like i did

I’ll be singing “coming back to life” tomorrow in front of a pretty big crowd, like I did 7 years ago. I meant it then …and I’ll mean it tomorrow.

one of them

If government spending increases in an open economy given that taxes remain the same it will result in a national deficit and reduction in national saving thus leading to a reduction in export….

If you rub some oil before jumping into a river you won’t feel as cold….

I will forget one of them.

still

..and I turn 26.
I do not belong and I still like it that way.
I’m a little more bruised. I’m a little wiser. Wise enough to know I’m not.
The world still spins a little too fast.
No, I do not know what I want to do.
Orion is still on time. I still need him.
I worry about them.
Happiness is still the same. Sadness too.
They still talk about the weather over tea. It’s not as cold as last year.
A stupid joke from a friend is still funnier than a good one from a stranger.
The voices haven’t changed. Much.
Still running against the wind.
The picture is still the same.
The heart of the matter is that it is a matter of the heart. Still

An emotional moment

They served momos in the mess today. They were veg momo’s , thick, dry and weren’t particularly good.
But.. they were momos.

to then

I find my self unwell. And it couldn’t have come at a worse time. Let’s just say my professional alter ego doesn’t have the time to get sick .But that’s him and this is me and right now I’m boss. And I say I need some R&R.
As I get into bed I put on some music from that list I’d made when time was an easily available commodity. It’s a carefully chosen list of songs. Songs that take me back to then.

On the way to a river side picnic as a kid
My first song on stage
First crush
First song on the guitar
School leaving party
College room. Low lights and a lot of philosophy
Goa first trip..
College room. Low lights and even more philosophy
Low days
Leaving the hostel
That girl
Work
More goa days
Songs at 46
Late night car rides.. more philosophy
The Fight
Season End

A part of me feels better . The other part is still pretty sick and needs to sleep.

cause

cause maybe sounded good

Between Seasons

It’s sad that the start of a new journey can only begin with the death of an old one. Perhaps it’s only fitting that the last month has had the distinct air of a funeral. I spent the entire month shaking hands and hugging friends and acquaintances. Many of whom I fear I may never see again. Perhaps the bigger fear lies in the fact that we may see each other but never in the same way.

Tonight as I pack my life into neat boxes, each labeled “keep” or “discard“ I’m force to pass judgment on the tangible object that have been part my life. Fortunately, I do not have to do the same with my memories and I can keep as much as I want. And I want it all. The good, the bad and the ugly. I have had more than my fair share of good moment. Moments of laughter, smiles and joy and I am lucky to have been able to share it with good people .People I was lucky enough to have as friends. There is a special joy in sharing a memory with a friend, for in that memory you carry not just the thought and the emotion of the moment but you carry who you were at that point in time. And perhaps that is something I will need the most someday. But it hasn’t always been sunny and fun for there have also been moments of anger , sadness and tragedy .And It has been during these times of adversity that I have learned and grown the most.

Tomorrow I begin a new journey. And like all journeys of consequence and self discovery this too shall begin alone and amongst strangers. How this journey will turn out, I do not know. There are many who ask what I’ll become at the end of it and yet the question of real pertinence is not “what” but “who” I’ll become.

There is a part of me that hopes and dreams and yet there is a part of me that dreads what lies ahead. Perhaps that’s the best way to begin.

the step

My thoughts stepped off the bus that carried by battered body and mind home. It took him a single step to reach yesterday and another to find the field where much of my childhood was spent.
Yesterday blurred into now and the smell of the freshly cut grass and the sight of the undecided October evening sky came to life. There’s something about time that discards the insignificant and keeps the pertinent. Perhaps that’s why I don’t remember the troubles I had then, but know that I was happy. The feeling is contagious and makes a 20 year journey and brings a smile on my face.
I reach my stop, get off the bus and walk home. There’s a lot running through my mind and even more through my life. I sift through them and wonder how much of it can make a 20 year journey, I don’t know. Something tells me that the things that do make it ,will bring a smile to my face. Like the one I have on right now.

old dreams

It’s a funny world this. We’re born into a world of endless possibility. Endless. The world is vast and yet smaller than one’s dreams. So we’re sent off to our institutions of learning where we’re taught the impracticality of non conforming dreams and the prudence of following socially acceptable ones and were given the tools to achieve these. At least the lucky ones are. And somewhere down the line, in the frenzy of tool gathering, the old dreams are lost, often taking the gatherer with it, for who is a man, if his dreams aren’t his own?

And as my world grew smaller, and I older, I learned what I could and could not do. The list for the latter grew and grows at a pace that is saddening. It feeds off the former with a burning hunger fed by far too many voices .If only the voices were my own. Perhaps some of them are.

The return of an old friend-II

Funny thing..I saw orions belt a few days back on one of the usual after dinner walks.( i saw him in goa too ..in october... but that was at 5 in the morning).I was just going through some of my old posts to get my mind of the usual worries of life and i saw one post..dated Nov 21 2005.Looks like i saw him last years almost at the same time.And the effect hasnt changed one bit.

just yesterday

I turn 25 tomorrow night .It’ll be the last night I sleep as a 24 yr old. Turning 25 makes me think of my life and where I’m going with a little more seriousness.30 is a long way away. But then so was 20 ..which was just yesterday.

the bottom

Dear friend,
I call you “friend” for there are some thoughts easier conveyed to a friend than to any other. As you read this and as my words become the thoughts that enter your mind, let’s pretend that we are, for this brief moment, friends.
I haven’t lived very long. A quarter of a century does sound long, but as anyone older than you will tell you, it’s certainly not long enough. It is long enough however, to realize one thing. It is the nature of life to be uncertain .Hence I shall not tell you what I know, for “knowing” would imply a degree of certainty. What I can tell you, however, is what I have learned. Accurate or inaccurate, that, I hope, is something that will never be fully answered, at least while I’m still breathing.
There are things in life that can cripple you. It is a part of you that touches you at your core. It may be physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual and anything else in between. It is unlike any fear or phobia. It is unlike anger, happiness, grief, hurt or pain. It is however born from them.
As you start the process of deconstructing this article and its writer, as is the nature of a reader to do, you would come across the obvious question of why. I write this dear friend for the discovery of such a thing will set you free. It’s the deep end of the swimming pool. It’s when you touch the bottom when the pool truly becomes yours.
If any aspect of what I have just said makes sense and you start to wonder what your “thing” is, then chances are you haven’t found it yet.
And I hope one day you will.
With warm regards,
That idiot.

voices

exercise…
Don’t watch tv…
Study …
Concentrate on work…
Quit…(a lot of things)
Read..
Clean..(a lot of thing)
Sleep on time…
Wake up on time…
Don’t wait for the last date..
Plan…
Don’t plan…
Think. not too much.
Eat enough…not too much.
Eat right..
Less coffee…more water.
Smile..
Tidy up…
Call home…
pay your bills …
listen…
save…
grow up. don’t…
don’t waste.
Its not that important. It is
It doesn’t mean much. It does.
It’ll work out. It wont.
Its not always about you.
Focus.
Let go. Don’t.
Shut up.

She knows

I heard her call me today. On the bus.
She knows where I am. and that’s always a good sign.
It won’t be long now …a month or two.. max.
It’ll be good to be back in Goa.

like love

It has been 6 months since my last post. I had lost my will to write. Was it the lack of inspiration? Or was it the absence of non conforming thought?
I cannot say. But, I can say this. I tried …and nothing worked. Self induced depressions, mood alterations and alternators, sad movies, sunsets, stars …the works. They all failed, miserably.
And yet today you see this post…


We all have triggers .Emotions that change ones state of mind. Sadness and melancholy have always worked for me and yet what got me last night was neither. It was hate and vengeance.
They say that hate and vengeance in its true form are like love. They lack sense and logic. I agree.


Last Night.

There is a special joy in going to bed when one is sleep deprived. Comfortable, warm and secure I was on the line that divides us from wonderland. And then the power went out. That’s when it began.
There were three of them. Mosquitoes. They came, like all evil beings do, for no purpose of use. If it was blood they wanted, they could have had it, for I offered it to them, neck and all. Perhaps they wanted to kill me first. What joy they got, dancing around my ear I shall never know. But they did…long, hard and relentless. Close to dawn, alone in the dark…helpless, tired and sleepy I felt myself go insane.
I swore an oath. An oath so solemn and of a nature so grave, I heard heaven go silent. Shaking my fist at the sky, “As God Is My Witness….!!!”...You get the picture.
But I’m not totally insane. I don’t blame ALL mosquitoes. Just those specific three. So when I make it a point to go out of my way and kill any mosquitoes I see…its not cause I think its one of them…its cause I hope they’re related .

listen

The song of the universe calls out to us all. And we know it. It defies logic or sense hence we ignore it. Sometimes it calls out so loud its hard to ignore and we are left dumbstruck and even a little confused not knowing how to react.
The next time you watch a sun set, drink a glass of water, sit on the beach or look at the moon. Listen… for that is the best we can do for now …and if you are lucky your soul might sing along.

The return of an old friend

Winter. Orion’s belt is visible. I’ve looked at it all my life and it never fails to make me feel good. Perhaps it remind me of my childhood.

Diwali-in goa

case closed

Ants

Ant in my room. Thousands .Looks like they found a few crumbs of god know what.
Pretty interesting actually.

You have the PM (Project Manager ants formerly know as leader ants).Easy to spot ..fat and ugly… picks a nice spot not too far from the crumbs and passes comments about how the other ants are not working effectively and how they die too fast out of exhaustion.

And the ML(Module leader ants formerly known as soldier ants)See the ants with the huge heads? The ones that eat the other ants? They don’t carry anything though….they eat on the way.

Ahhh the worker ants….small things…carrying huge thing. And they walk in a straight line too…wonder if their allowed to talk on the way…or is it like a hard-core slave thing?
Thers one worker ant away from the rest…looks like he’s eating his crumb and enjoying the view.


Anyways I got to clean them up toss them into the garden or bathroom. Except for that one worker ant ….he reminds me of someone.

Alex

I left home years back ..out into a big world.
And left a friend there.
Who I thought of often
But then days turned to years ,and a boy changed into an adult…and I then thought of him rarely.
When I went back he wasn’t there.
And I wonder if I let him down.
A relationship that would seem frivolous to any other.
He was my dog and I loved him.
Now that he’s gone I hope he doesn’t make the same mistake I did.cause it hurts.

Because

I'm eight years old, and the world is a beautiful place. Its dusk. I'm on a hill overlooking the town in which I was born. Kalimpong. The horizon is surrounded by mountains, proudly showing off their new coats of snow. I'm glad; for in a few months the snows would melt and the rivers would be pure and new swimming holes would be awaiting conquer. From where I stood, the world was small. The quiet, unlike that of a closed room, begged an opinion. Imposing structures now barely visible were an eternity away…and so were the troubles that haunt the mind of a child. The silence and simplistic beauty of it all does not move me, for I am a part of it.

Like most eight year olds, I asked myself questions, questions of life and its meaning, of how's and whys, where and when. Or perhaps I asked them because the horizon willed me to, promising me an answer. The answers never came, but a sense of understanding and acceptance did.

It has been over a decade since I've been to the hills that overlooked my town. I fear it, for now the answers might not come. Not because it has changed…but because I might have.

-to those who understood the silence

?

im lost

my music

I sat on the beach…east of where I sit now and stared. As luck would have it , for as far as the eye could see, the beach was all mine. Armed with my little i-pod and a coconut in my hand, I set forth to recreate the image that had been lingering in my psyche for far too long. The perfect spot wasn’t too difficult to find either. In the soft sand, under a long, tall, bushy coconut tree, I planted my better half, threw my slippers off and let Shangri-La take over. With my i-pod playing songs selected for just the occasion I set out to lose or find myself, whichever my soul thought best. But something wasn’t right. Something was out of tune. That’s when I realized that the there was a noise that spoiled the rhythm. It was out of place and alien and it hurt the music. I unplugged my I-pod and put it in my pocket. The sound of the crashing waves was now clear and the music was just beautiful.

mildew

Sleeping a little longer, not because I want to…because I shouldn’t.

The front seat…

Copying…

Its easier than I make it seem…

Hoping you’ll pay…

I did understand….I chose not to…

I removed four from this list I don’t want you to know…

of anger and hate

There is a part of you that is hidden, not just from the outside but from yourself too.
It worrys me to see it at times and one wonders what is to be done when it is seen. It weakens the soul, buried further or set free

i donno..

Why did I just post something I know no one’s going to read.
....as if anyone’s going to read the rest of the stuff iv written...
...and im typing to myself in public now.

ponderings of inconsequence

The basic principle of writing, a writer of some repute once said, was to write what you know about. That as it turns out proves to be disastrous for this would be writer, for if adhered to would barely result in a few pages, if not paragraphs. Hence I write this with a clear confession of knowing nothing about the subject.
A river of change flows through our lives, washing away what was once new but now old, redundant or as my generation would put it uncool. I use the term change as none judgmentally as possible. A debate on the pros and cons of change is something I do not want to get into. Nor do I intend to make it the focus of this passage, for far too much has been written about change. Perhaps it would be prudent to not write of change but instead write of a certain slice of time. Ours.
We live in a strange time and place. A time, when not belonging is an identity in itself, a place where borders are defined, more by wires of telecommunication than barbed ones. As all generations have, ours, struggles with the how’s and why’s of life and its consequences. Some define life as a struggle; some call it suffering .Most have definitions of their own and perhaps they are the most well off. Relationships, some new, some as old as life itself, still need to be defined and quantified. But that’s only human. It would be a lie if it were said that much of what troubles our soul is new. Confusion on where we are heading, and how we intend to get there remains but until we do I suggest we enjoy the journey.

the thing i do

Why do I keep cribbing about my work? I don’t hate it. Guess its become natural to crib about the thing I do…
school,
college and now ..
work ….but I guess we all need something to crib bout .
(and yes I enjoyed school and the few days of college that I attended….just don’t tell anyone )
Just got a msg from my boss…my dead line’s on Monday ….that’s his way of telling me he wants me to come on the weekend .Hahah...Poor fellow…he’s got a lot to learn. My coffee’s gone cold….…and bitter.c u monday..

missed pictures

7 ‘O’ Clock. I make my way to the parking lot. Just another software engineer, just another software company. I’m reminded of pictures of the industrial revolution. Scores of employees making their way home, their bodies confused by the mixed messages of fatigue and relief. A low sound of footsteps, on the edge of breaking into a run, fills the air. There’s a silence too strong to be broken. The formal shirts and ties are a good disguise …until they stop mattering.
In the distance, far above us the sun says his good bye’s to the clouds. Like a relaxed old man, he takes his time. An explosion of red and orange in the heavens .A sudden urge to watch it all comes over me... but I can’t, for I might miss the bus. Like I miss the bigger picture.

frost again

Where am I going? Am I going or am I being taken.

There a poem on my wall above my bed… “The road not taken by Robert Frost” . Beds, houses and pillows have changed…the poems been there for close to 10 years now.

“and somewhere ages and ages hence
I shall be saying this with a sigh,
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And I took the one less traveled by
And that made all the difference….”

It gave me hope once…now it looks like a warning.

..a lil

Its Friday… Friday afternoon. A few more hours and the weekend begins. If I had a tail I’d run around trying to catch it…perhaps pee a lil in the process……never mind.

dragonfly day

I need to go sit on a field and watch the dragonflies. I wonder what my boss would say if he caught me writing this on company time. I’m heading home soon…like in an hour or something. Put on that tired sad look…like iv been working much harder than everyone else. Damn...the things I got to do to look busy.