Driving back from gym, thinking about the morning paper for some random reason, a thought struck my head. Quite surprising, considering I've always been the eternal optimist, smile-even-if-i'm-stuck-in-the-deepest-shit..so-glad-i'm-so-alive person..but oh well, here's another rant.
It's been a long time since the beginning of the world that human life has been so easily disposable, like it is now...Yes we've had ethnic cleansing before and diseases and wars but now we have terrorism and more wars and newer ways to kill hundreds of people going about their daily lives.blah blah.
Human life has never been so irrelevantly disposable.What is this making way for..another evolution?? Where the battle-worn survivor evolves into what?? even more ruthless corrupt men?? Is that the homo superieur of the world to come?? and... the good will die, for they wont live through the survival of the fittest???
The meek shall inherit the earth...haha!!
CHRIST!! you must have been joking.
I never thot I'd be so pessimistic about saving the world and its people, heck I even had the ambition and dream to be a fine UN diplomat changing world policies to benefit the er.. meek. But well, human life has become so disposable that I think I'm might just have to join the pessimistic bandwagon... What can't be fixed, needn't be repaired. I'm losing my faith in humanity.
You know what.... maybe that IS the key to survival in the world right now.
I don't know. I don't want a 9-5 job, I don't want to be a lawyer, I don't want to work my ass off for anything already deemed worthless, I don't want to fight a losing fight. I want to live my life to the most, smile and laugh and love and be loved, make people who matter happy and sing and dance and create and write...and whatnot.
Maybe I'm not entirely convinced about fucking the world...
but hey...
LET's GET HIGH.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Home
Home.
From the umpteen number of times I've packed and moved, sometimes bundling up friendships and relationships and memories..mostly just clothes and junk and at othertimes, expectations and dreams and even hopes both bright and awry.... I have but one, nay two entries in my journal, both at different points of time, one when I left the City of my education, unfinished..full of hopes and friends whom I considered closer than family and another a year later, when I was leaving the city of my birth when all those previous opinions had been dashed..with a new quiet strength replacing it.. And this is what I'd written...
Interpretations of people and situations change, they bloody as well change for people do change, relationships change and even whole cities change.
Pune is the place I've been calling home now..My grandest love for a City where I continue to have the best memories and the worst screw-ups.. It's still home but what of the one I left behind 2 years ago..so desperately wanting to run away??
By now,as much as I had said that it was never a house or a building that makes a home, but the people in it; I've realized that it's not the people either.
Home is still wherever you go, wherever you choose to lay your head in peace, that place you go to at the end of a day - any day.
But what home really is lies in the sense of belonging and contentment one gets from being in any particular place. Therefore, home is not defined by the person or the place or the situations but the feeling. The feeling of belonging.
This special feeling is so important that it explains why some people still love any weird, hurtful place that brings so much pain, or has people that treat them more like furniture than a human being. It is that sense of belonging, a strong bond maybe even a feeling of kinship with that particular place, of being one with it not just because of growing up there at various times or happy memories but even because of going through painful experiences... It doesn't matter, what happened inside that place you call home, it will be home to you... and it will still feel like home every time you return. Especially the ones that always keep the door open to receive you back despite anything,nothing and everything.
My favorite Metallica song goes..
"Off the beaten path I reign
Rover wanderer
Nomad vagabond
Call me what you will
But Ill take my time anywhere
Im free to speak my mind anywhere
And Ill never mind anywhere
Anywhere I may roam
Where I lay my head is home"
Home is merely the feeling. And I'm so glad I have many such places.
***
my parent's home, city of my birth.
my maternal grandparent's home, city of my birth.
my paternal gramp's house and the temple, place of my childhood.
the 3 farms, here and there.
my apartment, Pune.
The neighborhood Barista, Pune.
my bestesht friend's home,Pune.
The sexy flat, Chennai.
Factory guesthouse, some village.
the solitary beach, anywhere.
and almost just there...my boyfriend's home.
but most definitely, his arms ;)
***
From the umpteen number of times I've packed and moved, sometimes bundling up friendships and relationships and memories..mostly just clothes and junk and at othertimes, expectations and dreams and even hopes both bright and awry.... I have but one, nay two entries in my journal, both at different points of time, one when I left the City of my education, unfinished..full of hopes and friends whom I considered closer than family and another a year later, when I was leaving the city of my birth when all those previous opinions had been dashed..with a new quiet strength replacing it.. And this is what I'd written...
Interpretations of people and situations change, they bloody as well change for people do change, relationships change and even whole cities change.
Pune is the place I've been calling home now..My grandest love for a City where I continue to have the best memories and the worst screw-ups.. It's still home but what of the one I left behind 2 years ago..so desperately wanting to run away??
By now,as much as I had said that it was never a house or a building that makes a home, but the people in it; I've realized that it's not the people either.
Home is still wherever you go, wherever you choose to lay your head in peace, that place you go to at the end of a day - any day.
But what home really is lies in the sense of belonging and contentment one gets from being in any particular place. Therefore, home is not defined by the person or the place or the situations but the feeling. The feeling of belonging.
This special feeling is so important that it explains why some people still love any weird, hurtful place that brings so much pain, or has people that treat them more like furniture than a human being. It is that sense of belonging, a strong bond maybe even a feeling of kinship with that particular place, of being one with it not just because of growing up there at various times or happy memories but even because of going through painful experiences... It doesn't matter, what happened inside that place you call home, it will be home to you... and it will still feel like home every time you return. Especially the ones that always keep the door open to receive you back despite anything,nothing and everything.
My favorite Metallica song goes..
"Off the beaten path I reign
Rover wanderer
Nomad vagabond
Call me what you will
But Ill take my time anywhere
Im free to speak my mind anywhere
And Ill never mind anywhere
Anywhere I may roam
Where I lay my head is home"
Home is merely the feeling. And I'm so glad I have many such places.
***
my parent's home, city of my birth.
my maternal grandparent's home, city of my birth.
my paternal gramp's house and the temple, place of my childhood.
the 3 farms, here and there.
my apartment, Pune.
The neighborhood Barista, Pune.
my bestesht friend's home,Pune.
The sexy flat, Chennai.
Factory guesthouse, some village.
the solitary beach, anywhere.
and almost just there...my boyfriend's home.
but most definitely, his arms ;)
***
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
winner/loser
They spend all their time telling you that you're nothing, that you're a loser; so much that you go ahead and believe everything that they say you are... so bad that you expect yourself to fail, you expect yourself to screw up. Just like they told you, you would. If those meant to believe in you, the ones meant to support, hold you up and believe in you blindly and unconditionally are the ones who destroy you, then the only thing you can do is to forgive them, move on and look into yourself for the extraordinary faith that only you can have in yourself, for yourself. Never give them that authority to define who you are.
They are the losers. NOT YOU. Accepting what they said gives them way too much power over you - power that they don't deserve because no one can make you feel like shit about yourself. NO ONE HAS THAT POWER. That is true strength of character.
That is what makes you a better person, better than that guy who has to make someone else feel worse to feel good about himself. There should be no need to look down on anyone or judge them. Like the wise have said, if you so choose to judge others then judge them as you'd like yourself to be judged. Everyone to themselves, right or wrong, for we are no one to judge anyone except ourselves.
What makes one a great person is when there is no need for any righteous hypocritical bullshit from anyone. All you'd need is an unshakable faith in yourself and the strength to defend that faith no matter what, or who.. with head high and heart sure.
*Hmhmm. Where this post originated in that murky brain of mine, I don't know. Maybe it was just the movie I watched this afternoon. Maybe it just rang true, somewhere.. one of those lessons learnt the hard way, one that I need to keep reminding myself of*
They are the losers. NOT YOU. Accepting what they said gives them way too much power over you - power that they don't deserve because no one can make you feel like shit about yourself. NO ONE HAS THAT POWER. That is true strength of character.
That is what makes you a better person, better than that guy who has to make someone else feel worse to feel good about himself. There should be no need to look down on anyone or judge them. Like the wise have said, if you so choose to judge others then judge them as you'd like yourself to be judged. Everyone to themselves, right or wrong, for we are no one to judge anyone except ourselves.
What makes one a great person is when there is no need for any righteous hypocritical bullshit from anyone. All you'd need is an unshakable faith in yourself and the strength to defend that faith no matter what, or who.. with head high and heart sure.
*Hmhmm. Where this post originated in that murky brain of mine, I don't know. Maybe it was just the movie I watched this afternoon. Maybe it just rang true, somewhere.. one of those lessons learnt the hard way, one that I need to keep reminding myself of*
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Dreaming out aloud
I keep thinking about you, but you already know that. One of my
weaknesses – any real emotion, and all notions of secrecy disappear. I
literally see myself picking up the phone and dialing your number, I
can see your finger pressing the 'answer' button and I can hear myself
say, "Hey you !!!" and you for once saying..." heyyyy
maaaa or heyy baabe" subconsciously... It isn't in my control.
But I have been thinking about you. You know, I told you that I loved
you, so long ago... yeah, I did, apparently and I still do every night
whatever happens...Must seem like a long time ago when we both said
it,meant it with every bit of our being... lol... But I did say it. I
did mean it too, in some silly, infatuated, head-rush-inducing manner,
I love you. A year ago.
I still do.
Only it is a different love now; calmer, more implicit, less rushed,
stronger. But also, it is a love less inclined towards entertaining
hormonal urges or temper tantrums or frequent hanging-up
sequences...Yeah, I don't get pissed..sad and numbed over maybe. I
suppose that makes it completely useless to you. When I can call you
and crib about something that hurt me or.... try and ask you questions
so we can have one of those famous all night convos debating world
issues or the purpose of life as we know it... When you can call me
(theoretically) and talk about the same old same old with the same old
same old. When I can imagine doing exactly this, ten years from now,
when you and I will be famous and bitter (more than we are now, babe,
more). I think we'll both die of an overdose of cynicism. Won't that
be perfect? That didn't make sense. haha. We'd be happily married
officially I suppose... I hope so. A kid in tow.. lol.. our dreams?
Sometimes, I can't think of a place, a thing, a city, without thinking
of you. Of us on the sidewalk. Of us smoking cigarettes, looking cool
because we didn't want to look cool, of us laughing at morons, of us
drinking and singing and drinking and laughing and drinking and making
love and long drives going everywhere and no where and fumbling for money. It was a good time, wasn't it? I was happy. And sometimes, that sense of you holding me
with an arm over me engulfs me, and I almost stop doing whatever I'm
doing and I almost stop breathing.
Take me back to that one month when we couldn't wait for life to
begin? And when we could always turn to " I don't want to miss a
thing" for some therapy. Take me back. I don't think I grabbed enough
memories from then. And every day I forget something else, and I frown
in despair, trying to remember what it was that you had said that made
me giggle so. Jog my memory. Write it down. Whisper it into my
fingers. Something. But if you can't, I understand.
In the meantime, I'll keep calling hoping you'll say "Hey babe..I
missed you so much"
weaknesses – any real emotion, and all notions of secrecy disappear. I
literally see myself picking up the phone and dialing your number, I
can see your finger pressing the 'answer' button and I can hear myself
say, "Hey you !!!" and you for once saying..." heyyyy
maaaa or heyy baabe" subconsciously... It isn't in my control.
But I have been thinking about you. You know, I told you that I loved
you, so long ago... yeah, I did, apparently and I still do every night
whatever happens...Must seem like a long time ago when we both said
it,meant it with every bit of our being... lol... But I did say it. I
did mean it too, in some silly, infatuated, head-rush-inducing manner,
I love you. A year ago.
I still do.
Only it is a different love now; calmer, more implicit, less rushed,
stronger. But also, it is a love less inclined towards entertaining
hormonal urges or temper tantrums or frequent hanging-up
sequences...Yeah, I don't get pissed..sad and numbed over maybe. I
suppose that makes it completely useless to you. When I can call you
and crib about something that hurt me or.... try and ask you questions
so we can have one of those famous all night convos debating world
issues or the purpose of life as we know it... When you can call me
(theoretically) and talk about the same old same old with the same old
same old. When I can imagine doing exactly this, ten years from now,
when you and I will be famous and bitter (more than we are now, babe,
more). I think we'll both die of an overdose of cynicism. Won't that
be perfect? That didn't make sense. haha. We'd be happily married
officially I suppose... I hope so. A kid in tow.. lol.. our dreams?
Sometimes, I can't think of a place, a thing, a city, without thinking
of you. Of us on the sidewalk. Of us smoking cigarettes, looking cool
because we didn't want to look cool, of us laughing at morons, of us
drinking and singing and drinking and laughing and drinking and making
love and long drives going everywhere and no where and fumbling for money. It was a good time, wasn't it? I was happy. And sometimes, that sense of you holding me
with an arm over me engulfs me, and I almost stop doing whatever I'm
doing and I almost stop breathing.
Take me back to that one month when we couldn't wait for life to
begin? And when we could always turn to " I don't want to miss a
thing" for some therapy. Take me back. I don't think I grabbed enough
memories from then. And every day I forget something else, and I frown
in despair, trying to remember what it was that you had said that made
me giggle so. Jog my memory. Write it down. Whisper it into my
fingers. Something. But if you can't, I understand.
In the meantime, I'll keep calling hoping you'll say "Hey babe..I
missed you so much"
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Life/Death
He sat. He got up. He paced. He tried to drink the coffee offered to him, but his hands shook too much. Earlier that day, just as he'd sat down to work, thinking of his beautiful wife .. and... their..
*tring...................trinnnnngggg* He was shaken out of his reverie, one look at the number and his heart nearly stopped, he knew before they told him. " Sir, it's your wife" He ran out of his office, raced to the hospital and that's when the longest day of his life began.
He paced some more, shooting worried, questioning glances at the nurses hurrying past him. He almost considered breaking into the ICU just for one look.. for someone, anyone to tell him that she would be ok. Visions clouded his mind, of her smiling at him, of all the times they sat outside on the verandah, talking and making plans for their grand life which had yet begun.
Which should have begun by now, their first dream to come true.. but it had been 4 hours already. He imagined her screaming for him. Suddenly, he heard someone else whimpering. A little girl's voice, not yet a woman... he heard her scream and then quieten down. Sickened to the core, he went to the window for some fresh air.
He wondered to whom that little voice belonged to and for a silent minute he hoped she was well too. The doctor came out and told him that He was sorry it was taking so long but there had been some slight complications, nothing that could not be dealt with. He asked him to sit down and wait and with agitated furious eyes that questioned so much but got no answers he sat down, quietly.
Soon, he heard the squeak of a bed being pushed around and worriedly looked up but then he saw who that plaintive voice belonged to. She was merely a girl. And she looked deathly pale and half dead while they wheeled her into the small recovery room. She had no one waiting for her, no one standing by her, and his heart went out to her. He prayed fervently that his own wife would come out safe.
Another half-hour passed and his thoughts were sad and violent, he hated himself for bringing this upon her, but she had also wanted the same dream he'd wanted.. she had wanted and dreamt of it even more than he could possibly have, Oh how he wished they'd never dreamt of it together, how he wished that he could only hold her again, safe in his arms. To see her smile again...
He heard it. No.. he thought.. he'd probably imagined it in his own delirium. He looked up and saw that girl, looking slightly more alive.. smile at him, a small encouraging brave smile. He heard it again... his dream.. alive... now..
The doctor rushed out with a little pink bundle in his arms, he cried at the sight of her, so happy, so full of love for that tiny little pink bundle, with the tiny little arms and that little mop of curly brown hair and those beautiful little eyes blinking at the new light and life all around her. The doctor put her in his arms. The nurses all said that she looked like him, while he knew secretly that she looked every bit like his wife. He looked at her and looked at her and loved her so much.. with all his heart and he knew this was a love that would go on forever.
He turned to see the girl looking at him with glassy eyes. She gave him a weak smile and said "Your daughter.... she looks beautiful." He beamed at her and said "Yes, she does" and then looking at her lying so weak, he panicked.. Where was his wife? Where is she?? He asked the girl to hold the baby next to her, placed her carefully in between the wires and went to find the doctor.
The girl looked at the baby for a few seconds and pulled it close to her with tears in her eyes, she stroked the perfect pink lips, the perfect smooth skin, felt the perfect brown curls and the pain tugged at her heart like nothing ever else could. When the baby caught her finger and held it , she thought she would almost die of heartache.
More loud voices and a set of squeaky wheels following in, the man was sobbing, his wife.. his precious wife was so weak, nearly dying. They hooked her to a heart monitor and left the man pacing, staring at his wife with the eyes of an animal cornered in a cage.. a man cornered by fate. He looked over and saw the girl holding his daughter so close, with a powerful pain shielded with a love on her face .. a love only another mother could have for someone else's baby and then it hit him. He knew why she was there as his eyes traced the tubes from her hands leading up to transfusions of blood and glucose.
The machine which was to spell his wife's fate , beeped and blinked intermittently in the background, as he saw his beautiful wife lying so calm, so quiet, nearly dying yet glowing after giving birth and he saw the deathly-pale girl struggling with pain and love yet holding his baby close even though she'd willingly given hers up... he realized there was only so much of a space between life and death. And yes, they could both be in the same hospital room, both showing their faces in that mysterious balance called fate.
*tring...................trinnnnngggg* He was shaken out of his reverie, one look at the number and his heart nearly stopped, he knew before they told him. " Sir, it's your wife" He ran out of his office, raced to the hospital and that's when the longest day of his life began.
He paced some more, shooting worried, questioning glances at the nurses hurrying past him. He almost considered breaking into the ICU just for one look.. for someone, anyone to tell him that she would be ok. Visions clouded his mind, of her smiling at him, of all the times they sat outside on the verandah, talking and making plans for their grand life which had yet begun.
Which should have begun by now, their first dream to come true.. but it had been 4 hours already. He imagined her screaming for him. Suddenly, he heard someone else whimpering. A little girl's voice, not yet a woman... he heard her scream and then quieten down. Sickened to the core, he went to the window for some fresh air.
He wondered to whom that little voice belonged to and for a silent minute he hoped she was well too. The doctor came out and told him that He was sorry it was taking so long but there had been some slight complications, nothing that could not be dealt with. He asked him to sit down and wait and with agitated furious eyes that questioned so much but got no answers he sat down, quietly.
Soon, he heard the squeak of a bed being pushed around and worriedly looked up but then he saw who that plaintive voice belonged to. She was merely a girl. And she looked deathly pale and half dead while they wheeled her into the small recovery room. She had no one waiting for her, no one standing by her, and his heart went out to her. He prayed fervently that his own wife would come out safe.
Another half-hour passed and his thoughts were sad and violent, he hated himself for bringing this upon her, but she had also wanted the same dream he'd wanted.. she had wanted and dreamt of it even more than he could possibly have, Oh how he wished they'd never dreamt of it together, how he wished that he could only hold her again, safe in his arms. To see her smile again...
He heard it. No.. he thought.. he'd probably imagined it in his own delirium. He looked up and saw that girl, looking slightly more alive.. smile at him, a small encouraging brave smile. He heard it again... his dream.. alive... now..
The doctor rushed out with a little pink bundle in his arms, he cried at the sight of her, so happy, so full of love for that tiny little pink bundle, with the tiny little arms and that little mop of curly brown hair and those beautiful little eyes blinking at the new light and life all around her. The doctor put her in his arms. The nurses all said that she looked like him, while he knew secretly that she looked every bit like his wife. He looked at her and looked at her and loved her so much.. with all his heart and he knew this was a love that would go on forever.
He turned to see the girl looking at him with glassy eyes. She gave him a weak smile and said "Your daughter.... she looks beautiful." He beamed at her and said "Yes, she does" and then looking at her lying so weak, he panicked.. Where was his wife? Where is she?? He asked the girl to hold the baby next to her, placed her carefully in between the wires and went to find the doctor.
The girl looked at the baby for a few seconds and pulled it close to her with tears in her eyes, she stroked the perfect pink lips, the perfect smooth skin, felt the perfect brown curls and the pain tugged at her heart like nothing ever else could. When the baby caught her finger and held it , she thought she would almost die of heartache.
More loud voices and a set of squeaky wheels following in, the man was sobbing, his wife.. his precious wife was so weak, nearly dying. They hooked her to a heart monitor and left the man pacing, staring at his wife with the eyes of an animal cornered in a cage.. a man cornered by fate. He looked over and saw the girl holding his daughter so close, with a powerful pain shielded with a love on her face .. a love only another mother could have for someone else's baby and then it hit him. He knew why she was there as his eyes traced the tubes from her hands leading up to transfusions of blood and glucose.
The machine which was to spell his wife's fate , beeped and blinked intermittently in the background, as he saw his beautiful wife lying so calm, so quiet, nearly dying yet glowing after giving birth and he saw the deathly-pale girl struggling with pain and love yet holding his baby close even though she'd willingly given hers up... he realized there was only so much of a space between life and death. And yes, they could both be in the same hospital room, both showing their faces in that mysterious balance called fate.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Lost.little.girl.
There's a lot of darkness in my writing these days, things I see happening all around me.. in music, in books, in movies.. with my friends.. here's one more...
Lost and disillusioned..
but i still have you
Still on the search towards that peace
Will you set me free
from these vicious circles in that brilliant dark place
I call home to
All those memories and moments
That define me
That define the dreams
Now lost...
*my mind****
Will you shine for me??
Brighter than the darkness
That defines my very breath these days??
Will you walk beside me....??
As I take this desolate march
into the valley of my dying dreams....
Will you..
Won't you...
i love you.... <3
Lost and disillusioned..
but i still have you
Still on the search towards that peace
Will you set me free
from these vicious circles in that brilliant dark place
I call home to
All those memories and moments
That define me
That define the dreams
Now lost...
*my mind****
Will you shine for me??
Brighter than the darkness
That defines my very breath these days??
Will you walk beside me....??
As I take this desolate march
into the valley of my dying dreams....
Will you..
Won't you...
i love you.... <3
dadda~
Didn't you see death in my eyes
The shadows in my silence
The echoes of quiet despair in my words
I thought you were wise
Didn't you see it
You had me on your lap
Stories and jokes and songs..
Did my twinkling eyes and happy laughter blind you so??
Didn't you see it in me..?
When you built that dream-making machine
In that deserted place
The same one I have to tend on my own now..
With your hopes and my dreams sown in them..
Rotting oh so well...
Where's your lil' girl...??
Is she safe??
What's become an empty heart and a life of lies?
Do you have the answers?
That break her heart more than yours?
I'll still walk with you daddy...
by your side if you'll let me, still...
Your living dead daughter...
Hold my hand, Daddy...
Don't ever let go...
The shadows in my silence
The echoes of quiet despair in my words
I thought you were wise
Didn't you see it
You had me on your lap
Stories and jokes and songs..
Did my twinkling eyes and happy laughter blind you so??
Didn't you see it in me..?
When you built that dream-making machine
In that deserted place
The same one I have to tend on my own now..
With your hopes and my dreams sown in them..
Rotting oh so well...
Where's your lil' girl...??
Is she safe??
What's become an empty heart and a life of lies?
Do you have the answers?
That break her heart more than yours?
I'll still walk with you daddy...
by your side if you'll let me, still...
Your living dead daughter...
Hold my hand, Daddy...
Don't ever let go...
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