I have always wished to talk to someone late at night i.e. around 4 and 4:30am. I mean its not like i haven't survived the nights till now but I think talking to sum one else is far more interesting than talking to yourself. i mean talking to sum one else is far more mentally stimulating, u might get to hear some thing new.
I talk to myself all the time. i discuss stuff, debate a lot with myself. But then it limits the opposition. I am in a constant race with myself to one up myself. Since i am the both sides of the debate, its basically me vs me and no matter what i win. I find points against myself and vice-versa when i should be trying to come across new horizons at all new level itself. the problem is i haven't come across any other person who challenges me in the manner I want them to. May be its just plain loneliness and all the despair it entails. A paradigm, a paradox, a quote something, anything that i can appreciate and, depreciate myself on not having thought of it earlier. I don't speak much publicly but there are a lot of stuff i would like to point out to people, a lot i would like to make them understand but i just don't want to take upon myself the burden of educating the masses. i don't care, that's my problem i don't care enough about my problems, about myself or anything for that matter.
I am a procrastinator, no may be not, procrastinator only delays plans, i don't even plan. i just go to sleep rather than sit up and plan. this is the kind of stuff i do when i should be calling sum one up and asking them to talk to me, i write a bull shit piece of keyboard strokes. i wish i could run away far away from everywhere, but then i wouldn't have anyone to talk to even there.
i don't want to walk into a crowd, i hate crowds. A group of people depresses me , i want to run away. I hate being a part of the mob. i want to stand out, be sum one, not a part of everyone. i don't like to talk out publicly I'll rather wait for a person to come to the corner and chit chat with him rather than approach him when he's in the crowd. I don't usually write this kind of weird stuff, because it exposes me. I want people to play blind with me, if they knew me, they'd screw me. I know no one reads this, so am posting it to read it few months from now and laugh on it.
Sunday, 5 October 2008
A path out of nowhere leading to nowhere
I just saw two movies completely world apart. Woody Allen's classic 'Annie Hall' and Robert Redford's latest offering 'Lions for lambs'. Both are good movies nothing awesome but decent acting fine directorial cuts etc. What this represented was the variety that these moving photographs can provide. The wide spectrum they covered, was all too obvious. But the question that has bothered me since my 9th grade and does so now concerns more with music.
So we all know there are 7 'sur' as we call it hindi music. These sur can be arranged and rearranged in a million ways. The problem is what happens when all the possible combination have been used. What then. DO we stop making new music? Do we make a new sur or do we remix the old ones? I hate remixes by the way. If the original song was good enough to deserve a remix then why do we need the remixes anyways. This paradox is quite interesting to say the least. I for one am wholeheartedly against remixes. I like originality. The beauty of the fact that sumone thought of such a beautiful creation before me enthralls me, captures my imagination, challenges me to innovate, do something before sumone else does. What happens when all the possible story lines have been used. Are there as many emotions possible in a human being so as to feed the hungry mouth of an avid reader. What when all combination of emotions have been tread upon? Where lies the new path? Who comes to the rescue? An American patrol team?( if u have seen the latter movie you'll understand where this came from). Thank god i won't be alive then but the question is so disturbing that it can't just be overlooked.
So what should we do, stop making new music or decrease the rate at which we make music to give more combination to the future genreations than we will today? Do we try to repress our imaginations our thoughts to give a better future. Its like the case with environmentalist. Do we stop living our live to the full to let our children live their lives to the full? Do we become the scape goats for the future. Do we compromise to prevent them from compromising? Which way do we go? What path do we take? Why is the right path always represented as the less trodden upon? Why can't the majority be right? Why the sudden onslaught of such stupid question? Why doesnt this kid go back to sleep? Why does this 21 yr old human being call himself a kid? why the...? So many questions so little time. So few holidays, even less answers and fewer people who even care to answer. Why is everyone nowadays like a pandora box full of questions? Where are the answers? Inside ourselves? when shall they open? who has the key? why werent the answers provided in a booklet the moment we were born.
So we all know there are 7 'sur' as we call it hindi music. These sur can be arranged and rearranged in a million ways. The problem is what happens when all the possible combination have been used. What then. DO we stop making new music? Do we make a new sur or do we remix the old ones? I hate remixes by the way. If the original song was good enough to deserve a remix then why do we need the remixes anyways. This paradox is quite interesting to say the least. I for one am wholeheartedly against remixes. I like originality. The beauty of the fact that sumone thought of such a beautiful creation before me enthralls me, captures my imagination, challenges me to innovate, do something before sumone else does. What happens when all the possible story lines have been used. Are there as many emotions possible in a human being so as to feed the hungry mouth of an avid reader. What when all combination of emotions have been tread upon? Where lies the new path? Who comes to the rescue? An American patrol team?( if u have seen the latter movie you'll understand where this came from). Thank god i won't be alive then but the question is so disturbing that it can't just be overlooked.
So what should we do, stop making new music or decrease the rate at which we make music to give more combination to the future genreations than we will today? Do we try to repress our imaginations our thoughts to give a better future. Its like the case with environmentalist. Do we stop living our live to the full to let our children live their lives to the full? Do we become the scape goats for the future. Do we compromise to prevent them from compromising? Which way do we go? What path do we take? Why is the right path always represented as the less trodden upon? Why can't the majority be right? Why the sudden onslaught of such stupid question? Why doesnt this kid go back to sleep? Why does this 21 yr old human being call himself a kid? why the...? So many questions so little time. So few holidays, even less answers and fewer people who even care to answer. Why is everyone nowadays like a pandora box full of questions? Where are the answers? Inside ourselves? when shall they open? who has the key? why werent the answers provided in a booklet the moment we were born.
Damned be thou, O spring
The summer days are gone.
The reasons i was born
are no more, a cold darkness
left, future is a dark abyss.
It's all the same now,
Not long before i take my final bow.
This is not the way it was meant to be.
This wasn't meant to be my reality.
Long ago i used to try,
many years ago i used to cry.
The coldness inside suffocates me,
like i am where i was not meant to be,
My character will die out
but the drama will play.
no matter how i shout now,
no matter what i say.
the third act all morose
hold it now, for i know not where it goes.
the fourth arrives in all its darkness
and misery, the sadness
suffocates me.
Days will come, days will pass by
I'll sit here all alone under the moonlight
and no matter how i try
I'll watch you go like a forsaken dream.
The spring shall arrive again
and I'll shall wait here
I know u wont remember
but i no longer care.
The reasons i was born
are no more, a cold darkness
left, future is a dark abyss.
It's all the same now,
Not long before i take my final bow.
This is not the way it was meant to be.
This wasn't meant to be my reality.
Long ago i used to try,
many years ago i used to cry.
The coldness inside suffocates me,
like i am where i was not meant to be,
My character will die out
but the drama will play.
no matter how i shout now,
no matter what i say.
the third act all morose
hold it now, for i know not where it goes.
the fourth arrives in all its darkness
and misery, the sadness
suffocates me.
Days will come, days will pass by
I'll sit here all alone under the moonlight
and no matter how i try
I'll watch you go like a forsaken dream.
The spring shall arrive again
and I'll shall wait here
I know u wont remember
but i no longer care.
Friday, 19 September 2008
Mostly concerned with death
Lived a hundred dreams now is it sad if i die for one.
Never lived long enough to see my own death.
When i die Please dont cry.
When we die there will be no soul left, its just me and my ashes
Where do the bad folks go when they die?
If we become the same after our death then why not do sumthing bad and live our lifes to the full. At the end of the game both the king and pawn go into the same box, don't they?
you turn to ash me too.
Every man dies the same death every man lives a different life
Ashes to ashes dust to dust
Saw u yesterday,
did nothing just walked by,
nothing no more has any meaning
tommorow you too will die
Yesterday i was dead
tonight i shall die
i have this evening to live
why should i cry
the only reason i never walked far away from you was that i feared i wouldnt have the courage to come back
go away do not come back
for tommorow i may not be
i lived amongst men and tommorow i shall reside amongst angels.
i cry
when angels deserve to die
i cried twice
'cos they wouldnt kill me and then they wouldnt let me die
Given a choice between life and death i'll pick life so i could write about death
if i were to die, would you cry?
i say dont cry 'cos i can't live with guilt of being your weaknesss
i say dont cry 'cos i need when i do.
Never lived long enough to see my own death.
When i die Please dont cry.
When we die there will be no soul left, its just me and my ashes
Where do the bad folks go when they die?
If we become the same after our death then why not do sumthing bad and live our lifes to the full. At the end of the game both the king and pawn go into the same box, don't they?
you turn to ash me too.
Every man dies the same death every man lives a different life
Ashes to ashes dust to dust
Saw u yesterday,
did nothing just walked by,
nothing no more has any meaning
tommorow you too will die
Yesterday i was dead
tonight i shall die
i have this evening to live
why should i cry
the only reason i never walked far away from you was that i feared i wouldnt have the courage to come back
go away do not come back
for tommorow i may not be
i lived amongst men and tommorow i shall reside amongst angels.
i cry
when angels deserve to die
i cried twice
'cos they wouldnt kill me and then they wouldnt let me die
Given a choice between life and death i'll pick life so i could write about death
if i were to die, would you cry?
i say dont cry 'cos i can't live with guilt of being your weaknesss
i say dont cry 'cos i need when i do.
Sunday, 31 August 2008
Hopeless Romantic Fool
The wind blew hard along with its close friend, dust.It had been almost two hours waiting at the junction. Sunday afternoon ensure the absence of crowd on these roads.He re-read the letters with a vague hope that some hidden code or password lay somewhere but the words hadn't changed, they never did. No matter how many times he read the letter the stood intact, after all they were the sole guardians of the letters intent. If only they knew what difference they made to the poor boys life, the beauty they were capable of bringing to him, they might have relented.
He suddenly heard the noise of an upcoming vehicle. Stooping from his position he peered through the corner of the shop to view the vehicle on which rode his love. At that instant he realized,he had no idea of what he would speak to the angel. He felt dazed. Trying desperately to think of a line worthy of the beauty, the charm was an arduous task & the blazing afternoon sun was no help either. He staggered for a while.Then another thought crept into his mind, what if he became speechless as he had on previous occasions? The mere presence of such a probability gave him shivers in the sweltering heat. 'What would she be dressed like? A million possibilities roamed freely in his head, fighting for attention when their owner had none. The coach was fast approaching. This had to be her. To pass by at this time in this place. He thought he detected the sweet smell of her perfume blowing in the wind. All thoughts vanished from his mind and a picture reigned supreme.
The letter in which he proposed this meeting had been a difficult one to write. Written late at night, when the town slept and the wine house woke up, written under a tree in the backyard of his house with the moon for his only companion. It looked upon as the little boy undertook a perilous journey across the 40 pages he tore before he finalized a small and concise letter, not lacking the intent but devoid of profuse poetry. The coach had almost arrived He straightened his bow tie, brushed off dust from his coat, tried to undo the blemishes of the 2 hour vigil. The coach arrived in front of him. He stepped forward, was at a hands distance from the coach when he realized the coach hadn't stopped. He stepped back waiting for the coach driver to stop the vehicle. All he wanted at this moment was to be worthy of the love that waited inside this magnificent vehicle.Not wanting to rush into the matters, a trait he inherited from his father along with the coat, he waited. The coach kept moving. 'Stupid, coach driver couldn't he stop at this spot itself.' Now he would have to walk to the coach. But the coach did not falter in it's path & kept marching ahead. 'Of course, the coach driver must be taking her to the next junction.' He thought of running along with it but did not do so. Remembering a short-cut to the junction , he ran as fast as he could. Almost out of breath as he reached the new destination, he stooped with his hands on his thighs, his hair falling all over his face. A vehicle had just passed the road, it wasn't the coach he was sure. The road was dusty, the wind seemed to be a futile sweeper destined to clean the roads all it's life. The sun was setting, spreading the paleness of a summer dusk all around.A young boy sat near the road, waiting. Childish passions, alas, know no limits. That night the moon sighed, wished it could speak and not just be spectator to these spectacles, for few kilometres away a girl lay sick on her bed, begging to her parents to let her go out. Strange are the ways of life and the pawns don't decide the moves.
He suddenly heard the noise of an upcoming vehicle. Stooping from his position he peered through the corner of the shop to view the vehicle on which rode his love. At that instant he realized,he had no idea of what he would speak to the angel. He felt dazed. Trying desperately to think of a line worthy of the beauty, the charm was an arduous task & the blazing afternoon sun was no help either. He staggered for a while.Then another thought crept into his mind, what if he became speechless as he had on previous occasions? The mere presence of such a probability gave him shivers in the sweltering heat. 'What would she be dressed like? A million possibilities roamed freely in his head, fighting for attention when their owner had none. The coach was fast approaching. This had to be her. To pass by at this time in this place. He thought he detected the sweet smell of her perfume blowing in the wind. All thoughts vanished from his mind and a picture reigned supreme.
The letter in which he proposed this meeting had been a difficult one to write. Written late at night, when the town slept and the wine house woke up, written under a tree in the backyard of his house with the moon for his only companion. It looked upon as the little boy undertook a perilous journey across the 40 pages he tore before he finalized a small and concise letter, not lacking the intent but devoid of profuse poetry. The coach had almost arrived He straightened his bow tie, brushed off dust from his coat, tried to undo the blemishes of the 2 hour vigil. The coach arrived in front of him. He stepped forward, was at a hands distance from the coach when he realized the coach hadn't stopped. He stepped back waiting for the coach driver to stop the vehicle. All he wanted at this moment was to be worthy of the love that waited inside this magnificent vehicle.Not wanting to rush into the matters, a trait he inherited from his father along with the coat, he waited. The coach kept moving. 'Stupid, coach driver couldn't he stop at this spot itself.' Now he would have to walk to the coach. But the coach did not falter in it's path & kept marching ahead. 'Of course, the coach driver must be taking her to the next junction.' He thought of running along with it but did not do so. Remembering a short-cut to the junction , he ran as fast as he could. Almost out of breath as he reached the new destination, he stooped with his hands on his thighs, his hair falling all over his face. A vehicle had just passed the road, it wasn't the coach he was sure. The road was dusty, the wind seemed to be a futile sweeper destined to clean the roads all it's life. The sun was setting, spreading the paleness of a summer dusk all around.A young boy sat near the road, waiting. Childish passions, alas, know no limits. That night the moon sighed, wished it could speak and not just be spectator to these spectacles, for few kilometres away a girl lay sick on her bed, begging to her parents to let her go out. Strange are the ways of life and the pawns don't decide the moves.
Sunday, 4 May 2008
Few drinks, a crappy movie and a nightout later.....
The crescent has dimmed. The sky clear and subtle. No wind blows. There is silence all around except of course, for the chirping of the birds. A dog barks somewhere off. I light my night's (now the break of dawn's) last ciggarette. A million tree watch on silent and calm, the way do every morning. Party time wasting is so much fun. A tree stands alon in our courtyard. Home of a million birds, spectator of a milion dreams dreamt and many more forgotten , silent keeper of lost secrets. I hear the opening of a door. One of the genius student has already woken up for a new day, while I wait the end of yesterday. Have just finshed watching a movie. Don't ask me which and no slangs shall you hear.Cry me a river(Julie London version) plays in the background. The crow caw harsher today, they didnt expect an intruder into their realm I suppose. As I return from a walk around the corridor the crescent has disappeared, the sun is about to rise. The almighty sun is yet to defeat the miniscule moon. Yesterday love was such an easy game to play. Today is a different day. I wish to talk to someone, anyone, share a joke or two but its too early in the morning and no one's awake yet. Many an unknown men died yesterday, many a battle were lost. Many a briths to be heralded today, many a wars to be waged. A million will get bored today and few will live centuries this day, while a lonely boy will got sleep late wistfully waiting for time to stop and let him be what he was yesterday. Strange ain't it, that yesterday's could always have been lived better?
Saturday, 23 February 2008
Back and Forth
I wasn't always like this,
my days lost i miss.
Let the memories come again,
let my eyes still rain.
The days fly by so fast,
i never realized my present would be my past.
I know you listen to none,
i know this cant be done.
I know you won't stop, alas,
I don't want this time to pass.
The rain drops wet me so,
pleading me to let my past go.
But how can i just let it be,
when i have never been me.
Yesterday i dreamt of my past,
and today i regret my yesterday.
Waiting for some miracle,
shall never unbound you of your shackles.
Stand up, stand up tall,
stand up what even if you fall.
For mistakes are due,
even if they are not few.
They tried to stop me at every step,
they tried to break my will.
I kept walking
and keep walking i will.
With Love, Me
Never forget......shed a tear when needed but cherish the memories. don't let the tears wash away your past.... the thoughts u shared, the dreams u saw, the lives u led, they'll stay. people may part but friends don't..... How i wish it was all the same...nothing changing... sadness is not the answer to the grief..... don't cry oh plz don't cry tonight...u know i am there waiting for u thinking about u.... i would have been with you but life is not all that we want..... i luv u no matter how far we are ....no matter how many years pass.....I'll always will be there right beside you....hope u trust me.... hope u still believe in the dreams we saw......the world that was ours..... the loves not lost ...it might be separated but the separation has given it a new meaning......dont cry tonight....it hurts to know i could have been better but then i hope u know i tried..........time passes on memory fades away but the feelings, the dreams dont let them pass....... remind urself of every dream u did dream as a child and live it..... remember what u disliked in those days....try not be like the ogre of ur childhood....not the fairy i now but the kind, nice, cheerful being u are.... time flies by and we cant clip its wings like an eagle it soars free over all the place never under anyones control everyone bows down to it...it flew over the deep black forest....the mighty oceans....the twinkling rivers........the huge part white part green part rocky mountains that stand guard of land unknown..... it bows down to none ....hope u don't either...... wish i could ask the eagle to halt but alas i am a mere being..... the world is not what it looked like to you but u can still dream, you can still see the good..... who knows there might be more good than u ever dreamt about...life is strange and beautiful..... memories are a strange thing they keep the pain alive but when the doors to good time open up, the world it helps us reach....the times passed by, we wish it could have waited........ make most of the moment.....moment passes by so do friends and so does life.....what is today may not be tomorrow.... and also remember tomorrow may not be yesterday it might be better......and remember i miss you and i miss you so bad.....but move on......cherish me but live life the way i would have wished for you......i hate tears ....i could never control them and the make this page so wet.....sorry for the blotches this watery stuff pouring like waterfall dont abide by any laws....... i ask u to not cry and cant even make myself stop from it....... u know i was never good at words......you were and how i miss ur lucid poems the fantasies the unbounded lands the quiet river...... u dreamt big and made me see it too..... i thank you for that and want you to know it'll never be the same...... everything will change but our friendship shall stand the test of time........ plz dont cry tonight for if u do i shall cry with you......
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