cal darling here i come.

happens when you're going home after a long time

cal darling, here i come. offer a little rest to my bones, a place to lie down and awaken to the sweet sounds of utensils preparing magic to sooth your stomach, the smell, the dirt, here i come, the laziness, the frenzy, the love and the joy, cal darling, here i come, offer me some wisdom, the wisdom of ignorance, the freedom of easiness, i just have a few days, i am your customer for the weekend, bring the bliss, bring the cake, bring the delicacies, some speed in flight and not in thought, a place for which i yearn, for some time, nothing to learn. cal darling, here i come!

hindi poetry

some shit i wrote a long while back, hah

tum jab se zindagi mein aaye, aankhein band karna dushwaar ho gaya
bahut samjhaaya man ko, magar kehta raha hamein pyaar ho gaya
aankhen khuli to dhund, aakhein band to tum
maano bas tum hi tum rah gaye, saara sansar kho gaya

kuch log kehte hain ki peene ka maza kuch aur hi hai, woh baat alag hai ki main peeta nahin, kuch log kehte hain ki peene ka maza kuch aur hi hai, woh baat alag hai ki main peeta nahin, kuch log ye bhi kehte hain ki jeene ka mazaa kuch aur hi hai, woh baat alag hai ki main marta nahin

we the people ;)

we get married way to young, we spend all our parents' money on the wedding, we have a kid when we can't afford it, we then have more, we live a tough life being very careful with money, we thus also become smart, we learn to take a lot of shit, we see the tough times together, we thus also grow really close to family, we love each other dearly, look upto parents like gods, we rarely think about dreams due to practicality, we don't migrate much, we then grow fat and wealthy as our children grow old, we are proud of them and since we love them so much, we push them into the pit of marriage once again to go over the same vicious cycle, we are emotional people, very romantic, we made the taj mahal and can make a taj mahal out of a hut, we are ever nostalgic, optimistic and crazy, we defy all odds, we defy all logic, we are INDIANS!

Lost Childhood.

the drops dripped away shamelessely as they do and I looked along
They smiled at me with mild contempt and I smiled back
The air reminded me that it has blossomed and I could not embrace it
It took me back and gave me a naughty trailer of what was about to show

And then it began,
the tiny feet splashing in the puddles, much like the one like lie in front of me
i was taken back to my bustling classroom, where i poured from sweat
the shamelessness had left me, and i could only watch
it walk by me and give a friendly smirk

there was once a time i was free, there was once a time no prejudice bound me
the irony is that i am bound by it awareness and my contempt for it
realizing you are in chains and have been trained to be chained does not help

once i was that kid, who lashed out at provocation without lashing out at it
and now i do being helpless each and every while
now i can't jump into that puddle
at times i don't even want to
we change, yes, our needs change, yes
maybe rightly so but why does the fear as well

i, who proudly thought of myself as brave, courageous and fearless
have suddenly been reduced to bits, a tattered image of an illusion
i have cringed when it comes to taking the pain and overcoming the fear
i foolishly thought i was brave when i wasn't afraid

it's funny how the energy to do something cool can let fear not even arise
but it is said that dealing with is the measure,
but going back, i never saw myself change
its almost as if I who never thought that age should be a factor let it change me
why could i not take that jump now
if a school uniform did not stop me, then why this uniform
it's as if this uniform is more binding than the actual uniform
this is the uniform the world gives you to wear

but then i do like to splash
i do it in my mind, it's just that i have lost the tools
made everything up to be an excuse and started to pity myself
i am ultimately the shameless bitch for attention, too shameless
and i can even admit to see the bollywood in that (one brave thing to do)

and i cling on to that hope that i will splash again,
it's tougher to get out of the rat race we are in with ourselves
we live in a world where no one sees us or hears us. tis true
yes it's true, and i could say i love you or i hate you and it wouldn't make a difference

let's see how things unfold.

Self Implicit censorship.

It's been a while since I did this and today's impetus has been has been a sudden realization that we censor ourselves implicitly. I mean to say that even though I believe in complete freedom of speech and expression and am completely anti-censorship, I implicitly do censor myself to be, let's say nice. Now there are two aspects to it, one the censorship and the other the inherent nature of a person to be more blatant, blunt, bold whatever about his thoughts are or to be more courteous and people pleasing. The negative feel of the latter is not owing to a prejudice but my dislike of the problem that ails me, and quite a few of us. Now that said, again this shade of the character too shows itself in certain regard and in a different context, one could be quite the opposite.

But then again, coming back to the previous point I was making, our development to a certain extent dictates how we deal with this implicit censorship. Why this hesitancy at times? This does not affect us when we are speaking out, as it were, maybe in a blog like this or in a general discussion. When I noticed this, or when I guess this does show up is when the discussion is outside our real comfort zone. When we are not speaking to friends, but to maybe family members we don't really like, or professional contacts in general. To investigate the issue further, another reason for this might be the fact that the mind is working in a horrendous loop to be politically correct and yet try and get a diplomatic stand-point. But it is good to just be plain blank about these discussions. And being of the (lets call it the disturbed) folk myself, this sucks when you censor yourself without realizing it and regret it post a discussion. Some of it, I believe has to do with our culture, which is very tightly wound about what to say and how to say.

All in all, it is a lag we have to overcome. Signing off on an abrupt note.

movie

A movie is like a recreation of life. Complex in nature, it has to be, because life is very complicated as perceived by us little beings. The sheer number of variables is astounding. You take the scientific point of view to create an analogy that makes you think but then the analogy is all bullshit. Still it is like recreating life. It isn't that easy, not as hard as science maybe, in a way, but the way to look at it is different. We are like pawns playing our part. Any part may be glorified but the picture remains the bigger picture, probably simply because of the astonishment when we watch it. It's like an orgasm, isn't it. It blinds you, makes you numb, removes all the sense of the presence or maybe make you feel more alive to it, more aware of it. A movie is beautiful, it has to be, since life is. No matter what it gives you, pain, hunger or despair, it is beautiful. It has that element of the incomprehensible that imparts to it the beauty. After all the product is the real joy and fruit of the maker and the audience. The real object of beauty. A movie is an illusion but it can make the sense of things real. There is a lot to learn from a movie, to take the trip, to travel between reality and imagination, a more preferred word than illusion here. That's what imparts the teaching, the wisdom, the fun, the romance. The mind is a weird tool. It has always been an invention beyond our control, ironically what we use to exercise any form of control. The movie is a complex being. It has all the elements of nature, of beings, it is a walking portrait of life. No portrait is as beautiful as the object of beauty it derives inspiration from, but it is the portrait, that is our source of beauty, in any and every possible sense. All our mind presents to us is a portrait, all we perceive is just a portrait, an abstraction, which is why reality is an illusion and a movie a portrait, a beautiful animated, walking portrait of life.

The diary of a truant school boy.

The diary of a truant school boy is a very special thing. It can easily be broken down I guess because it's free , open and vulnerable or hold out very strong for the spirit born of the same reason. It's like the mind of the school boy, very little written into, free to experiment and experience, ready to run and forth. It is scribbled in too, I guess like the dying marks of weak ink that make up the strongest ideas. All the brushmarks, I guess are a thread of thought , style and promise but innocent, loyal and honest, most of all. The diary of a truant school boy is also a very precious thing to hold, it has a lot of power, restless in nature, ready to thwart. It deserves to be free, it deserves to roam, the diary of a truant school boy is a also a very sorry thing, because even those who manage to keep it free can't manage to keep it alive in all it's glory, hardly alive.

Rumour has it, it does not completely die, it has shown signs of resurgence in the past, but no skill, no game, no sport ever comes back the way it was, natural and spontaneous like grass that crumbles below our feet and sways in the wind that tastes it and brushes it away. The diary of a truant school boy is a very beautiful thing and a thing of beauty is a joy forever and ever. Do not lose the eyes behold this beauty cos sooner or later it is going to slip away. The diary of a school boy is a free bird fluttering away over a cliff watching a sea torment, but with all the calm the sea has shown to possess.