Deafening Silence

A toast!

2011-11-18T23:25:00.001+05:30

I raise a toast,

To the ones who defied all,

The ones, who soared, altered, inspired,

Themselves, others,

To the ones who struck stone against stone,

With the hope to create some warmth,

To the ones who looked at the never-ending seas,

And believed that there was something out there,

To the woman who started a rebellion,

Because she was mistreated,

To the man who stated a revolution,

Because he was a prey to racism,

To the men who were mocked,

But yet soared higher than the clouds,

To the little master, who raised his bat,

And the standards of a gentleman’s game

To the people who fought for what is right,

And hid the Jews during the annihilation,

To the ones who believed,

That the stars were not far away,

To the ones who saw into the future,

Where colour of the skin meant nothing,

I raise a toast, to the ones,

Who dreamed to dare and dared to dream,

Their names are engraved in the pages of history,

Their work, immortal!

So, have you dreamed today?

Last Ride Home

2011-10-15T13:32:00.000+05:30

Hey guys!! Last Ride Home is my younger brother's band!

LAST RIDE HOME is a 4 piece alternative metal band formed in November 2009.
They have performed and won many college festivals such as Umang 10', Grand Exito 10', Viva 10' and a few more.
They have also played a few gigs at Not Just Jazz By The Bay, Irish Pub, and at other college festivals.

They are inspired by bands like Three Days Grace, System of a Down, Limp Bizkit, Blessthefall, Avenged Sevenfold and many many more.

Our line up:
Deep Rk- Lead vocals and Bass guitar
Dev Rk - Back vocals and drums
Shubham - Lead guitars
Yashish - Rhythm guitars

They have got this wonderful opportunity to participate in the WORME Fest'11 with Vh1 that is being held all over India.

So guys listen.

I'm pasting the link of the event page.

All you have to do is click on it, scroll down to the comments section. Search for "Last Ride Home" and like the comment.

http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=224698924257241

Please do vote... We really need your support.

Thank you so much!!

You can listen to their song on the widget on my left sidebar..

To my brothers...

2011-10-05T13:10:00.000+05:30

I see your innocence mirror my skepticism in those deep black eyes of yours. It brings a tear to mine.

Where did I go wrong? How did I end up being the antithesis to your smile?

I was once like you. I believed in nobility. I believed that there was good without a “catch”.

How did I come to this stage?

I envy you. You find your happiness in a slice of pizza, a Tom and Jerry episode, you’ll wrestling with each other.

I smile. But its fleeting.

I laugh. But my laughter is adulterated with melancholy.

I find myself surrounded by unexplained cynicism. I’m sure your life isn't perfect. But you really do make it seem like it is.

I wait with bated breath for the day you find your purpose. I’m still looking for mine and trust me, it isn’t easy.

Every moment of my existence is laden with questions. Where am I? What do I do? How do I make my existence mean something to you? For you know dear, I’m nothing if not living for you.

My happiness is in your silly grin, your curly top.

My serenity is in your bear hug, the music you make.

My hope is watching you do something dynamic.

My hopelessness is in your tears.

My dread is in your insecurity.

My pride is in your achievements.

As much as I envy you, your immaturity and innocence, I love you with every fiber of my being.

I just hope one day you see how much you guys mean to me.

For now I’ll settle for late-night Green Day and Linkin Park concert marathons, football matches and pop-corn, random kicking and fighting for that last piece of cake and the last scoop of ice-cream and kicking you out of my room coz you’re playing football in it.

**Look at the stars. Look how they shine for you, and everything you do.**

Beautiful

2011-09-22T00:02:00.000+05:30

‘Beautiful’ she says, as she puts her delicate finger under my chin.

I try my best to battle the fast forming tears in my eyes….tears I thought I was never capable of.

‘Those eyes you have, just like your fathers’ she smiles.

I’ve seen my grandmother dress up a million times and take the effort to look her best, and yet she has never looked lovelier than she looks now, on this bed. I guess it was the feeling of satisfaction that was wrapped around her.

I watch her drift in and out of her sleep and I taste my own salty tears. And suddenly, I blurt out “I love you. I love you very much”. And a wave of regret follows. Why haven’t I said this to her often? Why haven’t I thanked her for all that she’s done for me? All those afternoons spent listening to old music. All those times I was too busy doing something else, making other plans.

She smiles. Enthusiastically, even now.

I try hard not to fall asleep. Coz I don’t want to miss a single moment. The past few days have been hazy. Everyone has been taking turns to be by gran’s side. It’s like having a baby. But it’s the opposite end of the story.

Tons of novels, answering calls, caffeine overdose pretty much make up for last week. Optimism was the theme for everyone. Not that we were living in denial. We just wanted to evade the bitterness. In these final moments, I wanted the love to remain, to overcome the sadness and the bitterness.

My gran, she likes me a lot.

My mom, I know she wishes I was more lady-like and that I kept my room clean. My dad, he most likely wishes that I was more……..well, just more. My friends, they wish I was less random and don’t get stressed out too much.

But they all love me. All of them. But love isn’t the same as liking, is it? And I don’t know how complex love can be, so I settle for liking and acceptance. More than anything, my gran, she makes me feel like a real person. And honestly, I do know how difficult that can be. But it came so naturally to her.

I miss her already. Her soft hands, her sweet smelling Cuticura powder, her favorite word ‘beautiful’ , the sound of her voice singing songs, her lovely and genuine smile, all those small things made my gran the woman I loved so dearly. The woman whom I won’t hear hum while making food or play scrabble with and lose badly.

In her sickness, our family became closer than ever (see, she did good even in her final days). The awkward glances we gave each other all saying the same things, that we’ll cherish her forever. We all look for the right words to say. Some of us mentally prepare for what we’re going to say later at the condolence meet.

Although the million people’s lives she has touched, dare not put her in just a few words, I think I’ll need just one. Her favorite one as always. ‘Beautiful’.

Blur

2011-08-22T13:26:00.000+05:30

Heart, thumpinglike a conga drum,

From theflight of stairs I climb,

Two steps ata time,

Head stilltipsy from

That last deceitfuldrop

Of caffeine,gone cold at the bottom of the mug,

The flavorof solitude and desolation,

The smell ofan open door

Shuffling feetand settling,

Sound of theslow fan, its bent blade,

My spiritlesssymphony,

The wait isover. It’s my turn.

Tearing myeyes out of the waiting room magazines,

Goodbye halfbrained beauties,

Dragging myfeet,

Blurry lettersand continuous questioning,

I find itdifficult to breathe sometimes, I say,

She hides myface with a picture of a house,

Bricked wallsand red roof,

My chins ona plastic machine,

A prescriptionfor fake tears,

At the priceof two fags,

She places aglass in front of my eye,

I look likea freak show clown,

In acarnival, during off-season,

She asks me,

Do you see ahome?

Its red roofand brick walls,

I say I seea house,

Am I blind?

Please sayyes.

But I married words..

2011-07-25T22:28:00.001+05:30

“ButI married words” said the widow.

I found this line scrawled on thelast page of my diary, which until not very long ago, I used to write in.

And now, I fail to recollect if theselines were mine or borrowed. Google search does not yield me any results.If you are reading these lines, tell me whether you’ve read them somewhereelse. And if they’re all mine then this is me, haunted by my own brainchild.

Aren’t we all??

Cookies.

2011-07-01T13:29:00.002+05:30

Take a proper look at yourself.

So, what do you see?

What the hell do you see?

Do you enjoy what you see?

Do you trust your perception?

Does it make you feel insecure?

You know something, don’t answer the lastquestion. I know the answer already.

Go on. Tell the world that you feelawesome.

We all know that’s shit.

What troubles me is how much uncertaintyactually lies beneath your skin.

Is it probable that you’ve actually stoppedexisting?

Ok. So my words of wisdom aren’t going toopen your mind.

It isn’t going to make you introspect andfind yourself.

You’d probably read this and question mysanity.

Honestly, I myself don’t know where I am.

So, where were you yesterday??

Why did you buy your Aviators?

So you really love Absinthe?

Are you happy with your life??

Oh great! You’re shaking.

But you aren’t doing the Jazz Hands thistime, are you?

Screw your fear. Drink some beer.

Maybe the shaking will stop.

Airheads affirming uniqueness.

Look at me! Look me in the eyeball!

You don’t want them to bring out the bigguns, do you?

Believe me. You don’t want that.

We are all plebeians. Yet we’re all one of akind.

Embrace the loser in you.

Exonerate yourself.

Feel this great feeling.

Cross over to my side.

We have cookies!

Silence

2011-06-21T14:56:00.000+05:30

And thus, it begins.

Out of the blue, like passing a homeless person on a street who doesn’t ask you for your money.

Arising from the spaces linking our fingers, where we conceal all our secrets.

It draws me in deep. Then it immediately pushes me away.

The frosty winds came too early, this year.

Plenty of birds dying in their nests.

We gazed at stars and peeked at fireflies.

Everything was painted the colour of silence.

She licks her lips again, slowly this time. The droplets of sweat that were present are now the salt on her tongue. My eyes are glued to the ebb and fall of the dice she wore around her delicate neck.

Her eyes blinked to the beat of leaves falling from the tress, becoming one with the earth.

She doesn’t utter a word. Not a single one. Just keeps me waiting.

Testing my patience.

Please say something. Anything.

Nothing.

Cross me off that list of yours and name this our last kiss, I say.

She laughs out loud. Bloody hell.

I turn around and walk away to find a new her.

I leave because she is too gorgeous.

More than anything, I leave because I love words too much.

And it is tough to be in love with a mute.

Ok…yeah..

2011-06-19T01:37:00.003+05:30

So, here I am playing the stare game with my laptop thinkingthat it’s been really long since I’ve written a post. And I still have nothingto write. So just like any self indulgent person, I am going to write about somethingthat I know very well – me! It’s not a very appealing topic. And, in my defense,I did state the words 'self indulging'.

So, where do I begin? As a child I spent so much time on a collectionof certain ideas about life, love, existence and well, the most over-ratedactor – Salman Khan. But then, I grew up. Salman however, didn't.

I believed that growing up and becoming an adult would mean inconceivablefreedom. It would mean finally being cool and famous and surrounded by happypeople. I guess this was the case of most of you guys. But hey, I never saidthat I’m special.

Time as a youngster was spent eating Maggi noodles in frontof the television, literally one foot away from the screen watching SmallWonder and I Dream of Jeannie. I remember playing cricket in the living room withmy bro. And my clothes, oh dear god. I ranged from looking like a princess to astreet gangster. Rangeela, KKHH and Gulaam were my fashion guides. And thepictures are never going to see the light of day.

Why am I telling you guys all this..? Damn I should havethought of it before writing all this shit. I don’t want to delete it now because,face it; nothing is scarier than a blinking cursor.

As a child I believed that life just happened. People fellin love. People stayed in love. Damn I wish my parents took some videos of meas a child. I would have at least something to look at whenever I cry that I’m growingup too fast and that I miss my childhood days.

I believe kids of today are too aware and too snobbish andtoo self absorbed. Even more than me. And believe me, I am really selfabsorbed. I feel sad that they do not get to enjoy Parle Poppins, Goti Soda,Rola Cola and Jolly Jelly (If I don’t get a single comment concerning this, I swearI’ll change my name to Anna Ramdev)

My shrink tells me to be open and honest with people. He tellsme to share stuff. I love to keep everything to myself. I don’t see anything wrongwith doing that. But, I’m the one on the chair and he’s the one with thedegree. So here I go. And hey I’d be completing Chocolate Lover’s tag in theprocess.

RULES:
*Each tagged person must post ten things aboutthemselves*
*You have to choose and tag ten people*
*Go to their blogs and tell them you tagged them*
*No tags back*
*Have fun*

I never knew how to dance properlyuntil I was 15. I looked like a person doing the Robot dance and the Chickendance simultaneously.
Cockroaches petrify me. I literallyfreeze and almost pass out when I see one.
I tend to classify people as thosebetter than me and people I’m better than. Hardly do I ever find an equal. I guessthat’s because I don’t know where I stand. Don’t ask me where you stand. I won’ttell. And stop thinking about it.
I have freakishly long fingers andtoes. I think I belong to another species.
I have read all the books in thePrincess Diaries series, Harry Potter series and the Twilight series.
I would love to believe peoplelike Edward Cullen and secret worlds like in Harry Potter exist. I’ve tried mybest. And then I feel stupid.
I feel stupid most of the time.
I crack jokes when I’m nervous. I’mnot funny. I just want to fill awkward silences.
I’m really bad at Maths, Physicsand Statistics. I literally suck.
I really really really love Mc. Donald’spotato wedges. But everytime I finish overeating them, I hate myself.

And…I would like to tag---

Scribbling Gal

Suruchi

Ria

Blasphemous Aesthete

Poooja

Meher

C'est Moi

Sulagna

Splurgy

Dead Poets Society

2011-06-05T01:14:00.003+05:30

"O Captain! My Captain! Our fearful trip is done,

The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! My Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up--for you the flag is flung for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead."

He read these lines over and over again, day after day. There was something magical about Walt Whitman that he could not give words to, something that gave him a celestial inspiration, something that reached into him and egged him on to write more and more.

He glanced at the scattered papers all around him.
‘Souvenirs’, he called them.
Souvenirs that mocked him.
Souvenirs that mirrored his erudite incompetence.

He thought about the recent novels that had been published. They all revolved around the same trash- technologically advanced world, about spies that belong to secret organizations, about children superheroes. He thought about the death of literature. He mourned for the world’s loss. He thought literature surely deserved a eulogy. He sat down to write one.

He wasn’t worthy enough to write it. He knew. But still he continued writing.

He wrote for hours, days, weeks. He never stopped.

He mourned though his words, he wept about the words that were no longer an inspiration to many, and he grieved about his cherished writers and poets. He kept writing.

But he ran out of words. He wasn’t tired. His pen still had ink.

But he had no words.

He laughed at the irony. A writer with no words.

It was rather funny.

He was grappled by a paroxysm of laughter. He chuckled and snickered. He howled and roared. He laughed like a maniac and tears began to flow.

In a fit of glee, he drove his pen deep into his wrist and watch the blood rush out like ink.

His hand jerked and he knocked over the ink pot.

Red and blue merged together, giving rise to one of the most suitable metaphors.

Blood and ink, wasted.

All in the view that he had no words…

For you, ma....

2011-05-24T11:29:00.000+05:30

You haven’t seen me cry, ma,

Not because tears were never my thing,

I’ve never let you realize, ma,

I’ll never let you know.

I’ve seen people sell hope in metal cans, ma

And some rolled up in smoking papers,

But is that truly hope, ma?

What makes them end all hope?

I survive in a world without any color, ma,

My colorblindness makes me conceited,

I always see illusions, ma

Cause, my reflection is a dreamlike haze to me.

I watched you go down the street, ma,

And buy wilted flowers for twice as much,

But they still smell sweet, ma,

As long as they smell like you.

It’s been ages, ma,

Since you’ve cuddled me to sleep,

Am I too big for your lap, ma,

Or did I wander away?

I remember you used to sing to me, ma,

On a lazy Sunday afternoon,

You sang about time healing everything, ma,

Are you still waiting?

I’ve harbored misery, ma,

And dejection’s been a close friend,

But nothing reassures me like you, ma,

With you, I never pretend.

I wore scarlet tinted sunglasses, ma,

To validate my complacence,

But they dropped and got smashed, ma,

Under a cart full of authenticity,

I’ll lie one day in a coffin, ma,

And your tears won’t blemish my body anymore,

I’ll perish in a plastic basket, ma,

Frosty, pale and sore.

It’ll rain hope someday, ma,

And it will nurture your rebellious wounds,

I’ll drain the clouds dry, ma,

I’ll make it shower on you.

You’ll never see me cry, ma,

Not in a million years,

I’ll fade away slowly, ma,

Leaving behind all those unseen tears,

For you, ma..... for you...

The Bogeyman

2011-05-15T01:30:00.006+05:30

I got Dash when I was seven. He was the most adorable and cutest dog I’ve ever laid my eyes on. I got him as a gift from my father coz I had done really well in my exams. The Science paper was the most difficult of all. But Dash made up for all the effort I had put in. I promised my parents I would take very good care of him. His glossy coat was beautiful and I loved to show him off to all my friends. Dash would bark at them if they were mean to me. He was very protective of me. My friends liked him. I used to play football with him but I was afraid he would get hurt.

Soon, Dash became very big and I could play football very easily with him. He would run around in the garden and bask in the sunlight. My Maid used to be very scared of him coz he would always bark at her. Probably he realized that I don’t like her. She always used to steal chocolates from me whenever mom gave me any.

Once I got into a fight with a boy in my neighborhood. Dash saw him punching me hard. He got very angry. So he went and bit him. I had to go and apologize to him. But secretly, I liked the fact that he got bit. Dash slowly started to bite everyone I didn’t like. It was like we had a telepathic connection.

Once, Dash bit a screaming, stubborn child coz he realized I was getting irritated. His parents threatened to shoot my Dash. I got scared and hid him inside my dad’s tool shed. Dash used to get very impatient and twitchy in there. But I never let anyone hurt him.

Remember how my maid used to eat all my chocolates? You would have realized by now, I love chocolates. So I had decided that when I become older I would open a candy store. My parents were very happy and they backed me up. They supported me throughout.

When I grew up, I moved out of my parents place. I now live in my candy store, with Dash. My candy store is very famous. The chocolates are very tasty. Many children try to steal candy. I know who they are. They come by often. Hardly do they ever leave. They love the chocolates I sell. They meet Dash and play with him. He’s very good with naughty children. He loves children.

Especially when I add a little BBQ sauce!

(Legend of the Bogeyman- a very scary story that parents tell their children when they misbehave. The "Bogeyman" is a monster that got burnt when he was a child because he did not listen to his parents. He grabs naughty children to cook and eat them.

Bogeyman may be called "Boogerman" or "Boogermonster" and was most often used to keep young children from playing outside past dark, or wandering off in the forest.)

Kings among Cowards

2011-04-17T14:31:00.001+05:30

(Image courtesy)

We robbed sleep from scarecrows

And sold it to the dawn

In exchange for cigars rolled

In maps to forgotten treasures

And now they’ll be lost forever

We look at our palms

We connect the scars on our skin

Like a coat of constellations

Sigh, we are safe now

Absconding from our shadows,

Leaving them behind us

We hunted for true love

And paid in beauty

We’re vagabond salesmen,

We sell dreams

Festive, Jaded, broken,

We have them all!

The Inferno

2011-03-03T17:45:00.002+05:30

The fire crackles on,

And the shadows frolic with the fire,

The music swaying in the mind,

Seducing it with every flicker.

The frosty breeze,

Pacifies the senses,

As it blows through the trees,

It whispers its secret,

To the silent night.

The fervor from the fire,

Consoling,

Tranquilizing,

Intoxicating every breath.

Like the inferno,

The hope in me still flickers,

Of something that may be,

But now,

Solitude is the only friend,

Enveloped by an ocean of unknowns,

Their vacant faces, indistinguishable,

Under the diffuse light.

The frost threatens to enter my consciousness,

But hope still remains, for it’s the fire’s will,

And just like the flames that trace my feet,

My thoughts and dreams, stabs my soul.

I’m alone, but I can’t feel the cold just yet,

The faces that surround me attain a mask-like quality,

Frozen to their favorite expressions,

For they are all playing a part,

And I still don’t know mine,

Mutely, I watch their rites and mind games,

It all feels hallucinatory, fictitious,

But it’s all the fire’s creation,

Sleep overpowers me, as the phantoms vanish in the dark,

The warmth retreats to an unknown void,

Lonesomeness has never been so terrifying, yet so consoling,

A night of paradoxes,

I battle my sleep with the intrepidness of the ancients,

And yet, I am conquered,

All I beg for, while my eyes stir of their own desire,

Is that the night have mercy on my soul.

The Phantom

2011-02-06T23:52:00.000+05:30

Sometimes I’m the hunter,

Other times, I’m the hunted,

They stroll past me on the crowded street, among the vexatious mob,

Of beggars and business men and children of the condemned,

From their delusive depths, expressed from many of their human drawbacks,

This crowd is not of physical flesh.

Their volatile consciences, vanishing in the spicy summer,

Phantoms of the near future,

Day by day, mutely, still.

The finest minds of my era,

Drifting, winding;

An icon of spite and disgust, made evident.

The treasure, she hides in chambers, shielded behind,

Their dreary eyes, their kaleidoscopic visions,

But they can never see me,

Because I,

I resemble someone who is,

Invisible.

When we met......

2011-01-27T10:00:00.000+05:30

Hey guys! This is a guest post by my best friend and the 100th post on "Deafening Silence".

Happy Reading! :))

I would like to start off with a little story. I was 6 yrs old and was taken to a dentist, which happened to be her mom. I admit I was pretty scared and her mom called her to show me that even she had taken her tooth out and it didn’t pain at all. At that moment, I don’t know whether it was her mom’s drilling machine or just the sight of her, I swear I ran away from there at full speed, like my life was in danger. Needless to say, we got off to a bad start.

But then after 7 years, we met again and this time both of us were in the same class in school. We hit it off instantly and got on like a house on fire. She was the only girl who found my sarcastic humor funny, while every other girl found it offensive. She liked me and accepted me for who I was. She was my best friend all through school and we ended up in the same college as well. I guess that was fate.

Now here we are, 8 years later from the day we met at school, and nothing has changed. She is the most awesome person I have ever met. She is smart, funny and sometimes, very crazy. She writes beautiful poems which come straight from her heart. She is the only person in front of whom, I can be myself, without any inhibitions.

What else can I say about you….you’re just the best. I love you very much.

For you...

2011-01-24T13:13:00.000+05:30

Hey guys! This is my 99th post....And my journey to this number has been wonderful and the credit goes to all of you for making my blogosphere so beautiful! And so, I would like to give all my wonderful followers, the 'Fabulous Follower Award'. (Yayy!!)

I would also like to thank my sweetheart and my best friend for encouraging me to start this blog. So, I dedicate this post you dear and would be really happy if you write my 100th post as a guest writer..

how we met was random..

one evening.

one 'hi',

one 'do i know you?'

one friendship that'll last forever.

yes, he is my best friend,

My brother, when i need protection.

My father, when i need guidance.

My husband, when i need security.

My son, when i need to feel unconditional love.

My acquaintance, when i need my space.

My enemy, when i need to hate.

The first ray of sun that hits my still-asleep face.

The air i breathe, the water that quenches my thirst,

The earth that keeps me grounded.

The shelter to my fragile heart,

The clothes that hide the vulnerability of my soul,

The food that feeds the void in me that the rest of the world creates.

We've had our good times, and bad ones.

but the smiles we smiled and the tears we cried,

they make us who we are.

the music we disagreed upon, and the lyrics that bound us, make us who we've always wanted to be.

the things we said that we shouldn't have and the things we should've said but didn't, have brought us where we are.

the times we spent apart missing each other and the times we spent together missing the sweet melancholy of being apart,

have brought us to where we always wanted to be.

the most beautiful moments of my life, he gave to me.

the only reasons i cried, he carved out for me.

the strongest days we spent hand in hand, against the world.

the weakest days, we spent trying to convince ourselves we were strong enough to go on without each other.

we fight. we smile. we live. we cry.

with each other, but also for each other.

the rest of the world on one side, and him on the other,

and i'd still pick him... ..

and they ask..'so you're just friends..?'

no, maybe not.

we're best friends, and more.

we're each others' sweetest dreams and worst nightmares.

we're each others' sun and moon, night and day, dawn and dusk.

we're each others' laughter and cries.

we're 'bestest' friends. and that will never change,

ever.

not when they question.

not when we fight.

not when we disagree or disapprove.

not when we don't see eachother for days on end.

and that is the beauty, the sanctity of it. ..

and all that will never change, ever.

he is the light that's leading me, to the place where i find peace again.

he is the strength that keeps me walking,

he is the hope that keeps me trusting,

he is the light, to my soul.

he is my purpose,

he's everything.

he calms the storms, and he gives me rest.

he holds me in his arms, he won't let me fall.

he's all i want, he's all i need,

he's everything :)

The impulse

2010-12-30T11:32:00.001+05:30

Such is the name because such is the emotion,

Such is the being because such is the resolution,

Such is the pick because such are the options,

Such is the deed because such is the intention,

Such is the spirit because such is the drill,

Such is the woman because such is the will…

The 70s!

2010-10-31T12:56:00.002+05:30

Purple haze all in my brain
Lately things don't seem the same
Actin' funny, but I don't know why
'Scuse me while I kiss the sky

-Purple Haze (Jimi Hendrix)

I dreamt about watching Hendrix play live again. It’s the second time this week.

And now, I can’t help spending my day whining about how it’s unfair that I’m born too late to watch him play and curse the people who did get to watch him at the prices they got this chance for. Ride the rickety buses they did. Sport the funky hairstyles or the lack of them, just like they did. . Live in a place where underwear is voluntary and protest rallies looked like a kissing conventions. I’d rather have a beautiful flower behind my ear rather than a bluetooth headset that makes me look all fancy while I converse loud to myself on my way to college. I’d rather go and watch a band which sucks and goes crazy on stage and pass out with exhaustion rather than live in a world where every kid on the block buys himself a guitar coz its cool and then watch the sad event of it being a complimentary item in the following year’s garage sale. A world where typecasts were identified by the quantity of pot they smoked or the kind of band they played in.

Honestly, being born in the wrong decade can make you really ungrateful towards the world around you. Not that I don’t love this world! I really do. I am happy. But I rather wish that I was writing this post in a journal rather than on a page that isn’t made of paper.

Coz…you know! Seriously.

The Absence of God

2010-10-15T18:47:00.000+05:30

Under the gloomy sky and through the turbid air reeking of cigarette smoke, screeching cats roam about the lanes of the city that never sleeps, contaminated with the people who never wake up. And one such night, there is no God. The icy, bizarre, unyielding downward trajectory of deafening silences makes everything look even more sinister than they are. Beggars sleep where people walk, drains overflow with rodents, all hell-bound just like everyone else there. Men aren’t chivalrous anymore. Yet they have names like Patrick, Jeremiah. But there is no God here. There is nothing here.

“Survival, as said by someone, is completely random. The only rhythm that exists is what we might see if we stare too long, or what we really want to see. Pointlessness makes us feel handicapped, and drives that urge to put patterns into randomness. It’s the only way out, the easiest way to feel complete, to say that something is ours (even if it’s in your mind). Our own solution to triumph in life.

We give temporary meaning to things that we don’t understand. But that’s only because we are in the process of attaining the meanings ourselves.

The prevalent faith in vague meta-physical forces re-establishes this. To extract an idea so specific, from the chaos of impossibility, its like transforming dust to diamonds. A wonderful miracle. Touching, empowering, frightening, yet redundant. It isn’t God who makes us fight wars. It isn’t God who kills people. Not God who causes desolation and loath. And it’s not luck that leads to innocent people getting killed mercilessly. Not destiny that makes them dog-food. Not fate that poisons these lanes.

Its just us. Going through life, filling the spaces in our understanding and blaming all that we have no control over. All those reasons for our misery for which we have no answer to.

And the void, strikes my heart, destroying my illusions, killing my imagination, leaving that space empty. Like a clean slate, to utilize at my will. And I decide not to fill it with anything. I choose something different. And my reasons for doing this?? Nothing. And that is exactly my point."

Saying all this, the man asks me “Does that finally answer your question..?”

I don’t give any reply.

He turns away trying to recollect the number of steps he took to reach the end of the lane.

I sigh. It’s going to rain again tonight.

The blind man however, doesn’t know this yet.

Forever, love

2010-09-18T16:49:00.000+05:30

Shining candles, melting pools of wax, the white in your eyes, love.

Ceramic fingertips, full of life,

Smoky black eyelashed love,

Twilight tresses, sunshine lips,

Unsaid desires, waking dreams at dawn, love.

Satin sheets and flowery curtains.

Fading footsteps, breaking into a dance, love,

The melody written to the click of your feet.

Four rings, the crash of bad news, love.

Laughter which used to run through telephone wires, now hang dry.

Six feet under, frozen, gleaming love.

Heart-breaking tranquility, bone-crushing hurt.

Mahogany coffin, asphyxiating love,

The numbness to the world, a blurry vision,

Gloomy cemetery, melancholy farewell, love.

Gone, but always remembered.

Never forgotten, now and forever, love.

Choices...

2010-09-09T20:08:00.001+05:30

Its just another choice. Tandoori or Barbeque Paneer? Pepsi or Sprite? Red or Purple? Life or death.

Discontent is easy to deal with. Just like I read somewhere, “It is so easy to live, complacent of it all.” So true. I’ve gone through so many paradigms of the remorseless human spirit, and I question why? As far as I’ve heard, there is no special club for fighters and strugglers up there in heaven. So why do we take all the trouble..?

I’m not trying to be stylishly cynical. I’m not questioning for just the eyeballs. This really makes me think. We’re born. We eat. We breathe. We make people’s lives shit. We make our parents lives shit for our friends. We make our friends lives shit for our lovers. We make our lovers lives shit for other lovers. And then we make our own lives shit. Guess it’s a pretty simple life.

Monotonous, some may say. Quite boring. Too standard. We want to be stand out. We want to be unique. But what happens when everyone wants to do so? Be different in different ways. And so we all end up being the same. Hardship shows man at his strongest. Bullshit. Basic intuition says take the easy way out. So what makes us take the moral high ground?

Do we really know why we do the things we do? Shooting down innocents in a cold blooded manner….what is the motive behind this douchbag?? Dying accidently on purpose…Sad.. The games we play to cheat death. That sudden rush of adrenaline we get when we realize that we narrowly escaped our non-existence. We can take life so lightly.

Well, suicide is a different matter altogether. Some call it cowardice. True. But what about someone who has actually no reason to live. He is hated by his family. He is broke. People are looking for him because he owes them money. His wife left him. His house got seized by the bank. And now his life is completely screwed. Where does he stand now? Life? Death? Somewhere in between? Whats right here? Whats easy?

Think about it…

Back to the start....

2010-08-22T22:54:00.001+05:30

The intense, warm fire dances on,

Like an orphan in ocher to her heart’s song,

The cadence carved in her heart,

She stares at him through the breach in the door,

She lets a few stolen glances pass as their silence hits the floor,

And then she goes back to the start…

To when they both were little, and their hearts were still untainted,

To when the most depressed moments, each other’s love was the cure,

To the petite games they loved to play,

To the silly things they liked to do and say,

How joy always found its way,

In to their hearts each and every day,

Summer, winter, spring and fall,

How allure painted it all,

In colours complacent of anything sad,

How that escape in the seemingly perfect world, made them so very glad,

The tiniest gesture meant everything,

And so many songs they loved to sing,

The lyrics to which they didn’t know,

How they just couldn’t wait to grow,

How they lay in the grass and wished upon a star,

How they stole beer cans from the nearby bar,

How they were so frightened to touch,

How the smallest things meant so much.

As she stands there today, she wants to ask, “Dear, do you still miss me now?”

She wants to ask, but she doesn’t know how,

She wants to tell him that their love isn’t gone,

She misses the brilliance, with which her innocence shone,

She wants to tell him that she loves him still,

She always had and she always will,

She wants him to just give her one smile and mean it,

She doesn’t want any more pretence, coz she has already seen it,

She wants to hold him in her arms so very tight,

Through the day and throughout the night,

She wishes he saw the fire in her eyes,

She wishes in her words, he sensed the lies,

For she misses the past and how things were,

How nothing else mattered except love, to him and her,

But now the walls of time and taking each other for granted are slowly closing in,

And this battle of head versus heart, she alone, cannot win,

If only for a while, she wants her childhood to return,

Just for its uncomplicated, beautiful, adolescence to burn,

Take out all the ugly parts….

……and go back to the start…

Blah Blah...

2010-08-07T22:59:00.000+05:30

More randoms...? Sure!

1. When the people who don't know you well and the people who have met you only once call you names....you know you're amazing! When they say they are not insecure about themselves...
Hehe...who the hell are they kidding...?

2. I have a completely hay-wire, dramatic and complicated life. Who wants a perfect life..?? A life in which you don't have anything to crib about...everything is simple...
people who say "Everything will be alright....just smile through your problems!"
What world are you living in sunshine? You know what you're going through when you say that..? Its a six letter word...
D-E-N-I-A-L.

3. Its easy to fall in love. true story :)

4. Why do liars get away with everything..? It seems like good never wins over...~~evil~~? No...What word was I looking for..?? Nevermind.

5. Cosmo magazine has EVERYTHING in it. Period.
(Stop Smirking!)

6. Its difficult not to get upset when people think wrong things about you. The ones who know me, never judge me. The ones who don't...well...I pity them...

7. Don't you ever blame me for something you did. That is not how it happened. You know that very well.

8. When people whom you trust and who meant a lot to you end up doing something you least expected. Its a freaking stab to the heart.

9. We were young once...Remember those Junior College days when you used to have fun 24/7 and finally you wake up one day and think, "Man...I totally screwed up!" It happens to all of us.

10. It happens to the best of us. Yeeeeaaaahhh!!! It totally does :)

I really should be studying.

2010-07-29T23:48:00.002+05:30

(I know I should be studying hard now. But your brain comes up with posts when you least expect it. And life, well, its kinda getting on my nerves…and I guess its somewhat the tone of my post too…I want a VACATION. NOW! Coz I’m not even getting time to marshal my thoughts..)

So more randoms from my side. Deal?

Here we go.

It seems like a radiant light is washing over me as I step into that surreal place flanked by here and beyond. I vigilantly step over that threshold. It’s beckoning me. It seduces me with its luminescence and creates a delusion of purity. It makes me speculate my beliefs. Every time I feel that I’m special. I think I’m beyond what I think my purpose is. To reach the light. But we all know that the light is a big sham. Everything lies. The light. The night. The world. That’s what we cling on to. Lies. We clutch on to it desperately even though it blatantly mocks at us. It never ends, does it?

Lies. They are like the soothing balms for the rotting wounds in our souls. The gaping wounds created by us when we lied to ourselves bout how great we are. Guess we are no special snowflake. Although we do wish we were. Then again, if everyone is special, who actually is? There you see, my friend. We are all a part of that dog pile.

So once again, all those beliefs that we have of ourselves, all those notions of brilliance we have, are they really what we think they’re worth? Do they really matter? They don’t. I don’t matter. You don’t matter. Nothing matters.

We are born. We live this life. It starts to get on our nerves. We wish we die. Then we do die. Then…NEXT!

So what do you think your life is? Green? Blue? Pink?

No sir. Sorry to dishearten you. Guess you’re just a side-effect of a dreadful acid-trip. Enjoy while your life lasts. And remember to ask for a refund when you go up there!

(P.S---- Sorry guys...I know I haven't been quite regular off late. And I'm sorry I haven't been visiting your blogs either....Lots of catching up to do...I'll try to be more regular once I'm done with my exams...
Keep Blogging!!)

(P.P.S---> On a happier note!! I finally got 100 followers!!! And my sweetheart doing the honor of being my 100th! Thank you so much everyone! )

Jack and Jill

2010-07-14T19:36:00.001+05:30

This is a tale about the life of Jill.

Well, you can’t call it a story, to be precise. Then again, Jill’s life wasn’t much of a life, to be honest.

Once upon a time, Jill met Jack. They weren’t brother and sister as the silly old nursery rhyme made us believe when we were kids. They were stupid, immature teenagers. And once again, they were NOT brother and sister. But that’s ok, coz Santa Claus, Big Foot and the Tooth Fairy still exist.

Jill was a valedictorian of the class of ’86 and Jack, well, he was a high school drop-out. With his unfair means he eventually became really very rich. They got married in due course. They had a wonderful mansion. It was decorated with beautiful lacy curtains, carpeted hardwood floors, a well maintained lawn, and they even had a washing machine! Soon, Jill gave birth to twin girls. It was a happy moment. But a short lived one. Jack ran off with the nurse who helped her deliver the twins.

But Jill, she was one strong willed person. She promised herself never to let her daughters miss having a father in their lives. She worked very hard. She took Josie to her gymnastics practice and Michelle to her ballet recitals. She was still very beautiful. She still could fit into her 28' pants from four years ago. She was in perfect shape. She went to church every Sunday. She knew God loved her.

One day, she was killed in a road accident. It was the driver’s mistake. He wasn’t drunk. But such accidents happen. Life is strange. Just like that.

It rained very heavily at her funeral. But she wasn’t affected. She was peaceful and dry in her Hardwood Mahogany coffin.

Jack never attended the funeral. He never came. But, the father of her twin girls did. He even brought her gorgeous flowers.

I guess, even posthumously, closure is closure.

The morals of her story are half chanced. So are everyone else’s.

Untitled

2010-07-09T16:05:00.000+05:30

I don't know how to tell you what I'm going through right now...
Its said, the world revolves around money, my world revolves around you,
My life was in utter turmoil and you came and bandaged the broken and frayed person that I was,
You gave me my smile back....you gave me a reason to want to live again...
You are the reason I look forward to tomorrow...
You are the reason I left my sadness behind..
Whenever I hear your name, I cannot help smiling...
Nothing can replace that in my heart...
You are the reason why I write....
Now the sands of time seem to run out fast....and I really wish I could just freeze this moment..
I stay up late at night...hoping my day becomes longer in the process...
Its a futile attempt...
The sky is getting darker, but my thoughts are clear,
Being away from you, my love, is something I'll always fear,
But never did I expect, the truth was so near,
My promises are forever true, and are straight from my heart,
I yearn for a true tomorrow, where we are never apart....

Shoes..

2010-07-07T17:27:00.001+05:30

I went back last night…

To the place you promised that I’ll always find you,

You said I could come there and be with you when I’m cold, confused and lonely.

I was none of that.

I just missed you.

And I had to return your pair of shoes. You had given it to me last summer.

I love the shoes, you know.

Comfortable.

I like how the laces are always curly.

I loved the neon shoe-strings.

I loved the marks of cigarette stubs under the sole.

I love the shoes.

But they are yours, right?

I really don’t know how I end up loving something that’s never mine.

More notably, what is yours.

But, if this isn’t yours, then I really don’t want it.

I guess that’s why I don’t know what to do with myself. Coz I’m not yours either.

I walked up the path that led to our castle you had built, with rotten wood,

But you weren’t there.

Not that I knocked to check. I just knew.

I carefully kept your shoes on the floor.

I didn’t place them on the rocking chair outside.

I was afraid that the chair will rock and the shoes will go to sleep.

And if they do, they’d dream.

And if they’d dream, they’d dream about us.

But those nice shoes…actually great shoes, would get hurt if they dream about something that can never happen.

I know how it feels when a dream shatters.

I’ve walked that lane before.

In your shoes.

But today, I’ll walk in mine.

So that I can finally realize what it feels to be myself.

So that I can finally grasp that it’s finally over.

So that I can move on.

Move on, in my own shoes.

They aren't very comfortable.

The laces don’t curl.

The shoe strings aren’t neon.

And they don’t have cigarette stubs under their sole.

I’ll learn to love them eventually.

And then one fine day, when the rotten wood perishes, and the rocking chair breaks due to the added burden of the lies you tell yourself,

When your door falls off its hinges in the anticipation of a knock,

When your shoes aren’t comfortable anymore,

You’ll finally learn to love them, to want them.

Till then, I say goodbye.

At least try to keep your shoes clean,

So what if your heart isn’t?

Nostalgia...

2010-07-04T16:27:00.002+05:30

I’ve got nostalgic pavements,

I’ve got familiar faces,

I’ve got my mixed-up memories,

I’ve got my favorite places….

Time doesn’t mature us. Our memories do.

::Memories::

I guess that’s why we cling on to them so securely coz they last forever (Well, if you’re lucky, that is)..

They are like a mirage; So self-satisfied with its own beauty, they make you question its very essence.

Close your eyes. Think of your most beautiful memory. Drown in the nostalgia that envelopes you.

Smile at the plethora of sensations you feel now.

It may be the touch of raindrops against your palms,

Or you playing hide and seek with your imaginary friend,

Loads of laughs and giggles….and then a sudden silence…

A rather comforting silence. Coz you know the silence is going to be followed by a fresh round of giggles..

Don’t open your eyes. Let it all sink in. Transport yourself into your memories.

::Feel::

Don’t let nervousness or even advice take away the originality in you, your individuality.

You are your first responsibility.

:: Fulfill::

Pain is beautiful, if you let it contact your core.
For a body doesn’t feel pain, it only feels change, and interprets its aversion of the new into melancholy, if only physical.
Make love to your pain, but don't flounder.
Grow above your pain, but don't disregard it.
Dance to rhythm of your heartbeat, for you'll yearn for it when it's about to run out.
::Live::

There is just one truth, is the only truth.
Accept the certain fragments of it that you shy away from, for they reside a little away from your comfort zone.
Prices will soar.
Gadgets will malfunction.
Your heart will, at some point, (though I hope I'm wrong) break.
The neighbor’s lawn will be more maintained.
Your car will break down on a rainy day.

You will grow old,
And when you do,
All you will have to smile back at,
Even if that means revealing those fake teeth, intensifying those wrinkles and letting your nostalgia hold you tight till you breathe your last,
Are, your memories.
A reality, that was.
A reality, and just that.
A reality, even if it survives only in your dreams.
A reality, so self-satisfied with its own beauty, it makes you question its very essence.

My Sins against Gender-Stereotypes

2010-07-03T00:07:00.007+05:30

Thank you Dip and Nikita for this awesome tag!

If you are a woman,

Have you ever wanted something that is considered ‘manly’ ? Like a basketball, a cell phone, a dog, a camera or a new laptop? A new car or motor bike? Ever wanted to be a pilot? A doctor or not a nurse? And the manliest want of them all – The remote!
As a kid did you enjoy playing with a bat and a ball?
There was a time when books were considered ‘manly’, women authors had to pretend to be men – would you say books are still rather manly – women should want to embroider and crochet?

If you are a man,

Have you ever wanted something that only women are supposed to want – like bags, shoes, clothes, creams, perfumes, babies, flowers? A peaceful home and a happy family? Have you ever been afraid of the dark or of insects?
As a kid did you ever want to play ‘teacher-teacher’, cooking or did you like playing with a doll? Have you ever enjoyed cooking? Bought something in pink? Loved chocolates?

So here’s the tag – Please list at least ten things you have ever wanted or done which your gender is not supposed to.

The tag is called ‘My Sins against Gender-Stereotypes’. And you must tag twelve blogging friends or else you will be cursed to wear blue ~~clothes~~ pants if you are a woman and pink shirts if you are a man – for next twelve years .

Here we go!

1. I follow football like crazy. I'm a big Manchester United fan. I end up watching most of their matches.
P.S-- Watched almost all matches of FIFA '10 too!

2. I used to play cricket regularly as a kid. I played cricket with the ~~big~~ boys in my colony. I was the only girl in their team!

3. I play Counter Strike almost everyday. Its my second nature now and I can make a guy cry with my string of wins!

4. I never had Barbie Dolls as a child. I was more of a G.I.Joe and Hot Wheels kinda child. I had a huge hot-wheels race track set! Loved it :D

5. I nearly sprained my younger brother's leg coz I was trying out a WWE stunt! I still watch WWE when I get a chance!

6. I Loooove Linkin Park, Green Day, Metallica and Muse!

7. I can skateboard and roller-blade like a pro! :)

8. I don't know whether this is manly or not, but I used to love Dragonball-Z, Ninja Robots, Swat Cats and the X-Men Series as a child!

9. I don't think its a guy thing, but I really love dogs! I want to build a house just for all my dogs! :)

10. I love all kinds of cars and bikes. The Lamborghini Diablo and the Ducati are my favorites! And I wish to ride a bike one day!

____________________________________________________

Since Harsha has challenged me to come up with 10 more! Here it is!

11. I had sideburns like Elvis when I was small. I used to be proud of it!

12. I once tried to put hair gel on my hair. (Turned out to be disastrous. Don't try this at home. I looked liked the wicked witch of the west!)

13. I used to be found only in sports shoes and floaters as a child..

14. I HATED wearing Indian traditional clothes because it made me look like a girl. A pair of t-shits and jeans and i'm happy! I still don't like wearing Indian traditionals now. But I've kinda made my peace with it.

15. I hate cooking. I know to cook. But I hate it!

16. About 4-5 years ago, I used to wear mostly men's deo. Axe, Park Avenue, Musk, many more...

17. I hardly used to take an umbrella to school coz I thought it was girly for some reason. So I was always found in windcheaters.

18. I hated wearing any kind of make-up until a few years back.

19. I once held the door open for my boyfriend. :D (This was an honest mistake!) ;)

20. I love gadgets. Cellphones, Ipods, Laptops, Cameras, the works!

Now, I would like to tag people who haven't received the tag before.
1. Suruchi
2. Harsha
3. Pixie Dust
4. A.K
5. Arjun
6. Persis Shah
7. Carrie
8. Tamanna
9. sulagna ™
10. Ki
11. K-ay
12. Meher

Pretense

2010-06-27T23:10:00.000+05:30

The mask of pretense stings so much once your eyes are opened to actuality..

The realization is too agonizing…even though you’ve anticipated this all along…

It’s one of those times, when saying “I told you so” to yourself doesn’t give you that smugness and sense of triumph..

I’ve known this all along…..I’ve felt this all along… and that hurts even more when its proven to be true…

It’s like walking up a flight of steps in the dark, and misjudging the number of stairs…thinking that there is one more stair than there actually is…and your foot falls through air and hits the ground…It’s like a sickly moment…a dark surprise……That very moment…you readjust the way you thought of things….

20 Random things about me!

2010-06-26T22:38:00.000+05:30

I count everything I see. Usually in sets of 6. And I get really upset if the last set has less than 6 things. I like adding up everything—birthdays, phone numbers, everything about myself. And if I don’t get the number 6, I get oddly upset.
I love walking on single coloured tiles. I make sure that I don’t step on tile cracks and if I do step on one, I make sure the pattern is followed in every tile that follows. Yeah I know, obsessive compulsive disorder!
When it comes to music, I don’t believe in genre. Music is just plain, wonderful music. What the pussycat dolls make is not music. Having said that, I lust after each and every one of them!
I find Penelope Cruz really beautiful and I want to press the tip of her nose!
I love relating every person, place, incident to a song. When I think of something, there is always a song playing loudly in my head!
No one can comprehend my obsession with Linkin Park. And honestly, neither can I.
I need music to keep me alive. I need literature to keep me sane. I need love to enjoy both!
When I die, I want to die with a bang (not literally). I’m so crazy and nonsensical and loud, I wouldn’t want to die quietly. I prefer to die laughing really very hard!
My mood changes according to the weather. When it rains, I’m unpredictable!
I space out bout a thousand times a day. I don’t plan. I don’t think. I don’t dream. I just space out!
I hate pigeons, Selena Gomez, and Chelsea FC with a true vengeance!
My right hand is 3mm longer than my left.
I love giving pet names to my stuff. (Scarlet- my belt, Turq- my bag, Cybee- my cell…)
In my opinion, the Lamborghini Diablo is one of the most beautiful man-made things on Earth!
I love to giggle at incorrect grammar usage, even though I make tons of them!
I sometimes write a reply to a message and save it in drafts for editing and forget to send it eventually.
People think I have an attitude problem. I probably do.
I don’t like kids that much. Especially when they start walking and talking. And it’s irritating when parents take off their leash in public places. :D
I feel Barney Stinson (Neil Patrik Harris) is the funniest guy on television! Chandler Bing comes a close second.
If everything in my life goes by plan, I’ll have a walk-in wardrobe when I’m 30!
Why 21? Coz I can! The title lies. :D :)

Love me...

2010-06-23T22:44:00.001+05:30

Love me, like a virgin cigar,

Burn for me, like a match you strike to incinerate,

Bleed, like the cut you just picked the scab off,

Hear me out, like the sermon given by the priest of a church you want to bring down,

Sing to me, like the silence screams its symphonies,

Find me out, like that angry reply on the tip of your tongue, but too vulgar to speak loudly,

Play me, like the game you’ve stopped playing coz of the lack of desire, not skill,

Grasp me, like the verses of a language you’ve never heard before,

Breathe me, like the air which is diminishing every minute,

Crave me, like a touch, so evanescent,

Taint me, like the truth, which never was, and in no way will be,

Talk to me, like that eccentric concept of yourself in the mirror,

Doubt me, like a cheap copy of myself,

Defy me, like the law you’ve made to keep yourself sound,

Judge me like the blemish you’ve hidden, even from yourself,

Miss me, like the desert yearns for the rain,

Regret me, like shattered time,

Erase me, like a verse that doesn’t rhyme,

Hold me, like a tree grasps its mature fruit,

Single me out, like that single drop of water that quenched your last flame,

Follow me, like that shadow in the obscurity,

…And, soar with me, into the sun, the light of which will never be enough to brighten up your world!

Cool Giveaway!

2010-06-21T19:37:00.001+05:30

Hey guys!
Persis Shah of Miles Of Style is hosting a wonderful giveaway contest at her very stylish blog on the occasion of getting 250 followers! The winner gets a Lavender and Eucalyptus Aromatherapy Bath set!
I think its really sweet of her!
Congrats dear! You really deserve it! :)

The Terrorist.

2010-06-17T12:53:00.003+05:30

It’s astounding to see the uncanny resemblance between an ant trapped under an upturned glass and us humans trapped under the hex of own ignorance.

We get scared…we run as fast as we can…only to bang into glass walls…

This sightlessness is not the sickening part..

The lack of sickness is.

You say that grenades and slaughter mesmerize me.

You think that bullets piercing through flesh give me a rush.

A sick, abnormal rush.

But I say, nobody is innocent.

They die coz they are destined to.

They could have died crossing the road.

But its better that they do so my way.

At least now, the government can stare at their inefficiencies in the blood of ‘innocent’ cadavers.

No, I’m not another government-disapproving fag..

I am not being numb. I’m not insensitive.

I’m sad for all the lives that have been lost.

I sympathize with the relatives who have lost their loved ones.

I do not understand the pain the others go through.

Not until I feel it.

Coz my pain is far worse.

Coz every time I survive, I have another opportunity in this world that bleeds ignorance.

And it’s true, the frustration of ‘wanting to but not being able to die’ is far worse than dying itself.

No I’m not a maniac who is suicidal.

Death causes no pain.

In fact it’s the liberation from all pain and sorrow.

We all are going to die.

So why fear it..??

Why cry or be sad bout it..??

Why get scared of the inevitable..?

If you think you’re gonna live forever, you are hoodwinking yourself.

There is warfare every day : chemical, biological, emotional..

Why do you blame terrorists then..??

We kill someone everyday with our words…

We fire with our actions and intentions..

I’d prefer being shot and bleed to death than being betrayed into death.

We choose to be sick, ignorant people.

There is a terrorist in us.

And for the few fake saviors among us,

We see them on the news..

They claim to be our next door neighbors…

But if I don’t get a chance to meet them,

I would like to say,

“You think you’re doing great by fighting terrorists,

But what about the terrorist within you..?

You cannot run from yourself, can you?”

You might move around in bulletproof jackets and cars,

Stay in tightly secured mansions,

But what about the wounds inside you, that sickening void..?

I know you acknowledge it.

I know you wish that you had been shot by a terrorist you fought against before..

I will die one day too…

And we will finally meet above…

And we will talk…over coffee…

We will talk about sports and politics..

And how wonderful our coffee is..

And how it’s the right temperature…

Of course it will be.

It’s been brewed over the corpses of the innocent…

Tears and rain ---- Law of Gravity

2010-06-11T23:18:00.001+05:30

The falling teardrop scorns the rain,

One falls for pleasure, the other for pain,

But they both drop down, and they both do die,

Under the starry infinite sky,

They start from grey, and they fall with grace,

One from the skies and one from the face,

One from the clouds, the other from the eyes,

As they strike the earth, their mockeries fly,

They fly in the wind, their bodies don’t rust,

They swim in the seas and sleep with the dust,

Euphemism then conquers, and the emptiness in their fight show,

Even if they bathe in the sun, and consume the sea, the voids only grow.

We are all equal, then why do we fight?

Who are we to advice wrong from right?

We are like water, small drops of it,

With the same white noise, on the ground we hit,

With a reminiscence of a magnificent fall,

and a splendid life, we never lived at all ,

The descend is their life and life is a fall,

Even though they survive now, die they must all….