What? Yeah! I don't know.

Sacrifice today for a better tomorrow.
Sacrifice today for a better tomorrow.
Sacrifice today for a better tomorrow.

The Mantra, which is hardcoded by almost every Indian Parent into their children, right from grades to selecting a life partner, has for a longtime defined the mindset of tomorrow adults. Borderline Creativity, Naïve thinking, ignorance to knowledge - a few of which are amongst the highest resonance of problems factored by it. Past is certain, we infinitesimal beings have left the imprint in this significant Universe. Present is happening, we live by it. Future is hope, because it has neither happened nor happening. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. What a funny word to ascertain the near future?

I ask so I think I will be able to get an answer. I ask so I think I will be able to sleep peacefully when I know the answer. I ask so I think I will be able to do better for what is not present nor past but future. I ask so I think I will be existent tomorrow, to benefit from the fruits of sacrifices I make today. I ask so I think I may leave footprints in the sands of time. Doubts. Everybody has them. Nobody is without them. Anybody can be a victim of them. I pray to live a better life, a better class, as a better being as long as I live.

“Sacrifice today for a better tomorrow.” a phrase, which has limited values and unlimited borders. It’s an idea when imbibed young, our mind wraps around it. First the surfaces interact, adsorption takes places. Then the walls collide and merge.  They become one and resist the growth of anymore ideas. The made children, new ideas emerge and continuously evolve feeding on the mother idea neither giving a mental progress nor bettering us. Stupidity. We can’t evade it but at least we can try to avoid it.

Quit the Mantra!

Heroine or Heroin?

The Frame was set and like in very few Films, it had all the Elements for a Perfect Scene. My Eyes were recording the Shot furthermore My Mind was capturing it. The Moonlight was just right. The People on the road were also usual, just going about their work. And there She was, entering the frame from the left, No Rolling Through, No Re-Entry. It was just perfect. She smiled reconciling to the Fact that She attracted attention. Maybe that Smile was Fake. Maybe My Identity of her, then, was Fake. Maybe the Colors were Fake. But it was just a Perfect Shot. Gorgeous that She was. Unlimited my Admiration was. Such a Gentle Face. Such a Charisma about the Way She carried Herself. Perhaps I woke up that Day just for those few minutes, one can’t say. It Happens. And Here I am replaying that Shot in My Mind as if it was the Entire Film. Maybe it was for Me. She made My Day.

Enough Said, Few Things are only for admiration purposes. You can't Own them. The Early Morning Sunrise. The Once in a Year Autumn feel. The Smell of Earth just before it Rains. The Pulchritude of Mother Earth. Yeah, She was what one describes Nature. Just elegant and makes one wonder. Bliss.

Love: Life’s Infinite Playlist

The ice cubes. Yes, they were all that was left after gulping down the brown liquid. Wait. It wasn’t just any brown liquid, it was a 25 year old Chivas Regal. The attendant came along and I repeated the elixir. The Cuban was almost burning my hand. Yes, I prefer cigars though it is rather a bad alternative for cigarettes, strictly. Just when I stubbed what was left of it, to my diagonal right I thought I saw ‘Love Story’ by Erich Segal.

It was still a chilly winter night in early January, at least in this part of the world. The book had its pages being turned over constantly at standard pauses for I kept staring at it for a little more than a while. I had had more than a hard day. The Chivas was obviously aiding me. The less crowded suburban bar aided too, not that I had to mention it, but it wasn’t my usual place tonight. Maybe that is what happens when your girlfriend hooks up with somebody else and just leaves you a message on fucking whatsapp. Fuck. For, of all the types of communications, fuck’s sake, why leaving a message on whatsapp? Well, the outcome of it – Love is a Ghastly Ephemeral Feeling, at least according to me. This gave me more than just a reason to stare at the book.

I followed the hand turning the pages to reconnoiter its owner. Gasp. Yes, that was my reaction. Maybe, I coming to this unusual place to get drunk over my former did have its perks. Something about her made me feel unusual. Perhaps it was something related to my being down. It was as if that part of me was trying to get her attention. I noticed her ring, then assuming she was married and maybe I was the luckless one around. I gulped the restocked cup and with a sudden seizure of euphoria, I gained her attention. Though she wasn’t outward, I couldn’t help, for the next few minutes, noticing her noticing me. Awkward, Yeah, I knew. I summoned the attendant.

An Appletini was served on her table. Courtesy: Me. She was alone. She didn’t refuse. And no, I did not take that as a sign. An acknowledgement of smile escorted by a message on a tissue paper was what I received in return. Possibly because of what I read on that piece of paper, which made her an intriguing person, to me, leading to take the most important step in my life that night. The uncomfortable feeling with all the pregnant possibilities that message carried, settled in me. One more large and I was stiff.

I got up and went over to hers. She didn’t mind my intrusion. The trouble was mine for the initiation. She remained perfectly calm and nodded in a salutation. “This is usually not me. ”, were my first words to her.“Ditto”, was her response. Not a romantic start. Now that I was in the vicinity of her physique, I observed she was a brunette and her hair was partially curly, strands of which falling across her face, kiss curls. Man that was irresistible. She was fair and looked elusive for a pretty woman. Her eyes seemed to convey more. I beckoned the attendant, asked for champagne, one for the lady and another for me.

They arrived. I signed the check with an extra good tip. Held my goblet in air and waited for her to respond. Not to derange my expectation, she lifted hers. “For an unpleasant past and a hope of a wonderful rela… friendship.” I waited for her, with a prudent smile, to clank my goblet. She on the other hand, remained calm, absorbed everything with elegance and glowed with an upbeat. She clanked with a smile and uttered, “Cheers. And why not for a relationship?” My face wore a wide grin. Just then I realized the better half of me, for the rest of my life, was sitting right in front of me.

Addendum: On the tissue – “She is not worth it and neither is mine.”

When Love Rains, Heart Takes Cover!

[This post is an extract of the abstract playing at the back of my mind. It has taken so long for me to release it and share it here.]

It was when she tucked that little strand of her hair, falling across her face, behind her ear, I first noticed the smell. She did that with quite elegance while the intensity of the smell started its vigor. Drops of water vapor, stuck to the sides of her goblet, trickled down as she lifted it to her pouty lips and rested it there for few seconds as if she was drinking the holy water offered by the priest. Damn that is when I noticed her puckered nose. It was strange that I hadn’t paid attention to it before. While I adored that pucker, she caught me unaware with her eyes and narrowed her brows. A sly smile cornered her lips, while what-are-you-staring-at expression occupied her face. I gave, gently, a nod to imply nothing. Her smile extended a little, making her all the more irresistible.

By the by, what was that smell which was increasing at a very fast pace? It was strong but relishing causing an indefinite intoxication which I seemed to enjoy but what was it! The pleasant music playing in the background and the dimmed lightings of a posh suburban restaurant clichéd that romantic scene, as if it was rip off a movie. Perhaps karma favored me that occasion, because my sense of humor was at its zenith. She smiled a little, laughed a lot and reciprocated the apparent presence of someone whom she wanted to be with. I decelerated my verbal communication while rapidly accelerated eye to eye interactions. They seemed to convey more. That is when she said, “It feels good to be with you”.

My mind dropped a white screen and projected all the pregnant possibilities that sentence carried, on it. When my mind was indurating few possibilities, the bartender disrupted my thoughts and asked, “Sir what do you call for, another round or a check?”

Until then the view was from behind me and it was as if the camera track shot-ed 180 degrees coming to the front, semi circumference-ing me. I oblige my mind to look at her. When I realize the un-presence of her, I find myself sitting alone at the bar counter, facing the bartender. That is when I snatch the reality and notice the smell disappear. The smell was nothing but my ‘Love’ for her.

I reply to him, “Another round of my usual scotch and neat!”

The Significance Of This Beautiful Little Thing Called Life

I basically write when I want to express something, something which I feel should be expressed. This kind of feeling… I do not get often, so just bear with me and I promise to deliver. This particular post is about the amount of importance I give to justify my existence as a Human Being to make Life worthwhile!

Basically I’m trying to be rational, not that you might not find me to be the same but just that I’m getting my objectives straight. We have this beautiful little thing called Life, oh, yes, we call it Life for good reasons and for bad you have your souls to blame it for.

Now let us take me for an example. (I’m doing this so that I might not be you and only you can find the difference. You might not agree with me but Fuck it… This is how I am.) Let us stick to the schedule and get to know what I’m worth of.

Every night I go to sleep on a plush mattress, which I’m not worth it. I get up to the smell of hot brewed coffee which is waiting right in front of me. I’m not worth it. I turn on the music system, so that I can listen to some peaceful soul stirring music. I’m not worth of this either. My dad works his ass off and I’m busy using products founded/manufactured/marketed by Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, J. R. D. Tata (late), Royal Enfield, Nokia, Adidas, Tommy Hilfiger and the list goes on. I’m not worth the money I spend on them. I hang out with my buddies (I’m not worth of them too) at places where the page 3 culture has been in dominance. See this one, I’m clearly not worth it. I ogle at female sex all the time, this is a very bad habit and I’m not worth it. All the edible things that enter my mouth, I’m not worth it. The clean water I use, No, I’m not worth it. There are a whole lot of intrinsic to extrinsic things that I’m not worth of.

But all I know is that I have this beautiful little thing called Life and I sure know that I’m going to make the journey very worthwhile!

Bitch You have Angered My Fancy... Do You want Me to tell You more?

Four pegs of Tennessee scotch and eight pints of Budweiser in me and enough high to make me go mad, I’m posting in this blog after a real long time!

I, a son of good parents, am not good. Maybe that is why my ladylove walked away while my world was burning and my heart was yearning. It was not her mistake, it was mine. It was I who was thirsty for her love and with desire of lust for her to reciprocate the same!

But good God why in my love’s sake are you making me suffer. No, it is not your mistake too. Fuck me. I’m the problem and I ain’t got a solution. So big fuck me. Wait I’m taking this too much of this into my head. Relax. Let it get absorbed slowly.

Yeah Fuck Me and Fuck You too. Fuck this whole city and everyone in it. Fuck the low level beggars begging at every fucking traffic signal smiling behind my back. Get a fucking job. Fuck the third level college boys, trying to impress a fucking bitch who assumes to be a fucking model, on a fucking 90’s two wheeler. Slow the fuck down. Fuck the couples going down on each other in my parks and on my piers. Fuck the north eastern Indian bastards with their petite girlfriends serving my hookah and my chopsueys. Ten years in this city and still ‘Tamil Teriyadhu’. Who the fuck employed them? Fuck the corner street locals, wannabe gangsters. Sipping tea in the local tea shop and a fag between the fingers, that fucking doesn’t make you gangsters, assholes. Fuck the fortune tellers walking up and down the beach road, plump and dirty, selling the pure lies. Fuck the call centers and the people working in it. Self-advertising masters of their owner companies, top listed motherfuckers figuring out new ways to rob hardworking people blind. Send those wannbe American Indians to jail for fucking life. You think we didn’t know about your shit? Give me a fucking break. Fuck the Malayalees, fuck the Tamilians, fuck the Telugus and don’t even get me started on the Sri Lankans cause they make us, Indians look good. Fuck the politicians, their long white attire, their silk thundu, swinging parties like jackasses trying to secure their place firm in the government. Fuck the lonely NRI wives with their posh living and their BMWs. Over fed faces getting pulled and lifted and stretched all taut and shiny. You are not fooling anybody, sweetheart sleeping with your driver. Fuck the SCs and STs. They do not study at all, they do not care for a better living, and they use up all the government resources and still demand for more. You are not the unable castes. Just move the fuck on. Fuck the corrupt cops with their anus violating bribes and the uniforms, standing there do nothing with a big grin on his face while receiving the money. You betray our trust! Fuck the missionaries trying to move people from one religion to another, false beliefs of protecting us and delivering us into evil. And while you are at it, fuck God. I haven’t seen him. Old stories of protecting people and the rest is just history for eternity. Fuck the terrorists and backward ass cave dwelling fundamentalist assholes everywhere. On the names of innocent thousands murdered, I pray they fucking spend the rest of eternity roasting in a jet fuel fire in hell. You towel headed camel jockeys can kiss my royal Indian ass. Fuck friends. Fuck girls. We try to give them our trust and they stab us in the back. Fuck my parents with their endless grief for having given birth to me. Fuck this whole city and everyone in it, from the slums of Pudupet to the posh houses on Boat Club, from the projects in the suburbs to the established in the metropolis. Let an earthquake crumble it, let the fires rage, let it burn to fucking ash, and then let the waters rise and submerge this whole rat-infested place.

No.

No.

Fuck me. Yes. Fuck me, sweet child of the devil.

I had everything and I got thrown away, what a dumb fuck I’m!

Courtesy: 25^th Hour and Edward Norton!

MY HANGOVER OF FALLING IN LOVE WITH YOU

Warning: Abusive Content

At the outset, a word of thanks to Marshall Bruce Mathers III for making this article possible. If it was not for you I would have still been struggling half way through.

Do you* know what I am?

Do you know what I was?

Every single minute through the years it has been always about you. I still do not realise that I am crying, with tears in my eyes. How do I make my mind understand that the pain felt by the heart is so unreal because you never happened to me? Do you know how to do so? If so please tell me because it hurts more than dying.

Every time I go to bed, I wish not to wake up tomorrow but the very hope of ‘It-will-all-Change’ makes me do so. Every day, every fucking day the time gap between lying down and sleeping widens with the repercussion of you.

You successfully have been the element in me becoming an Insomniac, a ‘whole-time’ drunkard and an asshole with brains.

Now, I am left here with nothing but to reminisce of how I was before the fucking cupid struck me. Everything, that has happened, has a reason.

Fuck. Now, why the fuck am I reminiscing the old memories? Who I am now is because of who you were then. I was a fucking psycho to fall in love with a psycho like you. Damn, I need another peg before progressing any further.

Why the fuck was I being me when I could have been the better me? I hated it, wanted to get over with it. But the only solace I ever could find, was finding it in your face. I never could discover what was happening to me but I liked the feeling before I never knew what you wanted me to know, but after I knew what you wanted me to know, I started despising the feeling. Why was this happening to me? What did I ever do to deserve this? I just wanted you. I so wanted you that I was forgetting who I was, who I am and who I will be. I was totally into you. I did not want this to happen but in the end options just zeroed to me suffering the pain. I never wanted it, the pain. But I still deserve it; deserve it because of loving you so much. Just remember one thing I’ll never be the same if we ever meet again. And I promise to never go back on that promise.

However, this sense of feel will trudge away with one sly smile from you. That is all you need to win over me. I never can hold back my love for you.

I just have one wish, just one fucking wish. I want you to step into my shoes just to see what it’s like to be me and I’ll be you, to feel your pain and you feel mine. Go inside each other’s minds, just to see what we would find. However I will never remember you because I can never forget you. There never was a single day I hadn’t stopped thinking of you.

*Refers to that one female who acted as a catalyst to build my love and with the same intensity crushed it.

P.S. She is that kind of a female who will make gay men straight and straight women gay.

Love and Peace always.

Fuck, the bottle is empty now!

Reverence For Feminism

“Girls. You never know what they're going to think.”

- J. D. Salinger The Catcher in the Rye

I have tried my level best to avoid the line of controversy with the female sex the reason being me traversing a very susceptible matter in this article!

“Girls. You never know what they're going to think.”, as spoken by Holden Caulfield in J. D. Salinger’s ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ is perhaps the truest of all the statements made about girls. In my experience, Feminism is generally not a concept understood by the Males. They have this elevated atmosphere around them which they carry out with quite an ease. This makes us, the Male Sex to arrive at multifarious conclusions to whatever they say. Now let us just be clear on this, Ask for what you want. Connotations just don’t work, just say it. But saying it more than once is nagging. We are NOT mind readers….. It's no secret, everybody knows!

Females enjoy emotional blackmailing. This is the reason why a lot of females don’t go for 'macho' men anymore – you expect us not to have feelings. That is really very pathetic. Females also enjoy shopping with a man, but taking a man shopping is counterproductive. He is miserable and misery loves company.

Females. In spite of so many deprivations which makes it hard to live with them and yet even harder to live without them. I would never presume to speak for every man out there but I believe that in general, most men feel very good about females. Females are by no means the second sex. They are in fact the dominant sex in our world. There is this saying by the author Camille Paglia that “A Woman simply is, but a Man must become.” Maybe it is this compulsion for Males to become; consciousness of a battle fought and won that makes me pay Reverence for Feminism!

Then And Now, Now Or Never!

August of 2010

Five years back I was nothing….nothing at all. Back then, I used to be fancied by many things and those ‘many things’ constituted everything from innate to extrinsic.

Here are a few of reminiscences of a guy who once was I but now hardly an acquaintance.

When He* noticed a guy riding a Bullet, He used to gape at him until the guy turns around the corner.

When his friend came running up to him and whispered to him in a hushed tone, “Buddy I started smoking”. He used to stare at him with awe and reply, “Dai kalakrae po”.

When his friends used to call each other’s ‘Machas and Machis’, He used to ask them, “Does any of you guys know the real meaning of ‘Macha’?” for which He was mocked at.

When He got to know few of his high school friends were consuming alcohol, He used to say, “Dude that is cool!”

When He used to hear rumours of his close friends getting into a relationship, He used to pester them until they acknowledge the same. His immediate next question to them would be, “Will you marry her?” and his friend who used to be ‘Once-upon-a-time-Dumb’ fellow would reply blushing, “Hell Yes”.

Everyone around him was getting established to act like a real man, while he still was there. Trying to resist the change, but in vain. Subsequently He too surrendered.

*He is not I anymore, I’m the new me!

But years after living that kind of life, I have realised everything that has happened gets you nowhere. I have exploited almost everything but with the gender, I am not yet ready to sail in unsure waters. ‘Exploitation’, if you want to know the redefined meaning ask me. You will be enlightened on the same.

When I think about those days, I have always wanted that me back because this me is deteriorated, a spoilt bad guy impersonated by a sophisticated good guy. People I tell you unless you haven’t walked in my shoes, you wouldn’t know how much of a disturbed person I am. I hate to admit this. But eventually I have learnt one thing out of everything that has happened so far, you need to play your cards right else you might be in for some trouble. So, do not try to work out the system instead let it work you out, because if you know what is going to happen next then you are not going to learn anything.

Time has helped me to discover this thing about me, more likely within me. There are two personalities in me, the one who doesn’t know I am me and the other, who doesn’t know the one who doesn’t know I am me , who knows I am me.

Absolve me if you cannot apprehend the above article but I don’t give a hoot about what you think.

Inescapably, I am me!

Love Isn’t Everything. - False

"Love is not Love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;”

- An Excerpt From Sonnet 116 by William Shakespeare

Mention the word “Love” and it sets off Sparks everywhere. Heads bow gently, the heart drops its pride, eyes close and arms open a little. Love is the fire everyone Loves to get burnt with. Love is the quivering spring in every winter’s heart.

You don’t get it when you need it most but you often end up paying heavily for it. Experience teaches that Love is the most burning and perishable of all human passions. But certainly it is also the most human of all feelings with all the limitations and exaltations the word evokes. In Love, even the tiniest things count and nothing if forgotten and forgiven.

There is no better exercise to the heart than reaching down and reaching out for someone. But Love too has its own obstacles, ‘Self-Love’ causing a gamut of problems, our own ego and our self-regard. Love is just a choice. Love is a well from which we can drink only as much as we have put in. LOVE has always been about intention and action. That is why it is said that the opposite of Love is not hate but indifference, our apathy to act, our coldness in commitment. Those who do not choose to act in Love, who denies Love to others out of fear or loss, it is their lives which are barren and empty. Only they are the losers.

The strings of Love are like the strings of violin. Once you have learned how to play, then you must play with your heart. It then requires no map or chart. Love is not what you live for. Love is what makes it a little easier.

Love isn’t everything is as true as humans not having a heart. Love exists where there is Heart. So people go get some Love, it is not that difficult, Love only needs an Open Heart!