Leave Me Alone

Corrs song. Darker than what I actually feel. This was written in a much lighter vein for a change and was basically brought about by a long-winded soliloquy by a professor. Never thought I'd be doing this kind of shit in MBA.

Bewilderment is a familiar state of mind now. I'm getting increasingly lost in the glorified groves of acadame and want out as soon as possible. There are only so many monotonous soliloquies that a guy can take. Given a choice between this and the army I'd probably opt for the classroom only, but not before a grim inner struggle. I'm a firm believer in creature comforts and long wavy hair, but at least the latter wouldn't turn the contents of my cranium into mush.

I anyway was a bad listener to start with. My mind will latch on to the flimsiest of excuses to wander atrociously off the track. There've been times when I've written haikus in maths classes. And that is a subject I actually like. Boring classes inspire me towards higher metaphysical musings and I end up writing reams upon reams of inane balderdash such as this. People call me creative but the fact is that I'd probably pop a vein if I didn't have this outlet for my excess energy.

I hate sitting still in one place for more than ten minutes, unless it's a plush cushioned armchair accompanied by a 70 mm screen and popcorn. I can't even stand still and start pacing hither and thither in random places like bus stops and hostel rooms. And the oligarchs that run this joint expect me to sit still through an entire ninety minute class? My feet haven't stopped tapping for the last twenty minutes. The only saving grace is the leg room.

I'm a free man. When would people realize that? Why does the cosmos conspire to fetter me with these useless notion of competition and public acceptance? I'm an ambitious guy. I know what I want in life and am going to do my darndest to achieve it. I don't need anyone to tell me that. Just because I look like the sky fell on my head doesn't mean it did. So move on. The show is over. Find someone else to be your pet monkey.

That's not to say that I hate profs. They are well-meaning eccentric little chaps who are doing a great deal towards furthering the interests of this nation. The fault lies with me. My auditory canal rusted shut a long time back. The poor dears try their best but it's just water down the drain now. I've accepted it now. I'm a bard not a scholar. Might as well start leveraging my competency, as they say in the industry. Guess I picked up something in class after all.

War Pigs

For some reason my poems turn out either lyrical or dark. Probably both themes let me explore the depth of whatever emotion inspiring me at that moment. This one is the latter kind and talks about the futility of war, just like this song by Black Sabbath. I think it came out well in the end.

Blood-stained helms lie strewn across the smoking field,
Ravens feast in droves upon the bountiful carrion,
Sky tinged crimson by the departing light,
As the night descends on this gruesome sight.

Wives, mothers, children, their wails rend the silence,
Hopes, dreams, love, crushed in a single fell stroke,
They beat chests, cradle heads, implore the heavens,
But they remain as they always were, mute witnesses.

The oligarchs still prosper, tyranny is only perpetuated,
Then why did man have to turn on man?
The lofty ideals that fired the fresh-faced youth,
Do they lie rotting too among their carcasses?

Days will come and nights will go,
The nation will continue as it did before,
Hypocrisy would erect new graves and monuments,
That's fade into obscurity, just like the ones before.

The circle of life is not for us to dictate,
Fate can't be subject to human foibles,
For we are the unclean, the heathen, blind even,
Cynics, apathetic, shackled by our own mortality.

Was it a mere illusion, this notion of evolution?
We still lust for blood, still want to kill,
The trappings of society can't fool me anymore,
There's a beast within, will be forever more.

Life Is A Long Song

This Jethro Tull song is meant to be comforting. It says that whatever troubles you might be facing you have plenty of time to work them out. Life is long and you'd see better times. However, it ends by saying that "The tune ends too soon for us all". So a discordant note in the end and I want to pick up the thread

All that is must end. We are but flickers in the dark that light up the environs for the briefest of instants before fading into oblivion. The universe barely registers our presence. It lives and breathes on a far larger scale beyond the bounds of human comprehension. There's no point in trying to do that anyway. You'd probably go insane as you realize your utter significance in the grand scheme of things.

We humans are inherently arrogant. All of us to one degree or the other have this feeling that we are important to the cosmos. We might cloak it with words like fate and destiny but these concepts by definition assume that a higher power is taking interest in our existence. God is here, there, everywhere; each individual is a part of the Parmatman, the universal sentience. Why should that be true? We've been here for barely a million years. The universe by all accounts has existed for well-nigh fifteen billion years. Mere numbers can't reflect the yawning gap that implies. And to believe that this colossal stage was prepared just for the advent of humankind is to take arrogance to the height of ludicrity.

I'm just offering a different perspective. I might very well turn out to be grossly wrong. But the devil's advocate is required at times, just to calm down emotions and bring back the discussion to a sane and rational level. I'd definitely like to believe in the infinitely comforting notion that my part has been written in the stars by some divine playwright. This notion appeals to the artist in me, but it's just too hard to digest. I'm not precluding the existence of a supra-natural consciousness, but I really don't think that my being might even register on it. I'm but the minutest of motes in the ether. The stream won't be affected whether I'm there or not.

This is not an excuse to stop striving, to give up on all that I desire from my life. It's a clarion call instead, a much needed realignment of perspectives. It heralds urgency. No benevolent presence is watching over me. I'm on my own, what I make of my sojourn on this planet is solely my prerogative. All I have is this one shot to make an impact, however ephemeral. The responsibility devolves solely on me and the constellations are just that, distant clusters of stars that are convenient excuses for incompetence.

I sometimes wonder about death. What'd happen to my sentience? Will it become a part of some greater whole or will it be cruelly wiped off the cosmic slate? The latter thought is particularly horrifying. The idea that my being - thoughts, feelings, emotions - could vanish in such an abrupt and final manner just can't be right. Existence can't be this futile. Probably that's why we seek solace in the first notion. The perpetuation of our consciousness - whatever form it might be in - is what in the end we all desire. It's, however, too convenient for me to swallow. This question is probably best left unanswered.

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Not a song that a guy like me would typically listen to. But I am a gaming junkie and I'd a copy of Guitar Hero III. Thus I got to hear this Pat Benatar song. It's not exactly in keeping with the spirit of the following piece but the title appeals a lot to me. So what the heck, let's get on with it.

I'm a geek. There. I said it. I was never a stud. The odds of someone actually mistaking me for one are pretty astronomical. I'm not the epitome of flowering youth. Not for me is supping with buxom blondes whose visages make grown men drool. I'd be lucky to be even within sighting distance of them. And that's the way it should be. Evolution is geared towards survival of the species, and it'd be much better for all and sundry if there is no interaction between said well-endowed beauties and yours truly. The frequency mismatch is just too big to overcome. I know jack about colour coordination, while knockouts are generally lacking in their awareness of Middle Earth. Destructive interference would be inevitable and the gene pool would certainly go for a toss. So I have no choice but to accept my lot in life, however tortured my gonads might be.

That's not to say that I came empty-handed into this mortal realm. I'm blessed with quite a decent amount of grey matter and this is what I leverage to get ahead in life. I might not be in danger of winning any beauty contests, but if we are to go by cinematic precedents it's generally the intelligent guy in the posse who makes it to the climax with minimal dismemberment. Bimbos are good for the morale and add a lot of aesthetic value, but they are also liable to get you killed in a whole lot of dramatic and totally gruesome ways. My focus, hence, is to utilize my talents for the benefit of humanity.

How do I go about doing that, you ask? Well first and foremost is ensuring a very opulent existence for myself. Only when I'm sated with the finest wines and sumptuous foods will I be able to turn my thoughts to greater philosophical dilemmas. Some of my biggest breakthroughs have come in said fashion. The Law of Infinite Transitivity is one that comes to mind. It basically says that A is never equal to B, instead A=C=D=...Z=1=2=...ad infinitum till it finally equals B. Such incisive thinking and I'm all of twenty years. Brilliance is not constrained by mere age.

Coming back to the point, after I'm comfortably ensconced in some cushioned seat surrounded by blooming flowers and tweeting birds I'll muse on the ills of this world of ours. Most people would shun a burden like this, but I will grab the opportunity with both hands. I'm one of the chosen few. I'm not an air-headed lily who is there for the ornamental value. I'm a shaper of men's fortunes, a wise sage under whose benevolent care this world will prosper. Humanity doesn't know how lucky it is to have a demi-god like me in its midst. I'll take our kind to new heights without even leaving the comforts of my cushioned chair.

People say I'm an egomaniac. So what if I am? Greatness is not to be ashamed of. It needs all the spotlights it can get. Attention only serves to enhance it, like the blushing bud that opens under the caring gaze of the morning sun. So continue worshiping me. Adore me, hate me, lambast me, criticize me. I don't really get affected by what you say. As long as I'm in the forefront of your puny minds I'm more than satisfied. The ocean is filled by little rain drops. An egomaniac needs all the sustenance he or she can get. So grab onto those bouquets/brickbats and let 'er rip!

Low

Song by Cracker. One of my all time favourites. I'm in a god-awful bad mood right now and there are not many signs of it abating. Good thing though is that it does get the creative juices flowing. So here is the output of my current phase of grumpiness and plain misery.

Darkness swirls 'neath the storm-laden skies,
Lightning flashes, shreds the ebony cloak,
The earth screams in pure agony,
As its core rebels and tears it from the inside,
Armageddon is nigh, repent ye sinners,The magi thus proclaim, their hour finally come.

Rivulets of blood run down the streets,
Cities burn as man turns animal,
Knives, swords, guns and bombs,
Nature once again red in tooth and claw,
Children weep, women beg, men are ripped to shreds,
Anarchy is the rule, raw primal and feral.

Kith, kin, creed, none hold a draw anymore,
Every man for himself, as it was intended,
Why society, why be shackled by affiliations?
What good has that ever done, what of the wrong instead?
Why prostrate yourself on the altars of false gods,
Their preaching, their ideals, all they brought was pain.

Gaia is awake now, she can't take it anymore,
We're a blight, a pestilience that must be erased,
A million years on this planet yet what'd be our legacy?
Ruins, garbage bins and blood-stained homes?
Is it our lot to merge gracefully with the sunset,
Or even that dignity is to be denied to us?
Something new for once. I actually penned down two poems in one period. I guess the credit should go to the Cost Accounting teacher for boring me long enough to actually accomplish this feat.

Why does everyone put me down?
Why do I need to be defined by what others say?
I'm my own man, a free spirit roaming this realm,
Destiny is what I make, so leave what is mine!
Rejections, humiliations, rank indifference,
Is that the reason for my being?
Dreams, ambitions, love, recognition,
Am I not meant to rejoice in these?
I try to reassert, believe in my true worth,
But the heartaches only increase, and the will weakens.
The citadel has been breached, the fragile core exposed,
Joy is evanescent, pain is the new continuum.

The flame is flickering, soon it'd be no more,
The night'll then claim me, peace thereafter.

Cult Of Personality

A In Living Color song that is much more catchy than what is about to follow, but it basically shares the same sentiment, viz. an ode to the individual. I haven't written something philosophical in quite a while, so it's quite encouraging to see that even if not superficially, then at least subconsciously I'm still pondering on such issues.

It's funny how things play out. You might be the most meticulous of planners and might have prepared for any and every eventuality, but all the graph needs is one little kink for everything to go haywire. Chaos theory at its best. The butterfly doesn't even need to flap its wings anymore. The mere hint of its presence is enough. Linearity went obsolete a long time ago and it's about time we realized it.

Pardon the jargon but it is apt in this context. We are not a mechanistic society anymore. Formalized structures and strictures don't work. There's just too much dynamism going around for that to happen. New fads blink in and out of existence. Societal norms are regularly twisted and flouted as per requirement. Alternate sexualities, radical ideologies, new faiths, more innovations - it's a never-ending milieu that keeps churning to some intrinsic cosmic rhythm. You can't survive anymore by staying put in one place and following orders, neither can people and institutions be slotted into convenient little boxes and put aside. It's not that simple anymore.

Randomness is inbuilt in life. A minuscule change inside a minute nucleus can give rise to completely new species. Newtonian dynamics fail miserably here, thus the increasing focus on non-linear mathematics and Chaos Theory. The underlying assumption itself recognizes this inherent instability and focuses more on finding patterns rather than definitive laws and explanations. I don't see why we can't adopt the same approach in our own lives. Mechanistic must way for Organic, mutual adjustment should supplant hierarchies. More often than not it's lack of interaction and the consequent dearth and distortion of information that causes interpersonal strife. Clustering into cults and cabals only serves to fuel this alienation. It's not as if I've come up with some fascinating new insight here. All of us are aware of this at one level or the other. Yet we choose to ignore this in favor of an anachronistic system. The reasons for this, thus, assume even more importance.

Man is a social animal. An oft-quoted adage used to explain away myriad human vagaries ranging from block parties to orgies. There is no denying the truth encapsulated in this phrase, but one can certainly look at augmenting the same. What is the basic primal need that makes a human being crave contact? Why do even the most hardened criminals break down under solitary confinement? This need, I feel, is acknowledgment. It serves to verify our existence, that there is a purpose for our being on this orb. Every moment we spend on this temporal plane is spent hankering after recognition, be it from the basest of life forms. For us to feel truly alive, we need constant reassurance that we have a tangible sensory imprint on some other living being. Even extreme hatred is acceptable compared to total indifference. It is this desperation that drives people to band together on the flimsiest of spiritual and moral foundations. It's the fear of losing this acknowledgment that impels people to conform, to stop thinking and mindlessly follow the herd. We can go to any lengths as long as we have the comfort of being part of the collective, and history is replete with such examples.

Is a paradigm shift in the offing? I don't know. When the motivating factor is something so basic, so much part of the very reason for being, then we need to pare off the succeeding layers of secondary motivations before we can attack it. For us to leave the comfort of the flock and set out alone into the cold wintry night, there has to be a philosophical shift from the 'collective' to the 'individual'. We can't detach ourselves from the superstructure unless we become secure about our own identity. Acknowledgment can be earned through one's own efforts, acceptance can come independent of a group. It's not a radical concept, but certainly difficult to digest for most of us. Maybe we don't like risk, or we might just be plain darn lazy. The bottom line is that there is a problem and a solution. The spaces in between must now be filled.

It's My Life

Not having a good internship process. Not to go into specifics, but let's just say that the carpet was whisked out from under my feet just when I was patting myself on the back for a job well done. I don't know who to blame for this bizarre turn of events - my incapability to nail the opportunity, the company for screwing me over like this or the myriad jokers running the operation who probably loused up my chances in other companies. Bottom line - I'm pretty much in the soup.

People console me, tell me this happens every year. There's are always a few jokers in the pack who think they are trumps, only to return to the bottom of the pile. I'm not the only one who feels like the sky fell on his or her head. I'm better off than at least one or two of them in that some companies have shortlisted me. Still, it's hard to sit idle on your butt while your friends are scurrying about trying to chart their future. Ah well.

Why should I feel down? I know my worth, and it's damn much more than most of the dunces here. If the companies are dumb enough to go by stupid brands and asinine marks that pass for our sorry education system, then let them play their childish games. Let them have their fun with GDs and behavioral tests and all that crap. It's baby's day out, let him have his rattle so that he can make noise, get attention and have a jolly good time. I want no part of it.

I'm not defined by what these dodos with water on their brains think. I'm my own man (yes, I said man). I've always been my own man. I'm not going to let narrow-minded numskulls mess with my head and damage my ego. It's too bloody big to be damaged by these pebbles. I might seem down and out. I might even be the last one selected. So what? I'll do a damn good job wherever I go, and those who are lucky enough to select me will soon be thanking their lucky stars.

I've let this sham affect me too much. I'm bigger than anyone, a colossus striding this orb as it makes its squirrely way across the ether. One way or another, I'm going to take the world by storm. Erect as many roadblocks as you can. Mock me, Humiliate me, try your level best to bring me down. You don't have a prayer. No sirree. Like this Bon Jovi song says, 'It's now or never, I ain't gonna live forever". And I'd be damned if I let anyone spoil that for me.

Bittersweet Symphony

The Verve classic. Rarely have truer words been said than those in this song. I think I have given enough indication of what's about to follow, so here goes.

I think the stress is getting to me. I'm sitting out here alone on the terrace in quite chilly conditions, clad in nothing but a jacket and a blue mood. Why? I wish I knew. I can never predict these phases. Best I can do is ride them out and hopefully still be comparatively sane. So I sit here on the rough floor, straining to see the keys in the dim light of the monitor as the world moves on at its own merry pace.

I'd love to understand myself someday. I have this mental picture about how I should behave in every possible situation so that I'm a credit both to myself and the society at large, to fit unobtrusively in the fold for a change and not stick out like a sore thumb. But I guess the wiring is faulty somewhere. The message never gets communicated properly. End result, I'm pouring my heart out at three in the morning while normal people sit cuddled up in blankets inside their comfy rooms and wonder what this idiot is up to now.

It's a wonder people can tolerate me. It's a miracle that I have friends. What can I offer? Zilch, nada, a big round zero. I'm the most insignificant of microcosms in this infinite universe of ours. I'm the scraping at the bottom of the rubbish bin, the puny runt that always get eaten first by the wolf. So what if I have a way with words? What would that achieve? Black blotches on paper are not going to get me anywhere. I'm bound to become part of the flotsam and jetsam that wash up every now and then on the barren sands where life ends and oblivion begins.

I'm in my room now. The cold won out. Warmth is slowly returning to my system, but my psyche is still imprisoned in an overpowering miasma. This cocoon won't give birth to beauty, it will reveal the despair that dwells behind the hope, the tears that hide behind the asinine smile. I'm not sure who is the real me. Maybe these two facets are inextricably mixed, with each one periodically popping up to the surface under the influence of some arcane rhythm that I'm yet to fathom. Most I can do right now is to let these thoughts out so that the bile doesn't do undue damage.

Too Late For Love

Not about me. I just composed the following poem, and this Def Leppard song fit it to the T. This is purely a literary work. Posts about my life will have to wait a little.
The gloom lifts with the rising dawn,
Nature stirs, heralds the new morn,
Dew drops glisten in the verdant verdure,
And in the glen wanders a maiden demure.

Birds twitter among the pines as she makes her solitary way,
Head hunched low, eyes fearing the onset of day,
An opportune breeze ripples through her gossamer hair,
But she heeds it not, too weighed down with care.

The skies above turn a familiar shade of azure,
As the first ray breaks through, bright fair and pure,
Yet she trudges on, lost to this wonder,
For her heart is broken, ripped asunder.

She dreads the beauty of the early light,
That rends the dark, brings back cursed sight,
For the world of colour holds no joy for her,
Brings back nightmares that never seem to blur.

The fiery chariot now unveils its full glory,
A new chapter in the eternal story,
But this page is untouched, her slight frame shivers,
His grave swims into view, a single tear quivers.

Run To You

Can't help it anymore. I've studiously tried to avoid any direct mention of affairs of the heart, but it is getting too much now. I need to put these thoughts down so that the palpitations can slow down for a bit. Not for too long though, for it's a sweet sweet ache.

I keep thinking about her. Every waking instant, every dreaming eternity. She's always there, never intruding too much but tantalizingly close to the margins of my conscious. My heart skips a beat every time I see her, my mouth starts to babble every time I talk to her. Her smile is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen and I crack every possible stupid joke to catch one more glimpse of it on her radiant face. I can never feel sad when I'm around her. She lights me up inside, makes me believe in the goodness in this world. I'm crazy about her, and getting crazier by the second.

She is definitely one of the prettiest girls I've ever met. She's also smart and talented and fun to hang out with. But even beyond that, there is this...this link, this crackling buzzing link with some weird energy flowing through it, drawing us together. We exchange smiles, share inside jokes, steal glances at each other. I've never opened up to someone to the extent that I've with her. I've never felt so comfortable, so...right with a girl, ever. I'm a bit of a romantic, but I never ever expected to feel like this.

Is it one-sided? I'm never sure. Depends on my mood. Do I tell her how I feel? Of course. But how? No clue. I can force fate's hand, but I don't want to mess things up, and she is too important to me to take the risk. But if I keep sitting on my behind then something might change, the spark might go out and I would lose my chance. What do I do? If only I knew what she thought about me. How would that help? Even if she hated me with the bottom of her heart I'd still not give up.

What to do? I hope I get the answer soon. Till then, like this Bryan Adams song says, I'll keep worshiping her no matter what.

Long Run Leftovers

This is a cut of leftover tracks from the Eagles album 'The Long Run'. Pretty much sums up the following masterpieces. Haikus are convenient little bits of writing - three lines and a set structure that doesn't let you mind digress too much. It's almost habitual for me to pen one or two whenever I'm getting bored in class. Don't know whether that's a good thing or not. I guess if someone takes it upon himself or herself to peruse this post then he/she would be a better judge. Creator's bias you see. So here goes -

I will lie to you,
Blind you bind you entrap you,
For the world is cruel.

Sail into the night,
The journey ends now my friend,
Cometh eternal light.

Darkness advances,
Gates tremble under its blows,
The nation needs us.

Figures meet in the gloom,
Amidst the glistening stones,
The living mourn the dead.

Love is a zephyr,
That titillates your senses,
Yet is ever elusive.

The never-ending path,
That we walk like dutiful sheep,
Leads to the wolf's maw.

Sail to the horizon,
Who knows what awaits us there,
Glory is hard-earned.

Flight of the seagull,
Languid over the topaz sea,
Leave the world behind.

The prof says a lot,
I sit here all for nothing,
Did I ever have brains?

Crib, cry, whine, blubber,
Stupid little weepie Joe,
Get yourself a 'ho'.

The blade is sharpened,
Hovers over the victim's head,
He leaves a bald man.

Insects are a pain,
Buzz, sting and make me insane,
Like dames they are vain.

Two hearts torn asunder,
The raging sea in between,
But the eyes can meet.

What is left unsaid,
Is often not left unfelt,
Then why the lost time?

POM not my cuppa tea,
Why did I pay the damn fee?
I am all at sea.

Deep profound thoughts come,
Chomp and stomp and make me dumb,
Is it something new?

Fly with broken wings,
Let the waves buffet your body,
'Cause the will is there.

Leave your cares behind,
Make the most of what you got,
Then maybe you'll smile.

Distant she shimmers,
In the grasp of another,
Yet she will be mine.

The tide is long gone,
Broken dreams lie in the wake,
The moon will rise again.

Sleep sleep glorious sleep,
Wherefore art thou fair maiden?
I yearn for your touch.

Clattering cuckoos,
Lifting off loads of hot air,
Am I one of them?

Sleep's the panacea,
Takes away the fears and pains,
The heart won't let me.

Like I said, there might be some quality issues. Readers are welcome to recognize these and also hunt for a running theme, if any. Expect more to come in the future.

Somebody Save Me

I'm too damn moody. One moment I'd be fizzing with positive energy, thinking that everything is all right as can be in this world and then suddenly it vanishes, to be replaced by lethargy and utter gloom. I might be the most social of people at one instant and a misanthrope the next. I've given up trying to analyze this happenstance. It's probably a function of the turmoil my mind is in these days. You can't expect your brain to be pulled in different directions without some aftereffects.

Currently there a lot of pressures on my puny shoulders. Internship process, academics, not to mention the situation back home. Then there are the affairs of the heart, exhilarating sometimes and downright confusing otherwise. I am anyway not a particularly confident or self-assured person in this department. Coupled with the social skills and idiocy of a rampaging rhinoceros, I guess it's going to be pretty tough going. Just once, just once I wish I was handed something on a silver platter. But then again, I'd probably not value it as much.

The song is by Remy Zero. A line goes 'Let your warm hands break right through me'. I have everything in life but that. I've never felt that warmth, never opened my heart and soul to anyone. Time and time again, I've come across someone and desperately wished for an end to this emptiness, for that spark that'd light me up. But they were all false promises, mere shadows of what I yearned for. Yet I still kept on hoping. I'm a foolish romantic at heart and it just seemed right that somewhere out there would be that special someone that'd complete me. And then she came.

Maybe I'm reading too much into this. Maybe it's yet another desperate bid by my psyche to end the loneliness by any means necessary. Then again, maybe it's not...

Crazy Train

However bizarre Ozzy Osbourne might be, he does know his craft. A song for all seasons, a song for all reasons. This one fits me to the T right now.

Everything feels weird right now. The journey back here, re-settling, meeting friends, seeing the campus and even that familiar skip in my heartbeat. I just feel too dang awkward right now. Dunno what happened. I feel like a fish in a bowl. I can see the sunlight, but I can't feel it. And for once in my life the stupid jokes and self-deprecation are singularly failing. I'm not moping or anything, but I'm not exactly enjoying life at the moment.

My last few blogs haven't been on the cheery side either. This past fortnight has come and gone without me feeling one way or the other. The fun has gone somehow. Whether it was the shit going on at home or some reaction from the hectic first term, but I can honestly say that I wasn't overjoyed to be back home. The only saving grace was meeting my family, though they managed to mess up my head again. And now I'm back, but the same condition has persisted. It's like a disease sucking out all vitality from my psyche, leaving me a depressed idiot who can barely muster a smile now.

Hopefully these blues are temporary. Certainly don't feel like it. Something is building up inside me - frustration, anger, who knows? I don't want it to explode. Too much poison swilling around for me to handle. That's why I'm writing this sob story, to let off some of the excess baggage. It doesn't seem to be working right now. Daybreak is eons away, and the sun seems to be a myth. Heh. And people think I keep my emotions bottled up. To paraphrase Ozzy, "I'm going off the rails on a crazy train". Let's hope I find my way back.

Cat's In The Cradle

For a change the song is not concordant with my thoughts. It's in fact quite anti-thetic to it. Harry Chapin's iconic lyrics depict a distant father-son relationship, which is far from what I have with my own parents. Truth be told, a little distance would be appreciated every now and then.

Scratch my last post. Nothing has changed. I spent three months in a bubble while the world went on same as before, waiting for me to come out before messing up my head all over again. Specifically my parents. People think I'm a kid? They should see them go at it. Raising hell over the most trivial of things, and me stuck in the middle as the hapless referee. It's deja vu times a hundred, yet another crushing rotation of the millstone. I thought I'd left this behind. I'd thought things will change, people will change. Isn't life supposed to be bloody dynamic?

People tell me that I wear a mask, that I don't reveal my true emotions. It's nurture, not nature. This is my defense mechanism - laugh everything off, even if that's the last thing I want to do. Those close to me know the turmoil that I keep bottled up inside. Just because I don't give you a glimpse into my thoughts doesn't mean I don't respect you or care for you. I just don't want to burden others with my own shit. And maybe that's why I go absolutely ape-shit after imbibing too much liquor. So much loopiness has to be let off once in a while, beacause one way or the other it will.

I was forced to grow up pretty early. There is not much logic going around in the household and I had to pull my weight. This, coupled with a whole lot of external factors has made for an exciting upbringing. Cataclysmic upheavals every couple of years do make for an interesting mix, not to mention toughening for the nerves and sinews. I turned out pretty okay in the end, so I have no regrets.

Of course my parents love me, and I return that love with every fibre of my being. I'll do my utmost to make their lives easier. But the overload of responsibilities is starting to take its toll. I'm not asking for much. I am happy paying as many bills as they want. Just don't mess up my head so much by making me play mediator. That very well might be the straw that will break the camel's back.

Silent Lucidity

The lark is on the wing, the rain gods are feeling benevolent and I have absolutely nothing to do. A welcome change from the mayhem that I left behind. I'm sleeping in air-conditioned comfort, eating home-cooked food and spending quality time with my family. The weekend will see me roaming around with friends in my favourite hangout spots, places that figured so hugely in my life till recently. Life seems back to normal. Of course, that's not the case.

I'm not the same person anymore. I am not the carefree kid who left home three months back with stars in his eyes and a song in his heart. I've been through fire and smell of smoke. Flights of fancy have been eschewed for a more realistic appraisal of what is possible. That is not to say that I've given up on my ambitions. Far from it. The fire, if possible, burns even more fiercely. But the arrogance, the illogical belief that I just have to wave a magic wand and everything will fall in place has vanished. I'm an adult now, and grown-up games have different rules.

You have to get your hands dirty. Nothing will come easily anymore. You have to buckle down and slog it out, put in the hours and effort, combine perspicacity with perspiration. The silver platter is gone. It's a trough now, and there is not enough slop to go around. It took me time enough to realize this simple dictum of life, but then again the fruit that ripens late might yet be the sweetest.

I like walking in the rain. It literally washes away my worries and takes me back to more innocent times, times when the world had no ulterior motives and cynicism was a mythic emotion. But one can't live in the past. Nostalgia can only be a respite, not a lifestyle. Sooner or later we have to come back to ground, and it is better if we hit it running. The green wood is getting seasoned in preparation for the long voyage ahead. Until then, I will lose myself in this elixir from the heavens.

(The song is by Queensryche by the way. Its intro was shamelessly copied by Pritam in some song from 'Metro'. Utter disrespect for a wonderful song. I request those misguided enough to peruse this blog to please pass this on.)

The Riddle

I'm not much into electronica, but I really like this song by Gigi D'Agostino. Obviously not much by way of lyrics but it does have a maddeningly catchy refrain which sort of fits into this next piece of balderdash. So here goes...

Just when you've think that you've got life all figured out, fate does a polka and sends you awhirl again. You spin and spin and spin and when you finally come to rest it's all you can do to not totter into some corner and call it a night, which is what most of us end up doing anyway. The remaining few wait patiently for the world to come to an even keel before they venture out again in search of logic and sanity. Call it naivete, foolish optimism or just plain old mulishness, but that is the way to go. You don't let the cosmos fool around with you and take it lying down. No. You stay put and stare it down, ala John Wayne. It's highly likely that this will achieve absolutely zilch and leave you even more battered and bruised in the end. Men will jeer, women will titter and dogs and sundry animals will relieve themselves on your person. So what? It's either this or going around with you tail between your legs.

It's not a choice between a rock and a hard place. It's not even a choice. After God knows how many years of human evolution how can we even consider rolling it all back and revert to being mindless slugs! I came into this world to make a difference, to mark my presence on this ball of rock in towering letters of fire. I'm the butterfly burst forth from the chrysalis, the rose blossomed from the bud. I'm a thing of beauty, evanescent in existence but brilliant in radiance. I refuse to countenance the extinction of my dreams. I set my feet on this path a long time ago and I'll be damned if I let anyone shake me from it. This is what I live for. Without it I'm nothing.

The Sun Always Shines On T.V.

Decent song by a-ha. The title might not sound like something that might move you to tears, and frankly speaking it doesn't. It's for those moments when you just want to hear some music, any music, and don't really care about the peripheral words. The content, however, is in keeping with my thoughts at present, so I'll get in with it.

This is possibly one of the most random outpourings of gibberish that I have ever spewed out. In my defense this occurred after a perfectly horrible quiz and this was my way of venting. On the brighter side I came up with yet another universal theory of life. This one is called the B.O.T.S. Theory, i.e the "Bottom Of The Shitpile" Theory. The basic tenet of this marvelous piece of inductive reasoning is that if you are deep in it, you might as well stop cribbing and enjoy the torture, because things can get only so much worse and soon everything would be on the up and up. The following lines will further elucidate my masterpiece -

It's hot and humid
Smelly as a druid,
Sluggish slushy slime
Anything for a rhyme.
Life at its lowest ebb
Fly caught in the spider's web,
So what's the issue
Why the need for a tissue?
It can't get any worse
Voodoo, jinx or a mummy's curse,
The coaster loops up from here
So wipe away that stray tear.

'Cause there might be no light of day
But that stray gleam is not far away.

Psychobabble

Awesome song by Alan Parson's Project, and the only way I can see of describing the following ditty. So here goes -

Johnny Wacko went to town,
Everyone knew he's a great big clown.
Give him a bell, give him a whistle,
A load of dung and hand him a chisel.
For they all say he's a talented kid,
Only this can of worms has no lid.
He'll sing he'll dance he'll jump with joy,
Top him of with juice, he's a wind-up toy.
Watch him rant, watch him rave, watch him make a mess,
If only you'd got him a baby pink dress.
A word of warning, be ready for a scene,
He slangs, he curses, he can be quite mean.
Why does he do it, no one is in the know,
Just sit back, relax and enjoy the show!

King Of Fools

I don't think many people are going to disagree with this. My parents have made it pretty clear that I have the mental acuity of a retarded rabbit. And the way I have been acting these past few days is a testament to this. By the way, the song is by Poets of the Fall.

You know that little voice in the back of your head? The one that pipes up every now and then and gets you back on the straight and narrow? I think mine asphyxiated under the gunk that crowds my cranium. Time and time again I start the day with the firm resolve of not making an ass out of myself. And time and time again I end up taking idiocy to a whole new level. I'm the joker in the pack, and at some weird screwy level I'm friggin' enjoying it.

I always thought that I was a level-headed chap. Eccentric yes, but able to draw the line when required. Turns out I am not. I'm the biggest doodoohead this side of loony town. I act like an overactive chimp in a banana orchard, and God forbid I get liquor in my system! The only good thing that can be said about that happenstance is I always come up with new shit. Entertaining for all and sundry, but extremely embarrassing for yours truly.

Why do I get myself in these situations? It's not as if I want the attention. Far from it. I'm happy doing my own thing and don't need public affirmation of the same. And I'm certainly not that dumb. Quite a bit yes, but not this much. Then why? It's like I have a split personality, a Hyde dwelling inside my carcass who crops up at the most inopportune moments and defies any and every notion of sanity that civilization holds. It was fun for a while, but it's high time that I buckle down and get a grip. Things can't go on like this.

I'm not a kid anymore. No one is going to get my ass out of the sling. I have to realize that. Friends can help me only that much, beyond which I have to take the fall. It's a big bad world after all.