Q&A.

Today I have no specific agenda, nor propoganda...
I am just bored..as I have reached a stalemate..I am just not able to resolve the conflicts in my head.
What do I want to do in life ? Make a change. Be an example. Be happy. Enjoy what i do.
Why does it bother me to no end, when I come across people doing all sorts of things?
-Because i didn't think about it first.
Why cant i think about things ? - I rule them out even before giving it a fair shot.
What is it like to start afresh? - To not have any scars, to believe and accept again.
What is an idea? - its just a passing thought, its a thought that comes to you when you start to think. When you start to observe.
What can you observe? - Any thing. The way something is placed over something. Why is one thing above the other. There are a million things to observe. There will be a multitude of ideas from each observation. Its called perspective.

How do i give value to my idea? - You give value to them, when you think about them the second time. When you are excited about them. When you can give them a purpose.

When will I strike gold? I am so impatient. I cant wait any longer!
-That's when you need faith. Faith and patience. Time will heal. And you know if you give it a chance, it will do the job beautifully. Give time a little longer, to bring what is coming your way. All you need to do is wish for it.

Good night.

Silent interrogation. Flashback. Third degree torture.

Water splashed on to my face. Ice cold water. A lump formed in my throat. My feet went cold. There I was pinned down; waiting to be consumed in the wrath I had willingly walked into. The sound of footsteps stopped.

My feet pushed against the rods under it, clutching it frantically to numb the pain…but to no avail. Hands trying to cover my face from the fury. Every hair parallel to every other and vertical.
Eyes smarting with pain, I try to distract myself. This can’t go on forever, it will pass…
Think of your happiest moment…I try to think of my little niece, the innocent and cherubic angel I loved so dearly, whom I would have gotten to hold and play with, had I just used my sense of judgement …but in the next second the electric neural pulses of dismemberment brought me back to reality…

The Torturer drops the device; I inhale hard and revel in those moments of glory. The pain is passé as long as it was over.
Device retrieved. Pressed against me skin, I grit my teeth and flail out my palms. Open. Close. Open. Close. A fish hooked to the bait. Grasping for life.

I am moving my legs, flapping them wildly. Open. Close. Open. Close. A duck trying to swim after getting trapped in an oil slick.

Never again will I repeat this. Never will I even think about it. Never will I give in to that temptation, hoping that it would in some way superficially better my life.

That will be 15 Rs Ma’am. I throw it at her and rise from the chair. I am never doing my eyebrows again!

And the hair grows back. And the cycle continues…only to be very sporadic owing to the writer’s morbid fear of the device: a reel of thread.

a second too soon, a lifetime too late...

a second too soon, a lifetime too late...

is how the story goes and how events unfold

what i did when i did not know

what I did not know when I did what I did

is what will make this circle a circle and the full stop a black hole

If I wasnt what I was, if I could just be what I am

if I could speak my mind without being afraid

of losing someone for whom I truly cared (.. still do)

I would have spoken sooner ,I would have made it better

instead I waited till later and walked away..and thought time would let things fade

on the other side of this one tree hill lay an unaware tortured soul

he watched his love walk away and stood alienated in the crowd

while she thought it would be a new beginning, it ended everything he had built

he dug in deep, he spurted out blood while she convulsed with guilt

and thus the story goes on and on...she cant seem to forget

he has lost the memories of his life, of himself and doesnt want more regret

he walks away from all of it, she walks towards it , runs towards it until...

it explodes and erupts again, all that lies buried under the one tree hill

my life as a workaholic

Balance and me dont go together. Clumsy as a dodo...an ace when it comes to indulgence, I can delve deep into something that attracts or fascinates only to bommerang back faster. I need some balance. both of them.

My current employed status makes it no easier. I have become such a workaholic without wanting to that my bed is the only place apart from the toilet seat cover that is warmed by me. Call it recession but the average penny per day I make is equal to the average minutes spent per day. No more gym after work or guitar lessons. It has come down to sitting on the hot bed again and trying my keys at blogging. What has the world come to?

One month into my employee life and I was looking up university of barcelona, instituto hispania and everything else (inspired by penelope's hot spanish in vicky cristina barcelona) that would help me get out of the rut I had gotten into.

I am not complaining. I just am failing to see the point of working as days go by. You slog more, you learn more, you learn more, you know more, you know more, you are wanted more, you are wanted more, you have got to know more so you slog more...and if you are single and unmarried like me..you never go home to warm your lonely...or only bed !

I wish i was Paris Hilton..no, I wish I was her wealth manager. Considering her blonde cells, I would be instantly hired and then I'd do a Russel imitation of chinese( Beverly hills store - click click click and email to chink distributor),import Chinky Guccis and Armanis and coach to replenish her weekly or daily wardrobe. The rest would be invested in, naaah...not the stock market ( you seriously think so? Recession has made me wary enough), but in reality tv shows starring Paris hilton herself! Considering how indian reality tv honchos just warm their respective office seats, I'd sell my show rights to them on one condition. That Paris will be a part of the show. So there! I'll shuttle Paris around, while I ferry around the funds. Sounds like a plan!

But here i am, back at ten thirty pm..still staring at the screen, after 14 hours of it staring at my face. Neglecting the warning signs of spondilytis and wishing how if only some sort of reaction would take place between my saliva and the bedsheet dye, to produce....

Yawn.

Take 2

This is my second attempt at blogging and as before i find myself at my wits end staring at this white empty space. I am glad there is no timer timing my progress.

The reason I finally decided to attempt to overcome a very long drawn writers bloc is that off late I find myself flooded with questions to which i have no answers. Questions about why things cant be simpler, neater or atleast more humane. Why the human race decides to put on the cloak of indifference and tackle issues only when it is staring at them point blank?

Where are we headed ?

In some respects it is better to go backwards, by stopping the guzzling of fuels at this astronomical rate and preserve the planet...go back so that you can bring back to life the umpteen species that have disappeared from the face of this earth...but thats not going to happen is it?

We are never going to check our comforts for the life of something smaller...so lets go forward instead, lets strive and put our minds together to come up with innovative ways to save energy or create energy...lets build huge damns to harness a huge chunk of power even if that means dislocating people and ruining the wilderness...

In other aspects its a shame we are pressing the rewind button to our choice of time line, rewind to the era of Manu, the wisest male chauvinist pig, there ever was. Wisest because he knew he had'nt the courage to execute but just advocate, so he used the tool that every other religious fanatic uses. The tool that prods the insecurity of man and empowers him by bestowing upon him the right to control. His destiny. His life. and the lives of those who dont share the same views, the same drives as well as the same testosterone levels.

We forget the times when sexes lived in peace, oblivious to the change in their right to freedom due to their hidden genitals. So now we want to go back to the time when women in veils and in walls, serve steaming hot chapattis ,breast feed their babies they had no control over and wait with oil to massage the feet of their master.

By the way, the word husband is derived from husbandry and hence nothing more needs to be said about the roots of male chauvinism in everything, right from language to religion.

Anyway that was a vehement digression but yes, this is a scrap board really where I can shake off my thoughts, ponder over it and organize them atleast for the sake of mental clarity and an attempt at peace.

Later