tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76778032992551252562024-03-13T03:29:03.241-07:00Catching falling stars...Fudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7677803299255125256.post-91694083362945246682012-03-04T07:24:00.000-08:002012-03-04T07:24:54.332-08:00SilenceIt's been ages since I wrote.<br />
Here or anywhere else.<br />
<br />
I kept thinking I'd lost my mojo. But that's not the true reason. I've either been too happy, or too busy, or at times too sad.<br />
But things have changed since the beginning of this year. Over the past two months, I've realized, its not a case of 'too much's. <br />
I'm being hollowed out. Slowly, but surely. With every failure, every lie told, ever time I've had to fight for something I want, every time I've had to hide the things that I want, I've lost a piece of me in the process. <br />
It's like a bad case of termites, eating the wood from the inside, till there's nothing left but outside appearances. <br />
<br />
That's what's happening, the wooden box in my chest is being eroded from the inside. <br />
I've lost friends, damaged relationships irreparably with the people that matter the most, let go of passions that I've clung to for so long.<br />
IT's not just about bad judgment, or bad decisions.<br />
I'm tired of trying.<br />
<br />
When I used to sit in a quiet room, I could swear I could hear the thoughts in my head, there were so many of them.<br />
Now, all I hear is silence.<br />
The sound of the hollow, termite-ridden wooden box in my chest.Fudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7677803299255125256.post-19242467415576557202011-07-28T09:40:00.000-07:002011-07-28T09:40:36.821-07:00Six placesAfter a particularly long break, I'm back. With Six places this time. <br />
I must keep it brief but, predictably, I have projects due soonly :P<br />
<br />
Soo.<br />
<br />
<b>SIX PLACES</b><br />
<br />
1. The beach/seaside. Anywhere really, no specific place. Just close to the sea. Whattey calming place. I could sit there foreverrrrr! <br />
<br />
2. My hostel terrace. Very unlikely place, I admit. But its just, its the terrace. Everything happens there. So many stories, so many hours of agonizing thought and drunken conversations and general happiness. It'll always be a favourite.<br />
<br />
3. Turkey. As typical as it may sound, I can't help it, <b>IT'S TURKEY</b>. I've heard so much that I must must must go now! And so many pretty things to see/do/buy there :P Must go alone or with a friend but, NEVER with family. Never.<br />
<br />
4. Welham. Its home. Its who I am. It doesn't matter that its not top of the list, it'll always be No. 1 for me :)<br />
<br />
5. Ireland. Its so pretty. And so understated, under-hyped. Perfect. <br />
P.E.R.F.E.C.T.<br />
<br />
6. I should have something like home here, but it doesn't make sense. I don't have any permanent homes anyway :P So No.6 would be pondicherry. I want to settle down there. Open a bakery or something. Pretend to be all French.<br />
<br />
Of course this list is compiled from my very limited exposure of the world, so yeah, it might change. But for now, this'll do :)<br />
<br />
Next time, Five Foods.<br />
<br />
<That's going to be a tough one>Fudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7677803299255125256.post-33796249045695583462011-06-20T12:35:00.000-07:002011-06-20T12:35:53.653-07:00Seven Wants.Seven Wants.<br />
<br />
<Also, I'm being somewhat regular, Yaaaayyy!><br />
<br />
1. I want CAKE. I'm sorry, leetaal obsessed. But I want really good cake, the kind that makes you close your eyes and wonder why everyone makes such a big deal about chocolate.<br />
<br />
2. I also want a blackberry. Yes I'm a materialist. But I just want the BBM really. And the internet. Otherwise my lava is good enough (even though it has a keypad which is slowly peeling itself away from the phone)!<br />
<br />
3. I want happiness. Everywhere. No seriously. I want everyone to be happy (this is to counter the previous two materialist wants :P)<br />
<br />
4. I want to be a boy for a day. I want the world as my urinal. Just ONE day.<br />
<br />
5. I want a superpower. Really. I want to be a superhero, its so cool! And everything always turns out okay.<br />
<br />
6. I want willpower. I have ZERO willpower. If I get willpower, I'll lose weight, and I'll work a little harder on my grades and do something useful with my life.<br />
<br />
7. I want a genie. Not the three wishes kind. The unlimited wishes kind. Then I can have all of the above and MOOOOREEEE. Muahahahahaha :D<br />
<br />
Tomorrow, Six Places :DFudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7677803299255125256.post-92213807850797092742011-06-18T14:21:00.000-07:002011-06-18T14:21:09.867-07:00Birthdayss :DIt's the Best Friend's birthday today!<br />
I lowe her to bits and pieces.<br />
<br />
Its amazing how you always find that one person who just fits.<br />
She's like my soulmate,<br />
and she's the only person who'll ever know EXACTLY how to handle me.<br />
<br />
Best Friends over anything else. Anyday :)<br />
<br />
So Happy 21st Baaasst Fraaand.<br />
You're only as old as you feel<br />
[Which in my case is 4,<br />
and in your case is 40]<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigHUjk_KuHwVbvEeJNMOaIWwexTgpQFsICrjC586A_wBZ_LgkdCAwucqIRn_OZvqwlOqGj25aj_RD-YjOxBy203sADhAbG6SZcgAxYD9XUFiZvWeJCJerWz5Th3HmwIuuOQVrhPGRLTgM-/s1600/8533_142095037995_515912995_2486540_4986991_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigHUjk_KuHwVbvEeJNMOaIWwexTgpQFsICrjC586A_wBZ_LgkdCAwucqIRn_OZvqwlOqGj25aj_RD-YjOxBy203sADhAbG6SZcgAxYD9XUFiZvWeJCJerWz5Th3HmwIuuOQVrhPGRLTgM-/s320/8533_142095037995_515912995_2486540_4986991_n.jpg" /></a></div><br />
"If you should die before me,<br />
Ask if you could bring a friend"<br />
-Stone Temple Pilots<br />
<br />
Much Pyaar :)Fudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7677803299255125256.post-61135737443758097332011-06-18T13:10:00.000-07:002011-06-18T13:10:29.745-07:00Eight Fears.Ahhhhhh.<br />
I don't know how many fears I'll actually list down here, but I'll try to be as honest as I can :P<br />
<br />
1. Claustrophobia. I kid you not, I'm mildly claustrophobic. I don't like enclosed spaces, they make me nauseous little bit. I get nightmares of being buried alive in a coffin sometimes <shivers>.<br />
DON'T. LIKE. CLOSED. SPACES.<br />
<br />
2. Its not so much a fear, as much as it is something I dislike. I don't like 'closed' modes of transport, (yes this should probably be included in the earlier point, but I think its important enough to merit a separate one). I get this really weird feeling whenever I'm in a plane, or a car with windows rolled up. Hence, Auto>Car, Train/Bus>Plane. Simple. I like feeling the wind on my face.<br />
<br />
3. I'm scared of being left alone. Damn, it sounds pathetic. But its true. Not for long but, mus work on this.<br />
<br />
4. Scary movies/stories. They give you this rush, but when its all said and done, and you go back to your bed, and everything's eerily quiet, I can swear I see something outside my window. Curse my over-active imagination, but I don't like the idea of ghosts/supernatural beings watching me sleep.<br />
<br />
5. Nightmares. I'm not really scared of them per se, but I hate having them. They leave me too scared to go back to sleep.<br />
<br />
6. I'm scared of dying. Any normal person would be, if you say you're not, you're faking it I tell you. I'm scared to death of death, of any kind.<br />
<br />
7. I get scared while crossing the road. I'm one of those kinds. Scared shitless, will only cross when there's no traffic as far as the eye can see.<br />
<br />
8. I'm scared of a lot of things, but the biggest thing I'm scared of is being scared. It kinda sucks when you feel helpless and scared, if you know what I mean.<br />
<br />
Thats it then, Eight Fears. Tomorrow (or sometime soon), Seven Wants. Whee :)Fudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7677803299255125256.post-47369700494346535062011-06-15T11:47:00.000-07:002011-06-15T11:47:02.660-07:00Nine Loves.Sorry Sorry.<br />
I know its supposed to be this daily update thing, got caught with the daily vagrancies of life :P<br />
<br />
So here goes, Nine Loves :)<br />
<br />
1. Old Hindi Movies. There's nothing like them. I know I've heard my parents harp on about this for the longest time, but I agree with them now. Nothing like Old Hindi Movies. They don't make movies like 'em anymore.<br />
<br />
2. Books. Always been my love. Ever since I could waddle around in diapers. <br />
<br />
3. Angry Birds. I call it a jihad against piggies. :D (Latest obsession)<br />
<br />
4. Food. I sat down to think about what kind of food I love most, and realized I love food. Full stop. Of every category, of every kind.<br />
<br />
5. Coldplay + Snow Patrol. They should probably be two separate headings. But I love both =)<br />
<br />
6. Train journeys. Its a pity I don't get as much of them as I would want.<br />
<br />
7. Disney Movies. Loved them. Love them. Will keep loving them. There's nothing like an animation to keep you company. NOTHING. <br />
<br />
8. The Rain. I LOVE the rain.<br />
<br />
9.Sleep. This should be my first one actually. I LOVE my sleep. A little too much for my own good, but I love it.<br />
<br />
So yes. <br />
Nine loves. <br />
Tomorrow, Eight fears.Fudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7677803299255125256.post-41179417073087943532011-06-10T14:43:00.000-07:002011-06-10T14:43:07.133-07:00Ten SecretsThe ten-day challenge.<br />
Sorry, I know I promised I'd start this a long time back. <br />
But life's a bitch. Because you sit down, and plan something.<br />
And fate doesn't like that one bit (sucha bitch she is), so she screws you over.<br />
<br />
Therefore I start today =)<br />
<br />
Ten Secrets (I'm not sure how many would qualify, but here goes).<br />
<br />
1. I'm a hopeless Snow Patrol/Coldplay lover. HOPE.LESS. Trust me on that one.<br />
2. Some disney movies (i.e. Beauty and the Beast, Lion King) still make me cry, and I don't cry very often. <br />
3. I can be a little emo. A leeetaal bit.<br />
4. I bite my nails. I grow them, then get nervous and bite them.<br />
5. I don't like people shaking their legs. Very disturbing.<br />
6. I don't spend more than 15 minutes getting ready. I think it shows too.<br />
7. I sometimes buy clothes that I think are pretty, but not really my size and plan on using them as inspiration (never happens but!)<br />
8. I am L.A.Z.Y. Like you wouldn't believe.<br />
9. I'm also messy. Pretttty messy. But then I have these insane fits of cleaning my room. And then it gets messy all over again.<br />
10. I'm a little obsessive compulsive about things, like washing my hair everyday. I kid you not. Every single day. Maybe that's why I'm balding.<br />
<br />
There. Ten secrets. <br />
Till tomorrow then :D<br />
Love.Fudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7677803299255125256.post-42445435951535495542011-06-05T14:00:00.001-07:002011-06-05T14:00:09.779-07:00I think its called an epiphany.I still lick the cream in the centre first, and then eat the actual biscuit.<br />
No matter what they say,<br />
some things, well, they never change.<br />
<br />
Toodles. Exams.<br />
<This is all part of my revamp your life drive :P>Fudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7677803299255125256.post-82697330558912550822011-05-14T15:55:00.000-07:002011-05-14T15:55:51.396-07:00The Ten-Day ChallengeSo I got this off another blog, <a href="http://stone-paper-scissor.blogspot.com/">Sensitive Chaos</a>. Must see. I love her pictures :) And her headers are awesome.<br />
<br />
Anywhooo.<br />
<br />
The way it goes is this-<br />
<br />
Ten Secrets<br />
Nine Loves<br />
Eight Fears<br />
Seven Wants<br />
Six Places<br />
Five Foods<br />
Four Books<br />
Three Films<br />
Two Songs<br />
One Picture<br />
<br />
<br />
I start tomorrow. Promise. Even though I've been so darn inactive.<br />
Tomorrow Promise. Even though I have project submission soon :PFudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7677803299255125256.post-72702424330893244992011-05-14T15:46:00.000-07:002011-05-14T15:46:43.539-07:00Crash and BurnWe build it up,<br />
tentatively,<br />
fledgling desires,<br />
feeding it life.<br />
<br />
We watch it grow,<br />
amble up the wall,<br />
slowly, surely,<br />
clutching every step.<br />
<br />
We revel in its success,<br />
each step forward,<br />
our step forward,<br />
We lose ourselves in it.<br />
<br />
Then it falls.<br />
And we fall with it.<br />
Inexricably tied,<br />
falling as one.<br />
<br />
We crash. We burn.<br />
We live the pain,<br />
live the horror,<br />
we watch it destruct.<br />
<br />
And we pick ourselves up.<br />
Brush off the remains of what was once,<br />
move onto something new,<br />
and like the fools we are,<br />
invest all of ourselves all over again.Fudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7677803299255125256.post-73530167265296180842011-02-07T01:04:00.000-08:002011-02-07T01:04:13.153-08:00Badi Mushkil Baba, Badi Mushkil.<i>Badi mushkil baba, badi mushkil; <br />
Gore gore gaalon pe hai kaala kaala til</i><br />
<br />
I woke up this morning, with a bunch of songs stuck in my head. All of them item numbers. <br />
So then I went on Youtube.<br />
And I ended up discovering my lost childhood.<br />
Not really.<br />
But I ended up going from one song to the other.<br />
And I spent a little more than an hour. <br />
Just looking at videos of old hindi songs. <br />
And I think I kinda sorta fell in love.<br />
<br />
So there was Madhuri Dixit in Ek do teen<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i.ytimg.com/vi/iwycoX_aHmc/hqdefault.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="360" width="480" src="http://i.ytimg.com/vi/iwycoX_aHmc/hqdefault.jpg" /></a></div><br />
And then there was Urmila Matondkar in Chamma Chamma<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i.ytimg.com/vi/kUErNip4DNc/0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="360" width="480" src="http://i.ytimg.com/vi/kUErNip4DNc/0.jpg" /></a></div><br />
And Shilpa Shetty in the song I woke up with in my head, Main aayi hun UP Bihar lootne<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://drop.ndtv.com/albums/ENTERTAINMENT/ghagragirls/shilpa-shetty---up-bihar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="544" width="700" src="http://drop.ndtv.com/albums/ENTERTAINMENT/ghagragirls/shilpa-shetty---up-bihar.jpg" /></a></div><br />
So many of them. SO many.<br />
These are just a few.<br />
I'd add more. But I'm late for lunch.<br />
But I shall be back, with more of them. <br />
Soonly :)Fudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7677803299255125256.post-91795943874112674102011-01-09T15:41:00.000-08:002011-01-09T15:41:20.838-08:00Cow or Pig?I should be sleeping. I <i>really</i> should. And I'm not going to be all Emo and stuff, even though early morning writing usually means that something is on my mind. <br />
But I shall not be Emo.<br />
Because, really, blogs are public fora, and I'd rather keep my life to myself too (aside from the fact that I'm sure you don't want to know about it too :P)<br />
<br />
Anywho.<br />
<br />
I realized today, that every step of the way we make a choice. Take this path,don't take that one. Step here, not there. We make a choice everyday.<br />
And its not just the big ones, the ones that may be life-changing or that will decide the course of the day; its the small ones that matter too.<br />
And there are different types of choices.<br />
There are the ones you make unconsciously, <br />
the ones that you need to rack your brains to make,<br />
the ones that call for deep soul-searching,<br />
the ones that require you to face your fears,<br />
the ones take a bit of you with them,<br />
the ones that need to be made every single day.<br />
<br />
There are choices that you make. And you make them every step of the way. Because every step of the way, life throws situations at you that require those choices. And you make them. And sometimes you'll get situations where making that choice takes a huge chunk of you with it. <br />
<br />
There's no set way to deal with it you know. Sometimes you can do <and this is a very mainstream pop culture reference, but oh what the heck> what Christina Yang does in the Grey's Season 6 Finale, go by gut instinct. Close your eyes and ask yourself, "Pig or Cow?". And go with the first answer that comes to your mind. <br />
Or you sit and think about it. And think. And think some more. And once you've looked at it from every possible angle, and dissected every little limb, you reach a conclusion that is well thought out and logical.<br />
<br />
Personally, I'd do the former. But sometimes you need to do the thinking too.<br />
<br />
And sometimes. You close your eyes, look deep inside yourself, and ask yourself a question. And you find the answer. Not the answer you want or need, but the answer that <b>IS</b>. <br />
<br />
When life gives you lemons,<br />
sometimes you don't have to make lemonade,<br />
or ask for tequila and salt,<br />
or squeeze the lemons till there's nothing left,<br />
or just suck on them and let the bitter jolt you back to reality.<br />
<br />
Sometimes, you just look at the lemons, and wonder why life gave them to you in the first place. <br />
You look at the lemons, and ask yourself what <b>you</b> want from them.<br />
Ask yourself, what is it that you want to do with these lemons in your life.<br />
<br />
Sometimes the purpose of the lemons isn't finding the answer. Its asking the question.<br />
<br />
What you make of those lemons is completely your choice.Fudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7677803299255125256.post-89788668814356574932010-12-27T13:01:00.000-08:002010-12-27T13:01:18.027-08:00Daybreak.Thats what I'll be seeing anyway. Since I've to stay up all night.<br />
<br />
But, its also a Snow Patrol song. Have I ever mentioned how much I LOVE Snow Patrol.<br />
No?<br />
Strange.<br />
Well. I LOVE them. L.O.V.E.<br />
They're perfect. Like their song daybreak. So right and so wrong too.<br />
<br />
"Something was bound to go right sometime today, All these broken pictures fit together to make the perfect picture of us".<br />
<br />
Even the worst days, end with something good.<br />
Like somethings that get solved. And somethings that make you feel better.<br />
And sometimes its just the reassurances that work.<br />
Whatever it is, cheesy as it sounds, its true, there <i>is</i> a silver lining in every storm cloud.<br />
There <b>always</b> is. You just need to look for it. <br />
<br />
Sometimes we're so busy looking at the storm cloud, we overlook the lining.<br />
So open your eyes.<br />
Stop looking at the broken pieces, it's pointless.<br />
Look at how they fit together. <br />
Life suddenly becomes meaningful.<br />
Try it. :)Fudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7677803299255125256.post-66708877566383845662010-12-18T01:18:00.000-08:002010-12-18T01:18:02.991-08:00Break.I <b>NEED</b> a break.<br />
So this moot is driving me crazy. So much. So little time.<br />
But thats how it always is na? <br />
Its okay though. <br />
Its the feeling you get once you've finished thats worth it.<br />
According to a friend of mine, he loves it for the loss of control.<br />
You cannot control what happens when you moot.<br />
I don't like not being in control.<br />
What I do like i the feeling you get once you hit the nail on its head. <br />
Once you find yourself an argument that you know will work.<br />
The feeling.<br />
The pure joy, the euphoria.<br />
Thats what I'm in this for.<br />
<br />
And with that, my break ends.<br />
Back to my pursuit of happiness. :)Fudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7677803299255125256.post-50215608001442664612010-12-16T03:30:00.001-08:002010-12-16T03:30:25.276-08:00[I decided not to give it a title]<i>So I'd originally written this for the Law School Lit Mag. Submitted it. Lets see how it goes. *Fingers crossed*</i><br />
<br />
<br />
In fields of gold<br />
Under the burning sun<br />
We let our spirits soar<br />
And we grew old<br />
We grew as one<br />
Walked out childhood’s door<br />
And sitting by the firelight<br />
Way past our prime, far beyond<br />
Gnarled and old and spent<br />
The voices in my head they went<br />
These boots are meant for walking<br />
For playing they are not.<br />
<br />
Across the lands <br />
So fair and free<br />
Whose rivers fill with blood<br />
We walk in bands <br />
In files of three<br />
Our feet feel like wood<br />
The children dead, their mothers weep<br />
Their homes burnt, still burning<br />
Chaos, wrought thus we<br />
And in my head, they say to me<br />
These boots are meant for walking<br />
For fighting they are not.<br />
<br />
In secret nooks<br />
Whispered goodbyes<br />
Hurried glances full of stealth<br />
Poems scribbled in old books<br />
As time flies by<br />
Return to haunt us both<br />
Forbidden love, so sweet its taste<br />
So dangerous, So cruel, So vile<br />
Letting you live, yet leaving you dead<br />
The voices, they said, inside my head<br />
These boots are meant for walking<br />
For loving they are not<br />
<br />
And time flew by<br />
Till everything turned cold<br />
Seasons changed, years grew on<br />
The lakes, the rivers, the sky<br />
Stayed as old<br />
The frogs continued to spawn<br />
I did but walk all my life<br />
Away from all I ever wished<br />
Till the fire of my heart was stilled<br />
Then the secret, the voices, they spilled<br />
These boots are meant for walking<br />
Yet for walking they are not.Fudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7677803299255125256.post-59704339597649960422010-12-13T14:43:00.000-08:002010-12-13T14:43:33.990-08:00I LOVE Old Hindi Songs.So I've been listening to Hindi songs all day. The really old ones. The ones that make you go 'Oh my FUCKING God', I heard these songs when I was a baccha. And they're lovely. You can imagine them. In your head. Its like there's this grainy reel playing in your head, and you can see yoursself, etc. etc. <br />
<br />
I LOVE Old hindi songs. They have that sense of poetry in them that today's gaana's lack. They're so lyrical. And so beautiful. And so cute some of them are.<br />
<br />
I love old hindi movies too. But I can't really get my hands on those.<br />
<br />
So I stick to the songs. <br />
And they're the perfect accompaniment for while working. They don't demand you to pay attention to them. They're there in your subconscious playing. And the tune remains in your head, way after you've shut your laptop, and are nicely on your way to a dreamless sleep [At least thats the case with me!]<br />
<br />
So. I'm off. To listen to my purane Hindi gaane. <br />
<br />
Till then,<br />
<br />
<i>Babuji Dheere Chalna, <br />
Pyaar Mein Zara Sambhalna,<br />
Bade Dhoke Hain Is Rah Mein.</i>Fudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7677803299255125256.post-40810048335849384602010-12-13T12:31:00.000-08:002010-12-13T12:31:37.136-08:00Catching Falling Stars- 5 to be precise.Its <i>that</i> time of the year again.<br />
<br />
What time?<br />
<br />
Why Meteor Shower time of course! <br />
<br />
I sat for my second meteor shower in Law School. Last time, it was with a very good friend, a senior, and we had this long conversation about law school and life. <br />
<br />
Tonight, I sat with another good friend.<br />
But we had no profound discussions. <br />
We didn't talk about Law School.<br />
We didn't talk about Life. <br />
<br />
We listened to music. <br />
And we looked for shooting stars.<br />
And we looked for shapes in the clouds.<br />
<br />
Last year, that conversation on the terrace made me finally feel like part of something.<br />
Tonight's conversation, it made me feel like I was part of Law School in a different sense.<br />
Not the sense of just becoming part of something,<br />
but the feeling of being part of something.<br />
<br />
I'm beginning to find my place here. And its not the place that does it.<br />
Its the people.<br />
<br />
Sometimes the most meaningful conversation are full of silence.Fudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7677803299255125256.post-136751309727053642010-12-01T03:06:00.000-08:002010-12-01T03:07:24.279-08:00Shadows Across The SunDull.<br />It darkens.<br />Gloomy. Dreary.<br />The trees become,<br />Foreboding monsters.<br />Their hands reaching out,<br />To catch me.<br />Leaves, scuttling around like crabs,<br />Like memories.<br />Long forgotten,<br />Ever remembered.<br />Sit on the bench,<br />Chilled to the bone.<br />The wind whispering,<br />Its darks secrets in<br />My ears.<br />Hair whipping across,<br />My face, stung with cold.<br />Dull.<br />Dreary.<br />Like shadows across the sun.<br /><br /><br />Bright.<br />It brightens.<br />Sunny. Hopeful.<br />The sky beams,<br />The trees quiet.<br />Their ominous countenance,<br />Stilled by a single ray<br />Of sunlight. <br />The breeze lifts me,<br />Plays with me<br />Dances<br />With tendrils of hair.<br />Whispering, congratulating.<br />‘You’re alive’ they say.<br />And I am. Truly am. <br />In every sense. I am.<br />They touch my sense.<br />And I exist. <br /><br /><br />And it darkens yet again. <br />This flighty world.<br />All because of the<br />Shadows across the sun.Fudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7677803299255125256.post-22561946138110717562010-11-30T05:38:00.000-08:002010-11-30T11:31:06.509-08:00Blood. Shot.The silence deafening, still, I can sense the noise. The world moves, in tandem with my pulse. I can feel it. I can feel every thud of blood against the thin walls of my vein. I can feel it, the earth moving beneath my feet. I can see the stars too, in their dance with the clouds, ever so coy. And I can see the street lights. Harsh, yet oh so soothing. I stagger to my feet. Aware of every millisecond that it takes me to reach my equilibrium. Aware of the 'swoosh' inside my head. So minutely aware. Of. Every. Single. Thing.<br />The rush of the wind against my skin. Aware of the movement of every strand of hair. I feel myself becoming one with the elements. Stable as the earth, as ever-moving and restless as the wind. Every cell intense, like the fire. And as tranquil as the puddle in front of me.<br />The puddle.<br />I lean forward. Aware of the shift in my centre of gravity. So aware. So intensely aware. The world comes up to meet me, to cushion. The ground reassures me, its there for me, it will cushion my fall.<br />And I look at the puddle.<br />I see my eyes.<br />Blood. Shot.<br /><br /><br />The silence is deafening. I can hear my life flash past me. I look up, eyes wide, like a deer blinded by the headlights of an oncoming car. And I see the sneer. <br />The sneer.<br />It rips into me. The disfigurement alien, yet so natural on that face. A face I could never get enough of. <br />I can feel myself falling. Feel the weight of every molecule of air bearing down upon me. Pushing me to the ground. I feed my resistance with thoughts to live. <br />I. Will. Live.<br />For a minute, I'm defying gravity. Rising again in eternal hope. But as they say, whats written is written. I fall.<br />Thud.<br />I can feel the impact in every cell. <br />I look up.<br />Through my blurred vision,<br />I see.<br />The tears that cloud those eyes.<br />The face is hazy around the edges.<br />But I can see the love.<br />The mask has been lifted.<br />Or is it one last act of kindness.<br />Assuaging the fears of a dying man.<br />I can feel the gaping hole in my chest.<br />Tearing at every fibre of my being.<br />Devouring material me.<br />Liberating. Fatal.<br />I look past my chin to the bullet.<br /><br />Blood. Shot.<br /><br /><br />Its red. Oh so red. <br />I reach for the glass.<br />Its cool. So cool against my palm.<br />My fingers cradling its soft contours,<br />as one would a baby.<br />My baby.<br />Never questioning.<br />Never answering.<br />Always listening.<br />The bile rises in my throat.<br />I will it down.<br />It shall not ruin this.<br />My climax to the perfect movie.<br />So beautiful.<br />So truly beautiful.<br />I raise the glass to the light.<br />It shines. It sparkles.<br />I can see through it.<br />My world red.<br />I raise my head.<br />Throw it back in a split-second,<br />of abandonment. <br />Of pure happiness.<br />And I flick my wrist.<br />The fire trails my throat.<br />And for a minute,<br />I'm one with me.<br />And then it rises.<br />Uncontrollable.<br /><br />Blood.<br />Shot.Fudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7677803299255125256.post-26689258227920512702010-11-20T11:37:00.000-08:002010-11-20T12:15:25.685-08:00I'm being all dark and twisty again.I reach for something, <br />deep within the confines of my head.<br />Matter lost in time,<br />abstract, never really mine.<br />Treacherous thought cloud my vision,<br />as tears threaten to spill.<br />empty spaces draw me in,<br />escapes from the usual din.<br /><br />I'm running around in circles,<br />running endlessly in my head.<br />Hands spread in hopeless prayer, futile<br />greedily asking, bypassing the turnstile,<br />of faith, and the workings of powers above,<br />pleading for something to heal the noise.<br />But your prayers are not for me,<br />alike, false promises and traitors are we.<br /><br />Dissolved in my own dark, I fold inward,<br />Searching for indestructible answers,<br />to questions that never did exist,<br />to theories that never will subsist.<br />I lose myself in thoughts of that,<br />that has never found itself existing.<br />I look to you, but you turn away,<br />I call to you, but you do not stay.<br /><br />Jump from the burning building, <br />I follow instructions in my head,<br />Towers of the past, topple and burn,<br />within me, in pain, they twist and turn.<br />Charred and burnt, I lie in a heap,<br />and within pain, the hope is found.<br />Far from vestiges of the past,<br />what is to be emerges at last.Fudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7677803299255125256.post-29494213218372495362010-05-13T12:33:00.000-07:002010-05-13T14:26:55.133-07:00For you, a hundred times over, Mum.My mother asked me a question today, in the midst of all our arguing. A question that really got me thinking, and missing her at the same time. She said, "If I die in two years, you'll still be stuck in Bangalore. What'll you do then". Of course I argued that I'd fly down and see her, and that she shouldn't be talking like this. I even threatened to slap her if she said something like that again (at this point certain readers, and some of my friends would probably go *GASP*). But, then I thought about how I actually would feel. And I realised what an impact she has had on me. More than the usual mother-daughter kinds (but then everyone else already probably thinks that about their own mum). Therefore this a sort of delayed tribute to my mother, you could call it a belated Mother's Day gift. 'Cept she'll probably never read it. So Mum, here goes, Just for you.<div><br /></div><div>Dear Mumma,</div><div>I'm not going to start with the usual, oh you held me in your womb for nine months and nurtured me as a child. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm not grateful for that, I AM. I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you. I just don't remember any of that. What I do remember is how you would sit me down and tie my shoelaces for me before I went off to school. Or how once I heard you use the word bloody, and you were so ashamed to have said it in front of you kid, you kept saying sorry. And I didn't even know what the word meant.</div><div><br /></div><div>I remember you being there for EVERY play, every Parent-teacher meeting, every Prize-giving. Every little insignificant thing in my day-school career. </div><div><br /></div><div>I remember you and Dad driving down to school in Galway to bring me lunch, because you knew I'd be hungry. I remember watching you come home from work, all tired, just to meet two squabbling kids. And how you'd sit down and sort us out, even though all you'd want to do is sleep. I remember you locking yourself up in the room, after pretending to have gone to work, so that you could study for your MRCOG exam. And once we realised your ruse, letting us in, bit not after hours of begging and pleading, and slipping chits under your door. And then you'd let us have your banana chips, and you'd laugh as Faizan sucked his toes, and I looked through your books with the cool pictures. I remember how proud I felt when I watched you walk across to get your degree in London. My shoulders broadened instinctively, and my chin has probably never been higher in its meagre existence. I stood on the chair and clapped for you. And then told everyone I was sitting next to very proudly that THAT was MY mum. As if I was the sole reason you were getting the degree in the first place. I remember so many moments when you've made ME proud of you.</div><div><br /></div><div>I remember you kissing every grazed knee. Feeding me bread dipped in warm milk, because I just couldn't eat anything else. Holding me close, when I wouldn't stop crying about some insignificant thing. I remember how you fought for me not to go to boarding school. And how you dropped me off at the gate, and left smiling, just so I wouldn't fell bad. I'll never forget how many times you'd patiently listen to me whine about a million things. How you watched me attempt about a million failed dishes in the kitchen, but you never helped, I had to learn for myself, you said.</div><div><br /></div><div>I hated you sometimes. When you'd make me rutt my times tables, and not leave me till I finished my homework, or studied for the next exam. When you'd favour my brother over me, and yell at me for being the eldest and STILL being irresponsible. When you'd make what I thought were unreasonable rules, and NEVER budge from them.</div><div><br /></div><div>But you'd always make up for it. The apologising, and yummy food after the fights. The pizzas and the donuts you'd make when we were still in Ireland and you still had some time on your hands. The hugs and the bedtime stories and the Ice-cream sessions (and your stealing from my bowl of Ice-cream, even when you had your own).</div><div><br /></div><div>I was a kid then. And it seemed like Mum could do anything in the world. And that Mum had a solution for everything. I've grown now. There are no more whiney phone calls or detailed descriptions of my day. Just the same questions and the same answers ("whatsup" and "nothing"). I don't run to you every time I'm upset and rant, I rarely ever let you knwo I'm upset. </div><div><br /></div><div>But you're still my Mum. You're still the person I cried with the day I passed out, because I felt like my world had been turned upside down. You're still the person with the voice that makes every thing better at the end of the day. You're still my favourite person to entertain, albeit in manners far removed form 5-year old antics. You're still the person I love to fight with and argue with and hate (just a little though), because you know exactly how to make up afterwords. You're still my favourite person to go shopping with. And you'll ALWAYS be. </div><div><br /></div><div>I've always considered myself a 'Daddy's Girl', and I probably am. But there's so much of you in me Ma, that I find myself amazed sometimes at how we're so similar. You inspire me. I see you work, sometimes up to 12 hours a day, at the oddest hours of the day, and I know that if there ever was a woman who could do it all, its you. I listen to you talk about how you never wanted to be married, how being unmarried would have let you grow even more as a doctor, and I realize how much you love us. For you to put one of the most important things in your life, your career, on hold, for us, tells me how much you love us. I listen to you talk about Pa, about how you made so many adjustments for him, and I understand what love actually is. Its not the sky turning bluer, and the sun shining brighter. Its being able to make the day sunny, when its cloudy and overcast. And I see the two of you together, and I know that I'm lucky to have been born to such wonderful parents. I'll never be able to grow up and NOT have a career, you never let me think of such a thing in the first place. I look at you, and I know that somewhere (some place buried under layers of laziness and procrastinating tendencies), there is a part of you that will never let me sit idle. I see you being non-confrontational, gentle, tolerant; and even though it irritates me to no end to see you take so MUCH shit from people, I respect you for it. Because it's tough to be nice to the same people that try to make life living hell for you. I watch you assert yourself, very very subtly, and I know my mother isn't a push-over. </div><div><br /></div><div>What you've done may seem ordinary and usual to everyone else. But for me, I don;t know if I'll ever have the strength, the wisdom or the gumption to lead my life the way you've led yours. I love you Mumma, not just for the fact that you're incredibly naieve sometimes, and a little slow, and just soo much fun to make fun of. But because you have a heart of gold, you teach me a new lesson every day that I'm with you, and every day that you;re away. And even though I'd rather not have you living in the same city as me, sometimes its for reasons that are not just purely selfish. </div><div><br /></div><div>So yes, in response to your question of what I'd do if you died in two years time. THAT won't happen, first of all, because God doesn't hate me that much. But if it ever does, not two years, or three years but whenever that happens. I won't cry. And I won't regret. Not because I don't love you. But because I do. I love you too much to want you or your soul to ever see me like that. So, I won't cry. I be grateful for having you in my life, and I'll work on me. I'll work on living my life the way you lived yours, and achieving whatever I set out to achieve. And then when I'm done with all that, I'll open that Girls School you always wanted to. And I'll make sure whatever you taught me, I teach them. I won't cry. I'll try and be as happy as I can, because I know that'll make you happy. I won't cry Ma, I'll make you proud instead.</div>Fudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7677803299255125256.post-60252382709884922922010-03-31T05:26:00.000-07:002010-05-13T12:40:47.681-07:00Flow...So when you've had a really, REALLY bad day, you just want to curl up in a corner and cry. Woe is me though, I'm not even allowed THAT luxury. Because I CAN'T cry anymore. I'm like those people who forget to do things because they haven't practised in the longest time. Welcome to my life Ladies and Gentlemen. I've been so busy, that I've forgotten how to do one of the basic emotions we learn the minute we're born.<div><br /></div><div>And sometimes, just sometimes I miss crying. </div><div><br /></div><div>I've been thinking over the past few days. About a lot of things. About how we as humans are such foolish creatures. We're such boggle-headed idiots. We hope. We expect. We dream. And more than half of the time, it never really works. </div><div>So then we're let down. and we walk around trying to pick up the pieces of what happened amd move on.</div><div><br /></div><div>But you know what, we never really do. And we never really will. Stupid humans that we are. </div><div><br /></div><div>Take for example my bother. LOve him as much as I do. I think he's an imbecile. He sits down ad talks of marrying EVERY SINGLE girl he dates. And that just goes to show how immature he is. And that girlfriend of his wants a 'mature' boyfriend. I feel like shaking them both by the shoulders and screaming 'YOU'RE SEVENTEEN GODDAMIT! HAVE FUN!'. Really whats happening to today's generation.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then there is the issue of my ex-best friend and her attempts to send me on a guilt trip. Not happening. I tried for the longest time. I hate friendships. Especially fucked up ones. I'm not much of a relationship person very obviously. I SUCK B.A.L.L.S at managing them. I think it has something to do with the things I went through as a child. </div><div>*Sigh*, I really am a very messed up individual, now amn't I.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then there's this history project. Really. I come for a consult so you can HELP me, not scare the living fucking daylights out of me. And I KNOW its my fault. So I KNOW my anger is misplaced. And I hate myself for being so incompetent. And what I should be doing is really studying and working on the project. See, Law School doesn't even give you time to mope.</div><div><br /></div><div>Crap.</div><div>I hate my life right now.</div><div><br /></div><div>Until next time.</div>Fudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7677803299255125256.post-40520676637421451782010-01-25T13:14:00.000-08:002010-01-25T13:24:17.049-08:00Mumma and Pa's song.This was my parent's wedding song. It played at their wedding. And strangely enough, it sums up everything about them. It's so perfect for them, it's scary. And every time I listen to it, I can see scenes from their wedding video flashing in front of my eyes. <div>Aside from that, the song is BEAUTIFUL. It's the kind of song, you'd want someone to sing for you. In a verrry pansy, slightly gay-ly cute way. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Aye Mere Humsafar- Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak</b></div><div><br /></div><div><i>Aye mere humsafar, </i></div><div><i>ek zara intezaar.</i></div><div><i>Sun sadaayein, </i></div><div><i>de rahi hain, </i></div><div><i>manzil pyaar ki. </i></div><div><i>(X2)</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Ab hai judaai ka mausam, </i></div><div><i>do pal ka mehmaan,</i></div><div><i>kaise na jaayega andhera, </i></div><div><i>kyun na thamega tufaan.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Ab hai judaai ka mausam,</i></div><div><i>do pal ka mehmaan,</i></div><div><i>kaise na jaayega andhera,</i></div><div><i>kyun na thamega tufaan.</i></div><div><i>Kaise na milegi manzil pyaar ki.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Aye mere humsafar,</i></div><div><i>ek zara intezaar.</i></div><div><i>Sun sadaayein,</i></div><div><i>de rahi hain,</i></div><div><i>manzil pyaar ki.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Pyaar ne jahaan pe rakha hai,</i></div><div><i>jhoom ke kadam ek baar.</i></div><div><i>Wahin se khula hai koi rasta,</i></div><div><i>wahin se giri hai deewar.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><div><i>Pyaar ne jahaan pe rakha hai,</i></div><div><i>jhoom ke kadam ek baar.</i></div><div><i>Wahin se khula hai koi rasta,</i></div><div><i>wahin se giri hai deewar.</i></div><div><i>Roke kab ruki hai, </i></div><div><i>manzil pyaar ki.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Aye mere humsafar,</i></div><div><i>ek zara intezaar.</i></div><div><i>Sun sadayein,</i></div><div><i>de rahi hain,</i></div><div><i>manzil pyaar ki.</i></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Fudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7677803299255125256.post-87982903716672455982010-01-13T14:42:00.000-08:002010-03-31T07:23:18.603-07:00*DILLI*The word rolls of your tongue. 'Dilli', the place where the 'dil-wallahs' live. I've never really lived in the city, so I'm not <i>much </i>of an authority on it. But it's influenced me in so many ways. It's the feeling of Delhi that I like. The whole idea of a city, where you have the best of both worlds. Where your nation is literally RUN. Where people are hurried an rushed and rude and yet, everything about them still seems warm . A city that's alive,<div><br /></div><div>It's old Delhi that intrigues me the most. The seat of the Mughals. The Jama Masjid, standing splendidly tall, in the middle of a vibrant market. The smell of food wafting over passer-bys, delciously enticing, making your mouth water. The crowded 'gullis', the shouted instructions. I'd love to go early in the morning, before all the shops open up and sit on the steps of the Jama Masjid, in complete silence.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then there's Nizamuddin, so blatantly MUSLIM. There is just SOMETHING about that place that is plain beautiful. Never mind the beggars and the pesky children who won't stop pestering you until you threaten to beat them up, walk through the rows of food being prepared, through winding gallis into a canopied alleyway, where you have hawkers trying to sell you <chadars> and <agarbatti> and what not. The smell of rose water and agarbatti assaults your nostrils the minute you enter, but you eventually acclimatise. After a point you can't wear your shoes anymore, so you remove them. And step gingerly across the stone pathway. There's a very small entrance to the main dargah. And you pass a mini-dargah before you come to the main one. And the minute you set eyes on it, you stop for a moment. It's beautiful. And Awe-inspiring. </agarbatti></chadars></div><div><br /></div><div>And outside the Dargah, the food. THE FOOD! It's heavenly. Possibly the best Non-vegetarian I've ever had. It's brilliant. Succulent, tender chicken, mutton cooked to perfection. Kababs, korma, biryanis, And all other types of non-vegetarian dishes you can imagine. I don't think I've pitied vegetarians more than when I've walked the lanes of Nizamuddin and been able to taste the smell of mutton or chicken being cooked. Food heaven, my dears, is HERE. (For me at least :P).</div><div><br /></div><div>Then there's the Dilli of today. Where most of my friends belong. And that delhi is of two types too. The 'Delhi', Select, Gurgaon etc. The one where people wear their Guess and Gucci and Abercrombie and Fitch, and walk into the shops wearing 6 inch stilettoes, and talk in clipped accents. Like this old joke we used to have, the chicks in this category, 'all they want to do is go to LSR (pronounced like ell ess aaaa) and do history honours (pronounced as 'onnos'). South Delhi Butterflies, and don't get me wrong, they're not bad people, heck some of my friends are SDBs, but really, you're Indian. Please, don't try and act American.</div><div><br /></div><div>And then there are the one who know the back lanes of Sarojini and Lajpat like the back of their hand. Who grew up in CP. Who know DELHI and what the REAL delhi is. And some of the friends in this category are new ones, and some are old ones. They're the ones that'll take a rickshaw, or an auto or use the metro to get where they have to. They'll not wear Gucci and Armani, but they'll wear their Rs. 100 Lajpat or Sarojini or (as of late) Knags steals. They're the ones who'll have chuski by the roadside, eat the chaat and pass comments on passers by. I'd hang out with these people any day.</div><div><br /></div><div>And then there's the idea of being able to roam the city late at night. Go for late night drives on the highway, sit outside the place where most of the country's decisions are made. Eat nice, desi khana. And generally have fun with generally awesome people.</div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe what enhances Dilli's appeal for me, is the fact that almost ALL my friends are there. DU. *sigh* sometimes I wish, just WISH I'd gone there. The whole living in a PG with people you've known practically your ENTIRE conscious life. </div><div><br /></div><div>I want to go there. NOW. </div><div><br /></div><div>I. WANT. </div><div><br /></div><div>But then we don't always get what we want, is it? </div><div>For now, I shall be content with thinking about the city, and missing those inhabitants of its which are oh so dear to me. :)</div><div><br /></div><div>'Yeh Dilli hai meri jaan,</div><div>Bas Ishq, mohabbat pyaar'.</div><div><br /></div><div>Complete, unadulterated, desi Dilli. So much better than those cosmopolitan cities like Bombay or Bangalore. :P</div>Fudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7677803299255125256.post-14944894222140875342009-12-15T03:31:00.000-08:002009-12-15T03:32:05.113-08:00JACK JOHNSON is god.. almost,I love this song. Absolutely love it!<br /><br />There's no combination of words<br />I could put on the back of a postcard<br />No song that I could sing<br />But I can try for your heart,<br />our dreams, and they are made out of real things<br />like a shoebox of photographs<br />with sepia-toned loving<br />Love is the answer<br />at least for most of the questions in my heart, like<br />Why are we here? And where do we go?<br />And how come it's so hard?<br />It's not always easy and<br />sometimes life can be deceiving<br />I'll tell you one thing, it's always better when we're together<br /><br />Mmmm, It's always better when we're together<br />Yeah we'll look at the stars and we're together<br />Well, it's always better when we're together<br />Yeah it's always better when we're together<br /><br />And all of these moments<br />just might find their way into my dreams tonight,<br />But I know that they’ll be gone<br />when the morning light sings<br />and brings new things<br />for tomorrow night you see<br />that they’ll be gone too,<br />too many things I have to do<br />But if all of these dreams might find their way<br />into my day to day scene<br />I'd be under the impression<br />i was somewhere in between<br />With only two,<br />Just me and you,<br />Not so many things we got to do<br />or places we got to be<br />We'll sit beneath the mango tree, now,<br /><br />Yeah It's always better when we're together<br />Mmmm, we're somewhere in between together<br />Well, it's always better when we're together<br />Yeah, it's always better when we're together<br /><br />[MmmMmmmmMmm, Mmm MMmmM]<br /><br />I believe in memories<br />they look so, so pretty when I sleep<br />Hey now, and when I wake up,<br />you look so pretty sleeping next to me<br />But there is not enough time,<br />There is no, no song I could sing<br />and there is no combination of words I could say<br />but I will still tell you one thing<br />We're Better togetherFudgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09696451799336586364noreply@blogger.com0