AM BACK! MUAH HA

A year and a half since my last post. Is it a symptom of sloth? Or the more dignified 'writer's block?' Or the simple petty fear of a lack of audience?

The last seems very likely. I tend to give up ventures that bring home the fact of my mediocrity. Yes i know that is typically mediocre. But over the past year I have learnt that it is not an es-capable fact. Or maybe, I just do not care anymore. So many motives; or none. One good thing about literature is that they have some dignity to confer (accidentally of course) to confounded minds: they call it 'ambiguity.'

It's not as though nothing has happened in such a long time, uneventful though my life may seem. I'm pursuing academics at a relatively higher level now. Well, it is a level where its called 'academics' if nothing else! I have a pet cat now who has once again proven to me how ironic life is ( I have always been a dog person; wanted a pet dog since I first held a stray pup at the age of 6 and never thought much of the feline species); and now she is the apple of my eye (she has also proven to me my ineptitude at mothering because I can spoil a cat silly!)

Relationships: they have changed a lot, as they do for everyone. Some old ones you treasure like the oldest of photo albums; memories in black and white have a lot of colour. Some you keep because you cannot discard them, like an old t-shirt or a frayed sweater, knowing you will never wear them again. These are the ones that create a no man's land like space between you and all your new equations with people. But they change also because we change. Ever complaining about how others change we are so blind about change in the self. Maybe because change, when it comes from within, when it is here to stay, is slow. When it comes, is even slower in making itself felt. So there are always times when you cannot imagine living without certain people; wonder how you do manage to live and how you are to keep doing so; and finally you live knowing you in fact cannot live with them.

Yes so in a nut-shell, most of the above happened.

Mostly, I love what i do. But it would be a lie to claim that learning of writers, criticisms, critical theories, technicalities, (yada-yada) has not been a cause for my inability to write. The more I came to know of them, the more felt like I was kidding myself. Yet it is also a fact that some of the people who are read were in fact kidding themselves (if not most).

No no I am not waiting to be 'discovered.' I write mostly about myself: not because I am THAT self absorbed, but because I am THAT ignorant! So what is to discover? But now I am arriving at a point (present-continuous because it is a process) where these things do not really seem to matter. There are thinkers and there are theories. There are people and there are opinions. Always will be. But the relationship between a one and one's pen is private. Always will be. At least as long as its private its safe.

On this note I sign off because cannot structure a good conclusion. Or rather i choose not to. Ambiguous? Ha I wish.

P.S.: the cat's name is Mauu.

A CUP OF CONTEMPLATION (MOCHA FLAVOURED PLEASE?)

Four months have passed since I last wrote, (if you can call that writing). I do not know whether to owe it to sheer laziness or maybe the more elite phase of a "writer's block", but then again as my adopted grandfather (who comes free for anyone studying what I do) would ask "What's in a name?"
Much has happened during these past months. I have been home and back, and in sometime i will go home again.I will not say things have changed, but they have surely happened. I have seen some brilliant days, some of which I spent taking a simple free bus ride to a hitherto unexplored part of the hills. I have spent afternoons hearing out my strangely loud cum musically gifted(?) baby cousin. I have learned that a lens can offer more than a new way of viewing colours. It can offer an alternate reality.I have learned that not every happiness is describable with words and that the hardest thing to so describe is the feeling of contentment, of peace. Because bliss is simply too personal, simply too simple. As I watched, certain bonds were strengthened between me and some old friends while some others got frayed, strangely with older ones still.
I have been trying to change for years now, seeing as how almost everything and everyone around me has. For the better or not, forever or not, I cannot say. But it has taken me these four months to realise that change of self is not a state. If it is just a whimsical adornment, it can be but momentary.It is a process that does not always necessarily mean improvement. I can safely say that if it is a process, then it has finally begun for me, albeit in small proportions.
I still feel the need of a lot of things that I cannot have because I simply cannot go back in time, nor be someone that will be good enough to be valued by all, or even anyone else. But now, the fact that certain ambitions are simply "not to be had" is sinking in. And I am nurturing the hope that maybe, just maybe, I will not really even need them.
This post will not work out to be very long because well, it does not need to be. I am waiting in the middle of things to figure themselves out (because if I try to, I will simply end up mutilating them), and I am afraid it is not a very prose-friendly place to be as of now.
If the ancient tradition of viewing life as a journey holds any water, then I have spent countless days being afraid that I am not equipped or prepared for the one my life looks like it will turn into. But maybe this particular journey has no space for preparations, because more-often-than-not, it is without a destination. What it is about is the kind of perception with which you look out of the window and which little tea-shops you make a stop at. What makes it different is that you get to choose your own milestones. There are many things you never want to forget and more things still that you would want to. But whether or not that happens, there is always the next turn up ahead.

DONT'T WAKE ME UP. I'M UP ALREADY.

I wish I was confused. I really do. Because confusion means that I have more than one idea in mind. But I have none. Then what am I? blank. And that is worse than confusion.

The only thing everyone suddenly seems to be asking is "Now What?" To that, the only reply that is most honest is what I can never sound. It asks in turn, "Why Now?"

For the last four years I have been trying to find or rather make a pattern of life. Its not an easy job. And the moment i gain sense enough to start, someone or something comes along to say,"Its over. Move on." People and all things which have an equal potential to annoy and question say that I have to decide and that too now. But how now? Decision is out of the question, how to get THERE is out of the question when the THERE is something you cannot see. Or rather the THERE is something no one wants to see.

Since the last time I made a decision, I have spent two years to find its validation. I know it is valid because lots of people agree it is. They talk about the benefits, the exposure, the learning, the tag name. But these do not seem enough. Invariably I look for the something beyond. Something beyond the brain, that seems right to the heart, if not the soul. And there is none.

Then I see a scene repeating itself over and over in my head...a six year old girl lying on the bed in a pretty white frock, her long curly tresses spread on both sides. Her father comes looking for her and lies down besides her.

He says: What are you doing here?
She says: I don't want to go there. They are so noisy. Everyone asks the same questions again and again and they keep asking about my dress and who made it.
He says: But its your birthday party. You should be there.
She says:Its not like they want to talk to me anyway.just each other.
He says:I think its time we stop throwing birthday parties for you when you do not like crowds. Anyway, if you keep away like this they will not want to come. It may not seem like it, but they make an effort to come and they will not if you are rude.
She says:ok.
He says: But you do realise you will not get any more presents.
She looks at the pile of pretty bright gifts and now they seem so much prettier.
She says:I'll go.
They hold hands and walk out.
He says: When people are nice to you, you should do the same. When it seems hard, you should try even harder. Because thats what good people do. That is how they remain good.
She says : hmmm.
He says: Which present have you liked best so far? Your dress?
She says: no. These two orange rose buds ma made as rubber bands for my hair.
He says: Why?
She says: they are pretty. And they are small so people can't see them easily. And so they don't keep asking about it.

Its not imagined. That is a memory. a very real one. more real then most of today.That is how easy right and wrong was. Or rather that is how easy he made it seem. I wonder what he would say now.

Almost all people I know are ambitious. they want and work for the good life. I tried to be too. But I'm not. The good life for me is not a nice house. Its not a lot of money. And my destination is not where I will get these things from.The only thing I do is write. I cannot afford to make it the only thing I do.But I cannot afford to make it that other thing I do or used to do even more. This is what I want. I should feel guilty for wanting it. I try not to want it too. But its the only thing that I really do.

Then I see another scene of the same people. The two are are standing in a balcony looking out over a big city.
She says: there are so many lights. It looks endless. Don't you think it looks pretty?
He says: Maybe. But I don't see what is so nice about it. Its a little different from the view from the terrace back home. But I don't see what is the better thing about it.
She says: Its new. Its different.
He says:Its new for now. Different for now. It wont always be. I just don't see what is so fascinating about these places. It's hardly been 3 weeks and I cannot wait to go home. I don't like big places and endless lights. And that is perfectly alright.
Whenever I see this, I don't feel guilty about wanting what I want. Or the sheer difficulty of it. Because he had wanted it too. And for me, this whole world can be mistaken. not him.
I see that girl again, in a small house, of perhaps smaller rooms still. I dont see a husband or any other sign of marital bliss. because they needn't happen for everybody. But its home because that's where all her memories are. All his memories are. And that is where she knows his soul is, and the soul that they had shared is.
This is not a memory. This is the desired end of it all. this state is not easy to achieve. And even if achieved, is not deemed a successful life, infact its the opposite. But who defines what a successful life is? The one whose life it is. This is what I want. And save the "be practical" part. its never going to convince me. Because I had been convinced of the other thing long ago. And now I know, like just what he said, "Its perfectly alright".

B-day Message for The Teddy.

The art of comforting ourselves is something we start practicing from childhood. It can start from ice-creams, chocolates, maggi, and as we grow up into that incomprehensible term "adults", it can turn into taking walks, photographs...sometimes the illusive "calming" power of cigarettes or alcohol. the last two are rather sad ways and do not provide comfort as much as escapism, and the two are pretty different things, actually. But for some of us, the instant magic that hugging a teddy bear brought us as children remains just that magical and fool-proof. It is not something that many people do or know or even admit to. But for those of us who do know....how would we describe the feeling? I have spent two years learning about word-play and sophistry and yet, no amount of it can describe feelings such as this other than "all warm and fuzzy...like being engulfed by a soft blanket when its snowing outside." Its just that simple, yet that precious. And those of us who are really lucky, meet someone who has this same charm and is going to be there for life.

This post is for Crazy Ab (lets just make it CA for future reference), someone who never fails to make me feel like this ":)" inside.

I hate meeting and talking to new people. I get so awkward and all "um..um and more umm", its ridiculous. yet, the first time I talked to you, all I did was laugh. No, no, not at you...well, may be a little. But anyhow, I did not think it was possible to like you better than I did already. And then, I met you.

One of the luckiest things to happen to me was meeting you when I did...just when I moved to the city. All the misery I anticipated was virtually cut down to half thanks to you. I still remember what you said to be as I was driving away from Shillong...how lucky I am to have spent 19 years of my life amidst things that remain unknown to so many. And ever since I came here, I have realised just how right you were. For all those endless hours that I bombarded you with my home-sickness and exactly why I just have to go back someday, you always seemed to understand. Maybe you do not really. Maybe you are just being nice and humoring a cribbing soul. But the way you do it makes all the difference.

A lot of people are ever ready to provide advice. Stupid advice, irritating advice, belittling advice and so on. But I actually like listening to what you have to say. Because you do not patronize. You do not make the other person feel stupid for getting into stupid situations in the first place, even if they are. You do not ask for the reasons behind everything. You actually remember that careless mistakes or short-sightedness are things that all of us commit at some point in time. This little something is always conveniently forgotten by many.

You make momentary childishness seem "okay,"even needed, actually. With you, its okay to cry now and then, be hurt over trivial matters and think about things near impossible to achieve. And how, oh how do you always manage to make people laugh? No matter what the situation, with you smiles are always guaranteed.

Of all people, you will understand that sometimes words are not the best way out. And me? I am pretty bad with them. Sometimes the subject is just too weird, too infuriating and sometimes, just too nice. I am sorry I could not manage something better than this, because you deserve much better and that you will get from my dear sister.

But just know that you are one of the best people I have met, or will meet. I love the way you write because it is just like you...honest, simple and without airs. Yes, and I think you are smart. Very smart actually. Because unlike so many, you do not disregard emotions. And please do not ever start doing that.

CAb, I am so glad my sister found someone like you, so glad that you are here to stay. In a world so full of egoists and mean people, you give me hope of actual nice people out there somewhere. You are one of my most favourite people in the world. You are the best teddy bear I could have asked for. Thank you for all the times you have made me feel so warm and fuzzy. I hope you are not tired, because I will always need more of that.

Happy Birthday! :). For you, I wish I could write better! Heh!heh!

P.S.: Yes, you are right. You do have the best Hug-Index.

Mirages.

It is not strange that most of us circle our lives around illusions...things which are a certain way because we want them to be, maybe because we need a bit of perfection in some part or another. But it becomes a strange ride indeed when these illusions start evaporating. No matter where or when that happenes, it is always that strange or hurtful because certain institutions become too essential to let go of. It does not happen to all, or maybe it does and not everyone is willing to own up to having believed in mere "ideas".
Consistency. Why is it so hard to find? Why is it so hard to give? Yes, we all know life is unpredictable. But is there not anything to hold on to? Some of us grow up thinking places will change, circles and duties will change, relationships will not. Like a writer wrote... "because immortal". Yet relationships and equations are exactly what change most, and sometimes you do not even know why. All you are left with is a bitter cup of a new found "reality". In the immediate
aftershock, old memories and ties become subject to "if i could just stop hating you". Years later, if you are lucky, regret appears and you may even mend old tears. But more often than not, lifetimes go by feeling misunderstood and disappointed.
Care does not always come in conventional forms. Some people will always "mother" you around. You might be siblings, friends or partners. They care if you do not study, they care if you are disappointed, they care if you are sick, they care if you fall when playing. But just like this "care" becomes "nagging" when the child turns into a teenager, this "care" becomes quite hard to digest when it comes from one who is not old enough to tell you what to do. The only difference here is that you can make it stop.
Life does not suddenly become your own or otherwise. By sharing your life, you do not hand it over. Its when you take responsibilities that you feel the sense of "owing" something to someone. Yes, its true that its irritating when you do not ask someone to be responsible for you and they are.Its not fair, having to explain things to anyone other than whom you are obligated to. But beyond those questions, nagging and anger lies the foundation of not wanting you to be hurt, not wanting you to scrape yourself. And it is not a favour that is done to you. That is just how they are. In fact, sometimes, that is how they have always been. But the knowledge of someone waiting for you is not that bad, neither is it permanent.
For some people it is a way of loving, simply. But for some, it comes from a real or imagined, but equally powerful fear of loss. There are few things half as scary as the constant fear of losing those close to you. Some worries and doubts go beyond the apparent want of a social life. Even so, feelings are misconstrued. Suddenly things are constrained to the single crime of "interference". What do you do then? Stop caring? It is not that easy. But sometimes there is no other option. Like always, you just have to get used to it. Maybe people should just find better ways of voicing anxieties. But that would be Utopia.
You look back and you see this entire plethora of memories...of dreams and chocolates shared, of childish emotions felt. You remember the laughs, the "just like that" hugs, the fears and that concrete security of knowing that "this is forever". Then out of nowhere, a single memory stands out...like that of an out and out silly time of crying inexplicably when someone went on a vacation! Or of turning awkwardly emotional when someone hugged you out of the blue and said "I just love you".
These very memories become the problem, because you can feel all the bitterness that you want but you know you would rather disappear yourself than lose them or have them proved wrong. At these times you feel how much prettier life would be if you could just vanish. And you feel angry at characters like Harry Potter and ask, "Don't know what you are complaining about, after a point, You were never really lonely."
The knowledge that you will not always have to do this feels good sometimes. But when you realise that one day time will run out and distance win, you feel a sort of desperation, anger perhaps.Or you simply cry harder into your pillow. Though I hate this city, it is here that I have understood a lot of things. I can never be the free, easy going, fun person. Their is always a worry of "getting home", not disappointing which perhaps stems from beyond being a geek. It comes from a sense of guilt. It is stupid and upsetting to others as well, but for some of us, life is truly not our won. Letting go is one of the hardest things for me to do, but hopefully, I will learn.
After all, not everyone's story is like that of Harry's...lonely and out of place at first but finding loyalty and glory in the end. Some of our stories are like that of James Potter, Lupin and Sirius...each true in their own way, but in the end, defeated and essentially, all lonely.

A Christmas Love Affair.

Just spent one conscious Christmas away from home. Yes I was cribbing again. Christmas here is just not Christmas. Or maybe not the storybook Christmas I am so used to. No carols, no candles and no glittering lights on the horizon. Just plain annoying drum beats which some tone-deaf fools deem fit for all occasions and Santas so stupidly dressed, I actually want to hit them!

Yet perhaps this year's Christmas was actually able to do much for me. It was this year that I started believing that special things do happen on Christmas (anyday ,actually. I am just trying to stick to my storybook obsession) maybe if you have been miserable (or good!) all year long.

Luck appeared in the form of a potential trip one night. I was not really excited as I was faced with the prospect of spending it with virtual strangers. But hey...when am I ever the happy optimistic beam of sunshine?

Started out at dawn on what was to be one of the longest journeys of my life. A few hours into it though, I was actually laughing more than I had anticipated yet did not want to believe enjoyment was so close at hand. But the company was too hilarious (in a good way) for my shell to seem a very tempting attire. Beautiful roads, promising company and one maggie-point later I was making my way upwards to a foster pine storybook chapter again.

It was all that an ever cranky me could wish for. Cobble lanes coloured red and yellow with shed leaves, small wooden houses with flowering gardens that looked like they were painted on greeting cards and people sipping steaming beverages in a calm sunshine...these were just the beginnings. Smiling fortune took me to stay at a place where wooden cabins with fireplaces (though some did not work) awaited me. Beds with two quilts which still did not manage very quickly to keep the chill out. Wooden swings meant for drinking tea on while watching pink horizons after sunset and old English lamps lighting the driveway. Yes it was like the old Christmas stories.Fluctuating voltages and hot water timings were just part of the charm.

Then what? Days were spent walking on trails, trying to trek while falling on fellow brave hearts (read:blunt heads). Evenings were spent working up appetites sitting on those darn slippery slopes and then satisfying them by eating like starved maniacs. But ah! the nights...playing badminton (in my case, watching others play) and then sitting, gossiping,laughing around bonfires,with music to complete the picture. How can you describe it? Charming...that is the only word.

No it will never match up to what could have been and what I still yearn for (Shillong!duh!). Call it a small summer or rather winter affair. The kind where the heart prods the butterflies out of their hibernation,just for a while. The kind where strange unknown feelings are simply communicated by sight and smiles. There are blushes and inexplicable sighs. But that is just it. It lies somewhere between "nothing" and "something"...the "perhaps something" maybe?

All said and done the storybook was there to save Christmas. Yes I know it will not always be there. But maybe it will? Its nice to believe in Santa. He is a pretty happy guy and that is something to admire, especially for people like me. Why? because I am back but I am still smiling about it...like you always do when you remember such strange "affairs".

It was all old storybook and given the timing, maybe even poetry. And this time is unforgettable, perhaps this will explain why...

"And it was at that age...Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me...."

-Pablo Neruda (from Poetry).

Just Read will ya?

Scarred by the slick blade of cowardice...
Indifference is cold;silence:sneaking frostbites.

Love's wrath is torture...

Love's disgust-the Fallen Angel's* legacy:
His hopes of rights betrayed-hell's pain.

Feel raging questions in your body,
Black blood of punctured trust in your veins.

Oh claimed "victim", but of the self
Deception is your skin,
Compulsion?But choice of the same.

Trust not your features for
Your very air screams "illusion".

Note:Fallen Angel here is an allusion to Lucifer, the angel banished for wanting equality with God and eventually turning into Satan.

HAIR TODAY...GONE TOMORROW.

I just had a true moment out of freak-ville about an hour ago.My apparant mundane day was suddenly punctured by an sms from a friend of mine back in Shillong. She messaged me to say that a classmate of mine, or rather group member passed away today. forgive the language, but my first reaction was "WTF!"

This girl,P was always a strange concoction to me. Its not like we were close or anything but i met her practically everyday of my life for twelve years. we made the journey from 2+2 to theorems together. That is why I guess i freaked out. For an hour I was expecting someone to call me and say,"it was a joke, a dumb one at that". Now, its almost as if she has simply vanished. poof!

P was not known to be the most amiable of people. Thank God I never faced her wrath. not directly atleast. Some friends of mine had their frowns against her. The reasons were classic silly. As a kid she threatened a friend of mine saying her father, who is in the police, would put her whole family behind bars if she did not let her go ahead or something just as stupid. Then I heard something near to that same nature happen even in high school. But these were things to be laughed at. I do not think anyone hated her. no,she was just P...ridiculously funny that way.

In the later part of high school, she got obsessed with straight hair...in fact most people remember her now by how obsessively she would keep ironing her hair...so much so that it almost looked starched sometimes. The only time she was rude to me, she even came and apologized. I remember meeting her on the road to some destination to another and doing the same old "How have you been? where are you now and blah blah..."'always walking away with the picture of her hair in mind. infact, once I met her when she was returning after getting something pierced or while going to do the same. In my head I said "oi."

Last I met her was at a friend's place on new year's eve last year and I remember running away after hugging her because she seemed distinctly high. Had a laugh about it many times afterwards. I guess that is what I took for granted would keep happening for a long time to come...not getting high, but meeting people from the past who come along and reaffirm one's faith in the absoluteness of a childhood gone by.

Now, strange things keep coming to my head...I can still see her in her blue and pink ghagra, getting ready to do a dance no. on teacher's day. same function, different song and attire in class 9. I remember pulling off a silly play together with her in the 10th standard. I remember her missing her chair and falling down in Geography class (7th standard)...the teacher saying that it is dangerous to pull someone's chair and then laughing herself.

It all seems like a sick joke...I just visited her profile and ironically, it says "live life king size" and her status,which i suppose she wrote when she went back after her holidays says "back to life".

P, I do not want to lie and pretend that we were great chums and so i am feeling bad. It would be snubbing your memory. But truly, I am feeling bad. I know their are sadder stories by far, but I wish you had gotten a longer shot at life..We all expect to pull off something education wise, get a job, get married maybe and while we grow older, run into each other now and then to remind one another of the past, a sepia tinted childhood maybe, that we share.

P, I am really sorry for anything mean I might have said to you or about you. You must have done similar things but you and me both know that they really do not matter. I know you must feel bad but try feeling happy about the fact that you have lived your life in a way that today someone as detached from you as me is remembering you and wishing you would come back.We have done cooky things together...like ten people descending on one plate of pav bhaji at N's place. Yes, I remember going to Shillong peak and the school picnic together. no, we were not great friends or anything, but we were always nice to each other. At least you were to me and I hope I was to you to. You were part of that crazy gang, that crazy time. And so, maybe it is not of much importance to you but that way, you will always be part of my memory of a very special time. And you know what? I still remember you sitting next to me in moral science class in 6th or 7th, lending me a pen (maybe it was a pencil?) from your purple disney box. I think that is my best memory of you. We did had better times, but that one was just between you and me.

Strange, but I still feel like I will run into her in Shillong again next time and she will say "what?you heard I DIED?", and she will laugh her signature laughter. stranger still, but for someone who I thought never mattered to me much, I sure remember her laugh. I hope I do always. I am still wondering what she is feeling right now. because i know she is out there somewhere...her hair now in absolute perfection i hope.why is it that she seems more human to me now that she is "gone"? She is special to so many people. She must have touched her share of lives. I wish I or someone could give credit to all her special moments.

For all my batch mates:we were born at pretty much around the same time. we began the journey of growing up together but what we should remember is that we will not end it in the same manner. So to all those in my batch...those obscure to me and not...its been fun,quite great actually. thanks for being born when you were.

Mmmm...Is a title compulsory?

I struggle to string words in verse,

So they would want to read.

Then do I really believe in expression?

Or make my pen puppet to please?

...thought ripple after of an hour-long class of Sidney's poetry.

R.I.P.

What a city this is...sweat, prickly heat, con-men(auto drivers), dust, disease(malairia, dengue...and the latest swine-flu phenomenon)...full of possibilities. These things get to me so quickly even after a year. Even a few nights ago i was reduced to tears, begging for electricity and some rain. God gave in, thankfully. Sometimes, I cannot bring myself to believe I am actually here and my life as little as 2 to 3 years ago seems so distant,like someone else's. Yes I am a cry-baby and these things hurt:- This dislocation and suffocation, the knowledge that maybe all this is really worth nothing, the haze that forms in front when I try to think of what lies after, the constant longing and fear of never going home for good one day (please do not give me advice or a "you will adjust". Its irritating and I know that speech by heart (hear it maybe is...?)).

Yet somethings hurt more. Or do they? Tell me, how would you feel if you knew you were failing as a human being? How would you feel hurting those who love you, in full knowledge? How would you sleep, if at all you would, knowing that you are doing things beyond the very scope of forgiveness itself? Then do you justify it all by telling yourself, and all that you never had a choice? And yet people do these things. But one of the worst places to be in is to watch your own friend or loved one go down such a road.

Dear F, I have tried and tried very hard to help you. But today I doubt you want it. You have single-handedly made a mangled wreak of a very precious life. You have hurt and hurt very badly a bunch of people (me included) who have wished you luck and love. You tell me about your remorse and I wish to believe you. Imagine that! I WISH!

Before you get all defensive, let me remind you that you have not really left people with many reasons to believe you. You have spent so much time lying and concealing, you have forgotten what you look like. And you have also forgotten that some people who like me, have spent so many years with you can see through your lies too easily. Sometimes when you make your excuses, they know and they do not tell you. But they know. I should think that would shame anyone enough. Darling, you take people's intelligence (or rather the lack of it) too much for granted.

Hurting your close ones so is not an accomplishment. But you just do it over and over. For what? I really fail to see. Then you tell me about the art of appreciation? You, who failed to appreciate a loving family and doting friends? Who never could appreciate what she had been blessed with? Who could never value those who accepted you despite of your inconsistencies? You and teaching appreciation? Sad.

I have not forgotten what you used to be, though you seem to have. I have not forgotten that you were someone I wished I could be more like. That is why I tried so hard to still see good, some good in you. But today I think that maybe, just maybe you are not, never were what you showed the world. No, for once I do not think you were a victim who did not know what she was doing. Maybe you are just that selfish. Maybe it does not matter to you how many people you bring to tears or how often. Maybe? you decide.

I know this anger is temporary. I know I will feel guilty for even feeling like this and that I will want to remove this before you read it (if you ever do). But I will not. Just to remind myself of this possibility which I dismiss always too eagerly. For it is very hard to accept that one's own close friend can compromise on the Rights and Wrongs so easily.

You say you are beyond redemption. But I think you just want to be. Because no one is beyond redemption. It's just hard to clean up your own mess, isn't it? You complain of your hard path ahead. But maybe you want to wlak it just the same. Why? For self-glorification? To massage your aching insecurities? Yes, your reasons seem just that shallow. So don't you ever comfort youself saying you do not have a choice (because you do) or that your reasons are any better. Because God knows its wrong and always will be. Today you think that love, trust and faith are expendable. That is a very low place to be indeed. Look into a mirror and see what you have become.And like HP had said...try,try for some remorse. real remorse.

On a lighter note: S*2, its very sad you chose to go so far away for career concerns (how horribly grown up!). But I miss you a lot. I like it too as thinking of you reassures myself of some sanity in this world. Take a hug then, won't you?:)

Cab-Ride Chronicles.

Hello to all.....if anyone is out there still.

I'm back home for my vacations and I do not miss delhi a bit. It is not that surprising considering the content....the pollution;the noise;the huge aunties with enormous behinds;the disgusting,omni-present,ever-commenting bunch of ugly men and most of all,the mind numbing,body drenching heat. what a package...sensational.

I do miss my friends,teachers and classes.But...ah that has pretty much nothing to do with it.

I do a lot of random things these days...butIi love this randomness.like waking up with nothing to do...its not a bad thing all the time. Then there is reading. After a long time its not because I have to and not with deadlines buzzing around me. Evenings in coffee-shops with good coffee that does not burn my pocket, without the vat monster looming near. Staring at the hills at night and taking cab-rides just for the fun of it.

Cab-rides can be very entertaining. There can be a lot to learn as well. For instance, the other day, I was on my way back home in this cab with a bengali family of the Ma,the Pa and the kid. The kid is probably in class 3. From now let I will refer to him as AK. I will explain the meaning eventually. Note:all my lines take place in my head...where else?

AK:Ma, are we stopping in the bazar today? Will you buy fish?

MA:silence.

ME:blank.

AK:Dad, I have school this saturday. Oh and i have to meet the principle reagarding some errand he was mentioning...

PA:ok,ok. sshhhh. Keep quiet.

AK:...So I think i will have to go early...

PA:Why can you not keep quiet for a bit? I do not like talking in taxis.

ME:?!what in the world does that mean?

Then PA starts talking to his wife. More precisely, bitching about someone to her.

ME: Idiotic wart! Has time to gossip loudly, but will not listen to his son.

After a while however, the resilient kid talks again.

AK: You know we had that test today and we got back our papers in the afternoon itself. You know my classmate...so and so (I do not remember the name)? He gave a blank paper! He had not written a single answer.

PA:(disinterested)...so?

AK: But how could he give a blank paper? He did not know a thing!

PA: Was he not away for the past couple of weeks? So maybe he did not know.

AK: So what? We got 10 days to study for it.

PA: Yes. So may be he could not or did not study.

ME: oh both of you shut it!

AK: I studied for it everyday for 10 days. (with sick pleasure) And finally today it happened! he could not study for a single night? and he has no shame handing in a blank paper!

ME: Stupid kid! So bloody typical of those irritating ones who would ask everyone else at school what marks they got so that they could compare and gloat. Idiot.

PA: Ok. fine.good.

silence.

ME: Oh God! please do not let him open his mouth till I am out!

GOD: (smirking)...Yeah ...sure.

AK: We have been told to take Rs.16 each to school tomorrow.

PA: (suddenly now, with renewed interest). Why?

AK: They are making something with an NGO group and they require materials, I think.

PA: I will call and find out.

AK: call whom?

PA: (with all the air of a CIS agent). I will call someone.

AK: You can call the monitor...he has to collect it.

PA: Why should I call the monitor? As though he will tell me, andIi will give my money away.

ME:Which hot spot do you think your dork of a son will go to with 16 bucks fool? There is a lot he could do but he aint the type to be invited.

AK:I told them that you all do whatever you want to. But I will not ask for any money. I do not want to have to do anything with all this.

ME: Wait. did you not just do that?And that brave speech? Yeah! sure as hell you did that. You probably get thrashed by the geeks of your class.

MA (finally): He never talks this much with me.

ME: Oh. Sad. but atleast someone is sane!

MA: He is always quiet. God knows why he keeps rambling when you are there.

ME: what? She is proud? God help this wierd herd. But then with a kid like that, I do not blame her.

AK: Ma, you will not buy the fish?

MA: No.

We reach. I get the hell out.

Yes I know the poor kid was probably running for some attention. But can we not just indulge in some plain old gossiping for once without thinking about "the beyond".

This past year has been anything but a blur. But I have learnt to appreciate somethings...like randomness and cab-rides.

Oh and AK stands for "Annoying Kid". Big Surprise,no?

P.S.: I was not trying to listen to their enriching,deep conversation. They were just too damn loud!

DREAMS, REALITY AND YOU....

 Though most of what I write is personal stuff the following was quite a personal experience. By personal I mean heart-felt and important to me that way. So this one is even more so.

 Every one who knows me knows how I rant about going back home. But I have always dreaded something about it....Being the last one to come away so far, I have witnessed the scenario as it used to be say a week or two before any of my sisters were due to come back....Mum would start shopping for all things she imagined they could  possibly need and she would keep telling me her plans about which fish to make in what way they liked which they could not get otherwise. Time was spent literally counting the days left. 

  So now you have probably figured out my point. But I want to say it anyway so...I also wanted to go home to someone waiting for me....someone who would smile at the thought of it, would fuss over my putting on weight or putting it off....whichever. I did get all of that...there were aunties enough for that. But honestly, I wished I could see Ma doing all of that. I  wish I could see her, hug her, and just now that she is as happy as I  am.

  What I dreaded was the hurt of knowing finally that I would not get that...not then,not ever. Yes it is pretty obvious from here itself but there is a comfort of illusion which once you get used to, is pretty hard to just cast off. But all I had to do was not let myself think about it...as always. But it was always in some corner of my mind, tucked under a sheet of seeming nothingness.

  

   Then, suddenly, out of nowhere I had a dream yesterday. My sisters and I went home and there She was,waiting. She hugged me, smiled that smile of disbelief I know so well. She talked, She fussed....did everything i had hoped for. then at night when everyone was getting ready to sleep I was told that She would sleep alone. I  refused and went to sleep by her side. I held her and asked her what she does all day alone in the city. I talked of college, of people and every stupid absurd detail. She listened. I could tell that she was sad. sad because She was alone and sad because She wanted us to stay but She knew She could not ask.

    

      This sounds like an ordinary dream and it would have been just so. Except for the fact that it was so real. When I held Her, I could actually feel Her skin, smell Her like I have not done in ages. Even in my dream I new that all this was temporary and so did She. It was almost as if She had come just so I could get what I had wished for.

       

      People will call it an illusion or some such technical nonsense. But for me, it was a wonderful realization of knowing that even when I do not pray for things that i want because they seem so pointless, someone is listening...She is listening and for Her what I want is still important....that She is still my Ma who knows what Her kid needs and when.

 

       Sometimes I imagine talking to her over the phone and sometimes i imagine her talking about me. I used to believe that with the end of a place and of a person alike, all possibilities of making new memories end. But now I know that this possibility goes on...and that is very important for people like me who, as Amitav Ghosh puts it "have no home except in memory".

      Ma, my coming here needs the validation of knowing that you are happy and proud . Because I so wish to do that. Every good grade on an assignment, any good comment given....and I wish you would be around to listen. But now I know you are listening and thankyou for letting me know that.

    I miss you. I hope you do too.

 

PAINT ME SKY-BLUE!

Happy ....Happy and HAPPIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! That is me after so long. And its all because I'm back home. home as in shillong...my shillong!

It feels as if after ages I'm breathing. And I'm not breathing in smoke. fresh air...oh the feeling!And the water? pure water which does not stink of chlorine. water that actually tastes sweet. who cares about malls and multiplexes? this is pure bliss for "small-town" me.

On my way back I felt quite frightened actually. I was scared that I or the place or both had changed beyond repair. But no...It's still the same beautiful city where everyday white clouds make new fluffy shapes, where chinese food is real, where the winter evening air is full of the sounds of christmas carols,where shopkeepers and cab-drivers alike wish you a happy christmas and most importantly its where i belong.

This place is sacred to me and as it expected i cried on my way back here. But it was simply too much, I was just too happy to see that everything is still how i remembered and dreamed about all these months away.

Maybe people think I am obsessed. But how can i help it? This place is has just the right air,water ,sunlightr(=life) and its just the right "size". I thought I would kill if i heard another "oye yaar" or"hainn?batao?" And now I'm here and its just how its supposed to be. All my months away feel like a seemingly never-ending dream from which i have finally awoken. It just does not feel as if I really had been away anywhere.

even though i know i must leave again and that it will all but slice me up, I am happier now because I know that no matter how long I am away I will always come back and I will always "belong" here. I'll always come back here...where you can see the beds of the crystal streams and where the sky is the most brilliant blue...just like colour of the the sky-blue crayon children colour with. Its when I look at suchthings that i know that if god is an artist, (a messy one too with paint marks on his face, fingers and clothes alike) SHILLONG is one of his favourite canvases.

And for all those nights that i will be away, this i what i will feel for my obsession or my home...whatever YOU please...

mukhtsir si baat hai...tum se pyaar hai. tum pukaar lo,tumhara intezar hai...

JAWS...

cybers are so expensive!so i'll get to the point...for once!
I have not watched anaconda or sharks or any such movies. I do not even watch horror movies...well except for the recent drona which had me in splits.I never had any longing to excite such emotions in me. But life is strange...it gives you what you never asked for. For now, everynight i live in fear. every creak of the door,every flutter of movement has me cowering. In this I am not alone. Me and A live in constant fear of....the cousin S.
As a child i would love listening to stories...especially verbal ones. still do. I would love listening to people indulge in nostalgia about their first homes, schools, trips, and so on. but turn those people into one annoying, seemingly foolish inspite of the all too fake air woman, relating the same stories (which are mostly about the armed forces) for the nth time with unrelenting ,undaunting zest all adds up to "heeelpuh!!!"
Try as you can...you cannot avoid it. its everywhere. sometimes you can listen to a story for the hundredth time and it still sounds nice. Its in the way its told. When this woman tells a story of something that happened as recent as today you feel like running. but you cant and you know that since this is recent you will be hearing it atleast three more times before the week ends.
why not just say "shut it?" well its part of the forced obligation of blood and also of the knowledge that your other sister will not approve (outwardly).
let me relate some instances...havin somehow partially managed to tune her out I am safer than A. so one night in the sitting room I and A are chatting. S emerges out of her lair and starts again. I pretend to listen and I cant tell if A is stupid enough to be genuine or not. fast forward...two hours later A is cribbing. She tells me I fell asleep listening (not) and left her all alone in the field. I say "Eh!well"
another day I come home after A. She tells me of her horror. She was all alone in the house with the Shark. Everytime S came out of her room A pretended to sLeep in whatever position she could manage. She kept thinking "do something...anything...hurry!"
one day we try to use assignments as an exuse. and FAIL!. the excuse that is.
one evening S calls me to her room. I take a phone and go. after fifteen minutes, A calls...from the other room. I pretend and get the hell out!
I am standing in my room and A tells me S is comin. I know its too late to do anything. A says"what do we do!what!" i say "uh uh!" and close my eyes pretending to sleep...standing!
so this is what we do now...pretend to sleep . its not that bad really. Because if she starts telling her story, that is how you are going to end up anyway.
often after going through this ordeal, A asks me "why?why her?why US?why?" but there is no answer.
to day in the Amitav Ghosh class, we discussed a portion where he talks of the fear of the unknown and how that can be the scariest. It is similar with us...we know we cant get away always. but the fear that arises everytime she emerges...the questions..."oh no!wait maybe she wants to use the bathroom,maybe she is going to the kitchen,Oh God maybe its storytime!"...the unknown....and now I have to go home.Gulp!

A Memory...

A weekday morning in my life dated anywhere between 5 to 10 years of age.its a weekday and I am home because i finally managed to get sick and bunk school,or somehow or the other, school got cancelled...

i wake up rejoicing my one morning at home. I do not know why exactly, but I love spending my morning hours home. and I know that today no teacher is going to bore me, neither are any of my pesky classmates going to irritate me. Its a morning at home...my home. My morning...and everything else that follows.

Someone makes me tea. I sip it with an indescribable relish. Then, I play or watch t.v. and try not to compromise any moment of that morning as I know I will have to tomorrow.

I watch as everyone leaves and I see Her preparing to. She is in the kitchen making lunch and other such things. She then comes to the bedroom and makes herself a paan. I watch as she piles one ingredient after another with utmost precision. i decide I will steal one after lunch today and beg for one on Sunday.

She is washing utensils now. I go away, knowing it will be a while till She can get them to shine and keep at it till She does.

She tells me to get her things in the bathroom. I sit on the bed and watch Her browse through Her sarees wondering which She will wear. I hope She takes one out with red in it. I have always associated itwith Her. I do not know why though...

I look at the one She has laid out on the bed as water splashes inside the bath. I search for a crease...none. I look at this which will become Her. I wonder whether she is also that creaseless. I wonder whether that saree would have been so, smelt so if it had been anyone else's.

She is about to come out so i prop myself up on the bed and prepare to do what i have done so many times before and still have not understood why...

She stands in front of the dresser and wears her saree with intimidating care. I watch as she makes the folds which sometimes look like they have been measured for accuratness. She lets loose Her hair. Her long black hair...that which i will always associate with womanliness,beauty and grace.

But I know She is going to tie it. I wish She wouldn't. For once I want to see Her like that. I say "why must you tie it?" She says "it's too much of a bother. it gets in the way." I wonder if letting yourself loose and free gets in the way too. And if so, then in the way of what?

She then puts cream on her face. There She is rough. I say "softly. you'll rub your face off." She makes an expression that says "Eh?"

I do not always say such things for fear of a scolding. I just do when i feel safe for it.

She applies lipstick. I had been waiting to see whether it would match her saree today...that same colour. But somehow, it always does!

Then She does what i am most eager to see. with an end of Her comb, she applies that red coloured powder on her forehead. a bit and absolutely neat. Later i would come to know it is called vermillion. But i never felt it does the colour justice.

She smells of cream and something else...something completly Her own...sorry, i mean completely Her. And i will not forget that fragrance for a very long time.

At last She applies petroleum jelly on her hands. I look at them...they speak for themselves. The right one...the cooking, cleaning one...a little buised and tired looking. the homely one. the left...the proper, elegant,slender one...soft and graceful...the one that lives outside the kitchen. and She is unaware that Her life can be told by those hands...

I wonder how She never notices me staring at Her. Then i think She does but does not understand it...its ok I decide. I don't either myself.

before leaving She gives me a list of dos for the maids. She tells me to eat on time and that she will call. As She leaves i want to say "have a nice day", "take care" or "bye" even. but I cant. and She cant either. I hate it. I always will.

But i know She will be back. In the evening..a little tired and hungry but still perfectly...mmm...Perfectly Her.

I know it will take longer this time around and that I will be the one coming back this time. But still I will find Her as She has always been...perfectly perfect and perfectly Red...as in beautiful and with a spark that is Her own and complete.

I dont know how many eighth of Septembers i will have to endure. But be sure I will think of You...that day and all days.

I know all you readers will get tired. but its just my way of horouring her memory...so zip it.

You and Mocha...Ah!

All you readers are pathetic. Horrible. one comment? Sickening. You really know how to take all hopes out of a blogger and kill his soul! Well not exactly. But you are pretty bad.

I am 19 years old and have not one romance to speak of. O!boo!hoo! even my sister(s) have never asked me whether i have ever had the slightest bit of interest in anyone. But...ah...there can be other aspects of your younger sister's/brother's life too all you eldest and middle concieted brats!

And today i feel like writing something to him. (its a HIM...there i hope you all are a bit relieved). Before your eyebrows start skipping, let me tell you i am not talking about a boyfriend. I do not have one. Rest assured. This someone i am talking about was a so-so friend many years ago and now resides in pluto for all i know! And no, I was not in love. Not even in lau. It was a kind of awkward "heh!heh!" time during which my brain's processing level was even lower than it is toda...and That, ladies and Germs, is saying something!

Hello Baldy(no that's not his name. Its what i used to call him. short for baldemort. And he was not bald either!). How are you? Where are you? Are you alive? Yes? good! No? Eh!well...

I give a high place to the institute of friendship. So i will not insult it by saying that we were friends. We hardly talked and our time together did not even last a year. But during that time, now that i look back, i realise how stupidly happy i was, and i never knew why!

True, we did not talk much. But for whatever time we did, you let me be me and a lot more than that. As for me, my non-existent virtue of patience would emerge when it came to waiting for you to stop screaming and come to the point. Never had i enjoyed fighting with someone as much as i did with you. And i do not think i will again.

I let you know how annoying you were and how very stubborn. What i did not, however, was that you were adorable and sweet to boot. Sigh.

It was all very sweet and nice. And naive. Actually, I did not realise what i had or could have until long after the end. once a tubelight, always...anyway.

Had the ending been abrubt, it would have been better. But i guess we just let distance and time, or rather the lack of it to get the better of...whatever it was.

I wont say i miss you. Yes i do think about you sometimes (obviously!). And surprisingly, its the obstinacy i miss most.

You act as if the fact that I still exist does not register in your mind. And suddenly, out of nowhere,as subtly as you can,you let me know that you remember. And even more surprisingly, i do not mind...well not that much anyway.

I know its stupid, but i wish you would come back from wherever you are. Not so I can have the romance of a lifetime, but because you are you and and that makes everything seem so much...um...well...chocolate like.blush.

You are like that one wonderful cup of mocha I had some many ages ago on a rainy day...not perfect...but bitter and at the same time, with a wonderful warmth and sweetness that completely took me in. I have had many mochas since then...one more exquisite than the other, but none that was so...enchanting.

Well, that is as much as I can tell you here. Wasted effort...you hate reading,I know. Take care and grow up...but not completely!

And as for you horrible readers, I have no wish to disclose any identity whatsoever. Do not guess. And ask? Yeah right.

Another Message...

Just so all of you know, I am turning 19 this Sunday. This is the first of my many birthdays away from home and friends,so just wish me. Even if you do not want to....just do it huh? Just comment a "Happy Birthday". Man! What I have to do to get comments! This is another "for someone post". And if i decide not to mention who, here and in future posts please do not call me and ask me to do so...there is a reason why I do not mention it you know! Its been years since i last saw you... and yet i just saw you last night. When you left, i thought i would eventually stop thinking of you someday. Actually, i was afraid that i would. But it seems that the more you dissolve into my history, the more i feel you are a part of my "now". Earlier this month i saw bits and pieces of my childhood and not too long ago memories walking out of my house. Yes, it was painful and i did cry and did not bother to hide that. It was a pain so great in its intensity, that i felt it physically. It was not the kind of pain that comes along too often. Maybe because if it did, survival rate would be much lower. And yet, it was familiar. I had felt that way before...when you left. I said "I'll see you" to the streets on which i learnt to walk, because i could not bear to say "goodbye" and because it gave me a hope of returning. Kind of in the way i never let myself say goodbye to you and did not let myself hear it either. I would stare at the lights on the distant hills and the smell the pine trees and try to capture them in me and pray that they would stay fresh until i came back. i tried to steal that sensation of warmth under a quilt, and the sound of the soft pitter-patter of rain on the windows in june. i walked on those sloping tiny roads and let myself drown in the air so fresh, I could swear there were dew drops on it. I let myself cry while i saw the sun set on a pinkish-orange horizon till the sky became the richest blue. And i could hear the promise of warmth, security and belonging being made to me. Had i known that i one day would have to let you go as well, I would have done just that. I would have drowned in the sensation of holding your hand as we walked along those very streets, of feeling each hug and living it. I would have devoted my listening skills every time you had something to say. I would cry in your arms just for the pure comfort of it. I would have tried cooking at 8 years of age just so i could see how you liked it. I would have started writing years ago, even more nonsensical, so you would listen, and i know you would even if it was horrible. I would have asked you all those questions i never did. I would try to know you.....the foundation of my being. And i would have told you about myself. You probably hate me now. I know i can never be what you would have liked. But just know that i just went along on the only road i could find. I have made my mistakes unknowingly and sometimes not so much. And I am not done yet. But i will have to make my own mistakes right? Maybe you would have wanted me to. There is so much i want to do and i will do. I just need to know that you are there because sometimes you seem so far off. What I am now and what i will become may not please you or me either. But just remember me as i was when we started out. The one you loved so much. Some regard me as "too soft". And i regard them as "too hard up without reason and proud of it". But deep down i cannot just let myself be. I do not know if i need an approval. But i remember what you used to make me feel like......that i can be whoever i want and that is ok with you. I want that. And i believe you will always give me that. I have, i guess searched for your replacements. A stupid thing because that does not exist. I can never look up at anyone the way I did to you. Neither can i love anyone the same way. I know we will meet agin one day. Just hug me when we do. It has been far too long alrerady. I dream about that day, that feeling of that reunion sometimes. And i crave to go home because i know that that is the closest i can come to it in this lifetime..........the sound of the rain reminds me of ur embrace, the air carries your scent and the sunset brings back that old feeling of knowing that you will be home in sometime. I miss you DAD and i love you. P.S.:This was for my papa,as in father. Clear on that i hope! This cafe is hopeless so dont mind the errors. the keyboard is dying.

Messages

So i changed the layout of my blog. Yay!!!! well...not so much.

Shifted to delhi one day ago and I am not excited to say the least. So I have recently earned a new name "The Cribber." I am very sad about leaving home and so my next few posts will most probably be about shillong and home. I hope no one minds. But if anyone does.......eh! well bother.

My last few days in shillong were spent packing and so i did not get to do any of the things i really wanted to. For instance, i did not get to say a lot of things to people who by now must have gone off to heaven knows where. So that is what I will do now though again i know more than half of them will never read it. But if the number of people who read my blog was a condition, I should have stopped long ago.

Dear Ps, too much of straightening with an iron will one day ruin your not so great hair. As it is, sometimes it looks like the end of a formidale broomstick to me.

Sb, though i pretty much do like you, it is my duty as a friend to tell you that over the years you have become filmy and are not showing any signs of stopping. But please do. Oh and plastic earrings whoch match your clothes are not "Oh My God! Wow!"

Fg, I know you are brilliant, but you can also be a crashing bore! stop being mean when its not really needed and stop grinning when you are trying to look cute. You don't!

Oh El, i know you do not want to be, but you are one of the sweetest people in the world.

Lj, i don't like you! i never said i did and i do not know why you seem to think that i do but i don't! you annoy me! other than that I am sure you are great! Its just I don't want to know.

Ms. K, heaven knows why you had so much faith in me. It is pointless. But thank you for it. It was nice to think someone did and still does...I hope.

Sir S, I think you are great. Its just that i feel the same way about your subject as i do about gas.......not good.

Ms. An, I love you...I do!

Dear Ja, you are talented and have a lot to offer. So stop calling yourself stupid.

Mo, I pray everyday that you come here. I have told Santa too.

Dad, you have spoilt me. But i love you for it. And for everything about you. You are one of the most missed ones. The next time i see you, I am going to squeeze your cheeks so hard!

Oh and Un...get some therapy. And by that i do not mean a bodywash.

Well, that much for now. And my dear "silent" readers, cut the silence. It wont kill you to comment. If it did not kill you to read, commenting will not either. Trust me.

Hollow,Hollow...You.

this post is for someone who used to be an inspiration, but now is a figure that arouses that pathetic emotion called pity...

i am writing this for you, and yet i know you may never read it. why? well maybe because reading...the real sort of reading requires some sort of emotion...like curiosity,interest,etc. and i do not know whether you are capable of feeling any feeling.

you go on everyday telling yourself that life is but one long war for you to fight in. you pretend to be this unreachable, strong rock sitting on the edge of a steep cliff...immovable.

but you know what? life is not a war, atleast not for everyone. life is what you make it. and not all of us turn it or view it as a war. strength...yes you have it no doubt. but strength can be of different kinds. dont laugh at someone who cries thinking he is weaker than you. no, he maybe stonger than you even, because he knows that his tears symbolize that he has emotions left in him and he is proud of them. not everyone takes pride in pretending that this world is too small to get to them.

i have seen you pretend...pretend smiles and pretend hugs with people you claim do not matter. and when i ask why, you say that you need to get along. oh please! get real. you are just pleasing them. and if they really did not matter, why would you?

you think love is stupid. you think friendship is a lie. you parade the fact that you do not love anyboby but those that you have to because of reasons as shallow as blood. when will you understand that people do not only love when they have to. when will you understand the value of someone's love which you have earned? its something sacred that you give to those who deserve it. it has to be earned...by strangers and blood ties alike.

ask youself, when was the last time you said something to encourage someone? when was the last time someone told you "thanks for being there". forget that, when was the last time YOU said that to anybody? maybe the number of times i have won a prize...and that is not a lot. maybe even lesser than that right?

you have built this wall around you. don't you see, no one is going to wait on the other side forever. i know because i wont.

you claim people do not show you affection. how can they? when was the last time you told anyone that you love them, or miss them, or anything at all? you feel bad about yourself saying you have been hurt. maybe by me? but i doubt that. i do not know if there is enough left in you for me to hurt.

try and think of yourself as you were some years ago and then see if you can even recognize yourself. you and your so called knowledge. do you realize that the ones for whom you are fighting your "battle" do not even have the freedom to come and say anything nice to you for fear of being called babies? you react like sodium in hot water when someone tries to even help you out. but you are only too willing to say what others have to do. you cannot save everyone. people have to make their own mistakes. dont 'try to better everyone else's situation. just try and live whatever is left of your existence...because what you have is not a life.

you have made fun of me ever since i can remember. maybe i was to take it as fondness in disguise. so i do not expect any better of you. but i hope for it. i cannot understand you. i dont want to. yes i know i am stupid and weak. but i still can laugh at old times, i still feel great when i am hugged, i still feel like loving and dreaming at the end of it all. while you are so busy pointlessly ramming your head against walls and hearts of all kinds.

i hope you can lie to yourself nicely enough at night. you need it. but despite everything i do love you. only the "i love you because i have to" equation does not apply in my case. i will till i have the strength to. you are not mine to save, but i hope someone does.

you are becoming hollow...and i feel sorry for you.

This & That...

so this is hello again.i was away for a lot of reasons...not that you are wondering i know.oh how i would love to tell you how my exams went...not!all i remember are nightmares, fear, stomach rumbles and pain...oh the pain!its amazing i survived.actually, its amazing i got to the 12th standard in the first place.

now,here i am with a scary tomorrow before me, blogging and munching a delicious mutton roll. sigh...well not that much.there is so much to write that i dont want to write. so i want this post to be about a list of my likes and dislikes which people i've lived with my entire life or less do not know and will probably never ask...but i will write anyway...

1.i love the colour red (not on me, no) and i love spicy food more than gold.

2.carnations are my favorite flowers and cauliflowers my least favorite.

3.i can spend days only watching friends,ally mcbeal,the wonder years...i cry sometimes after watching the last two.

4."the fresh prince of bel-air" is my greatest source of strength and inspiration.

5.i feel most sleepy when i go shopping...especially with my sisters.

6.i am addicted to chocolate and have been bribed many times with it. i have accepted too.

7.i nurse a special reverence for garfield and roark (variety).

8.i cry at the drop of a hat. i have improved lately. now its at the drop of bigger hats.

9.i feel physical pain when someone i love is mean. yeah i know i sound like cinderellla! oh and i hate that story by the way.

10.i first fell in love at the age of 7...with mr.anderson's tales. oh and speaking of love, i once had a hulk sized crush on someone who smiled at me one day and it took me a whole minute to return it because a hundred cats were sitting on my tongue, as well as my head.

11.i am afraid i am a romantic at heart.sad.

12.i feel too much at times. at other times i am blank.

13.sometimes i see myself years later, playing with a child...mine. yes, i have thought about that as well.dont you judge me.

14.my idea of a dream wedding (yes, this as well) is one on a hill side at sunset with only me and the fool who i will marry, with the one who will marry us of course.

15.because of the above and many others, chances are i will die single!

16.sometimes i dream about living alone with a good enough job. i am not very ambitious you see, there is simply no point.

17.i have a thousand questions on my mind and a million dreams and i am waiting for someone who will listen. i am afraid its going to be a long wait.

18.i hope of coming back here one day and live in a woodden house with a small garden.

19.i dont appreciate people calling me to tell me why i should listen to rock.

20.sometimes i cry simply because i want to.

21.i bought a card 5 years ago because i thought it was pretty and have found someone to give it to only now.

22.i would not share this roll with anyone even if i were in love with him.

22.i will hate any sarcastic comments on my list thankyou-very-much!

ok, so now you are bored and i am tired. so, go read a better blog and i will eat.until next time...