This is it

No, I'm not referring to MJ, I always liked Smooth Criminal's video. That being the end of it, when I was in school I thought college would be good and it'd probably be liberating, college happened, then more college happened then the inevitable happened.

Glass walls, monitored thoughts, behavioral patterns, post-it notes, long hours, phone calls, networking site friendships, one on one meetings, performance reviews, five day cycles, mindless spending over the next two days (previous point applicable during the first 2 weeks only), talks of settling down, dealing with women and their anxiety over future, so yes, all this did happen before.

So what's the catch, well if life itself is the catch then what do you do? Do you get swirled up through the simplicity of the situation?



Now, now, that's what I had in mind, realizing what I wrote is substandard and how my language in general has degraded, I think I'll take some time off with this. Things changed and yes they've changed for everything, I can suddenly notice the time gap, wonder how things ended up here so suddenly, what happened on the way? I was still there, how did I not do anything?

Aug 9th, 2008/Life in a bubble wrap.

I used to be happy or atleast that is what I think of that time now. I cant remember most of the time then to even make a comparison. I dont remember most of the time behind, majority of the times at school, college passed in a jiffy, atleast it seemed that way now that I've forgotten most of it, I didnt write and keep up most of what happened then and now I dont remember most of it.

How considerable an excuse is a selective memory loss when it does not add up to a repercussion of a necessary magnitude to smoothen the edges of today.

Life kills you anyway . . .

So probably it’s ok, you cannot deliver happy endings, nevertheless, it’s hopeful to expect one, when you’d know eventually what’s it’s all about, so whats the big deal, is it just do our time and roll on, or it is about a struggle that is perpetual, a struggle that is so apparent that it makes oneself blind and would not want to be tangible to anyone who is in the process. Frankly I dont know what to write here, the whole concept of life and its deriving futures are quite scary, It will not matter tomorrow what you have read today unless there’s a bloody examination that is just about to judge you forever and will not consider any “But” or “U know” or either “actually”, it’s just there, right plain bare stretched upon the veritable future glass ball with one’s name all over it and worse, it starts to make sense when it hurts, things make sense when they start to hurt or atleast that’s what makes the most sense out of it, substance addiction, a different oxygen or the unspeakable life itself. The addiction is what makes it all worthwhile and the addiction they say is illegal, irrational and false.

.

The addictions of life may well run into infinity, but the addiction of wanting to let someone want you or oneself is something that would never run out of fashion, I’m not all that good with words, I’m just decent with twirling them with emotions that make situations complicated to get out of, the addiction, again, of dreaming is sensible, but when sterile actions take control and press charges for the obvious, what’s left is just the soul’less addicted self that one has to handle and hold within oneself or let loose onto an other for safety, security and probably for the comfort feeling of being secure. What’s succeeded is what’s important and worthy of looking and answering, but what if the very cause is deceit? What then, how would you answer to yourself the very question that has been anticipated to be the most disturbing of all thoughts and problems that one has to live with, maybe strength, strength again, through addiction, strength through resources, strength through comfort and strength through numbers. But when life kills you anyway, what would one possibly want out of it? Is it the congregation of thoughts to keep oneself happy, or is it the absolute need of not letting go and looking over the thin divide and lie to oneself.

.

Such exactly is the altercation between infatuation and love, there’s no such rational divide that exists, there’s just random thoughts and again, encrypted messages not to be decrypted in public or outside self, the very action of “investing so heavily” onto something momentary is to ensure that this life before death is worth a penny or even more, well in INR it’s got to be some paisa, to understand the aimless aim’s everyone’s been chasing is more than a philosophy in itself, understanding it purely and putting the derivations to action is tuff, the madness that it leaves behind is sadly evident, the wreck, it makes oneself to, is definitely a pleasing sight, specially when all that you think that you have done has been dismissed efficiently into a platter full of gutter charm and composure, then one would ask why celebration? Why at all, that’s the basic paradox of it all, theres no certain explanation to what it could be and what it should and what exactly it is, but the complex connections and routes within the tunnels that would rather meet and pretend to dissolve themselves into the gloomy shadows one would want to leave and move ahead pretending to look for, at exactly where they left behind, but if all you left behind were a forest of shadows, where would light penetrate into the flow of thoughts and make you realize that all you had for yourself was nothing better than what the frog in the well had thought of itself, a master, the ultimate power, but all that would again need an re-inforcement and that’s exactly what life is all about.

.

It’s about reinforcing the doubt into clarity, it’s not about doing it yourself, it’s about getting it done and feeling secure about what has been done and living in a fear of being discarded and disapproved of what has just been accomplished, life has nothing much more to offer, it’s all about a second chance of making one believe in what one wants to believe but would not because there’s been no hand-of-god to suggest what has been said and what has to be done is right and will be so, forever, but that’s when the lying get’s to the picture, it surpasses the need, the necessity of human emancipation to the truthful but would rather bet it’s dime on relying on the blatant lies of the second fiddle to just let know the comforts of numbers and the wonders of divided trust and belief. Simply put, the remote control has been safely given to pals and family for an efficient entertaining life through channels and records that one would want to juxtapose with life itself that maybe some day one would wonder about what happened to the tape and why are they voices interposing each other with screams and laughter at the same time, coming back, like we have never deviated, the thin line between infatuation and love falls in the category of thoughts expressed, it’s more than reinforcement, it’s the juxtaposition of life itself onto the ideal commotion of feelings and horrendous belief’s that things can be true, they can be better for better and not worse, they can make someone sense the innermost desire of fulfillment of need through some one who is not you, when life can drench oneself out of the common sense and the guts to make see for themselves that the truth, may not always be told, still beholds the power than the consensus, maybe it’s time that you have thought and thought hard about what has been said and how true it has been, I wonder some times, the weak, the meek, have an altogether life carved for themselves in their hearts and that is something that they have learn’t to live with, to live without questioning, to live without self opposition, to live without deriving the logical and to suppress the rest for no explainable reason but to believe than in something that is not them.

.

Come to think of it, life kills you anyway, so why bother . . .

A Day (A Page from my Short Story)

He smiled all the time, he thought he liked people, vice versa was true, he made them smile too, he wore nothing extraordinary, his pant pockets always had a Zippo, keys, wallet and some random bill that he choose to pay, he ate chips that had “zero cholesterol” in green clouds on the packaging as one of its usp’s. He looked at all possible things, handmade colour posters, sleeping street dogs, momentary women on roads, drunken brawls for torn rupee notes, dosa’s being cut with forks and spoons, dirt boundaries of flowing waters on the road, confused smelling garbage dumps, people sleeping on push carts, kids going to school in pressed clothes, bus stands with no stand, techno feeling regional language song cassettes on display, worshipped movie stars adorning auto glasses from the inside to avoid any disrespect from the wipers or the rain, butt scratching made look like wallet accessing exercise to the other, places of worship with and without gates, hollow ditches on roads, altered silencer bikes with pillion riders leaning hard enough to push the driver off, hoardings with advertising agency’s marvellous ideas, dust laden corners of shops selling broom sticks, little boards for classical dance classes, the blue background with the yellow font of tutorials for school going kids, skirts low below the waist and high above the knee, empty place for kabbadi practise later for cricket with wickets diagonally across the rectangular plot, kitchen ware jam packed with each other to shout out the variety, walls high enough to give necessary complex to cats, wide roads with speed breakers, by lanes leading to dead end’s, police men in white and khaki, street lights with papers all over, news paper vendors refusing a sale due to change issues, hot chip shops for all, well cooked attractive chicken rolling in tandem for the hungry, office buses with black windows and huge logo’s on each sides, shoppers returning back with content, parking lots with people in helmets contemplating, defunct traffic lights, women in groups, men looking more harder at them, wonders of disposable income, mannered assistants in coffee shops bending to suggest their personal favourites, parrot befriended modern dressed sadu reciting future for the present, brown painted iron housing onions, lanes that bifurcated to further lanes, people with hands in pockets walking looking down and no further, small boxes open on three sides for cigarette access, camphor sachets piled beside the temple, pairs of footwear left with trust getting the occasional glance from the owner and thanking god for still letting them be there, discussions that led nowhere but to desperation, imported glass for rupees fifty placards hanging from beach umbrellas, illegal published books with faded covers on sale with attractive offers, straight-walking-to-you men selling sun shades on sunny days, kids with running noses running after others in their grease coated smaller than them clothes, dropped food packets with cooked rice flowing from the loose ends of packing onto the road, camouflaged lizards resting in corners of cement steps on walls, kids with guitars and crazy looking hair passing by on vespa’s painted in light yellow, city buses with enough space for a hundred more, social messages on auto behind’s for the common man, an occasional camel striding across with pride on well laid tar, marriage cars giving a glimpse of how would the bride be if that was her ride, photo shops with thirty pass port size photos of some random guy stuck from the inside to show the quality and competitiveness of the store, chattering girls giggling, pointing at each other and giggling again, match watching public grouped into a geometrical structure to catch the occasional cheer leader in a twenty20 match and curse whenever a wicket fell, rear glasses of cars with artwork on the dust that rest due to inactivity or illness, news paper reading men waiting for that perfect news to cheer them up or at least help the bus be on time, auto drivers chewing pan and spitting it far from the auto content with the shine that shone from the auto thanks to the morning round of cleaning, he saw them all, never did he see her. He promised himself not to smile, not to smile that special smile; he let it be all for her, for her he told himself all the time and smiled to himself thinking.

Errrrr . . . . .

I've come back to Hyderabad and no complaints, It's home and does feel like home to me, new phone number, an other phone, decent mode of transport, raging heat (The new Testament album is out, called The Formation of Damnation and Currently playing : Liar Of The Minotaur - Juggernaut Of Metal), financial data and worse logical confusion, everything prevails, I cannot believe 2 months in here, will make a lot of things different. Firstly, I wonder what exactly will i do during my summer's, I did submit a memo of things that I would want to do at the organisation and I hope they would oblige, got to go at 1:30 to their office today and check the status of my request, Oh by the way, I would be working here - www.sharemicrofin.com

Today is third day away from Bangalore and it seems like I've never been to Bangalore and have always had pals there, calling up everyone felt like a stranger, the hostel flats were footsteps away where shadows crossed the borders easily, here, its different and there is nothing that would remind you of feeling that existed back then, the weather's always been pleasant there and was widely appreciated by one and all, the hailstorm, just before Marketing examination of the IIIrd Trimester had, had everyone in a different world alltogether, the things at college gave no relief, everyone had to bow down to the almighty Placement and Training Cell, the one's who didn't usually had themselves stuck in situations at times, anyways, thats too early to talk about.

Just hope the internship thing goes well and I learn something new here, everytime a senior tells that its just his summer's that was stressed in the interview room, it skips coupla beats in my heart, I mean summer's meant to be done, I know in a fairly good way but making it the centre point of the interview is foolishness rather meaningless, Interviews are probably the worst things that have happened to human kind, I wouldnt say the same to Telephonic interviews, thank God, there they would not worry what I am wearing of the gestures that I would be doing while answering the telephone call, I mean getting into the interview room itself is a big deal in life, I assure you its not difficult, but it's not that easy too and the transition from one stage of it to the other can happen in a second, yup that's what happens when one wears the shirt of his choice or forget's to shine one's shoes.

Life's very fair, it gives you good number of chances to learn or to be unfair with people, leave alone things, they neither react or teach you things, its the people that are around you, who one fine day, will come to your rescue or make you want some one else to come to your rescue, people are such double edged assets to oneself, you would not want to lose them and at the same time you would not want to have them by your side all the time and when you dont, they would want to be with you or by your side, sometimes I think the intellectual quotient that the country should technically have has been deteriorating, I understand the funda about India's population is now oddly distributed with the youngsters being around 40% or something i.e till the age range of 30, If i can say that, so one fine day our politician will on an average be 45, a great achievement and some day, there would be an act to protect the interests of the old or maybe central supported old age home's. I have no idea why I'm saying it, but I see it coming and I dont like it.

! ! ! ! ! I honestly dont know what else to write . . . .

The Trip

No ordinary morning, no ordinary evening and for sure no ordinary night. It didnt seem everything revolving would stop to notice, neither did it feel like the urge to look at the dark side, it all happened by default, within the blink of an eye, it felt like nothing before, I heard voices, randomly; songs, structuredly; movie with no sound and sound track. It didnt began to die out, it felt it will last forever, sometimes putting me into confusion if the sleep within would ever realise that the physical sleep and itself were distant cousins set out to confuse people. It felt like nothing before.

The night of life and lights didnt blur like I thought, My head didnt explode, the slow induced life into the artifical one's we're living was neither welcome nor unwelcome. Initially, the senses and the controllers felt distinct, they felt disconnected, they felt random, as i let myself to sleep to wake in it to the reality, I saw things, i felt them, I wondered if the lines drawn and the mercury filled into the emptiness would make sense end of the day. It could i thought. The "force" swirled around built momentum and in strength through numbers and derivatives kept pulling me, It pulled me right, far right, I wanted to hold onto something, something strong so that i would not be pulled off the chair, individual organs, parts bore the brunt, the pull, toppled my senses to distant dimensions, I told myself, i would remember questions that i asked myself during this pleasure, there were 6 in all, but what they were, I will never remember, all i wanted to do was to listen to Jimi Hendix's Purple Haze and i was listening to Deep Purple's Hush (Now i totally love this song, watch the video's of both the songs, Click 'em) which was not too bad, it being the acoustic version. The force kept pulling me to the right, it came to the point where i was scared i would explode, for the first time in my life i felt relieved that someone too wanted my life apart from me, frankly there's not much to look ahead to.

Suddenly this force which pestered me for a while, took the form of a movie reel, this movie reel was pretty weird, it was like a 4 by4 matrix where the bottom of the matrix was stretched to infinity, i tried to locate the end, the 4 never extending boxes initially had the numbers 1,4,0 and 8. Why them ? I have no reason, just like kids play selecting boxes in a maze by putting a stone on them and then skip it while jumping from one box to an other, there was some stone, more like a small black ball, that kept jumping in an ordered fashion through the boxes to and fro which scared me for reasons unknown, the reel kept unwinding and its source was out of vicinity of my view, the reel kept going into the darkness, there was some shaded black that could be differentiated from its neighbourhood of black through some shaded difference, i noticed it, i wondered when Black and White movies were made was this difference noticed and brought out onto the screen for a better colour experience during the monochrome days. Suddenly the reel stopped moving, it took me a lot of time to realise this as the environment was all same and i had to decipher this move by the movement of the reel through it all, as soon as i noticed it, there were four huge columns drawn with well defined walls and emtiness left for filling within, it was like a thermos flask with one dimension visibility the one's you usually have for exhibition or for customer awareness programs, the first three were already filled and the fourth column, further split into two columns one was Yes and the other was No, the red fluid which now i think is alcohol filled up the Yes column to a lot of distance, after some time i lost track of the length it went to and came back to focus my attention on the No column which instantly on starting to get filled got stopped.

Suddenly the musicians sitting across started playing Silk Route's Dooba Dooba this was probably the most relishing time of my trip, I knew i was leaning onto the table but i felt by shoulder and collar bones co-ordinated and suddenly i felt like a drop of water in the ocean, if you've ever noticed, after a while into the sea when things seem calm, the water from a closer look seems like small plate's floating across others and making way for themselves, this was exactly where i was i was one small surface among thousand others, for once i was not hydrophobic and i loved it, as i opened my eyes to sense the waves, i could see the nearest pair of halogen lamps shake just like the water in the ocean, they perfectly coordinated with the music as my head did and it felt awesome, the song ended to end my hydraulic trip to the nearest ocean, as Vani kept trying to wake me up and I made a constant effort to get out of it all, i succeded, It took me a good 40 minutes to come back to life and place an order to make myself feel better. I wanted to go home in the middle of it all, all Vani kept saying was, dont get scared, its new, so it feels different, the other high is what u always get since u know how it feels, you feel secured about it happenning again and again.

The next time ? I dont know :)

Observation.Skill.Time.Death

Observation


* The things that haunt you, haunt you not cos they haunt you but cos u haunt yourself with all those haunting moments.


* Punctuation spells DOOM if not punctuated properly.


* The wind always changes directions when u exhale smoke.


* Friends, phone calls, fate, forever. Four words that should never be uttered together.


* The problem with being punctual is not that there's no one to appreciate, its just that U HAVE TO FUCKING WAIT.


* Photoshop lets you age gracefully.



Skill


* Mouth is the best bottle opener.


* Driving the car, smoking, talking on the phone, changing a song in the iPod.


* To be able to make people understand that you're not leaving them forever, either you should have a time machine or just convince them you'r not.


* Identifying the Bass Guitar parts in any given song.


* Telling a girl  that she looks damn hot in a "BANIYAN"




Time



* Time and tide wait for the correct sized battery to be put it.


* Spending time for each other does not always make up for lost things.


* Knowing that ur the first person who's just walked out of the exam hall, should actually mean something.


* Time and Independent thinking are co-related.


* Time can be measured by number of coffee's/ number of torn tissue papers/ number of missed calls/ number of times you want to say Sorry



Death



* A week's time could either etch you in a memory or let some tongues loose.


* The lucky die on time, the unlucky leave a paperscroll of bills to be paid.


* Concepts relating to death, doesnt always make you end up dead, they're just borrowed concepts.


* Death is a state of mind, where all you have to do is ponder, what clothes you gotta wear next and if the sugar in coffee is sufficient.