When yesterday starts to make sense today you realise that things went the right way.
It's amazing, how much your reality can change with time.

the female gaze

It struck me today, around 2 pm in the afternoon when I was crossing the bus stop near my house. There was a girl, and her piercing gaze drew my attention. Not just once or twice, but thrice in that short span of about eight seconds that it took for me to walk past her.

I've often felt the gaze of both men and women but never paid much attention to it. In my adult life I've noticed that its mostly the gaze of curiosity. Maybe because I have short hair, I dress a little differently and today I had really colourful socks on!

The letching gaze has always annoyed me but I'm almost always lost in a world of my own, especially when I'm alone, and so it doesn't bother me too much. Today, I managed to decipher a third kind of gaze and that is the one that I shall dedicate this blog entry to.

Ever wondered what the gaydar is all about? People from all sexual identities have wondered about this, not just gay people or not just straight people. It derives itself from the word Radar, which in the little information I remember from high school physics is the frequency that a bat can direct in the darkness, and if it comes back there's an object and if it doesn't there never was an object in the first place - and there's freedom, for the bat, to fly fly fly away. Anyhow, so Gaydar, in my opinion is just like that. But its not some ultra super sonic sound that you can throw - and if I say now that its the vibe I know I'm not helping, so it's all that is not communicated directly. A whole lot of it is body language. It's also what you don't say, or the things that you only hint at. So all these things form what you direct towards a person. Maybe you don't do it consciously, maybe it happens maybe its a part of your core human ness, and when you feel like its reciprocated (for anyone of any gender, directing it at any gender) - that's the gaydar!

The female gaze reminded me of this, because today the way that girl looked at me was not mere curiosity, and it was definitely not her letching at me.
So what was it?

Deviance

Does everything have to really be about movies and books and names of things? I mean, is that the only way we can interact and learn about each other - through their interests, that we are constatnly judging them by? It's like a standard has been set, and we base everything about them on the basis of that. I mean, I do it too, but in a different way. I don't expect everyone to have been a die hard Enid Blyton fan growing up, but if I find someone who is then that's a very pleasant surprise for me. I don't go about looking for it - except in fun - nor would I like someone lesser if they'd had and still have a completely different 'cultural' viewpoint from mine.

Maybe, then, this name business is just the beginning. Maybe it shows that the person is interested in you, and maybe its a good thing.

I should stop blaming my memory for not being able to explain who I am, more so I should stop thinking that people are expecting to know me through my memory. Just like it is for me, for everyone too it's not just what you say its a lot about what's around what you're saying, that matters.

Why does being smart have to do with how much information you can hold in your head? You can feel things or have opinions without having to store all the information too, you can still be smart even if you don't remember what you had for lunch last weekend or what the name of your favourite movie is!

P-remise

I think its the idea of rejection that is my biggest weakness. Maybe cause I've experienced it so intensely first handedly, or maybe I experienced it so intensely because that was the premise in my head, and the reason why things didn't 'work out', or go the way I wanted them to.

Which is why when I'ma in any situation even remotely similar, or any kind of situation that can make me feel upset, the premise resurfaces, and I feel the same feeling in different intensities.

Politicising my present

I think "ideal reality" is a paradox. What is the literary term for two sets of words that are paradoxes, when used together, i Forget. So much that does not stay, in the memory. It always boils down to feelings, and feelings chart our experience and our memories.

How, then, are we supposed to study this? And make it meaningful at the same time? I'm having the usual exTISSential crisis, I suppose. But I think its coming at the right time. I needed this politicisation of my thoughts. But I must remember to not give up on all the subjectivity and personal that is mine.

Holdie Locks

Cannot hold onto anything. I remind myself of that, and I feel a familiar sense of stability. The more I live, the more I feel like I have a grasp on my reality.  But ironically the grasp that I'm talking about is the acceptance that there can never be any grasp :P

I used to pretend like I was living in the moment. That was the entire concept of the pause button. But now I'm living life in tiny episodes. And the length of these episodes has not been defined by me. I cannot move the cursor to the bottom of the screen to see the time line. I realise that I was doing it wrong earlier.. it was about the point and just the point. When all the while it should have been about the movement - even when things felt stationery. 

[Validation]

It's been a while. I wonder why. Blogging represents the most self-involved internal process of mine that could ever exist. I think it also represents my wanting to communicate these thoughts to the world, right? The things I write in a diary are never read. But these are.. (probably) by strangers. There's so much pressure to be liked, to be accepted. And to be admired if you've managed to achieve those other objectives. Why? Why can't I just write, why can't I just feel, why can't I just be - without the incessant need for validation!

peAk

I think the worst part about growing up is taking responsibility for your actions. And this isn't limited to being able to cook and clean or being on time, even. It's about not having, in fact not wanting to blame anybody else or even the circumstances for mistakes that you've made. It's about accepting the flaws that are in you. You didn't actually end up going to a tier 1 college. You were never the top of your class. You never did actually excel at anything. You may have been average, perhaps slightly above average. 

Growing up is about accepting that there's a possibility that you've, in fact, already peaked.

Four years younger, never the wiser.

Four years hence, when I look back to today
Will I see a face just as immature and self conceited
As the one I did just now, when I
backtracked to another time
four years before now?

Let this be living proof
And let the judgements begin.

Post Thought- This may be a biased piece of writing as the pressure of proving that time is proportional to wisdom is weighing upon me.

The feline race vs. the canine race

So now I'm just going to rant out the conversation in my head. I've been harping on this theme for quite a few weeks now but that's only cause I think that there's actually a crazy amount of truth here.
Well, here's my confession

I feel like I'm a cross between a dog and a cat.


And, before we dive further into this statement let me bring the context into the picture..

I've been ​standing at the overly iconic 'crossroad​' of my life for about a year now, and I haven't ​really moved from here.
It's like I found a rabbit hole and had myself a little adventure, but now that it's time to stick my head back out and into the real world, it feels like no progress has been made in terms of the decision that has to be made - which road am I going to take? But instead of a tangled web of roads that can be taken at least now I'm able to draw a vertical clear line in the center of my figurative thinking paper and categorise the roads into two directions- the dog life and the cat life.
I've ALWAYS ALWAYS (I would stress on the always more if I could) thought that I was a dog person. I had never ever even imagined in the most anti-world scenario that I would even consider myself a cat person. And then. 2013 happened. And 2014. With reasons ranging from interacting with the feline race; interacting with ​cat people, falling for cat people, having interesting discussions with cat people (not necessarily in that order :) ) and doing a fair bit of secondary data research (and this research I speak of may very well have been limited to a couple of articles ;P) on personalities of cat people - being SUPER adventurous, having no rigid norms, NOT being driven to and by emotions - it was, it was, like a whole new world was being opened to me. The fact that I never ever even CONSIDERED the possibility of....say....having a kitten had somehow cordoned off so much world for me that it seemed like all the plans in my head, the equation of my life had been missing a variable all along.

So career wise, it seems like I could either go along the old comfortable dog(eaty) dog world and follow the path I would have always imagined myself taken.. or.. or.. take the 'less thought of path' (but just as trodden*) that excites me to the core.

But maybe I'm overthinking this. Maybe all roads lead the same way.

*Reference

"You are a dot. A tiny spot. Sometimes, you may be stretched into a line. But that is all" **

That is all that you are, in the universe. It's a good thing. Sometimes it's bad. Good because that's all that you mean - and there's no pressure. It would be terrible if you were more than just a dot, don't you think? Wouldn't there be too much pressure on your little life… hours too few and days too little to do all that you were bounded to, and bound to accomplish. It's better like this, don't you think.. you're not as full, not as meaningful. 

I used to think.. 'Life is short. Don't fight with people who mean something to you'. But you know what, I'm realising that people aren't all that important after all. You yourself aren't as important as you think you are in your tiny little head. If you are able to remove all subjectivity from your life and look at it as one objective little dot - you realise that what I'm saying is absolutely true.

**Read this recently in a book by Ravishanker Bal - called Dozakhnama.

Just is. And then some.

Another one, who tried to fight
the course of the stars:
with torchlight,
shining bright at the moon
trying to confuse the few
that still stood a chance
to make a change

You are who you are, the end of the day. And who you are is defined by where you come from and what got you there, or what was an obstacle in getting where you think you would have rather been.

Growing up in a small town, everything that I had ever known was around me in a five kilometer radius. At school, I was defined by my elder sibling. Outside of school, I was defined by who my father was, and occasionally by who my mother was. (very patriarchal indeed)

Three years ago, I traveled to an unknown city and settled there. I needed to learn responsibility and independence. Most of all, I needed to figure out whether I was any different without all those definitions that I thought had constrained me. I needed to know whether I'd still have a personality outside of the little sphere that was my comfort zone and if I did, whether that personality was any different from who I'd been.

You've been molded into a certain way becomes your idiosyncrasy and there's no denying that those constraints have had a major role in defining you. You evolve out of some, and out of some you don't. You are who you are, at the end of the day. You can't choose to be different. You can't pretend to be any different. You don't fight it. You don't succumb to it. It just is. And you just are.

I don't even know any more if all the communication that I indulge in is for socialisation or if its just a form of catharsis that seems to work for me.


I'm not talking about the bleak conversations you have in college before class, or the few forced minutes you spend with an old friend when you realise you have nothing left to call a friendship any more.
I'm not even talking about that abstract no-introduction discussion you had with the stranger on the bus the other day about misguided bus information, or when you told the grumpy man off, you know, the one who chases little puppies to the other side of the street?

What I am talking about is.. for example.. this. Or the last five emails that I've written.
What IS the point of that? If I retrace the last five years of my life, that's what I do. When I'm not in the misbelief that I'm actually living a life, what I'm doing is recording experiences. The music that I hear, the interesting facts that I read this morning, or the latest book or movie that's been driving me crazy. Facebook really very incredibly discovered (or created to market, you never know) was the power of 'sharing'. And that's what we love.
The accomplished or those thought of as accomplished like to be heard. But the rest of us, you know, the audience, well we would love to be heard, but not as much as we like to speak. Or share, rather. And listen, sometimes.
And when we're not under the delusion that we're actually leading a meaningful life we find our own way of catharsis.
This, for example, is mine.

The Pensieve to my Soul ....err, not really

I can perhaps call myself one of those fortunate (or unfortunate, maybe) souls who does have tangible memories. They exist in the journals I kept, in the diaries I never completed ..AND the least likely of them all.... in my Gmail inbox. I'm not too proud of the role and impact technology has had on me growing up. It's like embracing the fact that the Kindle can never replace a real book and that a TOI news app really does not feel right when you want to sip your morning coffee and read the paper (even if the purpose that morning really is only procrastination before starting your day)

Coming to the point of this blogged stream of consciousness... I stumbled upon something just a few minutes back. It's a little embarrassing but it reminds me of a time when I had the courage to do just about anything. It was perhaps the naivety in the thoughts of a thirteen year old, or I was just undaunted by the opinions of others due to lack of experience with those opinions, back then. Dated the 23rd of February 2006, I found lying peacefully in my inbox, an email that I had written to the then President of India, the honourable APJ Abdul Kalam. Quite an idol of mine then and even now, I wrote to him about my ambition and my dream, of becoming an astronaut. Now, now, don't groan I know it was quite a cliche ambition but I was dead serious while it lasted. And you never know, there is still time to somehow wind up in the field of astrophysics (not really, but we can dream can't we) and if all else fails, well, and if I strike gold or stumble upon the bucket under the rainbow I can probably buy my way up (literally)

the end of the half year that was two thousand and thirteen

If you thought you were lazy, you haven't met the flies buzzing about in my room. Their name is quite the paradox because they don't really do much flying. Maybe science offers an explanation, such as the altitude difference. Because the ones here, well, they're pretty much the dormant version of the species. Sure, their autonomic system is pretty dandy. They still manage to escape my clutches as I try to clasp them in my fist, pretending to myself like I'm a frog trying to tongue-trap my dinner. But their motor skills...hmm not so much. They wouldn't make any parent-fly proud. They wouldn't make good candidates for any red bull advertisement after downing ten cans of it, even...hypothetically, of course.

As for anybody who has Ophidiophobia, count yourself out. You wouldn't need the sight of an actual snake to pee your pants, the thing called a millipede (that I just managed to trick out of my room, phew!) is enough for that. The millipedes here help redefine the integer 1,000,000. Not only are they faster than the flies around here, they refuse to leave your bedroom and go around in circles till they make you dizzy.

Enough about the wildlife here. And it's not like I'm even living in a forest, really. This is pretty much the most advanced town in this district of Uttrakhand. Almost kills the environment-friendly scholar in me as I count the blessings urbanisation has brought to us city-dwellers. Not like I ever thought of myself as a city-dweller before. But  short trip has been enough to knock some practicality in my head. My head, which is the nest of many a moth that while traversing the distances decides that it is just the right moment to make that pit stop.

A little time and a little change and the wonders it can do

Recently, I took a trip to the land of my ancestors, to my roots. When I hear the name of this land, I think of about three to five things before I recall vaguely in my head that I myself hail from this land. I think - paan, ganga, bhojpuri, old people and aashrams. And I'm not that wrong, in fact I am quite accurate. It IS unfair to generalise or to associate a city with a few keywords but it is bound to happen. A few adjectives that I missed out however can fortunately be covered because of the experiences of the last 24 hours to be exact and I shall list them as follows: paan, potholes, politics, paan, and insomnia. The last one is very much subjective, but then again, so is this post.

It struck me, however, and not for the first time that I have been brought up very differently from anybody I know. It was like there was nothing to build on except the immediate and we had to start from scratch we actually did and we actually built something new. Foundations seem to be overrated but I guess they are in substance foundations that have just evolved and moulded and mulatto-ed and turned into something new. 
Part of this experience did involve holding on to something and to the place where I come from, and where I SHOULD belong, and all this while while I was waiting to experience it I did not realise that I had, already. That I didn't need to because roots and ancestors might be a cause for a meaning but at the end of the day, you may live where you live and that may be anywhere, but you are who you are and you ARE the people who made you who you are.

A Paraphrased Ode to what spread like Wildfire

When I first saw you, there was a sparkle in my eye. (In hindsight, it was probably the reflection of your beautiful gorilla glass)
You came to me at a time when I was young, inexperienced in the land of Smartphones, and I often felt that I did not deserve you (your pricetag sent jitters down my spine)
Yet you were a gift to me and I grew to forget your pricetag, and I began to associate you more with the everyday joys you gave me.
You kept me abreast with everything novel in the land of technological geekdom, and I felt like I was in reign, I felt like William the Conqueror.

But I soon realised that a twist in the plot was inevitable, there would be a dark side for us all to witness, sooner if not later.

There I was, in a new place with your smartness and quiet brilliance to guide me, and rather than admiring the beauty with my naked eye I chose to see it through your navigation system if I was travelling, or through your 5 megapixel camera if I was sightseeing.

Every realistic need of mine had been replaced by your technological insight and guidance, and without you I felt... almost handicapped. 
What was once a mere condition of symbiotic existence, developed into a fixation, and that made me realise, that it was time I made up my mind.

I had to stop this anthropomorphism before it got the better of me.

Perhaps that is why towards the latter half of your journey with me, the symbiotic relationship developed into a cruel dependance, that was fighting unbearably to coexist.

Yet I held onto you, for longer than I should have.. because you reminded me of the days when I did not know so much, when it was easier to just let go of inhibitions, of consequences, and of reality.

This morning, when I woke up, I had a Desire to move on. And I was perhaps not fully ready to, but I had to fastforward that part in order to be able to, to be able to house the DesireX.



Disclaimer: This is a work of expressionist fiction. Any resemblance to reality is not intended (on the other hand, it might even be completely intentional)

Sound tracks

It's funny. Where things started from is often the way the finish. There's always a similarity between the start line and the end, more so when there's absolutely no feeling of accomplishment.

You sit here, and you pack your things. The music calms your nerves, a little. The coffee jolts your brain, a little. The sound of your hollow breathing. periodically. voluntarily. The grimace that appears. Shaped like a half moon. That's absolutely involuntary. That's a sneer. It's all so funny the way I see it now. So funny.

time ++

the music changes

And you find some meaning. You find some purpose. When you're not looking for it, it finds its way to you. And you are reminded, once again, of why..why that breathing is involuntary, but only when you're not focusing on it. 

It's a sigh

You realise this only long after they've long left this world, that you didn't have enough of them. Even when you tell yourself that it was more than enough, it feels like you had one conversation too less, one experience together too little. It never seems like enough. And sometimes when it's the right time, you think of them.. and a few tears escape, they feel cold on your cheek.. and you wipe them away, along with the memories that you've been drowning yourself in. And all emotions, from the past, present and past of the future merge in one.

Bubble bubble toil and trouble

We are all miserable. Even when we are happy, we are subconsciously waiting for the next bout of misery to arrive. In fact, we thrive on misery. Misery is the Meaning of Life. Profound, isn't it? And when we are actually miserable according to the well-carved definition drafted by society, psychology and circumstances, then we try to be less miserable. We don't do what makes us happy, but we do what makes us less miserable with respect to the earlier state of miserable. And that's the whole circus and process. The bigger meaning of life. We are looking for easier ways to handle situations, we tell ourselves that we are 'trying to be happy' but all in all we are actually just trying to be less miserable. And that's when we start to make all the wrong decisions and choices in this state of horrid horrid misery and we choose an easier form of misery. It makes us feel better, for a while, but not for too long. This easier form of misery is like the wolf in sheep's clothing. But we don't see the wolf, till it is too late, till the truth strikes us in the chest through the forgotten armour. (we left the armour at home safe in it's closet cause we thought we'd bought a ticket on the happiness express) Then, when it is only just too late, through the thick, red, suffocating blood that slithers slyly from our throbbing skin we start to understand the meaning of misery, the meaning of LIFE. Cause you see, the meaning is what you tell yourself it is and it requires only so much time and experience to understand it.

Post-epiphany Criticism

It's just the point of view, and the perspective you hold. And that depends on - (a) your environment (b) how willing you are to actually be a part of your environment. If you completely cut yourself off and decide to remain inside your head and fester that thought process, even if wonderful things are trying to happen to you you will not let them. This reminds me of the whole 'the secret' by Rhonda Byrne concept (which I haven't read, by the way). But I'm not saying that positivity attracts positivity. That it sort of obviously already does, but how in the world is it possible to say - okay I'm going to be positive now? You can perhaps psychologically fool yourself into in after acquiring the skill with practice, but it doesn't really work that way. So how exactly do we transcend from the zone of not being susceptible to our environment to letting the positivity in?
I think we can do that through the process that critics like me call 'Forgetting' (sorry about the cynicism its all a result of the literary criticism theories we've been submerging ourselves in at college)

Today I had an elaborate discussion with a friend. She was criticising my behaviour and I was, with a lot of confidence and passion, contesting her own opinion about it. I concluded in quite a believable way (I was proud of myself) and actually proved my point very well. But at the end of the conversation, she was not convinced at all, really. She firmly stuck to her belief and her point of view, because that's exactly what it was, her point of view. How she felt because of me, because of things that I had done to her directly and indirectly and I realised that she was so effected by them subjectively that she could not possibly look at the situation objectively and out of the personal context that she was basing her criticism on. I realised then, that it did not matter what I said to her, she would not be convinced. She was not willing, and it was not that she was unwilling consciously, she was not even aware of the possibility that she could look at it objectively.
Now, I'm not saying that I know it all! Personally I'm in a situation where I'm so wrapped in myself and in my emotions and in the subjective context of my life that I cannot possibly try and understand it any other way, even if for my own good. It's just a very difficult human trait to acquire, perhaps even impossible, and I wish I knew how to do so. Guess I shall just have to revert back to the process that seems to work a little- 'forget' what I'm thinking about and keep my brain cells as active as possible in a non-destructive way.

The greatest epiphany of all times

JEALOUSY. Indeed the worst of emotions that could exist. It reduces you to this base, raw existence drawing out all the self-confidence, rationality and sense that you ever had. Changes your personality to that of a passive aggressive person with paranoia who is ever critical both intrinsically and extrinsically.
Jealousy. It blinds you. And it burns as it blinds you, consuming you, like a flame. Engulfing you in its wretched warmth. And when the flame dies down it leaves no ashes, just an eternity full of suffocating smoke and what's left of you.

The Intervention

I've been too self absorbed lately. I've over indulged in my emotions and lost out on what's around me and what's actually important. Meaninglessly I've spent hours in solitude or in absolute frustration and all that I've managed to accomplish is the creation of a whole lot of negativity, both inside me and around me. This is an intervention publicly on my blog to remind me and all of you out there who have called yourself 'lonely', 'not loved' or 'depressed' in the recent past.
Look outside yourself, no not at the sun shining or the birds chirping- all that IS natural and beautiful- but look at all those who you could help instead of just indulging in self pity because that, my friend, will not get you anywhere. Come out of it, or at least acknowledge the fact that you have to come out of it and you will see that the world is not such a bad place after all.

Shifting and siftings

It's a warm afternoon, and I'm covered with dust from all the packing. I'm sitting here in a corner examining the shape of my room currently. Watching it as it seems to get clearer, yet emptier. Reminds me of how I felt one day early in July when I was sitting on this very bed with this very blanket and wondering to myself where I was and what would happen to me next. I just had shifted to this room, and I felt like I had accomplished something, and though I was alone and I was scared I was also excited, with the prospect of this new life of mine. And today, I'm moving out. My time here is complete. This room has been lived in, and life on this street is now over. The stray dogs won't run to greet me any more, and I won't feel the feeling of independence that started from these very streets and these very localities as I learnt to live by myself and take care of my needs. I will never get that chance to grow again. I will never again get to transit from dependent to semi-independent. But I do have another positive feeling inside of me- that this experience too will be a new one, and I will learn again, and I will grow another way. This room has been mine and mine alone and now I will move to another room, and I wonder what turn life will take there?

The shining stars
were gaping holes in the sky
The mystic river
was a sign of the great flood
The happiness was
A sign of the imminent danger-
The inevitability.

The smile was
make believe
The only comfort was
the epiphany-
What does not exist t'moro
Cannot matter today

And what keeps me going 
Is the faith in that 'one day'

And light peers out from between
Filling the darkness with a gloom
Creeping into the emptiness
Perhaps a bit too soon

Illusion of a convex mirror

Illusion of a convex mirror. It stretches you out so you are the only thing that you can see. And you just stare at yourself all day, and all night long. Waiting for that little flicker of movement that you'll see when you move your arm wildly, but you notice nothing. You don't make that difference, you don't make any difference at all. Its all an illusion of the mind, that leads you to believe....that you matter.

Flying Times

The person who you are isn't the person who you used to be. Want to track your movement? Try GPS. Want to track your emotions? Write a diary entry. Thats just what I did... and then I thought about my blog. I felt this internal strife between the two - this electronic collection of the coagulation of thought in my head, and that - those words, often scratched out and torn, inked with colours different..and the killing difference, the handwriting... the tilt, the shape of each 'r'... different for every moment in my life. If my words didn't describe, the writing didn't decieve. Its like my eyes knew what my mind couldn't process - there was a mystery behind the words that i did write. Something I could recall, perhaps.

The Facades of the World

Some people are born talkers, some are born thinkers.. the others, whether fortunately or unfortunately, fall into neither of the two categories. Those kind of people just go along with the crowd much like a herd of sheep. There is a possibility that there might just be a wolf lurking about in sheep's clothing somewhere in the herd, but who can tell.
The people who are the talkers prefer to be seen and heard, but are not very good with expressing their feelings and emotions. The thinkers can be big talkers but they usually stay quiet a lot - lost in thought.


What I have just listed to you are different types of social behaviour that I have noticed, and classified into the two categories of talkers and thinkers. I claim to be a thinker who is a web-talker. If you meet me in person there is a good chance that you won't hear a single peek out of me. But here, well here the true demon in me is unleashed. THIS is my social facade. When I became well versed with social networking a few years back, I thought to myself, 'Oh yay! The biggest obstacle in my life - My social awkwardness - can now be overcome'
But tsk tsk tsk maybe it was my immature fourteen year old mind stretching things too far or maybe it was my lack of insight that shielded me at that point from the dark truth- you can never run away from society.
You cannot spend your life in a jungle dressed in leaves and surviving on roots. You cannot give up the worldly aspects of the world around you and go be a sage in the Great Himalayas. Well, not practically at least. So, back to the story, I realised only a few months (or years) later that I had become even more socially awkward. Now people had started to acknowledge the fact that I was two people- one was the Cyber Me who could talk, be witty and imaginative. The Other Me was this somewhat dumb shy person who would never give you a chance to talk to her. 


The point that I am trying to make is that you should not get so wrapped up in a world that is not tangible so that you forget what is around you. In this case, not just because of your dependency on these man-made means of communication or your dependency on electricity simply, but because the basis of social networking lies in the social networking that exists off the Internet or in the Social Networking that exists when you talk and mingle with people in person, and if you do not understand that you can only get that far with networking through any other means.

Myopic Vision

I've never been the kind of person to look too far ahead. I don't quite see the point. It's not like we can stop a catastrophe from occurring or change the world somehow like the superhero's in 'The Avenger' could.. I suppose we can prepare for it but if we don't know what to expect how can we prepare ourselves? And even when we claim to cry out, "Hey I'm going to prepare for my future"; because your future is so unforeseeable, what is it that you are supposed to prepare for exactly? Some people, at the raw age of 19 or 20 make plans for a great/somewhat great future and have a step one-step two process well set in their heads and maybe even on paper or in a journal somewhere. More so, we are even expected to be that way-"Where do you see yourself in 5 years?" I suppose that is just a way of judging a person's ambitions, confidence and belief in the credibility of his or her ambitions.. But at the same time we start to compare ourselves, at an early age, to the ambitions of others. And no two people are alike. Everybody is made up of the same matter (or cells or tissues or whatever you want to call it), and they may work in similar ways but there is a good chance that the person that you are comparing yourself to works in a very different way which is why he or she is or has reached a place so different from you, causing the need for a comparison in the first place. That person's achievement in relation to time might be magnanimous but maybe if you continue to believe in yourself, in another ten or twenty years your average achievement might be magnanimous in comparison to that person's.

My kind of different is your kind of indifferent

The world is a place. It is a space. Much like that space bar on your keyboard - very essential to your typing yet you cannot help but wish that there was an easier way to separate your words. But you are so used to this kind of typing that you do not question it...
As for now all that I am trying to talk about are things that do not matter as much as I pretend to myself (and to you) that they do. Because I am currently facing an avoidance of the issue that has blocked (and has had me blog-ged as well) from any positive emotion as such. Now that is my kind of indifferent. The pretense, the mind games. A complete ruthless denial. A never-not-seen-before refusal to succumb to the fact that I am merely a puppet. A muse. That all that I have or what I choose to believe that I have is but something that had been bestowed on me by a bigger something.. a choice that never even was mine to make.. an option, conclusively, that was a compulsion that was forced on me.

A simple statement which reflects my mood for the day: Somehow when I am sad, I find it very difficult to be happy.

There was a time in my life when the faint of a smile would bring great fear with it… I didn’t want to be too happy because I theoretically knew that an upward graph can only go one way once it reached its peak. But then a wonderful something happened to me. You can call it love (for life or for a person, I’d rather not say); immense faith, fortune or even misfortune. It all depends on how you look at it. Whether you look at it as a graph that curved its way upwards and resulted in a slant downwards, or as a curve that reached a high point no other curve had been or even dreamt of. “Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder” If you want to be cynical you can find a way to be so in the wealthiest and the prettiest of situations. And I am no cynic. A well-graded psychology report too told me very recently that I am highly unrealistic and optimistic. Quite a deadly combination, don’t you think. So I can live on in my world of denial for almost forever as I see the picture so much clearer and more beautiful than it actually is and while I am living on in that frame of mind in a strange sort of unreal denial, I will unrealistically not see where I am headed. I will bask in the glory of my unrealistic dreams and optimistically tread my way through the thorny bushes (which might even prick me, but I won’t feel the pain because in my head there ARE no thorns) and I will feel the pain only later when a lot has happened and I have been brought back into my size five shoes which have been lying peacefully on the ground the entire time.

How ideal is your idea, really, if you're idle about it.

Brilliant visions don't always make a brilliant future, but brilliant ideas definitely make brilliant innovations. But how innovative will you be if your idea remains an idea, and only just an idea?

We do not lack talent. What we do lack, is spirit.. If the incentive, the AWARD is not visible we do not have any reason to act upon our ideas. So is it all just about the victory, then? Does nobody, if even a little sadistically, want to taste defeat or failure? Are we so busy competing with the entire world, be it for marks, jobs or a 'brilliant future' that we have forgotten that beauty lies in originality and in a sense of accomplishment not just fiscal accomplishment or social, but one that enhances self-actualisation?

IDEAS are what keep us going. Us, as a society or an economy or a developmental force.. Ideas are what keep us alive and useful. We must not give in, to the dreary tick-tock of the clock, or the monotony of our lives and we must keep the fire of innovation alive!

A Child Called It By Dave Pelzer

A Child Called It By Dave Pelzer
Number of Pages: 195
Genre: Non Fiction

A victim of child abuse himself, Dave Pelzer has documented his childhood- and also one of the worst cases of child abuse in all of America- in this autobiographical book.

It describes Pelzer's life and what he endures when his alcoholic mother tortures him in numerous ways for no apparent reason at all. Starving him, stabbing him, making him eat his brother's diaper... these were all just like games that she used to like playing when she was 'bored'. We ourselves can empathise and feel only a bit of the pain that we see Dave endure every moment of every day. His mother refuses to wash his clothes and his starved and skinny look just adds to his misery each day in school when bullies jeer at him to humiliate him.

A little boy who has nobody to turn to, in his struggle to survive takes to stealing other children's lunch boxes. When his mother finds out, she makes him vomit the food out. Why? Because he does not deserve to even feed himself. He is referred to as an 'it', and does not deserve an identity of his own. He is made to stand for hours under running water and then is not even allowed to dry himself. All the chores in the house are done by Dave and in return all he gets is physical and emotional abuse. But this child still manages to survive. He is emotionally very strong and has great will power. He believes in God and prays to him every night. Using little tactics of his own- like counting numbers to make the time pass by quicker, he somehow manages to find a way out of the hell hole that is his home.

It is eye opening to read the events that take place in his life and opens us to a totally different world- this dark world that exists everywhere, but in our happy nonchalant life's we do not have the time to notice it around us.
This book leaves us empty and totally distraught with the way a child's life could have been. More so, it is incredible to know that the very child that was a victim has managed to survive and has even written an account of it. It fills us with hope that it is not necessary for children of abusers to become abusers themselves. An emotionally lacking environment for a child does not necessarily make the child grow up as an individual with 'emotional issues'.

"A Child Called It" is a book that needs to be finished the moment it is picked up, and influences the readers in such a way that they feel more appreciative of their own lives, and is a must read for all those who wish to succeed in seeing beyond the darkness of life and appreciating the little bit of light that can be called hope.

Life has its own rut. I could never really make decisions for myself, I would let life make it's decisions for me. As if I wasn't the one driving the car, the car was the one driving me. Though that's really not the way it is, when I'm actually driving. It's the most beautiful thing in the world. I could drive forever.. But life isn't much like driving. Except for the fact that you have a path.. It's always a different path, it's always a different driveway leading you home. There is no GPS to help you find your way, you do not even know your destination.. but we can't let that discourage us. We do always know the general direction in which we are headed, and as long as we keep moving in that direction, we know that we will get somewhere. The hard part is if we have enough incentive to keep moving.. But they do say, "when the going gets tough, the tough get going"

Blues.

After a point, a lot of things that originally mattered don't matter any more. A lot of people who mattered yesterday don't matter today.
Is that a good thing or bad?
Does it show that all the people who matter today will stop mattering (if that's a word?) some day?
So should you stop making them matter today?

It feels like a lot of things go wrong all the time. All we do is ignore them, or oversee them, pretend like its okay and try and be happy again.
Part of me is just waiting for the world to end in 2012 so that all this can just get over suddenly, painlessly and for everybody.
What a pessimistic attitude!

So, im a pessimist. but then, that's what I'm like. Now, I have to accept it (or overlook it, or ignore it, call it whatever you want to) and go on pretending like I'm happy.

...And then I say that I'm not fake, when all my positive emotions are too temporary to be real.

E X I L E

In exile. From the world and from all those who thought they knew me.

Chapter One

This is NOT a love story. It is the story if a simple girl trying to absorb herself in the world around her just to run away from the world inside her.

This is NOT a work of fiction, or a work of facts. It is just the simple, truthful story of a girl who tried very hard to impress the ones around her. She tried so hard that it was quite easy for her to fail. But the worst part was, that when she fell in the eyes of those who looked up to her and expected brilliance from her, most of all, she fell in her own eyes.

Staring into the mirror late into the night..the dark circles under her unrested eyes, the smeared acne all over her chin..her scraggy hair spread all over her forehead as a result of a failed hair makeover. But there was still a brightness in her pale yellow eyes. Not a spark of hope by any change, just a bit of moisture heavily resting on her iris. She felt its weight, just like she felt the weight of all the things heavily resting on her shoulders. The things that she was supposed to do, the milestones that she was supposed to reach...everything was heavy, except for her brown leather wallet.. THAT, was empty as a feather.

That does not change anything, She thought to herself. I have all that I every wanted..

These thoughts in her, she walked down the deserted corridor of her school locker room..till her eyes met the gaze, of somebody staring at her. Shuddering with fear, she started walking really fast in the opposite direction.

The stalker was at it again. Amy had never seen him before this month, but here he was again. He managed to catch her everyday outside school, follow her till she reached her apartment. He was there in the cafeteria as if waiting for her to come in and take her lunch tray from old Miss Sheila. He was there when she rushed into the practicals lab after school every day. A few times she tried to confront him, but she was too afraid. Not of HIM. He was a scraggy looking fellow who looked like a few harsh words could scare him into bursting into tears. But of his gaze. Nothing could frighten Amy more than a firm gaze. Unlifting, and unchanging. The same gaze that had changed so much about her. The same gaze that she had nightmares about, every Friday when she was all alone in her house..and the same gaze that she could almost see every time she closed her eyelids to blink.
But if I tell you more right now, I'll just be spoiling the story for you. And that's not what you would want. LIfe is all about anticipating the future and living the excitement every moment. Nobody can know where or how their life will end. Nobody can know the end of a story till they have read it. Especially not if it is a story as true as Amy's..

Baby its cold outside..

Sometimes people need help. They dont need a rehab, they dont need therapy centres. They just need help. They need a break, from the monotony of life and the futileness of relationships. They need a break from all things that make them happy and all things that make them sad. They need to spend some time in the place where they came from..the place where they had first discovered themselves. They need to rediscover themselves. Think of yourself like a scientist. life is all about reactions isnt it? Endothermic- u end up feeling sick inside. Exothermic- u end up releasing all ur collected energy. science student. but now I'm an arts student. Did i make the right choice? Let me not think too much about it. I always sucked at sciences. maybe cos I never tried hard enough. but then, I didn't have the will to try hard enough, so that must mean that that wasn't the right field for me. but im not tryin hard even now. maybe im just an inherantly distracted human being and I can never do the thing that I am supposed to do.

So here I am. trying to figure out who I am, what I want from life. Am I at the right place? Did I make the right choices? Did I hurt too many people on my way here? Was I hurt by too many people?

How does it matter, as long as I learn from my mistakes.. As an sms forward once said, "It's okay to cry. But once you're done crying, don't ever cry for the same reason again."

Salvation of the Mightbe.

I used to believe in God...till my fears got the better of me. What if my prayers are never answered..what if the bad feeling in my heart never goes away..what if something bad happens to someone I know and I cannot even help.
My Fears. As a little girl...as a daughter, as a sister, as a friend..as a fellow human being. My Fears. As a growing child..as an adolescent..as a pre-teen. My Fears, began to crush me. I began to let my thoughts and my impertinent fancies get the better of me. I took to strange OCD's and little mind games. My life, hardly two decades worth on this green planet, and that was all that it had come to.

I began to wonder...why do people even pray...why do they need a faith so powerful, why can't the power of their mind, of their logic and their thinking be enough for them to live on without an external faith? My confidence grew, so did my personality. My grades improved..i realised that my IQ was much above average, and, truthfully, I began to fail myself from the inside. I rose, and rose..built myself a foundation of success, built on the confidence on faith in myself-internal (or so I thought)...till the fateful day when I realised that I could not control the entire world around me. I could NOT control my future. No matter how hard I tried to choose a path distant and less travelled, I would reach the same point I would have reached had I followed ANY path. It did not matter. I did not matter anymore. I began to see the bigger picture. My role, the macrocosm of my microcosmic presence..
I began to believe, once again.
In the power of the almighty.

I had failed, once, twice...but I had learnt..
And I had learnt well.

Euphoriaaa..aa...aaaa

Naturally, we are all born different. If even iiiidentical twins have a 0.88 correlation, how can you possibly imagine having a correlation of 1 with aaanybody?
How can you ever expect to not fight with the ones you think you love. How can you ever imagine a world without difference, without wars, and with only peace!

Hunger thrills.

Little sad, life is. Little nice, life is.
Overall, is a little crazy.

Good evening.
You're here. There must be a reason?
Do you know the reason why you're here?
Do you WANNA know?

You don't wanna know. Okay.
Do you care?
Do I care if you care? No.
I don't.
Am I lying about that?
Probably.

So we were crossing the Sahara desert, last april. When a biiiig black bird came swoooping down and grabbed a bit of my thumb and flew away with it. Tasty, it must have been.
Cos....it came back for more.

Love the truth nature can help us find; Love the way two wrongs make a right.



She found herself walking on a dark road, a few weeks back, a few books in her hand.. it was late, late for her to be walking alone in this shady dusky lane.

Two strange men crossed her. They seemed bored and lazy. They yelled something, something sick. But she ignored them and kept walking.

Where was she going? Why was she here? Why didn't she tell us what was going on in her head. Somewhat like Edward* isn't able to read Bella's mind, the world wasn't able to understand her. But the difference was, this was no sloppy romantic fiction. This was the truth. And there wouldn't BE a made up happy ending in this story, would there? She slid into her car, turned the ignition, absent minded as she was, she pressed the accelerator hard hard onto the floor, and the car jerked forward and then stopped. The lurch forward brought her into her senses. She threw her keys on the passenger seat and lay her head gently on the steering wheel as a few tears rolled down her cheek...over her lips and onto her jeans. The same jeans she'd been wearing for a week. It was like she didn't quite care anymore. Her hair was a mess, her eyes red from all the crying, and she had bruises all over her soft skin.

The moon was peeking through a cloud or two, the "naughty moon" that had been following her since she was an infant. "Why will it go where I will?" her immature voice had asked many years back, and she was used to the same answer, "Its the naughty moon. It'll go wherever you will."

So she always had her moon to look upto.. early in the evenings or late in the nights; It would always be there, watching over her.

But one day, the moon just wasn't there. There was darkness in the sky. No man on the moon to spot on the burning surface, no shining light overhead......where had it disappeared?

Her little heart in her mouth, blood gushing and throbbing in her head and everywhere where she could feel it, she groped fearfully in the darkness, looking for her beloved naughty moon..would she be able to find it? Or had it left it, and broken its promise to her... but ah, there it was, right over her head, the bough of the chestnut tree had blocked it from her view, but for only a little while. It had come right back into her view. Even when it disappeared, her naughty moon would always reappear. :)


***

Are you watching over me as I type this? Are you there gently coaxing me when I go wrong, gently pushing me to take the right step in the right decision? I guess you are.. At least, I choose to believe that you are.. Imperfect relations, imperfect endings.... but when I look at these seventeen years gone by so far, I feel glad. Glad I had a father like you to talk about, glad I was born to a person like you, and even more glad that you live on in my sister and me..

May your extremely wonderful soul rest in peace..

Laberloo!!!

Butterfly fly away...

She glanced at the clock time and time again, and waited for the clock to strike four. When it finally did, there was no one to hear it.. Though the little bird right outside the rusty old window sill heard it, as it chirped and chirped to its little ones sitting idly in the cosy nest up in the banyan tree.

"Mother!" cried Sheila wildly, "I've torn it, I've torn it," she ran yelling into the kitchen right outside the front yard where the banyan tree stood spreading its boughs. She crunched a few brown leaves that dried out on the front yard under the hot July sun in this small town in Northern India.

The little bird that had heard the sound of the clock flapped its winds and took up a flight as if in a fit of madness. Sheila saw it as she looked over her shoulder. She crossed her eyes and stopped midway on the path between the house and the kitchen. Her mother stormed angrily into the yard, her hands all greased in what looked like the remains of a white frothy cake. "What you yelling for" she spat in broken English, Sheila just nodded her head as if in agreement and in total lost bewilderment muttered, "nothing"...


* * *

When we don't stop to think we don't heave a sigh and we don't let out the pain.. The tears are frozen in their own heat we don't hear our thoughts we don't even breathe..

'Cos Crazy Comes Naturally...

I am now going to say something totally against my principles... because my new principle is to NOT BE RIGID.... "Find a new love the moment you fall out of love with the previous one"... with certain conditions followed, of course. The longer you are alone, the crazier you get. At least that is what happens to me. I reach this point when I can leave everyone who loves me and go to the hills to live the life of a hermit... a hermit with a bottle of alcohol... haha =)

And I don't mean you go LOOK for someone, just be friendly and you'll soon find someone who fits most of your criteria. And do things you totally would not have expected yourself to be doing. Do the most unpredictable thing.... Shock your friends and yourself... :)

Be crazy and live each second of every minute of every hour of every day....

Security lies in your thinking...

Miss Understanding should get married...

Colour of Death

Death reminds me of black. But when I actually put my mind to thinking about it, only one colour can come to my mind..... WHITE.... Death is pure, death is magical, death is undefined, death is simple, death just exists, it's the presence of something very substantial. Black is evil black is a fear, black means the absence of light... totally not MY opinion on death.

I'm not scared of death. I want to face it I know it's not that bad. Maybe I AM scared because it is uncertain. I am, after all, human. Fears engulf me like the ocean engulfs the sea.

But black gives me sadistic vibrations, white gives me angelic vibrations. For something that needs to cross my part in this journey of mine, I'd rather make myself believe in something pure like white, like death...

Ohm's Law

The potential difference across a wire is directly proportional to the amount of current flowing through the wire as long as the temperature and pressure are kept constant.

Say point 'A' and point 'B' are connected by a wire 'W' of resistance 'R'. When R decreases the current 'I' through the wire increases. A time may come when the current causes an electrical fire and results in damage of the circuit.

Now let us assume that A~you and B~your good friend. As long as there is sufficient resistance between you two the amount of current in the wire connecting you two will not be enough to cause damage.

I wish there was a fuse I could fit in somewhere... Resistance hurts it makes life difficult. But it has to exist and we have to control it. Science cannot give us reasonable explanations for why things are the way they are. Biology, the brain structure, psychology. We follow them as blindly as people believed all 'knowledge' before renaissance. We need something more substantial we need an individual opinion that can cause a lot of controversies but can eventually result in answers to problems no one has found the solution of as yet...

E(x)isting?

God loves those who love themselves. I found this written by me in pencil on the keychain of the secret diary that I used to keep in 2003.. and it struck me, I was always this way, the senti-sloppy philosophical psycho that I am.. :P I just KNOW what to call it now!

Firstly, I used the word "God", I had a lot of faith in him. Not just blind faith. But now I call myself an agnostic, but I know that from inside I still believe in that something. My faith in my magic, the water the medicines the shoes, I use that to coat my faith in some superpower that is helping me exist.

Loooove

Loooove Me Tender, Love Me Sweet.. Never Let Me Go

Elvis Presley, the KING.. Ever noticed what the "never let me go" signifies? INSECURITY...

Stuck In Reverse

Till I find my faith I can never move ahead. I Am "Stuck In Reverse". As for my faith, water maybe. I like how it is so strong, harsh, yet peaceful. It's got two sides like I do. Like everyone does. What you see is so wrong. I see a clear blue ocean. What is it in reality? It is something everyone mistakes as pacific. "The calm before the storm" in a way. You never know what is underneath that surface. Till you go swimming underwater. And if the pressure gets too much, you die....

Maybe I can create a new faith and guide the world along with myself. Motivate them if I cannot motivate myself. And I shall gradually find myself motivated as well.

Cure Me, Or Endure Me....

If you can't cure something, you have to endure it don't you? Unless you give up on it completely. If it's not WORTH your time and your patience.

I find myself talking a lot about what is worth me and what is not worth me. I'm standardising myself in a way. Maybe standardising is the wrong word. I am putting myself in the category where others can compare me to different things. Not comparison with different people, but THINGS. They can prioritise their habits their schedules over me. Everyone does that all the time. Except for gems that I come across. *smiles*

I know I have terrible faults. I tend to go VERY WRONG. But I know best what I'm like. You HAVE the right to tell me where I'm wrong, but don't put it in such a way that I forget that that's just ONE part of the whole scene.

I feel bliss when I LIKE myself and I feel frustration when I don't like myself. That's just the person I am. What you think of me does bother me, but what I think of myself is what pinches me when the time really matters. No one can understand me perfectly but myself. So who is my best friend from the beginning to the end? Only ME. I'm the one who HAS to live with ME the whole day, every day, every year, from 1992 to... Right?

Anger. I feel it again. Because I am not being to get my point across clearly.

You CANNOT cure me. You CANNOT endure me.

Give Up.

Walk out that door and breathe the fresh air you have been longing for. "Some things can never improve!" Give up on me like I'm a bad joke and bid me goodbye..

Thanatophobia - Fear Of Death...

I'm terribly scared of losing the ones I love... I have always felt that I am able to feel some pain before it happens... I already know how I'll feel when I live away from home, I already knew how much I would miss my sister when she left for college... The same way I just know how torturous life will be without one of the people I love

It's very irrational. I have this weird disorder. I am sure all of us have our respective disorders. Mine has a lot to do with death.. If I don't do this, this person will die, If I do this, that will happen, like that.. If I don't exit the room before the fan totally stops rotating, I will lose this person. If I don't post this today, that person will die. (See, it just happened) It's been happening ever since I was in class 3 and I learnt about the death of my sister's friend's mother. That's when it hit me- oh my god, I might actually have to live without someone I love! The first thing I thought of- suicide. A mere 7-8 year old contemplating over suicide? And it just worsened with the years. Never will I suicide, I don't see how that's the solution to anything. My death is just going to hurt others around me. And I can't hurt the ones I love intentionally, can I...

And I don't care about my death. It is exciting, you know. I believe in life after death... specially cos when I was a toddler I used to narrate incidents from my past life to my parents.. There's no reason why I wouldn't believe in life after death

I'm still scared, here, as I lie in my bed typing this. The lights are out and music is blaring in my ears. I can just lie down and THINK... but it hurts too much. So i turn to writing my thoughts down, it always makes me feel better.. talking to someone isn't that beneficial, I don't get the response I want and that causes more frustration...

Mean Is Always Mean!

Why will a normal human being want to be mean? What more does a person want? A person wants love. And being mean does not make us get love, then what is our motive behind being mean? Once again, our motive behind being mean is love. For some, it is acceptance that matters. They can lie, deceive, cheat, to be accepted by the ones they love, and in return get their love. For others it is basically selfishness. The love for themselves and their own happiness lies well above their love for other's happiness. So then, where does being mean fit in?

Everyone makes mistakes... Is being mean one of them?

Maybe we mean to be mean. Everytime we are being mean, we do it intentionally. Maybe we don't call it being mean, maybe we know that we are being mean. What is it? Are we all angels disguised as flesh ? Or are we devils? Who coined 'angels' and 'devils' and WHY am I using these terms here? Because at one point a fleshed human made these terms and put them in the English Language. Were his intentions being MEAN? Or did he think he was doing something for the welfare of the society. Oh and people applauded him and he was given many awards. He was given respect in society. Something HE WANTED. He wanted the attention. Was he being MEAN?

Mean should be when we are hurting someone, right. Not just when we are helping ourself. So was he not being mean? But he was doing it for sole selfish reasons wasn't he. Selfish always means compromising on the benfit of others, so was he still not being mean?

Swing Wide, Tip To Either Side!

I'll be easy on myself... *sighs* Life is very hard anyway and I don't wanna add to all my stress. *takes a deep breath* So, you swing, it's okay. Nothing wrong. You tip, that too is okay. As long as you keep your balance. You should not fall. Because if you fall, well, there's a lot to deal with then. I'm not saying people will laugh at you, though they WILL laugh at you. You might get hurt. But most importantly, when you DO get up (see I'm assuming that you WILL get up, i'm an optimistic kid!) will you ever swing that wide again??? That one fall can make you change your perspective totally. Like when you fall in love for the first time.. Some people say that you're just immature. I'd like to say that you are simply ignorant. And ignorance IS bliss. You have no idea how much it'll hurt later and so you keeeep swinging wide... you tip reeeal bad. And you fall. (yes you always fall) And then, you get up. You DO get up. But do you ever swing that wide again?

Not just love, Don't you dare judge me. I am not going to be one of those sloppy heartbroken teens, cos i am NOT a heartbroken teen, my heart is quite okay, thank you very much for asking.

Not just love, everything that a human does, he loses faith in it soon enough. He stops trying! WHY????

As if life isn't faithless already.. why did you have to stop trying?

ICE FIRE MAGIC....

I like having this little stories to tell from my childhood. I feel quite boastful because I remember lots of small rather crummy incidents. Most are too personal and will not even be understood by someone who doesn't know me well.. But some are amazingly cool. Like the fact that I remember my past life experiences. (More on that later, hold your horses) and the incident when I ALMOST DIED.. okay so I usually tend to exaggerate, but I am NOT exaggerating here, sweetpea. So Fire Fire, Yeah. Chilly Winter Night In Dehradun (I'd like to call it Dehra, makes the feel quite right but I cannot because I told myself a few years back that I hate the name Dehra cos Ruskin Bond is overrated, I don't think he's that overrated but I just feel jealous of him I think, anyway, back to the point!) A Cold Winter Night In Doon. Wait, you know what. this blog is totally public and I don't write about things that are directly related to me, so sorry, you're never getting to hear this story!

So lets talk about the things that I like and still don't quite like. For Example CHAAT. If someone says, you like chaat? I make a face and I say NO. You wanna know why?? EVEN I wanna know why!!! I like chaat, okay. I like eating it. But I absolutely HAVE to claim that I DO NOT like chaat. I don't even eat it till someone stuffily puts it in front of me and tells me to. And then I do eat it (I don't like making scenes) and I secretly enjoy it. Yes I do! Somebody please try explaining that to me! It's not even like the times when people say they don't like something our of habit. I don't do things like that! I accept change, okay! No I do not have an emotional problem so please kindly get off my back!

Do You Believe In Magic?

Innocence of an Ignorant, Inexperienced mind... or... Reality of the Experienced Truth?

Take it in any way, But to everyone and even to you, it is the result that matters. Who cares about HOW u got there? Have your faith, have no faith at all... What matters is where you get in the very end! Whether you believe in magic or not, doesn't really matter! Then what do we have to lose?

Believe in Magic.....

Give it a try!

Little Boy: Magic, please give me a bicycle
--WOOSH, Genie Appears, along with a BSA-Mach II--

Naa. That's not what I'm saying...

Believe in yourself first...

and when it gets too much to handle, don't give up. At least keep your faith in it. And if your wish falls in the category of RIGHT in this world, let's see how it is not granted............. EVENTUALLY...........






:)

The Past Doesnt Last!

Looking back at what i wrote in 2007, i fine my writings a bit kiddish. And i remember writing them as if it was just a week back. And i remember feeling totally mature! Ha! So i guess time DOES change everyone, no matter how hard they try to deny it.

It takes TIME to get to know the real you. And every time you tell urself, now i know who i am, something comes up to upset the whole thing and u reach where ud started.

Sometimes u get strange dreams. I had a dream that i was wearing a skirt and i was on a Monkey Bar. I remember feeling embarrassed about that. I can feel what i felt then, even thought that was a dream and it really didnt happen. It was an illusion that probably left an impression on me as strongly as a fact would have.

The Past few years iv been on my way, shaping my personality with all sorts of strange and unique habits. And even now i know, that im gonna change. Im not gonna remain the same for long.

The Past Doesnt ever Last, you gotta accept that!

Positively Negitive or Negitively Positive?

Pessimism, I guarantee you, will be the reason for your downfall. I am no soothsayer, but i know this much.

Optimism often leads to Over-Confidence, which leads, once again becomes the reason for your downfall.

Hence we have to take care to keep our Optimism alive along with our Pessimism but keep them both well within their margins!

Examinashuns!

that hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach... that weird sensation running through your fingers... the breathlessness... yeah... these are the real feelings of "Examinations" and mind you, they are definitely not good feelings... as a matter of fact, if we get these feelings too frequently, it can be quite dangerous for our little, underdeveloped minds.. they can actually be bad for our health... and our parents would not like us unhealthy, now, would they? ... and there is just one solution to our health.. so that we can remain healthy and cheerful.. wouldn't it benefit the whole world if we, tomorrow's people are always joyful? .. and that can only be achieved if

.

.

.

.

if

.

.

.

.

there are no examinations!

C'mon, guys, i know you're with me! ... but i DO have examinations... and i HAVE to study... aaaaaaaah... i wish my theory could actually win over the "adults!"

dream on, tanya!

HUMANITY

Humanity aint that bad.. I mean.. We so called "good" people consider strangers and others as "bad" and the world as the "big, bad place" ... maybe im immature, but i dont think so.. more than 70% of the population in the world is actually good, (if not more) and the little population (30%, maybe lesser) is the reason why we take a generalised view and consider everyone as "bad."

I have personally seen so many people in my short life who are great human beings, whether i personally know them or not... maybe not all strangers will guide you if you ask them for directions, a few may even give you the wrong directions... but that does not mean that every stranger will give you wrong directions... there are so many people out there in the world, waiting to give you the correct directions, but somehow, you approach the stranger who gets tempted into misleading you..

As for trust, that is something that is portrayed very well in ruskin bond's short story, titled "The Thief"
It is about a young, 15 year old thief who starts working for this sweet, gullible man called Arun.... Arun is a person who trusts blindly.. so Arun and Deepak (the thief) become good friends, and Arun teaches deepak things like cooking, writing, reading (a little bit of the last two) and Deepak kindda forgets to exploit him... however, one day when Arun gets his salary, he tucks the money under his matteress, Deepak gets this strong urge to steal, and he takes the money out, and plans to take the next train and leave... so he leaves.. he is just in time for the train, but something, something stops him... that something, my dear friends, is trust...

Hallo People...

Im just tryin to figure out this blog thing so that i can add it to my orkut profile... so if u ARE vela enough to read this lemme remind u, this is my blog, u wont get any useful thing outta this... fine, if u are STILL reading this, lemme tell u my favourite quote... not a quote, a saying.. what ever!!
"I thought a thought. But the thought i though was not the thought i thought i though. if the thought i thought i thought, had been the thought i thought, i wouldn't have thought so much...
TA-DAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!