Sunday, November 11, 2007

Shooting The Moon

Every now and then I realize that I am a very difficult person. A person who no longer talks to me (there are many such) had said that I am not everyone’s cup of tea. It came as a surprise to me the moment she said so. I had assumed that I am one of the most amicable people I know, someone who tries to give space, is sensitive to difference of behavior, understanding, attitude and choices. How the hell am I difficult then? What she said affected me and that instant, resentment spawned. Without telling her that I didn’t give two shits about what she thinks I started rationalizing for the good of me and rendering her daft; for my own good too. And there I recognized my very own defense mechanism. Superb I must say.

A defense mechanism works in a dilemmatic direction for me. One, whatever you find untoward about me reflects your own personality flaw in an equal measure as it does mine. So maybe instead of telling me that I am so and so you can try your hand at the charity-begins-at-home routine and root out the flaws which you think are mine, but are actually yours. I have also observed that voicing these thoughts is not helpful in taking the conversation or the relationship forward in a positive manner.

I know what’s wrong with you, I can tell you that. God help you if you think the same.

Two, my doing something like this is exactly the reason why I am not anyone’s cup of tea. Not that I have not tried not doing this, but I can’t stand anyone farting in my face and expecting me to open my nostrils wide.

Friday, November 09, 2007

Morning Walk

You know what the right thing to do is. You know how to do that. You also have a faint idea how important it is to do it correctly, what you might lose, how you might get changed, forever. Yet you push. You don’t shove; you push gently, inch by inch, feeling by feeling. A strange madness overcomes reason. The reasons to push keep refreshing, intermingling, becoming one dark mass of masochistically sadistic feeling of pain. Now it is imperative that you ignore cries for help, especially from within yourself.

And then you have reached the edge. You have the least idea what made you push it this far. But the edge is near, and to finish successfully you need to do the last bit. Your hands quiver and your legs ache. You are no longer sure if it’s your brain which drives you, or your heart. Which is the evil one? Why evil, you might ask yourself. Of course its evil, otherwise it wouldn’t feel this fucking good.

Pause. It’s the last inch. This part will take more than will power. It wants the last shred of goodness, of kindness and compassion to consume and gain strength. It is almost like a form of meditation, concentrating on one point.

A slight tap and it has happened. Down you fall, confused and panicked. Weren’t you the one pushing? You look up, the last effort, and there stands something black with its arms outstretched, laughing like a madman. You feel cheated, you look again, and realize. It’s your own ego.

Tuesday, November 06, 2007

Time has told me

You are a rare rare find

A troubled cure

For a troubled mind

Nick Drake

I have been struggling with the idea of writing, with the notion of being a work mule, with the prospect of being nothing more than hot air.

I have been wondering if being incorrigible, running away, disregarding my near ones is what I will always do.

I have been squirming under the night time moon, deadened by the blows of tenderness, scorched by words of love.

Monday, November 05, 2007


An unnamed character from my imagined work of fiction conversed with me

“I don’t want to be a part of your impending novel”

“Why is that so?”

“I feel as if I already know what my lifes going to be like”

“Isnt that a good feeling?”

“Elsewhere, maybe. Coming from you, I would rather be dead”

That’s when I decided to kill the fucker.

But somehow, it felt as if the fucker had the last laugh.

T.h.e E.n.d

Thursday, June 28, 2007


They say spotting patterns is human tendency, the brain searches for traces of the past images or signals in the present and matching them up, becomes happy. Something like a simple fool who appreciates the way he arranges a set of colored cubes in a particular bizarre sequence, even after reaching the age of adult-ness. The pattern I have been a witness and perpetrator to in the past one month, also the time since I last wrote about my inner thoughts, has been one of running away. Not as much running as breaking free from the shackles of present, but that’s the idea.

Shackles of the present, there was a time when I used to adore these few words, they seemed like an escape into a world of fantasy of imagination. Neither too remote, nor implausible.

In a way, a pleasant distance away

on a windy Sunday afternoon.

However, as present catches up with the future and past seems light years away, the feeling of contempt, disappointing farcicality towards the fantasy and me increases. The gap between reality and hope widens, and the moment demands, orders me to take a side. Step this way or that.

The pathos lying in the fact and fear of seeing most people take the side of reality and betraying hope.

Sunday, May 27, 2007

Bitchy Rant

There’s a female in our batch, she used to be there in our college too. Which goes to show that I have known her somewhat since the last four years. In fact, if it can be called so, our ‘relationship’ goes deeper than just knowing each other. There’s a compelling, seething, writhing and complex emotional bond existing between us. I sincerely have no idea how it came to be, but I can safely say that the genesis of this bond was given seed by her, or if not seed then its formulation was brought about by her divulging nature. Like all relationships, it is not something that I enjoy very much, feel uncomfortable most of the times it comes to force, and question its meaning throughout the time of our simultaneous presence within 10 feet of each other. I really don’t understand why it is the way it is, what did I do to bring things to this state, or how should I go about correcting it.

The bond that I talk about, is one of mutual and unadorned hatred. I had never really noticed or given any credence to her until the day I came to know that she has been calling me a kutta(dog) all over the place. This happened when we had entered the second year of our engineering course and the news came to me after it had spread to various other quarters of our college. Now in normal circumstances it wouldn’t have made much of a difference as to who calls whom what, but in NIT Rourkela, may god bless its marauding soul, the population of females was very less, hence most of the males hankered after the females like dogs after a piece of meat(no pun intended). The name picked up for the simple reason it was given so by a female, and I became irritated, because normally a female would call me that after I have gone around with her, broken her heart or some such. But here I was genuinely bewildered. And so I picked up my arms of sarcasm, searched her person for probable seething remarks, and the forces that be had adorned her with a good many of them. So came out a spate of names for her, ‘Manchested united’, ‘3-hole Carom Board’, ‘Gujju Bitch’, etc. etc. the first two names have similar meaning, and I won’t be explaining them anymore. Also I always made sure that she was in hearing range(I have an unusually booming voice) when I used these terms and a lot others without refrain.

This went on for four years, and again, the forces that be landed us in the same job at the same place. I thought it would be a good time to lay down the stupidity and behave like responsible adults, but, yet again she has started with her antics. And I really don’t even feel like replying with the earlier tactics, it feels weary and nonsensical. I really don’t know what to do, maybe I will just ask her directly one day, “what the fuck do you want, you floating rotting flat board of wood?”. But that would be culpable under female harassment. Such dark times.


As of now things have settled down quite amicably between us. I asked her guy who's incidentally a friend of mine from college to clear things up for us, and going by her words, it was all a huge misunderstanding. This post is to be directed at other females from her batch who did the major groundwork. Anyhow, I am happy that we talked and cleared up stuff. Always the better option.

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

"But Sir"

In one of our interactive sessions today, which was about discussing various management related words and their definitions, I discovered that many of us are blessed with a catch-22 like capability. It is wasting our breath and filling the atmosphere with unnecessary sound waves upon subjects which have been largely undefined, impossible to define and will remain so even after all our efforts. No one is actually trying to reach an agreeable solution, we just want to be heard. We don’t need no education, we don’t need no thought control, we just need a mega phone and group of people who are getting paid to listen to you dish out shit, grossly foul smelling shit.

No one backs out, those who want to keep talking, keep doing so regardless of the argument being presented. The argument takes place in somewhat this way,

“The meaning of passion is not entirely clear as it can be termed as desire as well as something which is driven more by our mood at the moment or a passing fancy, leading to be short lived and over rated”

“But sir, I can give you a example of being passionate because it’s like, being really passionate. I have been passionate for so long and when I know the work I am doing is great I will be passionate. I am passionate.”

“umm, that’s not entirely what I am trying to say here, what I mean is that passion might not last. When you are working in the same environment for a long time, then after a period of a month or six months, you might ask yourself what am I doing here?”

“But sir, what I want to add is, that I am passionate about what I am doing here. It is not something like, something that gets over. I am passionate, I am driven by my work.”

Logic doesn’t touch these kind of interjections with a barge pole, after a few minutes the only person happy with the situation is the one who keeps interrupting with “but Sir” and rest of those who don’t have similar interruptions in mind wonder what they are doing here. Passion doesn’t stand a chance, not for two days, talk about a month.

I too am culpable of this crime, not just once but many times. However today I realized that it is imperative to shut up after one interjection and not keep on barging in with your basket of crap. It is important not only to keep the conversation in control, but to maintain your own levels of sanity.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007


Not many moons ago I decided, rather explained to myself that I don’t want to appear for the MBA entrance exams seriously this year as I want to take some responsibility, start working and stay at home for an year or two. That would give me the required break and a breather, time to consider my options and decide on a course of action. That would also ensure the surety of preparation I would put into it. Hence I looked forward to joining with the company that picked me up on campus, the IT bandwagon, and staying at home with my family, with visions of evenings with friends and a comfortable life.

The truth struck home and hard since the last 2 days, during the induction ceremony in a far away hotel and all day long training schedules. The morning travel was still less tenuous (getting up at 6.30 AM after 5 years conditioning of getting up at 11AM is rather sucky) as compared to the evening traffic rush hour, covering 3 kilometers in an hour. The total journey time today was around 3 hours and 10 minutes in the 13 hours that I spent outside. By the end of it I was hungry enough to eat a horse, tired enough to sleep for 13 hours, and frustrated enough to scream abuses nonstop sitting in the cab and the train. And all this when I know that I have it much, much easier than many other people sharing my age and position. All this when I know that it’s going to be like this for the next two years at least. All this when I know I don’t have any other option, I don’t want to look at other options. I am just too cowardly for that.

It has some good points too, which is what I keep telling myself as I make the arduous journeys and sit through excruciatingly boring presentations. No one ever said it would be easy, no one said otherwise. Yet when I am fretting and frothing there is this irresistible urge to blame the whole wide world for my slight difficulties, there is a feeling that so much is due to me while I get this. Yeah, maybe it is good, I need to come back, come back on earth, touch the ground and the ground realities. Masochism, the old ally, comes to the rescue.

Wednesday, May 09, 2007

importance of Shutting Your Hole

After a recent incident I have been extremely careful in venting out my opinions to anyone about anything, anything as small as a new brand of chewing gum. Believing that everyone has their right of choice and way is a much more easier and peaceful way of going about life. It might have something to do with my obstinacy of not changing my own views and then arguing with the other person just for the sake of argument and proving them wrong, but I am sure that really doesn’t affect the present issue in any major way. Working towards such an outcome has its pro’s and con’s and it definitely intersects with my personality and instincts, but all that is still bearable compared to the pandemonium ensuing in the other direction.

Since I have come back to Bombay I have been at a loss of people to meet or spend time with, as most of my friends shifted to Kharghar. Staying in Colaba it seems another city altogether. Which is why I have been scavenging people to meet and talk to. So yesterday I looked up a female I had shared a cab with once and fixed up a meeting. We met at a coffee shop close to my place and started working towards making a conversation. Normally it is easier to start a good conversation by letting or forcing the other person to talk about themselves a bit, and then bring it to a more general level. However, this conversation started on a general note, veered around this side & that for a few minutes and then plunged into the abyss of her life. Not only was the abyss of her life dark, fat and pock marked, but it was highly opinionated with hatred for most of the human beings on this planet and their sanitary habits. I had to restrain myself initially, but then it became pointless to do so. The swirling whorl of terror came in my direction and she started telling me my personality flaws. Even though some of them were true, it didn’t mean she could do so standing on the road side with the self assurance of a walrus sunning herself on the antartic sea shore. The anomaly had to be constrained before it spread to rest of the matrix. So I cut her in the middle of her dissertation and making a promise of meeting some other time parted ways with her.

I must have the supreme capability of meeting all the nut cases out of nowhere, maybe similar poles do attract.

One Dialogue Wonders

When it all depends on one scene, one line uttered with utter concentration and effort, face contorting in emotions never seen before, by a face never seen before, then you know what you are being witness to. It is a one dialogue wonder, those people in the movies who have only a small part to play, only one line to say and less than minute to make their mark. I wonder how much time they spend on rehearsing in front of the mirror, repeatedly asking their near and dear ones if they are doing it right, pitting all their energy for that small and [in]significant part.

How does the director decide whom to cast for such roles? Are there any auditions? ‘Experienced actors wanted for the role of snooty bystander to scream at the lead/spectacled doctor informing mother that her son is critical(dead)/fat boss refusing employment to in-need garib hero, mediocrity of features highly essential, gender/age/height/width/complexion/accent no bar, flexible work timings’. I am sure such characters would be immensely proud of their contribution to the movie regardless of the success or failure at the box office, get all their friends and family free tickets(bought by themselves) for the movie. They would also explain to the entourage much before the movie the time of their entry, their exact dialogue and the way they said it. Sometimes this is how movies like Tara Rum Pum Pum manage to scrape through the overhead costs, just hire some more bystanders.

How do people come into this line? Maybe it is like one of those depressing aspiring-damsels-turning into-a-porn-actress cases, except here the only one getting off is the person concerned.

Monday, May 07, 2007

To New Beginnings

I have revamped and articulated your favorite blog (If you don’t read it or don’t care much about it then I really don’t give a rats ass) to make it more communicative of my inner feelings, thoughts and reveries. I have had this blog for the last 2 years, haven’t added much to it since the last year as I was drawn towards the slightly better yahoo blog (, but now that blogger has added several new features, made it easier to get the constipated shit out of one’s system, I have decided to return to this blog.

This is also the time when I finish with my engineering course (it’s been 3 days) and will be starting work (in another 3 days), therefore marking a change of phase in my life. In this new phase I have decided to change myself, be more acceptable in society, try to get laid for real, not be an asshole in general, and smoke up more to deal with the failures in my life.

Hope you have as much fun here as I have after a good joint.

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Snakes & Ladders

Me, I.


Me & You.

You & Me. We. Us.

We are disappointed.

You disappointed Me.

I disappointed You.

I have You.

You have Me.

We have Us.

Disappointment is a feeling.

Disappointment is a feeling We have in common.

You had Me.

I had You.

We had Us.

Disappointment is the only feeling We have in common.

Disappointment is the feeling.

You and Me are disappointed.


Me, I.

Faulted Dice, Faulted Board and Faulted Players.

Sunday, March 25, 2007

What If?

What if?

Most of us are tempted to use these two words in situations of incomprehensible difficulties and cul-de-sacs. It’s as if merely thinking about the other set of possibilities, had we taken the other direction, the other path would somehow make things different. Maybe make the time spent less painful and the outcome less untoward. It is a good thing that the scenario remains a distant possibility to ruminate about and not an option or an actuality. Like most of our wishful thoughts, the culmination to any ‘what if’ would be nothing short of a disaster. If we come to analyse the precedent in which we revert to using these words, then the most common occurrence would be our realization that by somehow reacting differently in the said situation, the outcome could have been changed and hence everything end up as hunky dory. That by changing one single moment, one decision, we would have been able to alter the series of events that followed.

I disagree. Our actions at any point of time are governed by either our impulses or a careful thought process. To revere about a different selection would be the same as changing the very basic premise of our persona, the thing that defines us in our entirety. If at any point of time, there was a chance of that happening then we would have done that without waiting for a particular event. Thinking about a different set of possibilities would be being hypocritical and evasive. It would be the same as saying “don’t trust me, I am a schizophrenic lunatic”. Discarding the possibility of any person owning up to the previous statement, today I realize that it is a way of running away from the present and throwing a blanket over the demands of our conscience. That whatever we might have done at any point of time, the result would always be the same, it would always lead to the same pain and heartache. I realize that what happens is a conscious result of our actions which are driven by us, by the people that we are. It won’t change or deflect a dangerous possibility if we decided to act in the exact opposite way the next time we are faced with a similar kind of situation. Not because every situation is different, but because the person behind those situations remains the same. Deciding to act in the opposite way is superficial.

Understanding ourselves and others involved in the situation would be a better way to deal with the excruciating outcome. And sometimes that involves moving on. Being the person I am, and knowing how many times I get lost in ‘what if’, I know that’s the most difficult part. Maybe all this analysis is only meaningless jabber.

I have lost perspective all anew.