and time passes...

It takes a while for hope to seep in, for you to see the other side of things, to realise this is not it. Life takes its time to make you feel, to let it strike, to let it heal. Like those lights you drive past, sitting inside a car surrounded by just whats inside, comforted, numb and unmindful of what will rush in the moment you roll down the barriers. Sudden feelings are unwelcome, most feared, shocks, even surprises. You dread, you anticipate. Its all uneasy, never as comforting as something smooth and flowing, something thats no natural that you fail to realise its things happening one after the other. The links sometimes get so covered, so well hidden, their existence seems frail until you stop by to consciously piece them out. You wake up one fine day to let it hit you, to look back and see so much has passed. You suddenly wanna feel it all, every moment, nice or unpleasant, you just wanna feel it happen, feel it pass, not just watch it go while you remain numb. Your actions just dont feel like your own, something mechanical that just happens, which you probably could but for some strange reason exercise no control over. You talk but your words dont sound your own, you speak coz you gotta be spoken to. You live coz its a habit. Until the day everything crashes on you, all the time passed, all that has happened, every word spoken, every effect its brought along, but the transitions are missing. They just dint strike when they were to. All you know at the end of it is, you cant turn back, you cant feel it happen, and you cant watch it happen again. You just remain secretely glad of the time that has passed. Waiting for hope to set in, waiting to anticipate, to fear, to feel, the coldeness, the warmth.

it felt like a dream...

It felt like a dream all along...time flew...I was lost, consumed by what was happening. Every bit, powerful, visual beyond words. I felt like I was hit by something so hard, it would leave a mark on me for days and days to come.I could feel a tear trickle with every hand held. I wish to relive the moments, to let them pass slowly, to let them flow through me. It was over and I burst into tears, felt I had been holding them back for long. I just wanted to scream out, wail though my cheeks hurt hard. Wonder what it did to me, I still dont know why it felt so strong. Feels like waking up from a dream, like something I've lived through. Its an experience, a life lived, a painting as my friend called it......Babel...

My treasure box

Last night as I sat watching a movie and looking for something to do after that, thanks to the non- functional internet connection and the lack of another bearable movie. After a while when I had given up at finding a good book I opened up drawers of my old study table, the one I had been gifted when I was in my third standard (7 years old). Out came pouring everything it held. And then it wasn't just time that seemed to have passed. Untouched as it had been for years together, I realised how it preserved small glimpses of all the years I spent at home. From pens and papers with weird calculation and notes to address books with names and numbers of childhood friends. Even their names sounded like puzzles to me now. Broken pieces of old jewellary, preserved letters, half done sketches, activity books, there seemed no end to this. Hastily pulling everything out I tried to recollect when I had acquired each of those things and how, giving up at a few times I did manage to recollect most, which included little parting gifts from friends who wept and bid goodbye as I moved from one town to another. Everything came crashing on me, and before I realised I could picture vivid images of each of them, of old homes, schools and what not.
As I dug deeper into the shelves I discovered folders stacked with papers filled with bits of kiddish poetry, of sketched and painted animals and lastly a few report cards. Pulling them out I found, they were grade sheets that belonged to me and my bro spanning every year of our schooling. It was quite funny to look through them and read those numbers which perhaps meant the world to me then, which I now laughed at. 1st grade....Maths -80....Grammar and Composition- 65....Science- 95.....I read and I am rolling with laughter even unmindful of the fact that I am at home and its not exactly the time when you can laugh out loud and let people wake up to see what you are upto and term you crazy.
Scanning through everything I collected bits of small things and put them aside to carry along. They weren't things I'd ever need or miss, but the kinds I had treasured as a kid and didn't have the heart to part with after recovering them.
I wish to do this again, collect glimpses of my life in small souveniers and stack them in a box...something like a treasure box which I can open up to look back at things and people in the past. It feels beautiful to do that, and somewhere it is a reminder of how far behind you leave people sometimes or how quickly you move on. Or perhaps simply how life is all about just moving on...

Something missing

Its beautiful out there they say, it pours and pours and pours...
I am here and I am loving being here...being away....
But something keeps me there....keeps me from distancing myself...
I have been waiting for long...for this one time to set it all right.
There's something missing I know, something that will keep me from being where I am
Its incomplete...its so not the same...its never felt this way...
Perhaps its just the space...perhaps nothing...
All I know is...I miss being there and I wonder why...I long for something and I can't figure what..

(And its not what you are thinking!)

Of simple things...

It seemed harder to leave than ever before, rained and rained all night and nothing could move me into gettin my bags packed untill the first light. I was stuck, in awe of everything around me and wondering why this happened everytime I had to leave. I finally did, snapping away from my 'normal' life to a break into the kind I had forgotten for a while. It felt nice the cold wind on my cheeks as I left smiling at everything recognizable, every place I'd have to do without for a while. Maybe I just needed a fag to get myself outta such thoughts, I fished one...perhaps my last for the fortnight to come, changed my mind and put it right back. I never really 'needed' one, theres never a time when I need external agents for a high...boredom has always qualified as a more apt reason.
Four and a half hours at the arrival terminal at Mumbai airport and I felt quite different. Here I emphasize on the arrival terminal coz its very unlike the experience of having to wait at the departure as all it provides you with is space to let yourself get starved, thirsty, irritated and frozen by the AC. Anways, after having spent those dreadful hours with a fever and nearly missing my train I reached at about 2am. I am forced to believe nothing important in my life ever happens at an earthly time...really...
Half a night's sleep, a 2 hour drive and I am driven to a place so full of everything nostalgic. The place I've felt a strong sense of affection towards, not really belonging just liking perhaps. It didn't seem a great deal this time, the sight of my old school, of all those places I've spent my most memorable times at, all those people who seemed to be the end of my world. I walked past everything whisking away memories, thoughts and all the contemplation they bring. I've moved ahead, way ahead of ever being able to return. Involving myself in errands I was obliged but not quite expected to do I let the day pass and then another untill I left.
The journey back, the usual time when I tend to reflect and regret the things I did not and ought to have done wasn't the usual either. I popped a tablet to get myself feeling better and grabbed the keys from dad....75 kms....an average of 100kmph on the expressway and I felt great. That sense of power, the thrill of speed drove away every other thought that would have occupied my mind right then.A drink and a night of slumber...surprisingly got me up and about a lil before noon.
A 5- hour drive home and all seems right. Cuddled in the back seat displacing all the pieces of luggage fitted around I slept 3 long hours, sleep so sound, I don't remember the last time I slept that sound. Opening my eyes to a sudden halt, a little rumble of something around me, the familiar smell of petrol, the sound of the ghazals I've grown up listening to, of mom and dad discussing something trifling I feel assured, secure and so much at ease. Suddenly reminded of how I've never felt or come close to feeling this way in a while I wish it lasts. Battling my sleep to keep my eyelids open, I wish to say something, something that would make them realise how I felt, of how everything felt just the same despite ages of staying away, of changes, the ups and downs. A glance thrown behind and I hear, " are you hungry?" To which I utter a casual "slightly" with half of it fading into insignificance. I turn away, look up at the window and close my eyes. Its just a moment, one like the many others you see everyday, where there is nothing unusual but the way you feel about it, just this once, all of a sudden. Its something you want to express, something you wanna cherish for its utter eventlesness. But somethings are best left unsaid, to let the moment remain true, as eventless as you'd like it to be. These thoughts and my eyes close humming the words of jagjit singh in that familiar passe rythm, I am drowsy again. It couldn't get better...

I wish...

A piece I wrote after a very long time of not having written anything I felt like writing.
And ya posting it took quite a bit of contemplation


Tired of believing what you feel
When all it seems is just a blur
People come and leave
I am here, As I read
words pinch me to be spoken
Of what they are worth,
Of what its got, life
The dusk tugs at me
My feet, they bind
working through chains that hurt
of days, of remembrance
I feel, I think
Not strong enough?
I’ve learnt it scares
I look at the glass
Lucidity, its faint
Did it ever go beyond?
Did I ever seek to break
the slightest thing profound
A need, a reason.
Am I so tired?
It doesn’t seem right
it takes a while to wake up
its effort to breathe free
Thoughts of tomorrow, wonder beneath
Its hard to look behind, hard to try
Its been a numbness, trying to engulf me
I wanted it to stay
I wish it did
I am still in search

Shaastra, my phone and randomness beyond

I didn’t quite expect myself to blog regularly…॥but I guess it went a lil too far…blame my blog which chooses to eat up words and place the second word in the place of the first and vice versa। So I get back to the dear old Ms Word, which is perhaps the only program (despite my repeated experiments with loadsa others) I use regularly and have been able to get slightly close to mastering. Its been a tiresome while and I keep wondering what exactly made it so, was it the work or was it just how I wanted to do it.
Shaastra 2007, which I thought would be a drab piece of student fest prolonging my work effort considering IIT is miles away from where I live and coz I probably wouldn’t quite figure a thing that would happen around. On the flipside, it was an amazing experience, the amount I actually saw and the times I had through it. And being not so modest I admit I did not feel lost. I felt this satisfaction of having something ‘real’ to write about for a change, which was to a large extent erased by the sheer lack of enthusiasm my paper, showed especially coz I was bursting with it. The worst being, my story getting scrapped at the cost of some celeb birthday tit- bits.
Not to mention how frustrated it made me I was given a brilliant idea of featuring it in the education supplement as a ‘trend story’! Just when I was likely to scream about it I was loaded with some celeb stories in connection with Diwali which apparently deserved priority over the rest. Ya I agree papers can be drab.
So while I ‘work’ at them life churns out more. One night while I was out for a nice dinner, my phone switched itself off for the lack of sufficient charge. I ignore do my thing; get back home enjoying the silence of my phone not ringing (which somehow annoyingly happens once every hour). How was I to predict the rest of my night (and day) would go in me dying to listen to it ring. It refused to switch on despite having been on charge for long. After tampering with it for about 4 hours I discovered some strange tactics to switch it on exactly for a minute (after which it resumed to its dead sate). So, ya after making a million dumb engineers go over it again and again, waiting like one would outside a friggin ICU, I get the answer. My contacts are lost, the whole 500 of them, 3 years of work, and 4 years of life with a phone!!! Giving up on everything I took things to myself and finally recovered every single one of them. What if it took 5 whole hours and a 100 times ( literally) of switching on and off my phone I have them all scribbled in a notepad which I now have to carry wherever I go and pull out at the very mention of having to call anyone. To my relief, I have been lent a ‘spare’ phone by a benevolent flatmate. The story ends with my phone being declared dead! So, if any of you reading this happen to call me and don’t hear the friendly hello on the other side, you’ll know why.
I don’t believe I’ve actually spent as much time as many words over blogging about my phone. Perhaps I am just bored, or its perhaps me getting used to writing about things that aren’t in the faintest ways meaningful. So folks don’t forget Diwali is round the corner as unfortunately no one lets me forget and the papers are gonna keep rubbing it in :)