Simple enough

Like thin smoke from the ash of 'my' cigarette disappearing into the Grey background in random directions, my mind wanders and puzzles itself in connecting sporadic emotions that I may say are inconclusive and unabiding in all forms; spare my recollection as they are few. Its hard to summarize, what? Everything I see. 437 pages of a novel, half filled bottle of water, my benevolent winter jacket, 3 cigarettes arranged triangularly, sun-bathed banana peels which appear like coloured geckos, spider webs silently decorating the interiors of my room. These are just a few. Our emotions are very random; atleast I believe so. Do we really profess to having a least bit of discomfort? They stimulate us to satisfy them. Thats a good job eh?

I think we should just explode. What can come out? blood mixed organs or noxious lies or informative secrets which were for so long buried under the hood of speculative stupidity. I'd rather open before everything closes. I follow where my foot takes me to.

a sunny day, as bright as i could see
this rise, same as yesterday, all i am is free
the sound, of which i hear some
fast and rhythmic, where from they come?
the hustle and bustle, this and that folklore
canaries of the south, away from the sea shore
trickery by the eastern sorcerer
invasion by the western conqueror
a quick splat from the muted gongs
the priests sat and sang their songs
standing in unison we clap we frown
watching the emperor descend down

Lost in translation

a quarter of your laughs
and half of my drum beats
tween your gaze and mine
its just a sullen dream

What does it take to say 'I feel found' ? I am real with music in my head. I am real when I play. My physical balance speaks the truth. I am real when I sleep. I am real when I write. All talks around me appears dreary and incomplete. I would rather be termed a vagabound with all the comforts. I'm blind, so I don't react. I'm not sure what to make of myself. With just 2 months remaining before the college saga ends, the purpose remains a mystery. A beehive with no honey heh..

Hell with it. 'Never use your brain when you don't react'. The spellcheck continues. Just like honey! Lost in translation

the bottle with my note reaches the shore
should i let in
a beam of million faces
i can then forgive the most cruel
and rejoice in the delight
of the most beautiful

?????

I get high when I put my body through some physical strain like soccer or tt or anything. Thought this would help me start running..

"We are different, in essence, from other men. If you want to win something, run 100 meters. If you want to experience something, run a marathon."

- Emil Zatopek, 1952 Olympic Marathon gold medalist

Snow no?

heroic birds on twisted twigs
green anthems fragment my nonchalance
cutting my breath into tiny stories
the whole life becomes a mirage
snow white pebbles i collect
and rich, tough thorns i dread
distant bridges stitching those disconnected
all worth a dime dig out jewels

Snow in Baghdad after about 100 yrs! NYtimes says, "A welcome change of conversation for the Iraqis"

Hidden resolutions!

A very happy new year to everyone; grandma's, grandpa's, orphans, patients, singers, athletes, children, all my friends and my best buds Jose, Suraj and Shibu from hyd!

occurred twice, disapproving random dreams
deception flaring up, burying my sensual conscience
a molecule and an umbrella
swapping my spades with an extra drop of whimsical misery
courteous jittery with ice topping to make it look red
and because everything is just an illusion
I tame and turn frightening boundaries

I love all souls; everything is beautiful; just enjoy
I really hope so :)

January, here I come

I don't quite understand how things move fast. Or is this because of me being slow? Why do i feel homesick even after spending 5 years in this college? I always feel lost and moody the moment i board the train back to Gwalior. But in no time i get back to my own world where i take comfort in little surprises that lay before me, be it good or bad! I cannot explain the period i suffered from minor injuries that kept me out of soccer action. But no big depression on that part. Every thing's fine now.

We guys are finally leaving to Shimla today to spend new year eve. So to everyone, have a great finish to this year. January, here i come!

I just love this song. Enjoy

Starry nights, city lights
Coming down over me
Skyscrapers, and stargazers
In my head
Are we, we are,
Are we, we are
The waiting unknown
This dirty town was burning down in my dreams
Lost and found city bound in my dreams

And screaming
Are we, we are,
Are we, we are the waiting
And screaming
Are we, we are,
Are we, we are the waiting

Forget me nots and second thoughts
Live in isolation
Heads or tails and fairytales in my mind
Are we, we are,
Are we, we are the waiting unknown
The rage and love,
The story of my life
The Jesus of Suburbia is a lie

And screaming
Are we, we are,
Are we, we are the waiting
And screaming
Are we, we are,
Are we, we are the waiting
And screaming
Are we, we are,
Are we, we are the waiting
And screaming
Are we, we are,
Are we, we are the waiting
Ohh..
Are we, we are,
Are we, we are the waiting
Ohh..
Are we, we are,
Are we, we are the waiting

Green day

Crazy :)

found this on Postsecrets

Love at first sight!! :D


Permutation in music.. this is amazing - Longplayer

Fractured lines

I was so pissed off one day and this was the outcome!! No harm intended :D

"In all time and blood
I see nothing but pain and regret

My self being the source of wind
my fist talks and my mind preaches
till my blood evaporates
and my skin burns down
to nothingness

I wriggle like a worm
and my eyes blink like a snake
its poison all over me
waiting to inflict pain on others
and drain out all flesh and blood

My teeth speaks evil
plucking all known side
of humans breeding on this planet
like reckless soul awaiting
its turn in HELL"

ps: the word 'blood' is mentioned thrice!! heheh & this was about a month back in hyd

:-)

Its been a tiring 2 weeks for me.. not getting out of bed because of my sprained ankle really tested my senses.. but now I can walk again, but of course with a lil difficulty.. but its nothing compared to my friend Kushwah's injury.. "we all have our times - gud/bad " :))

We enter a new phase
where the most prevalent phenomenon
protrudes & crystallizes to shape you
As in intentionally groping in the dark
to touch everything that shines
and feel the physical existence
which otherwise is unattainable
to you and human reach

We enter a new phase
where method and logic pervades
the ever known ill-fated junk
of retributive dialogues within you that
starts to knock all doors in your mind
and you begin to prove your self love
and try to sell to one religion, one belief
one word, one principle, one second
we all adhere to in an uncontrolled
fashion to the highest degree of turmoil

Is this right?

one minute ecstasy, one inch relief
one step forward, one love grace
is this what I am after?
memories getting unlocked
what is done is being undone
all seasons, all strings
every hour, untitled prayers
untoward events, mixed feelings
rush of wishes which remain in my throat
bold directions, that region
that ends before it begins
marsh glow, harsh blow
stable and the brown horse
grass and the white rabbit
its better; seek beauty, no redemption
you contradict your own thoughts
land and the spin around us
hopping and circling the all
and you never believe the thing before your eyes
until you hear it say "it's true"

Ulrich Muhe

Friedrich Hans Ulrich Mühe who played the lead role of Gerd Wiesler in The Lives of Others, 2006 expired due to stomach cancer this July.

I am so moved by his performance in this movie.. Amazing personality as a whole.

Bring me down

a golden flash, jolts sent so down
i recieved with my strongest guts
intuition and speculation slapped me twice thrice
and so untidy it is, i could hardly see the other end
my fist to the ground, and it is just that small contact
i can instead cut my will with that glass sabre
and scream so hard so harsh
the dust sucks up my covert desires
and the wind smashes down my uncooked cliches
so i become a fearless blade with less questions
and i hear no more answers


Heading home for a while! No smoking/drinking zone :( Anyways its
been 6 months.. so always refreshing!! C u guys.. hv a gud time

No nonsense!

Took my first keyboard lessons from Sandeep. It is just that stupid excitement of me and chenna to blast our minds and be future Chris martin and Axl Rose!!! (we idolize these 2 personalities). Not to mention his guy Freddie mercury and my guy Eddie vedder. Superb vocalists.

Frequent visits to ICH for coffee in the morning and Coffee day in the evening adds to our not-to-get-bored package!! There are many things to do, but still killing time. Its football time again. 'uckin everybody at 6 am to get their asses off the bed. Oct 1st was our first match. Really enjoying each moment of the play. Watched Breach the other day. Chris cooper always gives that stunning performance. Just love that guy :P

I almost stopped eating NV, and its hard but am doing great. My schedule is again balanced. Sleeping at nights and awake all day (like a normal person..hehe) I donno when it will turn upside down again!! :D Cutting down on the cigs/day. 

when home is just a few paces away
i knew i had to leave my true self behind
my fear crosses my imagination
my thirst to grab anything that comes my way
takes birth again and i begin to relive my past

those bits are reconstructed and
it breaks away all my regrets
i take something more and leave nothing less
i breathe some peace and fight all my boundaries
my water is that ice again
all old is now new again
i never got tired
everything kept rolling

i woke up and i find
home is just a few paces away

Incomplete

those seconds of infinite possibility
my veil, my empty rhapsody

every big man a tiny decay
pastures, blue or yellow or green?
afterthoughts, now or then?
all unknown, blinded by
my veil, my empty rhapsody

but i bear to change that doesn't change

listen to every word and avoid all conjectures
play to every tune and escape all troubles
craft all emotions and remove all stains
breathe all if's and foil those but's

lay by me, show that glare
colour me, don't be blue
shuffle my cards, be my fete
glue my extra to your prologue

knock that is gone
spin that exists, touch that feels
keep which fits, throw that fails
be lost, but swim back again

build those infamous melodies
and run past them, be insane
be mad, be a fool, create a show
nothing hurts, just be that love

use that sieve to separate
that frosts, that kills
with your fist that chooses
which to break and which to make

is anything too much?
yes that which is coarse
no that which is delicate
nothing hurts, just be that love

keep your opinion, keep your motto
my drums, my words, my pick, my stand
cast away, but be my whole song
just show your love and that is my epilogue

lay by me, show that glare
and i will remove
my veil
i will change
my empty rhapsody

A side of me

that sense of detachment I fear
that sense of liberation I crave
alarms if I am uninvited to me

that shallow guilt precedes that enfolded quest
that few and that very I love
that many and that all I don't understand
still don't reach me
and does not become mine

that everything which inflates
that nothing which dwindles
that magic which ain't a mystery
that story which ain't real
that spat which breaks
that promise when broken

that room with no sound
that sound with no lilt
that face with no smile
that smile with all contempt
that humor with no laughter
that laughter with all sarcasm

the able and the defeated
have learned and made and traded
all glory and all pain
still dark, still tainted

everything is a pause
everything is a hold
uninformed and faded
and running like a wounded soldier

mine which is not yours
me who is not you
say if its false
and nod if its true

I only wait to see if it happens
So I join and clap
for everything I lost
and everything I gained

At times

Maybe everyone is insecure in this 'uckin world. Nothing changes at your will or maybe you need to push harder to get things done the way you desired! Crapped up profanity, insanely corrupting our envious souls and constantly giving that condescending look which I may say is disfiguring our very thoughts and notions which were to make this world a better place. But then we are all a part of this drama. And am nowhere too. Maybe I get a chance to do my part.
Am not keeping a count of cigs am burning, and thats bad! Really missing my bro these days. That bastard is one hell of a guy. Staying awake all night and sleeping like a pig all day :-) I gotta change my schedule man. Biological imbalance is dangerous. 'uck the rules. I don't know why. Feels good to watch the sunrise and be attached to reality for a while.

Not able to figure out what is addictive in life. Cigs, Music or Books 'uckin jaded in life. But determined to make it better. I really can. Thats the bottomline. Time for another fag. Chillll :-)

Orhan Pamuk

"A writer is someone who spends years patiently trying to discover the second being inside him, and the world that makes him who he is: when I speak of writing, what comes first to my mind is not a novel, a poem, or literary tradition, it is a person who shuts himself up in a room, sits down at a table, and alone, turns inward; amid its shadows, he builds a new world with words. This man – or this woman – may use a typewriter, profit from the ease of a computer, or write with a pen on paper, as I have done for 30 years. As he writes, he can drink tea or coffee, or smoke cigarettes. From time to time he may rise from his table to look out through the window at the children playing in the street, and, if he is lucky, at trees and a view, or he can gaze out at a black wall. He can write poems, plays, or novels, as I do. All these differences come after the crucial task of sitting down at the table and patiently turning inwards. To write is to turn this inward gaze into words, to study the world into which that person passes when he retires into himself, and to do so with patience, obstinacy, and joy. As I sit at my table, for days, months, years, slowly adding new words to the empty page, I feel as if I am creating a new world, as if I am bringing into being that other person inside me, in the same way someone might build a bridge or a dome, stone by stone. The stones we writers use are words. As we hold them in our hands, sensing the ways in which each of them is connected to the others, looking at them sometimes from afar, sometimes almost caressing them with our fingers and the tips of our pens, weighing them, moving them around, year in and year out, patiently and hopefully, we create new worlds."

-- Orhan Pamuk

Tharoor and Elton John

A piece by Shashi Tharoor

Try to think of nothing.
That's the secret.

Try to think of nothing.
Do not think of work not done,
of promises unkept, calls to return,
or agendas you have failed to prepare for meetings
yet unheld.

Think of nothing.
Do not think of words said and unsaid,
of minor scandals and major investigations,
of humiliations endured, insults suffered,
or retorts that did not spring to mind
in time.

Think of nothing.
Do not think of your forgotten wife,
of lonely children and their reproachful demands,
or the smile of the pretty woman
whose handshake lingered just a shade too long
in your palm.

Think of nothing.
Do not think of newspaper headlines,
of the insistent transience of the InfoNet,
or the seductive stridency of the TV microphones
thrust so thrillingly
into your face.

Think of nothing.
Do not think of the waif on the foreign sidewalk,
her large eyes open in supplication,
her ragged shift stained by dirt and dust,
stretching her despairing hand toward you
in hope.

No, do not think
of the woman at the building site,
wobbling pan of stones on her head,
walking numb for the thousandth time
from pile to site and site to pile
as her neglected baby scrabbles in the dust,
eats sand and wails, unheard.

Think of nothing.
Do not think of the starving infant,
parched lips mute in hunger,
sitting slumped in the mud,
his eyes fading before his heart.
Do not think
of the stark ribs of skeletal cattle,
unable to provide milk, or hope,
in drought-dried lands of which you know nothing.

Think of nothing.
Do not think
of the dead-eyed refugee, dispossessed
of everything he once called home.
Do not think
of the unsmiling girl whose once-sturdy thigh
now ends at the knee, the rest blown off
by a thoughtless mine on her way to the well.

No, do not think
of the solitary tear, the broken limb,
the rubble-strewn home, the choking scream;
never think of piled-up bodies, blazing flames,
shattered lives, or sundered souls.
Do not think of the triumph of the torturer,
the wails of the hungry,
the screams of the mutilated,
or the indifferent smirk of the sleek.

Think of nothing.
Then you will be able
to sleep.

______________________________________

Elton John's "Sacrifice" - truly a classic one..

It's a human sign
When things go wrong
When the scent of her lingers
And temptation's strong

Into the boundary
Of each married man
Sweet deceit comes calling
And negativity lands

Cold cold heart
Hard done by you
Some things look better baby
Just passing through

And it's no sacrifice
Just a simple word
It's two hearts living
In two separate worlds
But it's no sacrifice
No sacrifice
It's no sacrifice at all

Mutual misunderstanding
After the fact
Sensitivity builds a prison
In the final act

We lose direction
No stone unturned
No tears to damn you
When jealousy burns

In the eyes of the angel..

The last moment was brief. The last words were terse. The way I came out was the way I went in. Like earthworms taking comfort in the murky moors, I took comfort in staring at my shadow staggering like a drunkard with a broken spectacle. I was completely soaked in the water of disguised silence. My journey became clueless. My throat was all parched up and my ears turned mute to all my worries. My constant fear to face tomorrow was the only thing which kept me alive. A fear of not announcing myself. A fear of not allowing myself to experience the limits of my potential to logically break down the essence of life. A fear of not comprehending my responsibilities as a youth. A fear of not able to cry when I should.

My whole living memories took a different path when I ceased to think. It highlighted my unusually skeptical mind to the outside contemporary world. The life I was living seemed extinct and the life I am living now is invigorating. The rain pouring down was like a sweetened potion. The mild breeze held my thoughts together with the leaves swaying about pompously, but remaining anonymous to the happenings.

Why have I chosen this path? I have spoken about all my known and uknown qualities, yet some nuances remain buried. I questioned insolently, but came no answer.

My other mundane life pulled me outside. To a life that is to be led in a good simple way

A pinch of color

A series of incidents can turn you on or off..And what follows it will determine the depth of ones character. Will he shrug it off and move on, or hold it inside him and be a stone?

From the myriad of colors, I chose none
I defined my thoughts
and let my heart talk
to all the queries and inhibitions i hold

to the bed of the sea i swim
and let my doubts drown in the silence
i hold my hands and now i pray
but the dolphins beckon me to come their way

and in this body of blue dreams
i followed them...

they eased my struggle within
a struggle to match my heart and mind
my heart says dive into your thoughts
my mind says cave out to life

and i come up to the surface
to breathe the live air and feel the pain
and joy it is to live real
and joy it is to live in love..