that I would lose that special person clouds me. The truth is that the loss would mean the loss of a part of me, and that would leave me to face changes in me that I could never cope with.

I believe in god, whether any of you do or not, and I sincerely hope and pray that I never have to face the loss of a person whom I love so much, neither in terms of physicality, or in terms of the mentally electrifying elevation that they propel in me by their very existence. Why am I suddenly writing this? I don't know. I honestly don't. I think I must be crazy to write this at 1:00 in the morning, with a fever. I only fear the loss of a loved one, and if that loss happens to me I'll put this up. But note this - I've typed this on 7th January, 2009 at 12:55 a.m, and as long as I live, I hope that there is only one reason that I put up this entry for - finding it to be silly when I am in a very happy mood some time later.

A blur called life...

2008-11-25T16:10:00.000+05:30

The past few days have been quite an ordeal for me. There have been times when I've been very tempted by that knife inside my kitchen, but only a thin sheet of difference between stupidity and sensibility has kept me away from it. I felt as though I was back in everything again - the same old depressions that I've always been in. The same doubts that I always seemed to face. The same predicaments. Life.

And then came along a reprieve that I never imagined I could have. It would not do me justice if I didn't describe what hit me in as many words as I can remember. I don't clearly remember when all this happened - it was at a time when life was a blur.

I took a day off from everything. By everything, I mean EVERYTHING. E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G. I was pretty depressed the previous night because of some incidents at home which I do not wish to share or recollect with too many people. Please excuse me for skipping that bit. But it left me in a whirl where I came to a decision that I had to be away from people for a while until I could sort out whatever was troubling me so badly. And mind you, it wasn't just one thing - it was a lot. Bad memories, small fluctuations, people moving away. All the little things in life that can constitute one HUGE pain in the neck if they come at you all at once.

Very early the next day, I left for Broken Bridge. It's the only place that I move to when I need to be alone and need time to think. That place has seen my happiness, my depressions, and quite a few times, even my sloshed state. I spent half the day there pondering about A-Z of my life so far. In as much as I wanted to think of the good things in life, my mind was like a damaged tape - skipping out all the good parts and playing only the bad ones.

After spending much time there, I came to a sudden realization - all the messages that my friends had sent me when I told them I was going to be out of touch for a while. Whipping out my cell phone, I read through the ones sent by the people who were closest to me. Every message was a talisman to me. Every message of theirs was shouting and screaming that they were there for me when I needed them, and all that while, I had been a fool not to acknowledge that fact. I had kept running away from it.

I decided to turn around. Chase everything. I came to several decisions that day, and I won't share what those decisions are. I am willing to say that all my decisions revolve around the people who I loved the most - all my closest of friends and others who were attached to my heart. I have promised myself that I won't get depressed so often, that I would force myself to think of the brighter side of things until I had the natural tendency to do so. A new life, as some people call it.

Well, it's been days since that happened, and I'm quite relieved to say that I've kept myself under control and not gone into depressions. I have started believing in a certain something, or someone, and that is helping me carry along beautifully. Now, there's a really important "event" that I'm looking forward to this evening. I hope that it goes fine. It decides several things. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. I won't say what it is now, but you might just hear from me very soon...

A ride for a cause...

2008-11-09T21:15:00.000+05:30

I've been wanting to write about this ride for quite a while now, but what with my computer's processor burnt up, semester exams, and my laziness, I haven't really found the time to come on to my blog.

With diwali around the corner, one of our club members, Praveen Selvam, came up with a brainstorm - why not make a trip down to an orphanage to give to those who didn't have? Kudos to Praveen for having come up with such an idea. After getting together with friends, the plan was made, and we were to have a ride down to Pondicherry to visit an orphanage and get back the same day.

Now, the plan was to visit one of the out-of-the-way orphanages, and not the really popular ones. The reason was that these popular ones would get a lot of donations during season, and hence it would just be adding sand to a beach if we were to contribute there. We took the ride on the 26th of October, Sunday. The rendezvous was at Cozee point at Besant Nagar Beach at 5:45am and VGP Golden Beach at 6:15am. Members who were riding could pick either of the rendezvous points according to their convenience.

I was at Cozee point at 5:45am, and found two other members (for the sake of the religion of biking, brothers), Kiran and Sai waiting there. It took a while for four others to arrive, and together, Praveen, Vedavyas, Kiran, Sai, Anand, Srini and me started off for the second rendezvous point to meet the others. When we reached it, we found that the others had gone off to take a small tea break. When they got back, we were ready to go.

Together, Praveen, Kiran, Sai, Anand, Srini, Manoj, Vignesh, Vedavyas, Allen, Rajesh and I, were to ride off to Pondicherry, making sure that we would be there by 9:00 or so in the morning. We were to ride in formation, and Praveen was to be the leader. Since Allen and Rajesh were riding together, on a Thunderbird, they were left to be the sweepers. I was riding second in the pack.

The weather couldn't have turned out to be more beautiful for a ride. The sky wasn't too bright, and neither was the weather too hot. Sometime into the ride, the sky became overcast with a slight drizzle. Expecting a heavy downpour, we made a short stop to put on our weather-proofing on our gears and then sped off again.

The ride was perfect, and along with a few veterans in touring, I was able to learn my rights and wrongs and gain a few tips along the way. We came across two different spots, where the backwaters were so scenic that we just HAD to stop to take pictures and enjoy the scenery. We made stops of almost 15 minutes at first and 30 on the second, and experienced a lot of fun. We hit Pondicherry in a while.

Halting by the beach, Praveen spoke to some more friends who had made it there in a car, and had arranged for most of the things that we planned to do at the orphanage. After finding out that we could head to the orphanage by around 11:30, we shifted our focus towards breakfast. Heading into the city, we found a nice restaurant where we created a lot of curiosity as well as ruckus. After having our breakfast, we headed back to the beach for some rest and fun before heading back to the orphanage again.

The orphanage was on the way back to Chennai, about 15 minutes from Pondy. We had to follow the car as none of us knew about the place. We took a left from the main highway and I noticed the signboard to the orphanage. I was eager and was checking out every building, thinking if that would be the orphanage. I was wrong every other time and the car kept going deeper and deeper. We finally hit a building with decent space in front of it, completely occupied with small kids playing all over. They responded quickly to the sound of bikes and lined up outside the gate to watch us park our rides. Each one of them started shouting, "Pulsar... Pulsar..." and the debate amongst them looked never ending.

We were all dumbstruck as we had never been in such a situation, being watched by such lovely kids. We certainly did not expect them to be playing outside. Each of them had a toy gun in their hand bursting crackers. They had absolutely no hesitation in coming over and talking to us. We spent about half an hour talking to them and taking photos. I can't explain in words how each of those posed for photos and the immense amount of joy they had in doing so.

We were there close to lunch time and it took some time to arrange everything we had bought. We had to stop them playing and they were asked to assemble inside for lunch. Each of the kids, waited until food was served and the prayers were told. They started to eat with absolute silence and some kids still had the gun in hand! They were very hesitant in asking if they wanted something and waited for us to make eye contact with them. That meant we had to be alert and watch the kids. The kids demonstrated high levels of discipline and I was astonished by the values they had.

Soon after that, it was our turn to be fed. The kids took charge of serving the food for us. I was very happy when they cajoled us to have more with smiling faces. I was thanking God from the bottom of my heart for such a unique experience that I had never expected. The kids did not waste food. Not even a single bit. Some took a lot of time to complete. But they did. This meant, we couldn't either. So I made sure I got the right quantity and finished it without wasting.

We didn't have much time left. We had bought some clothes, sweets and stationery to be given away. Thanks to Manoj for the stationery. We took to the kids to the terrace where the gifts were given away by everyone. We left the clothes and sweets with the care takers. We had pooled a few thousands apart from this. The food was arranged out of this and some t-shirts were also purchased. We still had a lot of cash left. We were not comfortable in giving it away directly and so, it was decided that it would be left with Praveen's friend, who was a native of Pondy. We decided to spend it during the next occasion, probably during Christmas.

It was time to bid adieu. The kids had surrounded us as we were moving the bikes out. They kept waving till the last point where they could see us. Some kept running behind and stopped after a little while. But their smiles are still in our heart kindling the thought to go back again!

Longing for a reprieve

2008-10-24T07:09:00.000+05:30

I can't really say that I've been up to much these past few days. It's one of the reasons I haven't written in my blog. I usually only write in my blog when I feel depressed, or when I have no one to talk to, but like I said before, I now have someone to talk to, someone who understands how I feel.

Quite recently, I have been through a rainbow of moods ranging from depression to ecstacy. I have met up with friends, and been shunted by some. I have both loved and hated a girl. That gives you an idea of how deranged I must have been. I can't help it. It's just how I am.

I took a look on a friend's words, and I found my symptoms definitely matching those of Bipolar Syndrome. Well, I'm not really sure whether I've got it, but I am most certainly NOT dragging my ass all the way back to a god-damned psychiatrist to check it out. In my opinion, psychiatrists are a last-resort. If I DO have bipolar syndrome, then he'd prescribe lithium. Lithium slows you down. It dumbs you down. I'm dumb enough already, so no thank you!

In the meanwhile, I met members from my biking club. We took a ride last Sunday, the 19th, over to the Madras Motorsports Club, to watch the R15 race organized by Yamaha. I will never forget that ride - it was a free for all. Nothing organized, and we touched nothing less than 100kmph all the way there. After a long wait, I finally got to drive a friend's R15, and I was able to push it to its limits. It never let me down. Unless Kawasaki has something better in store, that might very well be the next bike I go for.

We're planning a trip once again this Sunday. My club members and I are taking a ride down to Pondicherry and back to visit an Orphanage, and make some kind of contributions so that the kids there can enjoy Diwali. I'm definitely going one way or another. I am not looking forward to Diwali at home, or celebrating at all. I'm getting claustrophobic among people, and I prefer to stick to myself these days. I find myself longing for a reprieve, to go away someplace where no one can find me, and no one can contact me.

When I'm among people, I feel that I'm a burden. I feel that I'm grabbing too much space from them, being more of a hindrance. I don't know why, no one has ever told me that, but no one has said otherwise either. I can't really figure out why I feel this way, but like I said, I'm going crazy. Beyond salvage. I should probably be in an isolated cell, wearing a straight-jacket. But I don't want to go there now - literally and figuratively.

I'll post in here if possible, after my trip on Sunday to let people know how it went. Who cares anyway? To be entirely honest, I'm hoping to get killed by a truck or something on the way. Let's see....

Consolations

2008-09-30T18:47:00.000+05:30

I don't get too close to too many people. There are reasons for that - reasons of the past. I have been let down once too often. I've been used, trodded upon and then left behind like I was nothing more than merely a piece of paper. I've said this before, and I tell you again that I had no real idea of who my friends were.

For a first time after a long time, I am with a person whom I enjoy being with at any time, and at any place. For the first time, after a very long time, I felt happy. She brings out the best in me, and cheers me up when I'm down - something that no one else has ever been able to do for a long, long time. She makes me laugh like crazy almost all the time, and I feel comfortable with her. I have no reason to hide anything, or cover anything up. For the first time, after letting myself down by loving someone truly very much, I trust someone with all my life without the slightest hesitation. For the first time in a long time, I have a true friend.

This is one of the primary reasons that I haven't written in my blog for pretty long now. It's because I now have a friend to talk to when I'm down, someone who understands what my problem is and is able to bring me out of it without any difficulty. I wish I could do the same for her. She too has her share of problems, and I wish she doesn't have to go through them all the time. But then everyone has to face their problems once in a while.

She grew pretty upset today at a time when I wasn't in college. I had had a basketball match the previous evening, and I had very sore joints in the morning. I couldn't get up, so I didn't go to college either. She called me around noon, and I heard her crying even before she said anything. There was a sudden weight in my stomach, and I panicked. She told me that she wanted to meet me, and I rushed to college shortly.

When I saw her there, she seemed pretty composed, but she asked me to take her to the church, and so I did. I thought things were pretty ok, and there must've been something like a small misunderstanding at college because of which she had been put off. And then, things started crumbling. I sat at church, watching her cry and I had no idea as to what to do. When I came around, I tried comforting her what best I could. I was pretty lousy at it, and it amounted to nothing. She was still very upset. That was the first time in a pretty long time that I prayed.

It was a while before she calmed down, and I had the heart to ask her what had gone wrong. She told me why, but I'm not going to put it in here. I tried consoling her then, but once again, I was lousy at it. She then got a call from one of her friends who was able to cheer her up - something I had been praying for. I could not bear to see someone who cheered me up when I was depressed, break down to bits like that. She got alright after a while, and we left church.

I dropped her at the station so she could catch a train home. I left for my grandmother's. I was there for a while, trying to digest what had happened. I felt horrible that I couldn't even cheer her up, but I was glad that I was at least able to take her to a place where she found some solace, if not anything else. On the way back home, I stopped at a church, and I said one more small prayer, and thanked him for answering my previous one.

I hope she's ok now. I haven't heard from her yet, as she still appears to be upset, but I hope I do soon enough. I'm content to help her out with something that she wants now - some time alone for herself. At least I'm not a hindrance that way. If any of you are reading this, and you believe in god, pray for her. I'll be thankful to you and so will she...

An Open Letter...

2008-09-12T20:16:00.001+05:30

My dear... My dearest...

I'm not going to address you this time. As you read through this letter, you will definitely know that I'm writing to you, and you only. And the only reason that I'm writing this is because I do not really know when I'll get the chance to talk to you next.

For longer than you could have possibly known, I have been in love with you. Even before I saw you. The moment I spent a few minutes of conversation, I had a nagging sensation that YOU were the one I was looking for. It drove me to imagine how you could have possibly looked, for I had no clue as to your appearance. All I knew was that I liked you from the way you talked to me.

Then, soon enough, I saw you for the first time in my life. That was the precise moment I fell head over heels in love with you. I had no words to describe how much I loved you at that moment alone. When I met you again, only the second time, you were waiting for me. You looked like an angel - I am not flattering you. I do not need to flatter you anymore. You were everything I hoped for, everything I yearned for in a girl and you had an aura about you that drove me crazy for nights together. I tried to think of it as an infatuation, but I couldn't - why? Because I could never figure out the reason I loved you in the first place. It was everything about you that attracted me.

I started driving myself crazy. They say that in love, people do a lot of stupid things. I never really believed it then, but then I started being an example of it myself. I was always dying to meet you, to catch sight of you. I was trying to find any and every possible reason to catch a glimpse of you, at the least. Every time you spoke to me, I was feeling elated, and every time that you looked straight into my eyes, I felt that I had suddenly been tossed into the air with no bounds to pull me back down. I loved you beyond comprehension. During all that time, you had no idea that I loved you so much. I did. More than you could possibly imagine.

There was pain, but I was willing to bear any amount of it. Every girl I looked at reminded me of you, and you alone. I had decided a long time back that if I ever wanted to be with a girl again, it would have to be you. I hoped against my conscience that you felt the same way about me. When you came to know, and told me that you didn't want to get into any of it then, I prepared myself to wait for as long as it took you. I really did. I had faith that it would happen sooner or later. I waited patiently. You told me things would change. I was prepared to face whatever would change just so you would love me. I waited...

Things started going wrong. I broke the trust that the both of us had with a small mistake of hiding a fact from you. I was at the wrong, and I had no right to defend myself. I felt like all the blood had drained out of me. I WANTED to drain all the blood out of me. Even though you had talked to me afterwards, I still felt filthy and unworthy of you. That evening, I tried to cut my wrists. I came very close to it, before I was caught. I was raring to do it the first opportunity I got, but things calmed me down eventually. I hoped that you would trust me the same way again. You said you would.

I made mistake after mistake. I was careless with my diary. When my friends got their hands to it, they had read EVERYTHING that I'd ever felt about you. They asked you before me - you thought that I had broken another promise and I'd told them everything. That was the first time, in almost 13 years that I found myself close to tears. I didn't know whether I was right or wrong, but at that moment, I couldn't hold on to the feeling that I was lost without you. I still loved you very, very much, and you had no idea. From that point of time, I started finding more and more subtle examples that you did not trust me as much as you did all my other friends. Even when you knew that I was so in love with you. I felt like I had a hole somewhere deep inside me.

We had an argument after a while. Quite recently. Only this year. I agree that I didn't come off clean in it, and I have no right to justify what I'd said and done. In the heat of the moment, I did not know what I was doing. I thought about it later, and I found myself more and more on the wrong side every time I thought about what I'd done. That was the second time in my life when I had tried suicide. When I came to my senses, I sent you an apology. I could do nothing more but wait in hope that you would understand in what sort of a position I had been to have talked like that to a girl I loved more than my own life. I hoped and hoped, and at every single moment I loved you even more than I ever had, if that was even possible. Those were the worst couple of months in my life.

I had my accident then, and you finally started talking to me again. You had no idea how much that meant to me at a time when I was in so much physical pain. I wanted to see you very badly, but I knew that it would have to wait until I was fit enough to move around again. Things started getting okay between us, and I loved you even more. I did agree with you that I shouldn't be committed about this entire thing, but I never meant one word of it. I still loved you a lot.

I know you might find all of this very hard to believe, but I assure you that every word I have written in here is true. I have given a lot of thought to whatever I have written so far, and it seems to me that I couldn't have had explained myself better even if I had got the chance to talk to you. But you must be wondering why I am telling you all this.

I feel insecure again. I can't help but feel that I am still not trusted, and still not loved by you. It may be what I have done in the past, or because you love someone else, or because you do not like me at all. I wouldn't even be surprised if you were only talking to me because you find it impolite to tell me that you do not wish to talk to me. But my point here is that I'm in a constant state of confusion, as to whether you love me and will me to wait, or you do not love me at all. In any case, I love you a lot...

But I am going to try and forget my love for you. I think it only bothers you, and that's the last thing I want for you. I do not want to disturb you with any of this, and cause you to regret this at a later point of time. I implore you to not feel guilty about any of this, and go ahead to make whatever decisions that you feel is right. I only told you all this, because as I had recently promised, I want to give you only the truth - one way or another. You deserve to know.

If you had started reading this, I am sure you will finish reading until here. If you wish to talk to me, or if there is anything you wish to tell me, be it good or bad, please feel free to talk to me whenever you please. I assure you that this letter is addressed to you only to lighten me, and not to bring any barriers between us.

With more love than you can fathom is possible....
Eshwar

Repercussions of a Company

2008-09-09T21:49:00.000+05:30

It's been sort of monotonous for the past few days, and it took time to realize several things in relation to what I said in my previous entry. I haven't yet decided whether I'm right or wrong - because there are people who genuinely believe otherwise (I'm not joking here), and there are people who act in a way that certainly confirms whatever I said. I'm not pointing out anyone here - if they're reading this, then they know what I'm talking about. But, I was hurting really badly when I typed in whatever I had in my previous entry. There are still a few things I wish I'd said, but I'd rather keep them to myself now.

I've spent a week, now, in close proximity of people who are really good friends of mine, and whose company I enjoying being. I can tell you that those were about the few times in my current life that I'm actually getting a bit of happiness from. The company includes a dear friend whom I will sorely miss when she leaves for Europe for education at the end of this month, and a few others who are just as good friends of mine as she is. We share a sort of wavelength in thought and nature, and I think I fit in without an effort.

The same goes for a group of people at college, who bring out the lighter side in me. I'm actually starting to have a bit of a good time at that dump, thanks mainly to my involvement in a host of activities which do not relate to my department whatsoever. These two are great people, consisting mainly of several of my seniors, and even my juniors. How pathetic would I have to be to not fit in to a group of my own age? But it's true - I can't relate to anyone I know, and I am constantly made fun of. I am ragged in this group too, but so are the others, and we all take it pretty lightly. But ragging is something different from "Making fun of a person", is it not? Ragging, as I perceive, is something jovial and light and should be a part of everyone's life, at some stage or the other. On the other hand, being constantly made fun of is the heights of disrespect. I debase myself the moment I enter class, submitting myself to verbal torments from my "friends" and sometimes physical too. I, am the subject of 99.5% of jokes made in my class. Ha. Ha.

That's the reason college was never great for me. Until now. I'm just happy to have found myself in not one, but two different groups of people with whom I fit in quite seamlessly, and enjoy every single moment that I spent in their company. The company that you're in, can make the biggest of differences in your prime time.

Facts from the mirror.

2008-09-01T23:57:00.000+05:30

Abomination. Eyesore. Hideous. Appalling. Disfigured. Grotesque. This is not a vocabulary listing. I'm describing myself. All these words can be related to one common word which is pretty easy to understand - ugly. Yes, that's me. I'm sorry if anything I've said earlier has deceived any of you readers - I am not remotely close to looking good. Period.

Every morning, I go through the painful habit of looking into the mirror - be it to shave, brush my teeth or something else. And there's always that nagging voice of doubt, perennially asking me the same question - why is it that I turn out to be really bad looking? Why can't I just be normal like so many other people I know? Why do I have to keep coming up in boils and scars and pimples and so many other objects of curiosity that are keen to keep my face an example for the word "ill-favored"?

I know I am whining, and I have every right to - it's my blog. I've gone over this topic several times with several people. When I mentioned it to my dad, he told me that I was having a "complex" and I should probably get rid of it. I mentioned it to my mother, who hardly bothered listening to a word I said. I've mentioned to several close friends. Some of them told me that I'm just being stupid and I'm not ugly. But I know what I am - I see myself in the mirror every morning. Some of my other friends tell me that it doesn't count how you look; that it only counts what your character is (which, I heard, was what all ugly people say). And mark my words, I will not agree with the argument that "looks don't matter". I've gone up to girls, been nice to them and asked them out - I get a "NO" 9 out of 10 times. They cite various reasons. But I always come to know what about me that they don't like - either from them at a later point of time, or from friends of theirs who owe the truth to me.

Dating isn't a concern at all. I don't really give two hoots as to whether I get to go out with a girl or not. I neither have the money, nor the charisma to keep the relationship floating. It's facing the fact that looks do count for something more than getting into relationships that bothers me. It could be a host of other things - getting a decent response, being treated right by other people, being constantly picked on by peers whom I consider good friends, being constantly criticized for how I look (behind my back too), and so much more. It's not a fact that everyone would come out and admit, but if you don't find a person who looks decent enough, you don't find the need to get close to them, or you aren't remotely attracted to go up to them and talk. There are times that I don't get invited along to places by people who're supposed to be friends because they don't want someone like me mixing with their other friends. I can cite more than one example in this regard, but I'm not going to go there right now. I don't want to think about it too much and get myself depressed even more.

I honestly have no idea how to face facts with regards to this problem, nor am I able to get decent feedback or advice from people. I just hope that someone out there who's facing anything closely similar to this, reads this entry and helps me out here. A sentence telling me how to handle this is all I'm hoping to get...

For the rest of you who feel like murdering me for bothering you with such a lame entry, I'm sorry.

For those of you who've fallen asleep while reading this - WAKE UP! And read the previous sentence.

Random musings about my promise...

2008-08-21T23:24:00.000+05:30

It's completely needless for me to say that I haven't stopped smoking completely. Those of you who smoke, or have smoked before, know how tough it is to simply stop smoking. You know that the process is slow and takes a lot of effort. And those of you who know what an idiot I am, know that I'll always, ALWAYS, be tempted to go buy a cigarette if I have any money at all.

The good part of the entire thing is that I've actually been making an attempt to quit. In the past few days since I made my promise public - or at least put it up on my blog - I've limited myself to 2, and just 2 cigarettes. Not per hour, not per day. 2 cigarettes in the entire period. Every time that I find myself wanting to smoke, I think about whatever has already happened in the past because of that death-stick. It usually throws me off the urge to smoke, unless I'm really, really tempted to. But in as much of a prick that I am, I have a reason to not quit completely yet - the last time I tried to deny myself of all the temptation, I was only able to control myself for about a month before my temptations gave way to stupidity, and I started smoking it.

I don't want anything of the sort to happen this time. I am really putting an effort into stopping, and I've made a promise based on someone else this time. I don't want all that ruined just because I was trying to make it happen a little earlier - I don't care about the AMOUNT of time it takes for this "phenomenon" to happen, just as long as it happens. I still maintain what I'd said in my previous entry - I WILL quit smoking and I'll do it soon enough.

Another thing I'm not so concerned about though, is the fact, that no matter what I'm like throughout the day at college, the moment I'm on the train home, this depression hits me out of nowhere like a train out of oblivion - WHAM! I have no idea what I'm doing, where I'm going, why I'm feeling like this or anything else for that matter. I find myself spending oodles of time wondering about what exactly went wrong with my life and when. I keep spending an excessively unforgivable amount of time in trying to figure out the cause of my loneliness. I amount it to the loneliness that I'm in, sometimes, before I figure out that I only feel that way AFTER the depression hits me.

After the depression, I swivel back to the same feeling that I have most of the other times - like I just don't care a damn about anything, you know? A feeling of attitude that fills me up to the brim, at which point I start rolling my eyes a lot. I know that this particular feeling is part of the facade that I keep making up, but I'm never able to do anything about it. When I think about it, at the end of the day, I feel that I was a lot better off even with that depression rather than this kind of attitude towards everyone - even the ones whom I love very much. I wonder what I've gotten myself into.

My friend mentioned Bi-Polar Syndrome to me. I think I'm having the very same symptoms that she was talking about. Maybe I should consider dragging my arse out to a good Psychiatrist and get myself checked for it. If I DO have it, and god forbid, then I hope to god that I don't get addicted to anti-depressants next. It's about the last thing I need when I'm already on the route to ****ing up my life.

Pray for me.

A moment of reconciliation

2008-08-14T03:29:00.000+05:30

I've spent 3 sleepless nights in a row now. My exams are on, and I haven't studied a word for any of them. I've spent 3 sleepless nights in a row now, doing absolutely worthless things. I've been online all night, downloading songs, watching movies, drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes and, in the popular words of my dear father, "everything but studying". Come to think of it, I've never actually spent any of my time productively. I manage to get through my exams sheerly by luck.

Tonight hasn't been any different. I think I've smoked about 5 cigarettes in the past hour, listening to songs that turn my mood on and off. As I type away sitting here, my Physics books lie open on the table in the dining room, surrounded by papers containing potions, and a notebook with absolutely nothing in it - unless you would count the doodles and the "artwork" on them for something. And yet, I chose today, of these 3 days to make an entry in my blog at nearly 4 'o' clock in the morning, barely a few hours ahead of my exam. Why?

Because, as I spent a precious few minutes killing myself, taking a deep drag out of that burning cancer stick, I came to a realization. Not about how I'm wasting time, but how I'm wasting life. About how I've made mistake after mistake, repeatedly, never bothering to correct myself, or even pausing for a moment to consider the glitch that I've landed myself in. "Glitch", here, could possibly be the understatement of the century. I've made promises that I've never kept up, lied a lot to too many people, just to keep postponing the moment of reconciliation that was inevitable - until now.

Just what exactly have I learnt now, would possibly be the first question that arises in your mind when you read what I have just put down. Well, I've decided not to TALK about it anymore - not here, not anywhere else. It's a jinx, you see. If I talk about doing something it almost never happens. I never do it. My words are just that - words. They are never converted to actions. The reason for that would be my laziness. That is the precise reason why I'm never able to keep up my promises. That is gone now. Vanished.

But there is ONE thing that I can say in here, seeing as I've finally done it. I'm not exactly euphoric about it, but I've just about quit smoking. I've had enough of the habit that gives me the so-called "hipster" image. In fact, I've had enough of the "hipster" image, period. I do have a regret though - I wish I had managed to do this a long time back. A long time back, when I had promised to someone, who still means hell of a lot to me, that I would stop smoking. I did stop for a while back then, and told her that I had. I started the habit again, and made a lie out of it, cancelling out all lines of trust between us in a jiffy. It'll take a lot of time and effort to gain that lost trust, but I guess this is a start. This isn't just a promise that I've made, but a promise that I've already started making an effort to honor. And this time, the promise is for my sake.

My weekend escapade

2008-08-11T12:19:00.000+05:30

If you have read any previous entries of mine, and have decided something positive about my writing, then I contradict you here and now. I'm not a prodigy at writing. I only pen down whatever comes to my mind, and things usually take a LOT of time to come to my mind. There are times when I have my fingers hovering over my keyboard, and my mouth slightly parted, gaping at the monitor. 5 out of 10 times, I find myself unable to decide what to write. And then the whole concept of my blog hits me in the head - Write whatever happened!

The weekend was quite interesting for me. Friday night, my mum, her friends and colleagues, and me started off for a small hill-station called Munnar. This, being my first visit to Kerala, was very enchanting. Obviously, what strikes you first is the beauty of the place. The climate is cool, and apparently, it is expected to rain most of the time. Sunshine is rare. Then again, something that can really get on your nerves is the fact that, any place you wish to visit - tourist spots, civilization etc. is atleast 15-20kms away from the main city, and the roads aren't inter-connected. The very fact that our group had to traverse about 17kms from our resort to the main town, and then take a different road from there to several of the attractions, which were about 20kms away was a pain in the neck. And to those of you who aren't used to winding roads, the entire way, for about 80kms is a Ghat section. There are about 20 hair-pin bends, and ups and downs all over the place. To me, it was an invite to visit again - possibly, on my bike, if I can persuade a few friends to join me. And it'll take money. A LOT of money.

Sunday, the 10th, was my mom's birthday. Now, I don't have the kind of money it takes to give her an expensive gift, or a respectable surprise even, seeing as it's her I depend on when it comes to my allowance every month. The least I could do was to give her a tight hug, wish her a happy birthday, and let her know what a huge part she plays in my life. I wrote her a very small letter, which I never did manage to give her. It sits right here in front of me, and it says:

Dear Mom,
I want to wish you a very, very, very Happy Birthday today. I wish to tell you what a huge part of my life you are, and where I would've been right now, if it wasn't for you. Everytime I'm in need of encouragement or consolation, I only have to take one look at you to realize that you have always been there for me, and will be there for me for ever more. I wish to tell you a lot more, but I'm left with no words to express what you mean to me, nor could've possibly put it in a flatter way.
I'm sorry, I've been such a pain-in-the-neck for 18 years now, and I'll try to behave better. (I know you'll be laughing after you've read that line).

Love,
Me

Like I said, it's a very small letter, and I came up with it in the spur of the moment - just about 5 minutes before midnight. And, as I've mentioned before, I didn't give it to her. I was not able to decide whether it would lead to an embarrassing moment of silence, or awkwardness, seeing as I've always treated my mother as more of a friend than anything else. Maybe, if I invite her, she'll take a look at my blog some day. And she'll read the letter. Like I said, maybe...

Happy Birthday!

2008-08-05T00:02:00.000+05:30

Exclusively to Varsha - Happy Birthday. I'm wishing you the happiest returns of the day. I hope that you enjoy your special day, the rest of the week, the rest of the month, the rest of your year, and still more to come after that!

(Click on the image to enlarge it)

Happy 18!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm me... uh, right?

2008-08-03T22:10:00.000+05:30

Ah, the stitches have finally come off. But it doesn't help reduce the pain. And, out with the stitches came some pretty bad news too. Well, truth be told, I was expecting bad news, but in a way when you expect something bad to happen, only you're hoping that actually, nothing goes wrong - you know what I mean? The doc took a look at my knee and told me, that whoever the b*st*rd who stitched me up was, did a pretty lousy job. Apparently, the stitches were counter-productive - which means that instead of bringing my skin closer and sealing it up, the stitches actually parted my skin even more. Now, it's healed ok, but it's going to take longer than expected to heal completely. Ouch.

In other (bad) news, my bike, which had been given for repairs about 4 days back is almost ready. The twist is, they've billed me something like Rs.10000 so far, AND they say that they might have to charge me around Rs.1500 odd more to paint the tank. That's right, your eyes aren't going bad - to PAINT the tank. According the guy working there, he was replacing all the parts on the bike which were scratched up, and he had also replaced the front fork as a precautionary measure. Pfft. I suppose it's Bajaj's new brummagem stunt to go about giving precautionary measures to get the bill to sky-rocket. Talk about thievery.

Well, I'm not really affected by either of these actually. What really gets on my nerve is the fact that I have no idea about who I am. No, I've not lost my memory - it's not amnesia. It's the fact that I've lost track about who the real me is. Between two completely different groups of people whom I hang out with, I find the need to change my attitude entirely to fit in. I've altered between my two facades so frequently that I've actually lost track of my identity - who I am, what I like, what I want. Anything and everything. This puts me into a kind of depression, although I think I am deciphering all this slowly now. That is certainly an improvement in my perspective.

On the other hand, it's also depressing to see that there are people whom I thought the world of who try to avoid me every now and then. I know what you must be thinking after having read this much - "What a loser!" But the truth is, I am a loser. It's true - apparently, I have NO life. I go around trying to help my friends to such an extent, that at one particular point, I actually become a hindrance. Generally, I don't realize this until it's too late. I hang out with several groups of people, and I don't even know whether I fit in - it makes me feel like a "wannabe". I have reached a junction where I cannot differentiate between "real" friends and "superficial" ones.

Then again, I'm able to see who are the ones who mean a lot to me, who's friendship is something that I would willingly trade the most important aspects of my life, who won't walk out on me when the world turns against me (which happens quite often, so, it's saying something). These are the people who are truly amazing, and whom I'd like to be friends with forever more. These are people who think of me as a person much more than someone whom they can call "just to have fun", or just for company to a place. If you remember, I told you that I hang out with two different groups of people. I still haven't found out which part of me is real, but I know now which part of me I want to retain, and which I would rather let go of. Thank you very much, but it's about time that I detach myself from the one that's treating me like a nobody. That doesn't mean I've figured out who I am - it just means that I know who I want to be.

By the way, you do know that this entry was more for myself than to anyone else???

And the Saga of Boredom Continues...

2008-07-31T11:26:00.000+05:30

Hurray for yet another day with absolutely nothing to do, and the entire 16 hours of the day spread out in front of me like an open field. Yes - the day is very inviting - but there's hardly anything to do for a teenager who's injured his knee cap and has to limp around. Injury sucks - especially in your prime years.

Now, in the normal course, I wouldn't have sat here in front of my computer and made this entry - probably, in the normal course, I wouldn't have even begun this blog. Usually, around this time, I would have my ass parked in college, serenely dozing off to the dulcet tones of our professors, their "oh-so-interesting" lullabies about particle physics coddling us to sleep in your typical classroom scenery, with bright sunshine flowing in through the windows in the early hours of the morning.

*Clearing throat. Ahem.* Ah, yes. Back to reality. In an even more normal course, I would have found myself being dragged by the very "involuntary" urge to bunk a day of college and proceed to our local snooker parlor. You could've found me caressing that long and smooth, wooden, pool cue, gently bending down and leaning upon the table, aiming carefully to pot one of the 9, numbered balls. Or, you might've found me at one of the tables at Mocha, with a friend, hogging away at the hookah, deep in discussion about the latest piece of "news" that we might have heard about.

You could've spotted me at a dozen different places throughout my city, indulged in a host of different activities, all of my interest (except college, ofcourse), but you most certainly could not have found me glued in front of my computer screen, downloading "Hancock" illegally and typing away to glory on my blog. If I hadn't had such a fateful accident, that is. Well, what's happened has happened, and there's little I can do to change it now.

I paid a visit to the doctor yesterday. I tell you, doctors are inhuman, pitiless and yet indispensable creatures whom you just CANNOT live without. I trust that you remember their classic expression - "This won't hurt a bit". Well, I just can't help but long to give a tight punch across his face and say "Neither will that", whenever I hear that. My particular doctor, thankfully, did not find the need to say that. He took off my bandages, prodded around with my knee for a moment and triumphantly announced that I was healing and I could have my stitches removed on Saturday. *Collective sigh of relief* (Oh, and if my "aspiring-doctor" friend is reading this, she will please forgive me and note that what I said about doctors just now applies only to the ones who enjoyed inflicting pain in me.)

Well, that's that. I guess I'm going to have my stitches removed in a couple of more days, and take a week more or so to heal completely before launching myself on to my crotch-rocket and zoom of into parts unknown. That I will not be making the same mistakes again, goes without saying...

'Nother Boring Day at Home... sigh

2008-07-29T00:41:00.000+05:30

Life begins at 25...

I don't really know who actually said that, and I definitely don't know whether it holds true or not. I'd like to add something interesting to that though, so here's a thought - Yeah, life might begin at 25, but it doesn't get interesting until you're about a 150.

I know, I know. I'm being extremely cynical here, and there ARE people whose lives are an absolute party, but the thing is - mine is nowhere close to such a description. Don't get me wrong, because I'm not a killjoy or any such image that I might have projected to you in that fair bit of quoting. You see, the thing is, after having had an accident only around 4 or 5 days ago, I can hardly pump my bike into ignition and race off into having a wonderful time now, can I? No. I am obligated to park my a** in this very chair and type away about my boring misery, wincing from the pain in my knee every now and then.

My day so far has been extremely boring, with absolutely nothing worthwhile to do. Quite predictably, I've hooked myself in front of the system since morning, occasionally inviting my dad to come in and have an undesired peek at my monitor, tut-tut audibly and reason out that I have no reason to stay away from the books even if I HAVE been injured. Yeah, right. Like that's ever going to happen. The man doesn't realize that I have a tough time even taking out my books unless it's time for the exams, in which case, I might just chance an occasional glance at them.

All this boredom has an adverse effect on our mindsets in a very asinine manner - it gets us thinking about everything in the past. Now, I'm a very, very average guy who likes his life the way it's going. Yeah, I did have expectations and ambitions a couple of years ago, but they were all shattered - the reason for which I'm NOT sharing in here. Back to the present, as you must have realized, I've accepted my state of reality and I'm trying to get along with it as best as I can. At this very consummate moment, thoughts as to why I couldn't have gone more along my own expectations invade my head and bring in a depression.

What do depressions do? They bring in all your miserable thoughts, which have been dormantly cooped up for so long and crucify the living hell out of you when you least need it. It's like my inner self is adding insult to injury - I'm now both physically and mentally hurt. But this is where people most important to me come in - my FRIENDS. Yes, this is the very precise period of time that they contact me through messages, or some other means, instantly eliminating my drear thoughts. There you are - the average teenager that I am, I get an instant "high", whip out my cell phone, and immediately start messaging my friend. Voila! In a moment's notice, I have thrown away all traces of depression and moved on to a more normal, stable state.

You the reader must be thinking - Wouah! Teenage is indeed very wacky...

And you thought this would be an introduction... Snorts

2008-07-27T18:17:00.000+05:30

Welcome one. Welcome all. For those of you who are reading this blog - you've either been invited to view it personally by ME, or you've just happened to pass it by chance and found my life mildly interesting (read: weird), so I'm not really going to bother giving an explanation or introduction of myself. If you're lucky enough, you'll find it at some other part of this blog.

Furthermore, this isn't exactly going to be the day to day happenings in my "oh-so-pathetic" life. Obviously, I AM going to try to be as truthful as possible with regards to every entry that I make, but in the event that I do decide that there's content worthy of hiding - hey! don't blame me! Oh, and this blog will also deal with how I feel about something that's happened apart from incidences. For those of you who are rolling your eyes already, here's a serious bit of attitude - read this if you like, or you can get the f*** out of here!