Dazed, confused, lost.
Foggy, misty, hazy.
In a meeting,
I grapple with business jargon.
I find myself misplaced
Displaced.
I scribble.
Staring at a phone pretending to listen.
In an unknown land,
Lost as always!!
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Reflections
Song Playing: Humsafar, Silk route
" Sur se saji geeton si teri yaad,
Tujh bin sanam, bhaye na koi baat
Kaise kaho, akele chaloon aaj
Aao sanam, Soone hain dil ke saaz. "
I dedicate this verse to all those wonderful few with whom I have spent the two most beautiful two years of my life.
As I was alone in a big house and a small city for the entire weekend, not having any human presence around me, just a cell phone that I used to connect to a few people, there were loads of thoughts which crossed my mind.
I miss all my friends, some more, some less. If God asked me for one wish, I would wish to have them with me to laugh with, to crib to, to fight with, to love, to care.
Some of my friends envy my chilled out work life. But work life sucks.I want something more challenging, something to look forward to everyday. I can chill when I am 50. I want to work, I want to kick this job only if I get something better and I am willing to take a risk. When will I take a risk, when I am 50? when i have the lives of 2 more people attached to mine? No, i want something more out of my work life !
A friend whom I spoke to on the phone made a comment - " That X is bored with life is because she is single and she would be happier if she had someone to share things with". I don't blame her for saying something like this because she feels that having a guy has made a difference to her life. A large part of her life now revolves around that one person. And maybe she is right. I have seen a certain excitement in people who are in love.They say love is magical.Is it the idea of being in love that is magical? I wonder.
But what is true love? Does it exist in the first place? If it did, there wouldn't be too many broken relationships. And Love at first sight is what I absolutely don't believe in. Love is about discovering a person, about knowing him too well to think he is predictable and then being surprised at that moment when you thought he was predictable.It is about the connect, the chemistry, probably something like that between the characters in the movie Before Sunrise. Maybe my picture is Utopian. I don't blame myself. I have never been in love. I might be lying when I say that, I am quite a liar.
There is another friend who says - " A guy and a girl can never be just friends. There has to be something between them, from one side at least." Again these are comments which get me thinking. Probably this was true in the previous era when there was not so much interaction between guys and girls and hence there was an obvious attraction, but I don't agree with her if she says that it still holds true.
If a woman is single, its just because the right person has not come across yet. I think there is a certain independence in being single. She dosen't have to hang up while talking to a friend saying that he is on call waiting, phone calls are not restricted to one person, daily activities need not be reported to someone, she dosen't need to go invisible on chat, just because now he has come online, she doesn't need to worry about his insecurity when she goes for a movie with a male friend and at the same time she need not feel insecure about his female friends. It saves so much trouble, But yes, when this single woman gets friendly with a guy, he might think she is available just because she is single and if she is close to a male friend who is committed, she might have to face insecurities of his girlfriend.But then, Is love about finding the right person or about creating the right relationship?
And what about lost love? I want to quote Mitch Albom from 'The Five people you meet in Heaven' :
"Lost Love is still love. It just takes a different form. You can't see their smile or move them around a dance floor.But when those senses weaken, another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it.You dance with it.Life has to end.Love doesn't."
But memories will fade with time. In the hurried existence called life, who has the time to nurture memories?
But yes, there is a need for companionship. Sometimes, I've felt lonely, I've felt broken from inside and then I've felt the need to have someone to hug and to pour out all my worries and all my thoughts to. A human and not this 12 inches by 6 inches keyboard.
" Sur se saji geeton si teri yaad,
Tujh bin sanam, bhaye na koi baat
Kaise kaho, akele chaloon aaj
Aao sanam, Soone hain dil ke saaz. "
I dedicate this verse to all those wonderful few with whom I have spent the two most beautiful two years of my life.
As I was alone in a big house and a small city for the entire weekend, not having any human presence around me, just a cell phone that I used to connect to a few people, there were loads of thoughts which crossed my mind.
I miss all my friends, some more, some less. If God asked me for one wish, I would wish to have them with me to laugh with, to crib to, to fight with, to love, to care.
Some of my friends envy my chilled out work life. But work life sucks.I want something more challenging, something to look forward to everyday. I can chill when I am 50. I want to work, I want to kick this job only if I get something better and I am willing to take a risk. When will I take a risk, when I am 50? when i have the lives of 2 more people attached to mine? No, i want something more out of my work life !
A friend whom I spoke to on the phone made a comment - " That X is bored with life is because she is single and she would be happier if she had someone to share things with". I don't blame her for saying something like this because she feels that having a guy has made a difference to her life. A large part of her life now revolves around that one person. And maybe she is right. I have seen a certain excitement in people who are in love.They say love is magical.Is it the idea of being in love that is magical? I wonder.
But what is true love? Does it exist in the first place? If it did, there wouldn't be too many broken relationships. And Love at first sight is what I absolutely don't believe in. Love is about discovering a person, about knowing him too well to think he is predictable and then being surprised at that moment when you thought he was predictable.It is about the connect, the chemistry, probably something like that between the characters in the movie Before Sunrise. Maybe my picture is Utopian. I don't blame myself. I have never been in love. I might be lying when I say that, I am quite a liar.
There is another friend who says - " A guy and a girl can never be just friends. There has to be something between them, from one side at least." Again these are comments which get me thinking. Probably this was true in the previous era when there was not so much interaction between guys and girls and hence there was an obvious attraction, but I don't agree with her if she says that it still holds true.
If a woman is single, its just because the right person has not come across yet. I think there is a certain independence in being single. She dosen't have to hang up while talking to a friend saying that he is on call waiting, phone calls are not restricted to one person, daily activities need not be reported to someone, she dosen't need to go invisible on chat, just because now he has come online, she doesn't need to worry about his insecurity when she goes for a movie with a male friend and at the same time she need not feel insecure about his female friends. It saves so much trouble, But yes, when this single woman gets friendly with a guy, he might think she is available just because she is single and if she is close to a male friend who is committed, she might have to face insecurities of his girlfriend.But then, Is love about finding the right person or about creating the right relationship?
And what about lost love? I want to quote Mitch Albom from 'The Five people you meet in Heaven' :
"Lost Love is still love. It just takes a different form. You can't see their smile or move them around a dance floor.But when those senses weaken, another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it.You dance with it.Life has to end.Love doesn't."
But memories will fade with time. In the hurried existence called life, who has the time to nurture memories?
But yes, there is a need for companionship. Sometimes, I've felt lonely, I've felt broken from inside and then I've felt the need to have someone to hug and to pour out all my worries and all my thoughts to. A human and not this 12 inches by 6 inches keyboard.
Friday, July 13, 2007
A comedy of errors
Dreams, desires, and aspirations
They seem to be just words to me today.
As I hear stories of people around me
The dictionary seems to lie to me today.
Some struck by boredom,
Some disappointed,
A few tired souls
And some minds now rusted.
The proportion of sorrows and joys vary
My share seems to be abundant with the former.
Its just a matter of time, I tell myself.
And I happen to see life laughing at me from the corner.
Expectations have died
And I've been disillusioned by life.
Be it a tragedy or a comedy of errors,
Each one of us has a different tale to tell, is what i realise.
They seem to be just words to me today.
As I hear stories of people around me
The dictionary seems to lie to me today.
Some struck by boredom,
Some disappointed,
A few tired souls
And some minds now rusted.
The proportion of sorrows and joys vary
My share seems to be abundant with the former.
Its just a matter of time, I tell myself.
And I happen to see life laughing at me from the corner.
Expectations have died
And I've been disillusioned by life.
Be it a tragedy or a comedy of errors,
Each one of us has a different tale to tell, is what i realise.
Just one more....
When too much sorrow
and too much pain
When disappointment and disgust
They fill my brain.
I shut up my mind
The voices inside it get broken.
I don't let the floodgates
Of my desires open.
Some expression
Some quietude
A little disbelief
This mind full of disputes.
When sleep is therapeutic
And escapism is magic.
When humor takes on a new colour.
The once bright hopes turn duller.
When I feel diseased
In the grip of a mysterious ailment that kills
From the divine doctor I seek
Nothing more than just one more happiness pill.
and too much pain
When disappointment and disgust
They fill my brain.
I shut up my mind
The voices inside it get broken.
I don't let the floodgates
Of my desires open.
Some expression
Some quietude
A little disbelief
This mind full of disputes.
When sleep is therapeutic
And escapism is magic.
When humor takes on a new colour.
The once bright hopes turn duller.
When I feel diseased
In the grip of a mysterious ailment that kills
From the divine doctor I seek
Nothing more than just one more happiness pill.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Voices and Noises
The bus engine roars when it goes uphill
The motorcycle speeds by
The mobile phone rings
The little baby cries.
The pressure cooker whistles,
The dripping tap adds to the noise.
Raindrops fall on the tin roof,
And water flows by.
The coffee vending machine makes noise
I hear the sound of the lady's heels on the marble floor
I hear my fingers on the keyboard as I type this
So many sounds, so many noises; most of them I ignore.
Some conversations of meaning
Some meaningless chatter
In random conversations I indulge,
For leisure sake; so how does it matter?
Some noises I fear; Some voices I long to hear
The music, the guitar I hear not
Not even the giggles, the laughs
Or the voices of those near and dear.
Noises aplenty,
Voices unheard.
A few words spoken
Many unspoken words.
As I walk down the path, I ponder
The noise of my footsteps follow me on the route
And I can't help but wonder
What is life like for the deaf and the mute?
The motorcycle speeds by
The mobile phone rings
The little baby cries.
The pressure cooker whistles,
The dripping tap adds to the noise.
Raindrops fall on the tin roof,
And water flows by.
The coffee vending machine makes noise
I hear the sound of the lady's heels on the marble floor
I hear my fingers on the keyboard as I type this
So many sounds, so many noises; most of them I ignore.
Some conversations of meaning
Some meaningless chatter
In random conversations I indulge,
For leisure sake; so how does it matter?
Some noises I fear; Some voices I long to hear
The music, the guitar I hear not
Not even the giggles, the laughs
Or the voices of those near and dear.
Noises aplenty,
Voices unheard.
A few words spoken
Many unspoken words.
As I walk down the path, I ponder
The noise of my footsteps follow me on the route
And I can't help but wonder
What is life like for the deaf and the mute?
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Happyness
I have a friend who says that I need to learn to be happy, that I must know how to be happy and find happiness and it will come on its own. I want to ask her -In the past I have never made an effort to be happy but I have still found happiness. How did it happen then? I remember from a recent movie that no one finds happiness. Its just a pursuit of happiness. Good weather makes me happy.The sight of a little child clinging to its mother makes me happy. A call from an old friend makes me happy. A word of encouragement makes me happy. Life is strange; it gives you happiness in the most unexpected ways and happiness is quite ephemeral; it leaves you the minute you start feeling it the most. There are little moments which give me happiness and most miniscule moments that make me unhappy. We as humans have so many desires - things, people, places. If i close my eyes I can paint a perfect picture of my life; sometimes I feel I am just so close to painting it for myself, sometimes I feel its just so distant. The spiritual man whose writings I follow says - When you want something, there is a certain joy in wanting it, getting it. But the minute you get it, you make it ugly. You destroy the beauty. So maybe I am better off with that perfect picture on the canvas of my mind and maybe happiness is just a never ending pursuit. And maybe I should know how to be happy or perhaps learn to be happy.
Do you know where I can learn?
Do you know where I can learn?
The IMI I miss
The IMI I miss.
The Gym classroom. The Brick walls. Another brick in the wall.
The tuck shop.The cigarette smoke.The 50 Bucks recharges. The Yellow Lays. The chocolates.
The breakfast sms.The missed calls for lunch and dinner. The bad food in the mess.
The Priya and saket.The dark temptation of barista.The slice of Italy chocolate mousse.
The passive smoking of Ultra Milds.
The bad songs on priyanka's laptop.
The movies on LAN.
The dylan songs. The dylan friend.
The fights. The hugs.The elevator.
The coffee in the mess.
The winter chill. The multiple layers of woolens.
The amphi mornings. The coffee. The Hindu. The crossword. The Sudoku.
The hot room. The cold room. The warm room. Priyanka. Her huge blanket.The amplified voice. The excel sheets.Entering the room late at night.
The headaches. The bad food. The packing, unpacking every 3 months.
The Chhavi, her idioscyncracies. Her philosophy. Kala Aparajita. Her coffee. The Aurobindo Ashram. The mindless giggling. The face packs. Her big eyes. The kajal. Her farewell speech.
The Soma, her blog. Her books.
The Raghu, the play. The walk in CP, the perenially cribbing Prakriti. Her car, the drives. Twenty four seven at 3 o clock in the night.
The Books, the music, the blog.The Gtalk. The Orkut.
The D3, the mess there. The Shivam in front of the mirror, The guitar lying there.
The Ishan, everything about him.
The walks till IIFT. The Parantha, the paneer, the cream bell icecream.
The rockland Hospital, the cafe. The cetrizines, etc. The katwaria, the green park.
The Lajpat, the Sabhyata.
The Library. The NS.
The Gossips. The washing machine.
The hair now straight, the comments galore.
The Preetha. Her music, the philosophy. The lawyer. My tears, my secret vault. The C43 i ran to when my eyes welled up.
The youtube. The music. The guitar. The DJ. The Drink. The dance. The Shakira, the Hips dont lie. The D Block Terrace. The beer and smoke there.
The Garima. Her songs, her Innocence. The MR she feared. The lessons she taught.
The cellphone and bunch of keys perpetually in my hand.
The Dilli haat, the JNU, the Sanjay Van. The IIMA.The Rishikesh trip.
The Goodbyes. The final journey with Aditi and Ishan. The journey I wish had not happened. The IMI i miss. The IMI i wish i was still in.
The Gym classroom. The Brick walls. Another brick in the wall.
The tuck shop.The cigarette smoke.The 50 Bucks recharges. The Yellow Lays. The chocolates.
The breakfast sms.The missed calls for lunch and dinner. The bad food in the mess.
The Priya and saket.The dark temptation of barista.The slice of Italy chocolate mousse.
The passive smoking of Ultra Milds.
The bad songs on priyanka's laptop.
The movies on LAN.
The dylan songs. The dylan friend.
The fights. The hugs.The elevator.
The coffee in the mess.
The winter chill. The multiple layers of woolens.
The amphi mornings. The coffee. The Hindu. The crossword. The Sudoku.
The hot room. The cold room. The warm room. Priyanka. Her huge blanket.The amplified voice. The excel sheets.Entering the room late at night.
The headaches. The bad food. The packing, unpacking every 3 months.
The Chhavi, her idioscyncracies. Her philosophy. Kala Aparajita. Her coffee. The Aurobindo Ashram. The mindless giggling. The face packs. Her big eyes. The kajal. Her farewell speech.
The Soma, her blog. Her books.
The Raghu, the play. The walk in CP, the perenially cribbing Prakriti. Her car, the drives. Twenty four seven at 3 o clock in the night.
The Books, the music, the blog.The Gtalk. The Orkut.
The D3, the mess there. The Shivam in front of the mirror, The guitar lying there.
The Ishan, everything about him.
The walks till IIFT. The Parantha, the paneer, the cream bell icecream.
The rockland Hospital, the cafe. The cetrizines, etc. The katwaria, the green park.
The Lajpat, the Sabhyata.
The Library. The NS.
The Gossips. The washing machine.
The hair now straight, the comments galore.
The Preetha. Her music, the philosophy. The lawyer. My tears, my secret vault. The C43 i ran to when my eyes welled up.
The youtube. The music. The guitar. The DJ. The Drink. The dance. The Shakira, the Hips dont lie. The D Block Terrace. The beer and smoke there.
The Garima. Her songs, her Innocence. The MR she feared. The lessons she taught.
The cellphone and bunch of keys perpetually in my hand.
The Dilli haat, the JNU, the Sanjay Van. The IIMA.The Rishikesh trip.
The Goodbyes. The final journey with Aditi and Ishan. The journey I wish had not happened. The IMI i miss. The IMI i wish i was still in.
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