So that's it?

Wind blows as leaves fly in front of the clear blue sky. Not a sign of any bird in the sky. Tall tress sway around wailing, bidding adieu. It was nice having you to talk to, they say. I stand there mute. Words fail me as i look down not sure about what to say. All alone in the morning after frequent night outs, these trees used to cheer me on. These guardians of my dreams used to placate me promising to be there when i woke up, promising nothing would change, it will all remain the same. They wouldn't judge me, they wouldn't question, they wouldn't talk they'd just listen. Silently they used to nod accepting my side of the debate without ever debating me. No matter how a week would end they'd stand there waiting for me. Happy to listen to me after a tiresome week. I am not the most interesting of men and it rarely bothered them. They'd just be happy to have someone to talk to as was i. Tears are merely physical materialization of emotions. This thoughts kill me as i say farewell. I hope i long for this eternal silence that every day began with. I hope i don't get satisfied with the noise. I hope i keep writing or have anything good to write about. Kal aur aaenge nagmon ki khilti kalia chunnen wale, mujhse behtar kehne wale tumse behtar sunne wale. Fir koi mujhko yaad kare kyun koi mujhko yaad kare, magroor zamana mere lie kyun waqt apna barbaad kare. Mein pal do pal ka shayar hun. Why do i write this? The blog i mean if not for recognition of some kind or some kind of narcissist approach towards life. I could have kept a private diary. Every author is a narcissist. If there is a good author who isn't, you've most probably not heard of him for he shall never make his work public. Maybe the greatest authors kept the best of their written material to themselves. Birds are chirping now, goodnight alarm for me. if you read this and like it, imagine what beautiful material i shall never show to the world and die of envy .[:)] why so serious, son?

Remin me to edit this.... when am sober....

It's 5am. The sun's about to dawn upon us, the moon shall silently wander into wilderness. It had its moment good and bad. But the hour's gone. A new day shall dawn upon us.

The problem with waking up this long is that you have no one to talk to or more of no one who wants to talk to you. So you talk to yourself and you contemplate over matter trivial or not so trivial and you think, reminiscence. That's bad if you are semi-drunk as in being drunk 3 hours ago and not being completely sober. So this establishes the foundation of my write up. Not that I have nay structure to be held. But then sometimes the beginning is where all the fun lies and the rest is looking back at past. Missing the lost and fearing what lies ahead. It's 50% probability (the good vs bad thing) and yet we fear the bad part because you'd rather fear the future to like the present rather than love the future to get rid of the present. Get Drunk , Live life... Will edit this when am sober.. Am all apologies.... I used to drink,..... i still do.... I didnt drink..... i gulped.... I hate whisky.... but then i don;t like life too much either.....


Dig on this....

Aye Mere Pyare Watan
Manna Dey
aye mere pyaare watan aye mere bichhade chaman tujh pe dil kurbaan
too hee meree aarajoo, too hee meree aabaru, too hee meree jaan

tere daaman se jo aaye, un hawaaon ko salaam
choom loo main us jubaan ko jis pe aaye teraa naam
sab se pyaaree subah teree, sab se rangee teree shaam

maan kaa dil banake kabhee seene se lag jaataa hain too
aaur kabhee nanheesee betee ban ke yaad aataa hain too
jitanaa yaad aataa hain too, utanaa tadapaataa hain too

chhodakar teree jameen ko door aa pahuche hain hum
fir bhee hain yahee hain tamannaa tere jarro kee kasam
hum jahaan paidaa huye, us jagah hee nikale ye dam


Kambakht dum bhi to nahi nikalta.... Crap.



They say you are too easily manipulated. I mean, i say that to myself. It is more of me talking to my sober self. Why wouldn't i like to be manipulated, i have led too much of my life on my own. Why not give the gears to someone else for a time being just for the heck of it...

I don't talk to drunk men(talking to a drunk fem might not be that boring ...:P)

Why?, is it their drinking whiskey or is it the whiskey itself.. if i can handle my drink. what the f dos it matter to anyone else...

but others have a right to reject someones initiative...

but don't others have the right to take that initiative.. then why label them bad...

but u have to maintain the social decorum....

who made this decorum. i didn't and i refuse to follow anarchy,,,,,

if u refuse to do so, then kindly walk out of the system. Everything was going fine in your absence too

..... hahaha. throwin me out for debating the established order quite friendly eh...

Write

Write something, anything. Is writing such a trivial matter. Can one write anything?

There she stood before me. So strong yet so delicate. The eyes smiling look into nothing, nothing at all. She looked beyond you into the emptiness inside. Her hair fallen all over her face. The darkness inviting into the mysteries of the world. The forehead so pure like a bridge between heaven and hell. With a movement of those dark orbs she could declare the fate of humans. A sudden upward moment declaring surprise, a downward moment announcing shyness. Those blood red lips so luscious, so near yet so far. The ultimate prize for a man's lifetime of crusade. a slight upward moment declaring sunshine, a downward twitch the end of humanity. When she smiled her teeth seemed to be what they were, the pearly gates of heaven.

The sun was shining bright. Not that it was summer, the winter was on decline and the sun was shining after a long time. The sudden warmth had brightened many a lives that day. As he walked down that empty footpath, he couldn't help singing. Suddenly he veered to the left and then back to his position and then to the right. He felt like dancing. The birds chirping around encouraged him along. He rotated around his position ending the step with his hands spread out and his face downwards The king 'Elvis' couldn't have don't it better. The smile kept spreading its tentacles around his face. he loved life. He in that moment forgave his enemies, reached out to heaven and beckoned hell along. His song got a bit louder, his steps a bit hasty, his smile wider. Love was in the air, and he was not immune to it. He remembered her, she was smiling. Ha, does life get any better. He moved left his home stared at him. Kept dancing on his way to his house humming the song. When suddenly a car came out of nowhere and hit him. As if life played in slow motion. He remembered being thrown up and his slow fall downwards. A drop of red fell into his eyes as he lay sprawled over the road. So, this was life, death at last A smile in between.His life flashed in front of his life. His mom, his father, his sister all as if stood in front of him, smiling. He raised his to try and touch them for the last time, a weak smile on his face. But the strain was too much, and with a sigh he ended his song.