Dear 2010,

Thank you for showing me interesting times and for making me learn so many things; some that I’ll never forget for the rest of my life and some that I’d rather not remember for the rest of it. You will always be cherished for the things and people you brought into my life. You will always be loathed for the things and people you took away. I know that none of it was your fault but I need someone to blame it on, so bear with me!

I must admit that there was something quite mystical and prophetic about you. When I was going through some of the darkest alleys of my life, you showed me a sign; not only that, you gave me the gumption to capture the sign in a photograph. It showed me what I have left behind, where I shall stay and what shall be my destination. I will always remember you for this.

I don’t think you’d know 2011 but, from what I've heard so far, he seems to be a good chap. In case, you bump into him on your way out, share some of your experiences with him.Put in a good word about me as well, if possible.

Here is wishing you a happy journey to wherever it is that you go now. If you ever look back, remember me as friend.

Cheers!

Krishnamurthi

Plug and Play

This was the year that launched a thousand leaks

Oil pipes creaked & diplomacy leaked, weeks after weeks

But there were some leaks in 2010 that went unobserved

The taps that leaked a million gallons and drained reservoirs unperturbed

This was the year that launched a thousand scams

Politics played games and games played for clams

But there were some scams in 2010 that went unnoticed

November rains, December hails; snow replacing the mist

In 2011, let us resolve to “plug and play”

Let’s plug all leaks, play by the book and usher in a brand new day!

Because I miss you..

The sun shines, but there is dimness in its glow..

The river moves, but with less vigor in its flow..

The mighty sky looks a little less blue..

Because I miss you! Because I miss you!

The clock ticks as usual, but the time moves very slow..

The day somehow ends, but the nights are a woe..

This heart expects its share of happiness before they are due..

Because I miss you! Because I miss you!

You walked through hell, and I walked with you..

Because you mean so much to me that I don’t even have a clue..

We reached the gates of heaven and breathed relief for a moment or two..

I’d choose hell over heaven, if it means that I don’t have to miss you!

The Pursuit of Wellness

God has been a witness to the ferocity with which I’d fought the need to exercise. Four failed New Year resolutions, countless taunts and innumerable instances of sighs & heartburns later; here I was; walking down a path where many have walked before. 

People from all walks of life come here. The diversity of the population inside is evident from outside itself. Vehicles ranging from mopeds and Nanos to Bullets and Beemers grace the parking lot. The pursuit of wellness, it seems, is a great leveler. It is 7:30 am and the park is teeming with people. Mental note: Come early; lesser the number of people, lesser the number of eyewitnesses. My friend, who weighs about 69% of what I weigh, lays down the ground rules. Five minutes of intense walking, followed by 90 seconds of jogging, followed by 120 seconds of walking, followed by 90 seconds of jogging and so on. Doesn’t sound like a big deal, right? WRONG! 

Well, the walking part was easy; I do that every day. Now came the ‘jogging’ part. Myth buster: jogging is NOT fast walking. It is slow running.

10 seconds: Hey! This is not that bad. I’m running after 5 (Ok! Ok! 7!) years and I still remember how to do it.

45 seconds: Come on Man!! If he can do it, you can do it! Just hang on!! Just hang on!!

70 seconds: Was…. I…. supposed to… run for… 90 seconds… or….. 60 seconds?..... I’m pretty….. sure that… it was…… 60 seconds…. Wasn’t…. it?

85 seconds: ____________________________________

At 90 seconds I, a 25 yr old weighing in at 87 kg, blacked out. I huffed and I puffed and the world danced around me.  I saw sexagenarians walk by me. I could have cut the embarrassment in the air, with a knife. I think I lasted 30 minutes before I threw in the towel and threw myself out.

As I was nursing my sore calf muscles while sipping on some nice ginger tea, I saw a group of senior citizens sitting in a circle with a box of thepla and some cups of tea in the middle. Although I was not within an earshot, I could make out that they were having an animated conversation about some lewd topic. They were, basically, enjoying themselves.

Maybe, the pursuit of wellness is not just about running around in circles or huffing and puffing in exhaustion. It is also about waking up early, spending time with people who know you (and more importantly, people who you know), having something to talk about, sharing a good laugh, being impressed by how the younger generation has ‘developed’ and basically, just having a good time. Some day, I too will sit with a bunch of oldies and have a good time. But to ensure that I last till then, I need to run now.

Ek Afwah

Agar sun lo meri baaton ko, unko sach samajh lena..

Nahi to mere hone ko, tum ik afwah samajh lena..

Main tumse pyaar karta tha, main tumse pyaar karta hoon..

Samajhdari yehi hogi, mujhe paagal samajh lena..

Mere har khwaab tuute hain, teri angdaiyan ban kar..

Main tere saath hoon ab bhi, teri parchhaiyan ban kar..

Ba-haan hoon jab bhi aansu banke main teri nigahon se..

Teri gaalon se hoke, teri hothon pe, main khoya hoon…

A Tragedy of Life..

I've stopped writing blogs since I became a copywriter!
Its like taking a vow of celibacy on the day of marriage!!

A cherished amnesia

I don’t remember her face. I don’t remember her gaze.

I don’t remember the beautiful way she smelt.

I don’t remember her smile. I don’t remember her touch.

I don’t remember how wonderful it felt.

I don’t remember the screams. I don’t remember the shouts.

I don’t remember the passionate fights we fought.

I don’t remember the quips. I don’t remember the taunts.

I don’t remember the civility that she taught.

I don’t remember the way we used to join our names.

I don’t remember the pride with which I wrote them down.

I don’t remember the pictures that I hid behind frames.

I don’t remember the acts as an intentional clown.

I don’t remember all this. I don’t remember all that.

I don’t remember much of what happened as such.

All I remember now are things I remember not.

I wish I forget everything, I forgot.

Boys do cry...

Like the sea water that corrodes every naked metal,

the tear drops eat away the soul..

More you keep the tears inside;

More you become a self consuming blackhole.

Cry away, my dear boy! Cry and free those tears..

Don’t worry about what all the people would say; allay all your fears.

Nobody feels what you feel, but you; nobody would understand.

Your shoes are too worn out, for someone else to stand.

Those who say that boys don’t cry are the ones who never tried.

The empty shells of had been men who now congregate and lie.

So cry away my dear boy! It’s always better out, than in.

When heartbreak isn’t a crime, crying can’t be a sin.

To be or not to ___

Gaps, blanks & voids... that nagging creation of language and thought that breaks the continuity, that unleashes chaos into our seemingly perfect and coherent world..The ultimate source of cognitive dissonance... We, as human beings, have evolved ourselves into adjusting and tolerating with a lot of things in life (including the concept of after-life), but we have never really learned to live with a void. We just cant let a void be left alone. To be or not to be.

We take up the moral responsibility of filling up every void that comes in our life... As if the seamlessness in our lives is our prerogative... But we don’t always fill up this void with something that is of the same ecological constituent that surrounds it... So we hatch up excuses to explain gaps in education, career or life in general.. We try to fill the chasms in our hearts with cigarette smoke or a few pegs of whiskey.. We fall head over heals for somebody just to get over the pain and tribulation of falling head over heals for somebody... We think that we make these excuses or do these stupid acts of emotions and self-destruction in order to bring stability in the world around us; so that people don’t think of these gaps when they think of us. But in reality, we do this to bring a sense of stability within us.. So that we don’t see those gaps or void or chasms or heart breaks when we look at ourselves in the mirror... And we repeat these acts so often that sooner or later, we forget that it was our figment of imagination... We lie, to ourselves and to others, so often that the truth slowly suffocates from our indifference and dies..

If only we could let a void remain as it were.. To stand as a testament of how we tried and how we failed... To stand as an edifice of courage, rationality, compatibility and self-contentment that defined our character... Isn’t nothingness more respectable than something that should have never been there?

Life has been good to me..

It is so easy to personify life into a human-like creature... Treat it as a third person... and give it the diabolical ability to cause us pain... work with luck to make things work... connive with destiny to deprive us of all the things that we ‘think’ we deserve..

Unfortunately, our tendency to personify life is not just restricted to our sorrowful moments; it extends to the joyous ones as well.. When everything works as per plan, “Life is good”... “Life has given me everything I ever wanted”... “I’ve no complaints with life”...

This does not necessarily absolve it off all allegations of giving us a shady corner where we tend to hide our short comings.. Instead of accepting certain deficiency in our efforts or abilities, it becomes easier to just personify life and implicate it for all the wrong doings.. This only makes us vulnerable to repeat those same mistakes; face those same failures.. again and again and again..

Another feather to the cap...

I see a tiny feather being enamored by the gushing wind... The wind does everything to sway the feather off its course... to sweep it off its feet... to buoy it against all odds... but the feather keeps falling towards the ground... the unwelcoming earth that does nothing to deserve the purity and the softness of the feather.... The feather, although light, has the weight of its past on it... the worry of the future on it... the discontent of the present on it... weight enough to nullify the gushing wind... slowly but surely, the wind loses as the earth wins... the feather lies on the ground... at the mercy of the hooves to trample it, the broom to brush it away, the rain to wash it away and the dust to rob it off all its purity..

I see a tiny feather... and I say... "What took you so long?"

No looking back...

I swear... if i ctrl+A and delete one more time... i'm gonna stop writing!!!...

I wondered all my life what those little pieces of leather around a horse's eyes are called... those little things that prevent it from looking back and looking around... and I wonder why i'd been wondering for so long??!!! There some questions in life which can give you sleepless nights... like... what was the name of that movie?? who wrote the lyrics of that song?? what am I doing with me life? you get the picture, right?? then there are some questions that we learn to live with... we think about it once in while, we make a mental note of trying to find the answer some day... and then we forget about.... What are those little pieces of leather called??

They are called "Blinkers", you dumbass!! a.k.a winkers, blinders etc.... You know why I bothered to google this tonight?? coz i feel like i'm wearing one...

I've been running for quite some time now... initially i kept a count of the number of laps i'd covered.... how many horses i went by.... But after a point, there is no point.... I've lost count of where i'm running, why i'm running, from whom i'm running and towards what?? Some one above me whips me once in a while and i run towards the goal... his goal.... I'd rather run out the race track and into the grass fields in the middle....

Stopping by the Palladium on a sunny afternoon

The buildings are lovely, bright and tall..

My cousin is still not here, I'll ve to call..

The sloth says that he'd be there in 10 minutes..

But knowing him, I'd take that as infinite..

Phoenix mills.. I was here last, when Big Bazaar was a big deal..

Now it is some place where even a kleptomaniac wont steal..

I cant believe how much this place has changed since then..

I feel like a yawning Rip Van Winkle freshly out of his den..

I walk into the Palladium, the AC is good and its apparently Wi-Fi enabled..

Most of the access points are password protected or just don't work.. Does no one bother to look beneath the label?

I see a Diesel outlet..Something that I'd never seen outside Loot Mart..

I had plenty of time to kill, it seemed like a good start..

I walk in.. The store guy takes my proficiency in American English for granted..

And stumps me by asking if I knew what I wanted..

I cant concede that I'm just there to kill time, so I enquire about denims, size 34..

He give a nodding smile... I fear that he's seen blatant liars like me before..

He undertakes an excavation into the shelves, it seems size 34s are not the regular clientele..

All skinny eyes stare at me.. I could drown if only my waist would fit into the perimeter of a well..

I take a good long breath and pull up my pants.. It fits!! It fits!! It fits!!

I casually glance at the price tag safely tugged inside the pockets... Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!

10,795 is what it proudly states... 10,795 in Rupees, not the Rouble..

I carefully get out of 1/3rd of my monthly income.. I don't want no trouble..

I come out with a sheepish smile, the skinny eyes still stare.. I lie that the pants that fit, don't fit..

The wise ass!! by this time, he's managed to find a size 36 as well! but I say that I'm not mentally ready for it..

I walk out wondering how a place so exorbitant could exist..

but then again, with enough resources, how could greed resist..

I make a mental note of coming back some day..

with that much more money and that less fat my way...

but till then if i get the urge to buy a pair of diesel jeans..

Loot Mart, it is! Loot Mart, it is!