Metal

A thick city, a thick night

Thick with concrete and people

Lights everywhere

Shining bright like day

And suddenly, the lights go

No shadows to be seen

In the darkness, there is the park

Thick with bushes

Abandoned

Forgotten

There in the darkness it stands

Now gloomy at last

Concrete overlooking it

But nothing touches

Nothing penetrates it

Though everything sees

A growl in the headphones

Some death metal on the go

Descent and Blackwaterpark

In the park

A shadow in the dark greens

Hoping no one sees

Hoping black forever

And death metal

Head banging and writhing from within

Stirring and shaking all around

Thorns tearing him apart

Nothing stopping

Those rugged brown shoes and khakis

That black tee is merging with everything

Shouting

‘I try to save thee

Instead I pillage to condemn thee’

Not knowing what he is saving from

Saving himself yet

No one hears him

He is the darkness now

Blacks and whites don't exist

There are greys
Millions of them
There are shades
Of blue and green
Blurred and vague
Obscure and always conflicting

But here we are
In this illusion of certainty
And control

People want their blacks
Shown apart from the greys of sadness
And then there is white
Different from the million shades of morning light

We want explanations for art
In easy to consume packages

All the songs should mean something
And then all are not welcome

All the little beautiful things
That make this existence worthwhile
Need to have labels assigned
To be worthy of time and efforts

Individuals can live their lives
As long as they fall in lines
Neatly with the code of morality
With the standards of the acceptable

As long as people are sorry
And regret every digression
Into the lists of the unacceptable,
People can be free

We want all of our memories
And what they make us,
Analyzed, catetorized and arranged into stacks

Every decision and where it comes from
Justified and reasoned well

Sunrise and sunset
Reasoned away

Mistakes, blunders,
And all sorts of fuck ups
Owned up and corrected,
Excused and punished for

Relationships
Forgotten or remembered,
Never both

We want feelings and intuitions
Put into words,
Organized and summarized

Love and indifference
Formatted with bullets

Just so that
There is no scope for humanity

Just so that we can live peacefully
In our tiny little shells

Safe distance from confusion and conflict
Of confrontation with the nameless and shapeless

We live in a world of greys
But only see black and white

A new breeze everyday

Ah, cool breeze
I've been waiting for you

I've had my ups and downs
Its been a long day

I've lighted a cigarette waiting for you
Didn't really work

I sat here
A concrete terrace, in a concrete jungle

I've been looking at the cloudy skies
And feared a drizzle before you came along

I didn't really know I was waiting for you
Until you came unannounced

Now that you are here
Now I know

But you are a passer-by
A welcome guest on a short stay

For I know I have to leave you behind
I am a passer-by here too

For I know you have places to visit
And oceans to cross

For I know tomorrow is a different night
And I will await a different breeze

For tomorrow will be a different night indeed
And tomorrow will see a different me welcoming a different you

My thoughts with Opeth's Sorceress

1. Persephone
Is that an instrumental to start with. Sounds clean

2. Sorceress
Doesn't sound.. sophisticated.. for Opeth stereotypes. Different. Interesting concept.
Did I get a message on the phone.. is it charged up.. the song isn't that deep

3. Wilde Flowers
Nothing important on the phone, as usual. Need to look at this thing lesser. Don't need a lot of this shit anyways..
Wait, this sounds.. richer, cool lyrics - Heads on funeral pyres.. Hmm..
That Opeth feel at last

4. Will O The Wisp
OMG, I came here with expectations and they are starting to be fulfilled. Shouldn't start with expectations.
But what soft sound to start with..
This is only getting better..
These lyrics are to die for..
Reminds me of my favorite ones...
Beautiful
And the guitar goes on through out the song. Consistency (probably what I was looking for)
I need to save this on phone..

5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

Cigarette after the joint - Short fiction

A man was sitting at a table in a lawn. His name was Attila, John. His fingers held a cigarette, which he lighted right after he finished the joint. He was brooding over his life in the past, and how he was now - contemplating his retirement from his city and old life, job and wife. He had been sitting at this table at half past four in the evening, every day the last year and a half.

Around when john had smoked half his cigarette,Prof. Krishnamurthy Naik came down the two step entrance into the lawn and asked John if he could borrow the lighter on the table. In reality, Krishnamurthy just held the lighter in his hand and raised it, and half glanced towards the stranger while saying, “Can I?”

It was sudden for John because he was too relaxed, but he was not surprised enough to react in haste. He was used to the valleys and mountains through which his mind took him when he was off guard. He said “Sure”

This sounded more like ‘sha..’ to Krishnamurthy’s ears. But then, Krishnamurthy knew that he would have sounded the same given the breeze from the sea, the calmness of the place and his own mind.

It had been three years since Krishnamurthy was disillusioned about his career as a social activist. Some day at age forty five, it dawned upon him that the most important thing was for him to be with himself all the time.The world was becoming too political for him, hence petty. He drifted here and there and ended up as a small time legal writer in this beach village in the south-west coast of India, where his engagement to the real world was limited to his dealings with his employers and colleagues. It was a hour job which paid well, yet was mechanical for him due to superior experiences. He was free to walk his walks the rest of the time.

He took the lighter and took a couple of steps towards the edge of the lawn where standing underneath the coconut trees, surrounded by small plants and grass, he could feel the vastness of  sea, while taking in the breeze coming from over it. He lighted a clove flavoured Marthin, his favorite, not usually available near the beach. He took his time to leave the lawn after finishing the cigarette - it was a magnetic place.

Krishnamurthy came back the next day around the same time and took the same lighter from the stranger sitting at the table. John wondered if they could be still be called strangers.

This went on, more or less everyday, for several years. No one spoke after the first day.

This lawn was attached to a sea facing lodge. Winds blew from under its nose, for the lodge was located on a ridge on a small mountain. It was a tourist kind of a place - but the tourists tended to turn settlers while the residents migrated away. It was the summer, and windy. Or so it seemed because of the spaciousness of the beach and waters ahead. Or maybe because of the brightness of the sun facing the lawn. Yet it wasn’t hot because of the cool breeze. Krishnamurthy spent hours walking the pavements that were laced between these small single-storey buildings and the mountain. The pavements had a view of the ocean from across the lawns. The lawns themselves were small, but looked luxurious due to the scenic background.

One day after these several years where nothing had changed about the place or the people, a third person entered the lawn when John and Krishnamurthy had been smoking their cigarettes as usual, quietly as usual. He wanted to sell some tea, so the kid shouted “Chai” in his native accent. Krishnamurthy said “two cups" and so started a conversation.

A simple day

A simple day

A pretty normal day, in fact
You grab an invitation with both hands
Like you’ve taught yourself you have to
A simple way to live
Take what you get and be willing to lose

You hitchhike a ride, and then ride some more
You reach somewhere, a helping hand or two
Meet a few good people, just see a few

You get into the wild, breathe some air
Breathe in and then some out
Make sure you count them loud

You think through this and that
Some good, some utterly silly
Through this and that
You end up somewhat different

You think you do
But how much of the change did you see through
But how same you are all through
Questions to ponder, lessons to learn

Right here, right now was never so right
A simple day, a few simple people and some night

One more

One more heartbreak
In a life full of heartbrakes

One more failure
In a lifetime of them

How much can it hurt to endure some pain
Where everything seems to feel numb

So many heartaches, day in day out
How many more can I take

Some more laughs, here and there
Some of them are very well
Some more mirrors, looking at me
Endure some, endure well

One more heartache
I am loving them
Give me more
I'll make sure nothing breaks

She called today

She called today and that made me happy.

She doesn't call often these days. Kind of a thing you try not to hope for and fail. Miserably.

I don't call her much these days. She seems upset when I do.

Which is ok. Its not hard to imagine the pain she goes through hearing my voice. But I don't really know why it is so.

Maybe it is the memories. Or maybe just that I find ways to fuck up simple conversations. I don't know.

Whatever the reason, it isn't easy for her to hear my voice these days.

Which makes her call all the more important. It tells me that she is ok. Maybe.

But surely, she has gathered enough strength to bear with me for a minute, or sometimes ten.

This means she has that strength, which I think she has only when the spirits are high. Or as high as possible, given everything.

But it tells me that she is ok. Probably. That makes me happy.

Not to mention what it means for me to hear her voice. That is not important.

It doesn't matter why she bothers calling me though, as long as she does. Maybe she just wants to see if I am doing alright. Definitely nothing more.

Maybe there is more. Hope is such a bitch.

Shaped by Others' Thoughts

Or is it so?

Well, what do I know
But, but, when:

You understand an idea
Walk with it
Live with it
Meditate on it
Ultimately agree with it (or maybe fall in love with it at the first sight)

When you hope that it is applied in the real world
When you know that acting on that idea is just the way to be

When you comprehend an idea so well that it is internal to you - it is no more just someone else's thought. If so, is the idea not your own, irrespective of where it is coming from? Are property rights for real?

---------

This goes in the context of being influenced by great works of art - be it music, literature, cinema or other forms of expression.

Picture : Band logo of Opeth

Good People are Everywhere

Maybe not everywhere
Well, they are somewhere
You need to be attract them using hunting traps sometimes
But they are in abundance, don't worry

They are standing around, waiting for people to ask for help

Many of them are lazy, you need to force the help out of them

They are reading books, and yes you are welcome to hear everything about it

They listen to music, some of it is actually good

They are everywhere, where there are arts involved

They are in over-supply where there is a joint going round

Good people smile just for the heck of it

They don't give fucks about you, in a good way, of course

They have learnt the hard way -  advice is only good when solicited

And to their pleasant surprise, most people are good to them too

Some people are bad to them, that happens from time to time.
But yeah, as if they give fucks..

Notes on Meditation

It vibrates, the shirt. Not often does it do this. The chest feels like it is pounding. Yet you are still. The mind is dizzy, but with clarity. Clarity which comes when you are completely present. The breathing is natural. The eyes are closed. And you can't see. Not even with the eyes closed.

The heart beats. And you need to be completely still to feel it. You need a calmness which is hard to achieve, which is priceless. You need to breathe and let the breathing take you in. Somehow.

And then you can feel it. The heart. It is almost violent. But it is consistent. And it has a rhythm. You shouldn't hear it. You have to feel it. In your head. Physically.

Meditation can do that. Sometimes. If you are lucky.

A beach without you

Having a hand to hold.. That is something
There was no shortage of details in those rooms

The way the tables and chairs were.. Straight
The way the sun dimmed and burnt out..

The way the smoke shined against the black

The way the flowers were painted on the grass
The way she looked at them with a gaping mouth..
A happy mouth..

The way the walls were grey when the lights were out
Not a grey of this world..
The way bodies shine in pitch dark

How the wine was red and dazy
It was all sweaty and sweet
The way the wind blew on our faces
It was the last time I saw my fate

The way the beach looks without you
So many details on the beach

Credibility, lost

My luck ran out I guess
Every once in a while, a refill is required
Sometimes, nothing can fill this bucket of emptiness

I've done too many things wrong this time
This bucket of credibility seems short of quantity now
I always thought I can make someone laugh and now, there is just silliness

The past seems like a mess in my head
I try to sum up the numbers and square the circles
Nothing seems to make much sense
But what I do remember I can say for sure
That that was not an accident, it was me and it was you
It was always me and you that sorted things out
Mopped the floor once in a while and started a new mess
Because we knew that home was worth the effort
And running away is not quite the right way

But people get tired I guess
Sometimes the mess is too much of a nuisance I guess
There is no more the ventilation and breathing space
Trust can be lost I guess, no one to blame but myself

I've done too many wrongs to right this time
Too much lost to laugh this time

Discipline and where to find it

I am asking. Not lecturing. The single most important thing for a complete life. And it is so hard to find.

Fucking 20 16 man

I don't know if I'll ever get over this damn period, man. The second half. The last 6 months or so. 2016 will be an year to remember, and somehow get over with.

I mean, I am lucky to be alive. Saying I was lucky seems like a depreciation of what happened. A fucking miracle happened. And I am still here, in person. Really. 

In July 2016, I survived the accident of my life. Not just that, I didn't kill my best friends either. We all got away without a scratch. Somehow.

If that was alright, listen to this. I was on the verge of losing the love of my life months later. All due to some really silly handling of situations. I honestly had to give up at certain points of time. I had lost hope and courage that anything good will ever happen with me. That is how bad it was, and it turned out not to be the worst thing ever either. I mean, this could have been the worst thing ever. Rather, I am somewhat better placed now, considering everything.

Better placed is the term I guess. Mainly because of experience. Exposure to really tough shit. To confess, I have only myself to blame for these things. That, however, doesn't take anything away from the shittiness.

Many other important things happened. I made big roadways in my life personally and professionally. I even had the time to worry that there was an outside chance that Brexit and Donald Trump would happen. Outside chance. But those are all peripheral. Not a matter in the end.

One thing that indeed matters is that we watched Steven Wilson, Live. In person and in all the glory of the Raven.

Well, apart from that. What matters, what I will remember for as long as I live and what I will probably never get over is that I almost lost both of them. My life, and the love of my life. Almost. 

BORN IN WINTER

One day you'll walk the world, AND KEEP IN  MIND

The heart you've been given in WINTER TIME

And through the bitter cold, with OPENED EYES

You'll find the STRENGTH to FIGHT AND STAND UP-RIGHT

---
Born in Winter - Gojira, France
---

You have to shout your lungs out when you utter the lyrics in Caps. Otherwise you are not doing it right. No.

Also, UP-RIGHT is just UPRIGHT. But you need to stress on the two words which make it up, giving it the required meaning.

Also, some songs are songs. Some songs are anthems, you live by them.

She's got Wings

She feels too much. When she loves, she loves to her last breathe. She foregoes everything and everyone for love. She gives it the power to destroy her. She knows of no other way. She loves with every bit of her energy. And she is a fighter. She fights for the love she deserves. Nothing less.

When that love comes back to destroy her, she doesn't hide. She shows up. She takes the blows. She feels every moment of the pain. Every inch of the lash. Every small detail of the torture. Not because she wants to. But because it is love that is hurting her. She loves too much to run away now. For her, the pain is just another of its faces. And so she lets love thrash her to the ground. With tears in her eyes, she falls. The broken angel.

But that is not why she is strong. She is strong because she still doesn't stop loving. She still doesn't let go. She still cares. Like a mother, she will always nurture her love. She will heal. Slowly, she starts to smile. Though the scars remain, she let's go of the pain. The tears still roll out at nights, but she is too bright to lay low. She still has the courage to trust. To let go, forgive. To still care. She still is brave enough. Even after seeing what love can do to her. She knows she will be beaten again. Her scars remind her the pain she has endured.

She is strong because the scars can't stop her from flying again. Her wings might be bruised but they are not broken. She may be a fallen angel. Her strength is that she will raise again.

She is magic because she isn't afraid to be vulnerable.

This Hollowness

Its deep
This hollowness in me
In what I'd like to call.. Me

Its deep and it is dark
It is so deep and dark
That I am afraid of it
Of looking into it
Of delving in it
Of diving into it
I am so afraid of this dark pit
Most times, I act like it doesn't exist

Fact is, it just is
No meaning or verse
No poem in its depth
Barren in language
No flavor or rhyme
Very hard to find
It just is

Its the futility of this life
It is where everything is coming from
Where everything ends up
Its the futility of good and bad
Of happiness, sad
Of death and life

It is the lack of things to describe it
It is not meaningless,
It is, in fact, The Meaninglessness
The Vacuum - before, after, and in the now
It is everything that I am not
And its deep

Found in waking light

It's a lovely life
With conditions and shit

As long as you avoid the mainstream
As long as you go with what you think is right

Found in waking light
In fading stars
Life is never pretentious

The story of you and me
In those days
Is better than what we will ever have

When we found out that we could change
We lived the change
At the speed of sound

These Sunday Mornings

Lazy as a log. Don't want to move out of here.

But so much guilt. So much fear.

I'd rather have a nice time. Gulp a beer.

But no, chores wait. Need to get them clear.

Here I am, fighting my demons
Things to do, over things to dream
A cozy afternoon, is way too costly
I need to get up, get my hands dirty

Pretending that I have a choice 

What is Death metal? But why?

It's hard to say, really.

Its about the aggression I guess. Controlled aggression. Rebellious and honest. As against pretentious, easy to do, and attention seeking forms of music. As against the hypocrisy of the formulas used by soceity to decide good and bad. As against God and everything that means. As against life, and what death means. Much in the lines of heavy metal and its philosophy, but darker. The music is definitely better than everything else out there. The skills of the musicians involved - second to none.

Well, the growls are there for a reason. They express things which words by themselves can't express well. Mostly sad things. Sometimes angry things. Sometimes brutal things. Mostly a combination.

The point is, the growling vocals are to be considered an instrument by itself, without considering the literal content. The tone of the growls, the depth in there. Having said that, the lyrics in death metal are extremely insightful. Well, extreme and insightful.

Especially Doom metal, a branch of death metal. Doom metal lyrics are sad. Very sad. They talk about things like loneliness, lost love and regrets, about death and the meaninglessness of life. The tempo is slow. And heavy. Like bass heavy, but melodic because the tempo is slow. The growling vocals talking about solitude, combined with the slow, building guitar and bass riffs, with drums setting the tone. It touches me in intangible places.

The Food Obsession

My family, it revolves around food. I don't understand!

My mom wakes up with the sole purpose of making breakfast, then bugs everyone to eat it - 'it's already 11'! The world will end now.

Don't waste the breakfast, who will eat it later!
Then comes lunch, evening snacks (nothing less than lunch) and then dinner.

Every meal preceded by what to cook, how much and how. A Sunday morning wouldn't pass without a two hour argument on what to eat and why.

Then the question of how much remained of the dinner, is there anyone who can act as the dustbin and eat it please? You ate so little, are you ok? We have to wash the dishes, quick! Finish it off!

The next day, the same, eat the breakfast, it is hot!

The whole world revolves around food, dammit. I don't understand! A party? What food. You don't drink? I love eating. What is your passion? I am a foodie. Why are you so fit? I exercise. Oh, you are not eating well, that's why! The fuck, man.

The Monsoon

The first drops, like diamonds in muddy lands
Announcing the arrival of mighty thunders, wet storms
The birds scared away, running into their familiar darkness
The river bursts in joyous tears
The trees twist and turn, can't run

The pain of the summer heat, paid off
On time this time, an old friend visits
Pushes away the sun with a mighty swing of its wings

I bear witness to the unbearable force of nature
My dear nature,
Of which I am so scared, yet long

Memories

Stacks of CDs piled together one after another
Cycle tubes thrown together, in this particular sequence
Slices of cake, before they are cut

They happened for real
Or so you fear
How far from truth can be a memory
How wrong can be the grey matter stickers
Impersonating time in their mirrors

The regrets and remorse, they don't quit
The love and hypocrisy
Which makes memories sweet
Or turns you into blasphemy

But if only you could have been better
If only you did it this way, not that
No, they would not be better
Time does not know better

It is there, time
It was and will be, it is as well
It is like a reservoir, holding
It holds it beautifully
In the dimension of reality
The only true version, the cruelty

The memories they fade
Because memories are photographs, torn by time
They help you die, but drink some wine
Red and white, they give you flavor
Grey and white they turn with time

But time fades not
It is there
It holds the memory, in its care
Time is an encapsule, it holds you tightly
The only reality of many memories

And it does not let gray
The color of reality
It exists without flavor
It lacks what decays
It lacks personal taste and passion
But everything else, it has

It has, so can you, if you ask nicely
In some way, on some sunny day, someone will surely pray

Writing on the go

Yeah, that's the deal now.

I decided, all of a sudden, that I will write on the go. No more doing it in the organized way - i.e. writing a draft, editing, coloring, deleting, writing all over again and doing everything in my lappy.. Because, well, the organized way turned out to be inefficient in this case. Too little turn around you see, not good for business.

And come to think about it, writing should be fun
Whenever you want to, it should be done
So why not fuck the norms and let it flow.. hun?

That didn't flow well, did it? So, I'll write on my device and see how fucked up it can get. And believe me, it can get quite so, especially when I am not in the most sober of conditions.

The very good news is that my intention of keeping it well edited is still intact. Slightly modified to fit in the new working style though.

So much awesomeness in one snap, yeah?

So many awesome books, really special books. And GODLESS, an awesome band no less.

A River Runs Through It

Broke the guitar. Still Alive.

Thank you, Harper Lee.

What the fuck is a phone and why can’t it charge itself?

Some love was made for the lights,

Some kiss your cheek n’ good night

The bridges I’ve burnt

Some stagger and fall, 

After all, it’s not easy

I love you in my own way

And with nothing less than everything I have

I know the pieces fit, 
‘coz I watched them fall away

Why.. is the rum always gone?

And I stood there, thinking “this wine tastes of loneliness”

Comeback if you want to

And remember who you are

Did you know the thing about chaos

Damn the flood, I’ve come to end it all

“Winter, and a man walked into the street, dropped his glasses, and shot a dog. 
Summer, and he watched his children’s heart break.”

Smashed in my car window
Didn’t touch the stereo

Too much suffering in the world

And I take too little in

Validity of knowledge

Today I learned

About Descartes and his philosophy

The most important thing, for me, that Descartes does is search for an ultimate truth. One that is self evident, that which exists, and doesn’t need anything else to exist.

He does arrive at it - ‘I think, therefore I am’. Cogito, Ergo Sum. Whatever may or may not exist, whatever may be an illusion, there is one truth - the truth that I doubt the truth of other things. I, in fact, doubt the fact that I doubt. Nevertheless, to raise this doubt, there must exist a doubter – me. Therefore I exist, the thinking, conscious me.

To my utter shock, this isn’t really the ultimate truth. This claim of standalone, independent knowledge, like every other claim you are probably ever going to hear, depends on other claims. Firstly, substances (for example, I in the ‘therefore I exist’) must exist. Secondly, it must be true that thinking must be associated with this substance - i.e. a thought must not be able to exist by itself without the thinker. As empiricists simply ask, ‘How do you know?’ So, it isn’t all that ultimate, is it?

So, what is the knowledge anyway, when even the very fundamental truth may not be what it seems?

You can go 'The Dude' way to almost any claim - "Yeah, well, you know, that's just, like, your opinion, man". Now, if you want to argue with 'The Dude', you must be awesome enough to use six commas in a sentence!

Bed Bugs - The Ultimate Solution

When I first realized that bed bugs exist, I was scared. I didn’t know how to deal with them. I was not sure what risks they posed and what I had to do to get rid of them. I didn’t even know how to identify a bed bug until I researched online. Every time I detected a bed bug, I would kill it without mercy and dispose of the body. I would search for more of them in the vicinity and kill them all. I would hope that I killed them all, only knowing deep inside that it is the tip of the iceberg. I used to live in sort of discomfort, knowing that I am not alone on my bed. Slowly, I understood that I needed to be more systematic.

I started the learning process. I browsed through to see what problems they posed to my health and the solutions. It turns out the main problem is nuisance if you are sensitive to the bite. I am not sensitive to any shit, so I was somewhat comforted but still wanted to get rid of them. What if I become sensitive later? As it turns out there are not many ultimate solutions to the problem without setting your house on fire. Undeterred, I cleaned my whole place and used insecticides. I bought a new bed and washed all my sheets for the first time ever. I isolated the bed from the floor by covering the legs with water filled bowls. It was a complete job and it indeed seemed to work, at first.

Now I am a kind of man who wants to get things done once and for all. Maintenance is not my thing. So when I applied the whole bed bugs solution, I wasn’t anticipating that they would return again. I simply assumed that they ceased to exist. But weeks went by and they are back again. More in numbers, only to find me too lazy to get off my ass and clean again. I knew it cannot go on forever, I had to do something which would end the war.

This time I came up with a better solution. The ultimate solution. One that will never fail.

First, to find the root of the problem, I had to dig deep. Not into some holes on sides of doors, but into my mind. I introspected myself and my insecurities towards the creatures. I understood that the problem is in my mind rather than on the bed. No one is an enemy if you don’t want to fight them. I changed my attitude towards bed bugs. I realized that all they want is to live. And if it involves sucking some human blood, they are not to be blamed, it is in their nature. So I accepted them thus. I let them co-exist on my bed. They do, probably in thousands. But I don’t feel them anymore, nor are they annoying. If my giving up a small amount of my blood can help feed so many lives, it should probably add some karma to my souls account, I reckon. Though I don’t give a fuck about the karma stuff, it helps with the reasoning, So I let it stay. When I find a bed bug these days (or a dozen), I don’t kill it, I remember that it is part of the food chain. It is just incidental that it is higher on the chain than I am. In addition, knowing that I am not the king of the jungle keeps me humble.

Indifference

Where does it come from, but pain?

When you want me to give up my love for your prejudice

When you want all or nothing

When you can’t see that everything is not black and white

When semantics matter more than trust

When you ask me to stand up to some anthem

When you tell me what to eat and how to behave

When you tell me that two wrongs make a right

When you ask me to prove a negative

When you label me with your ignorance

It hurts when I can’t remove the blinds off your eyes

It hurts when I try and you laugh

So I laugh rather than try

Maredumilli

Few things in life live up to the hype when, they are in fact, hyped. I was then a bit wary to burden this holiday plan with expectations. We were waiting for it to happen. To catch a break. To have a well deserved holiday. To reboot. To finally go on a perfect tour with the best of friends to the best of places and do the best of things. Yes, so many expectations. This one lived up.

Apart from the purity of the place, it had one more advantage. There was no communication to the outside world. Paradise, it was.

‘Birds Nest’, the resort we stayed, is unique in that there is nothing on either side of the resort except wild jungles. A river stream flows through a side. There are mountains all round, covered in rich green. The nights are pitch dark, silent and you can see stars like diamonds. You can try counting them but there are too many.

We spent three days doing pretty much nothing. We stared at the greenery, the mountains all around us, the stream. There was silence, disturbed only by the never-ending rush of the stream. We laughed freely, and we smoked.

At some point after midnight

I was swinging and laughing

I was high and dancing

Music was the colour, it was the wild that was dancing

I felt the warmth of fire on my back

I saw the brightest things in pitch dark

I faced the forest and the darkness beyond

Catching hold of stars, hiding behind green leaves

The forest ate away the past and the darkness, the future

I realized, I was part of it

Nothing Less Than Me

Not to give too much away, but I had my way

Not to say I always had a soul mate, but I don’t see the point

Some good times, few bad times

As long as it was not awkward, it was good. Or it was bad

No, I am not wasted, but it was fun when it lasted

People came and people went, few remained

I adored some, I adore some.

I regret some, what was I thinking

Ah the beauty of a good friend

Too bad, I only found a few

Call it laziness or pride, never did I doubt myself

Loneliness was always around, not always did I curse myself

I lived in music and dirt

In books and dreams

Loved things and people

Never did I stop loving, never was it enough

More than dreams and soul mates

Loved myself more than anything else

What was the payback?

Nothing less than me..

Stuff - September 2015

Travelled a lot, learnt a lot.

Don’t ask me how and what, its complicated.

Been to the jungles and the beaches.

Made new friends, and lost my soul.

At least some part of it.

That’s the neat poem summarizing my travels last month or so, if not comprehensive or accurate. I travelled to Maredumilli in forests of AP, I travelled to Mahabaleshwar with family and then finished off with a trip to Goa. Holiday season for you. All fun, in their own way, but I learnt something in Goa. It is hard to be lonely. Yes, I, of all people, felt lonely when left alone to my devices in a street full of booze and whatnot. Somehow, it didn’t seem good enough. Maybe the place wasn’t, it was crowded and messy. I didn’t have a plan or a good book. I was restless in some way. I was depressed a whole day after coming back - my longest stretch in memory. I can’t say if it is something with me. Maybe I will go to some other place and I can be happy alone again. After all, how can I get a better company?

My biggest trouble right now are bed bugs. And I can’t even feel them properly.

Of course I am not counting my parents who are resolute on getting me married off to some girl with peanuts for brain. Not on my watch, father.

Neither am I counting the stagnation phase I seem to be always in. But does that count as a problem, like technically? Or is it the only one that matters, man?

Future holds good things, yeah. I have a birthday coming up for starters. Well, let’s just say future holds things.

Update: Bed bugs are out, at least I scared them enough to make them stay out of my sight. Stagnation turned out to be a valid problem, one which needs a solution. And family, yeah. 

Stoned and Drunk

Only stoned in this case. Never mix alcohol with a good joint, it makes you sick.

It was the fourth time I was trying. I didn’t get any buzz the first three times which I figured was something to do with me rather than the magic leaf. So I was intent on trying as many times as it takes to break into my mind. So I rolled up a joint which looked fucked up. God knows how I had to sort it into a shape recognizable. Then I smoked it. This time I did it right, as has been told by the masters. I took it deep into lungs and didn’t let it go for four proper seconds. This messed me up bad, I was coughing like crazy (mostly because the joint I put together was shitty), saliva drooling out of mouth, I ran to the sink to clean. Somehow, I managed to get a few good hits and put the joint off at half-length. I accepted that this is another failed attempt and I was just recovering from all the coughing when suddenly I realized that the vision is blurring. It was working at last!

So I sat down and tried to relax. Which was tough because my flatmate was knocking on my door. To ask me about something very inconsequential presumably. I didn’t want to be seen high and make him nervous – he is a delicate boy. So I ignored him and tried to focus on things I wanted to do. Focus is a bitch when you are stoned because your mind is like a train going through a wild place. It shifts and turns from one thing to another, without letting you know. It took me a proper 10 minutes to open my mail.

By the time I did open my mail, checked it somewhat and logged out, I totally lost where I was, I forgot that I already checked my mail. So I logged in again only to realize then that I already did it before. So I checked the mails again to see an ad there from some website saying ‘writing reviews can make you rich’. This line stayed with me For A minute or so before I realized something was screwed up about it. How can writing reviews on hotel and travelling websites make you rich, right? So now that I knew something was amiss here, I need to revisit that line to figure out where I read the damn thing. I drifted away and somehow came back to that thought in my head. But I forgot where I read it by that time. So I had to rewind back and strain a bit to recollect that it was from the mail. So I focused my eyes back onto the Lappy screen, changed the tabs to the mail with difficulty and searched for the mail in question. It took me a few glances around to find this mail, which was right at the top of inbox. So I read it again, this time with all the concentration I can gather as ‘How to write reviews that can make you rich’. I read it twice to make sure that I was reading it right and this one made sense, more or less. So I was satisfied, the world wasn’t ending yet. I logged out. The whole mail ordeal took me a good half-an-hour or more, can’t be sure because keeping track of time is also out.

My flatmate meanwhile was knocking away at my door all the time and it was making me anxious. I tried to listen to some Porcupine tree or something but it was adding to the anxiety. The thing about trance music is – it will take you to another level of pure joy when you are relaxed to start with, but if you are under some pressure or worry, it adds to the scare. So I put up a good comic movie ‘Lock, stock..’. It was especially good because I already watched it many times before and hence didn’t need to focus at all. I laughed when I understood a jokes and plot points but other than that, I was mainly staring at a screen with moving pictures.

Then I watched some Youtube comedy, waited till I was sure that my flatmate was asleep and got a plate, ate some food and lay on the bed - four hours after I smoked the joint. I was more in a trance state than I was sleeping the whole night, it was beautiful. The whole experience was as beautiful as it was weird, and I can get used to the weird part!

Update: Got stoned a couple more times now, getting a hang of it. It isn’t like anything I experienced before, you are left in totally a different state of mind. Alcohol is a lot more shitty and harmful compared to this. So, here are the links for those willing to learn more before applying their moral code upon the world: Myths, How does it feel really? I mean really?, Is it harmful? It is not magic either, caution is good, Where does this country – India - stand, The cause.

Give Up

You win some, you lose some. You try to win more than lose. You can fight hard for that and you try to improve yourself, it helps to have a target. But when the only thing in mind is beating the opposition without regard to the fight in itself, without appreciating the virtues of the game or work, when the target is to get ahead of someone irrespective of where you want to be, it is time to retrospect what it is that you set out to be and what has been happening since.

So, you don’t persist on some fights all together, you let them go. Because it is you who have to decide whether it is worth the effort and time. There may be better things to fight for, better things to slug out than straining over some battles you consider inconsequential,  just because you are compelled to by circumstances, or agonized  and enraged by some people. You don’t throw stones in mud, because you may have wars worth fighting, waiting ahead.

It takes some courage to do that – to give up – when people are watching and waiting to see you complete what you started. As if these people own a part of your battle and they are entitled to see you bleed and sweat over things irrespective of the worth of whole thing to you. They laugh at you when you fall, they do cheer when you succeed, but they are disappointed when you call it off, and they want to see you fight back, because they are invested in your efforts and struggle, irrespective of the results. These people, you can forgive, but don’t forget.

So, I run my own race, keep my own score, independent of the world around – at least I try. I change, to sync my goals to the changing circumstances and make situations compatible with my to-do thing. But I can’t let time and people change the goal posts, because fuck them both.

Time will heal - for now

‘Time will no longer heal.’ Yes, that maybe the a news headline one day and it may be sufficiently clear to everyone involved to quit depending on time for all the healing they need. But until that time, I will continue assuming that it works. I have not only heard many fools say this, which should be proof enough, but I have firsthand experience now.

I have gone through rough and slow times, seen my best people drown in sorrows, where hope was not to be seen and the tunnel seemed a bit too long to endure.

But there was this light, at least which I can see. And now my beliefs have came true, confirming what I knew from start, that the light is inevitably there (in most cases at least), the question simply is how far away. In fact as it turns out, it doesn’t take an awful lot of time to heal either. The light isn’t that far away (if you don’t pay too much attention to time, that is). Rear mirrors on vehicles come with great wisdom - ‘Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear’ – and you are not charged a penny extra for this piece of awesomeness.

Stuff - May 2015

There are some things which, if you think of them as a chore, its ok not to do. Like bathing, isn't it just a bit overrated? Yes, hygiene, yes. But, how life threatening dirty can one get to be in a couple of days. So, not taking a bath is all right. You can't force a bath, you can't push it, because you don't need to. It has to come to you. And it did come to me-twice this last week or so..

Was talking about Gujarat riots the other day and people think it is ok that a thousand innocent Muslims were killed as revenge against killers of 60 priests. I can’t even digest the fact that these people are well educated, well meaning persons.

Communism vs. capitalism.. One more thing added to the list of things I'd want to write a very concise yet comprehensive analysis of. Such a complicated and equally important debate that. Just like the topic - practical uses of philosophy.

Ah, the pain, in my heart.. (my rhetorical heart). Where does this come from? What is missing here and can I ever fill it up. I am one of everyone else, trying to get by to the shore. Taking help and helping along. Sometimes, I just ask myself - 'what exactly is the fucking point dude'. The answer invariably involves the question 'what else is there?' (Not a rhetorical question either)

Time will no longer heal.

Stuff - April 2015

Is life ever a destination? I always used to think that the journey is important not the destiny. Fuck no, that only works if you think death is a destination, otherwise it is just the journey until the end with a few landmarks on the way to measure the distance.

I see people who are so insecure about their lives, girls working in BPOs, college kids who don't know shit, walking around on roads. They are so confident while crossing. They do not care that it is a green signal and the vehicles are in a hurry. Everyone has to stop because they are too busy to be careful, to stand a minute in the pollution for the red, no. I have friends who have dogs with better sense. I am shit scared of crossing even a small lane.  I’d rather be on a vehicle than under it, thank you.

Death metal is the real deal man. Apparently, there is a song titled 'Cumming blood' or something to that effect, by none other than the ever-likeable cannibal corpse. Not saying it is weird. To the contrary, my contention is - anyone who can listen to that stuff, understand it, appreciate it and listen again has the mental capacity to achieve great things in life.. aaaand is probably high.

If you can work for a full day in office, get back home and have the intention of reading for 3 hours, it is not commitment and focus. It is the fear of writing the fucking exam the second time next year. It is fear, my friend. Apparently, I do not have enough of it.

If I failed the most important exam of my life - twice - because of random shit luck, I don't know if I could have handled it. I probably would have handled it, but I am not sure. I don't know because I never failed at anything really (yeah, I am boring). But my best friend did. She failed THE exam. Yet, she handled it as if it was a joke. She stood strong and shrugged it off like some dust on the collar. That is the real deal.

I live in a flat now with flat mates. They are so cool - no one shows their face except on an odd unlucky weekend. I could not have asked for a better deal. But the laundry is a problem every week. Couldn't they make formal clothes that work for a couple of months without maintenance.. like a bike or something.

So much for the being alive. I wish someone just made a food pill – you pop it in once in the morning and you are good until tomorrow. Some people live to eat. I confess doing that sometimes – some foods are to die for really (even with the guilt of killing animals). But many times, it really is a chore.

Vegetarianism is very interesting. If you remove the dogma of religious or cultural influence, it still makes sense. Maybe we do not have the right to cause such terrible pain to an animal after all. I am not bothered about killing an animal, which was farmed essentially to be killed. The real issue is the way these animals get treated while alive. Someday, I will have enough courage to give up eating meat. I mean, if I do not have the option of a food pill, you don’t expect me to suffer eating vegetables all the time! I would be in more pain than the animals, just inhuman.

And FC Barcelona is looking good, again \^^/. I am so mesmerized by Messi, every time he plays these days.