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.

Introduction

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

Adult-Ness

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.

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.

***UPDATE***

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.

"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.

Awakening

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.

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.