wise pot …

You never know where life’s taking you, until you’ve reached.

Keep walking…

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..not a girl, and not yet a woman. yelp!

I’m not attracted to PYT’s. And I mean it. At least not to the ones as young (old) as myself, however unbelievably pretty. And I still mean it, for the attraction described here borders on prospect of love that could be. I’m off the hook for infatuations or daily crushes. They don’t happen anymore. Without me trying hard to not allow them to.

For reasons I might not know or can’t explain, I’ve come to believe that I’m karmically destined to fall for girls (women) older to me. I’ve been in the senior territory once, and returned with memories. Good ones. Never to be lost.

A lot of people (family included), with raised eyebrows, have attempted questioning my seeming disillusionment of obsessive shopping in the older section. All my acts in defense have mostly been labelled baseless rhetoric. And I think I’ve come to like that sort of disagreement: to not be able to explain yourself to people, and still be happy and firm about it.

I feel like trying again nonetheless, to you who’s crying “whydunnit?”

She’s seen more, at least more than me.
She knows more. Or definitely equal if not more.
She wants more, and I want her to want more.
She’ll give more. And what jackass won’t want more!

Makes sense?
Or
Loud thinking. Narcissism. Demented sensibility.

I’m happily firm anyway!

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If it bothers, I’ll bother back!

As you know, fair ladies and gentlemen, I’m not much of a fiction writer. I mean I’m not a “writer” in the sense of it either, but unlike some bloggers, I just can’t sit down and concoct an imaginative literary recipe. And I pretty much intend to continue not doing that, unless ofcourse some day I’m able to produce a pseudo real-life story, of my own life. And unless I intend you to understand what follows as having fictional resemblance.

So basically this is about a friend, male,and close acquaintance, very very close [or atleast so I want to believe], since the last four odd years. And about this another friend [or so I want to believe again], female, and decently familiar to say the least. And about how the two got together, by I can say pure coincidence, to the extent of classifying it as ‘fated’, an oracled coming-together!

Before we quickly reach any conclusions, let me tell you that till the time of writing this, they consider each other as ‘just friends’, and hence this is not going to be a fable of the love that was, and was not. Or perhaps it will be, cuz I remember when Harry met Sally, they realised they couldn’t remain ‘just friends’. Not for long basically.

So the story of our Harry and Sally began in a typical 21st century fashion. They met online, on Harry’s blog to be precise, whereby you know that their’s wasn’t a run-of-the-mill potentially romantic meeting, but had a subtle intellectual flavour. Sally blogged too, but the expression was rather incognito. Acceptable, cuz some blogs are very personal diaries, and women can have a lot of secrets, and surreal fundas. Anyway, so our Harry is a genius, saying which by the way attaches some cliched heroicism to his disposition. But nonetheless, his status as a blogger deserves more attention. Apparently Harry was a poet, dispatching his immaculate command on the Hindi and Urdu languages in the reluctant realms of his diary: ‘apparently’ because not one person who qualified to be his friend had confirmed ideas about the poet and his secretive asylum. That was till he decided to go public with his writing. It looked a perfectly timed action to me, non-deliberate ofcourse, probably because he’d been composing like a pro circa January ’07. And then the inevitable occured – he was discovered by our Sally one day, by certain networking measures, and their was an instant liking, to his poetic flow initially, and to the person soon after. And why not, your writing reflects on your person, and more often than not one is inclined to appreciate the writing and writer together.

And suddenly Harry seemed to have found his muse, in the form of a woman who loved his words, and the words now had a beautiful reason to better themselves. If I may take the liberty to say it, then our Harry had an all new motivation with his poetry, and mind you, a very strong thrust it was. Henceforth it got more intriguing, involving, interesting. Harry’s words had a fresh direction, a novel sense, a directed approach: they made a lot more sense than ever, and one could sense a personal touch, a deeper feeling to the poetic establishment. No wonder that Sally sensed it all: she’s a woman after all, and they are the undisputable know-it-alls! Conversations began, and with what passion! They were words in motion, amazing poetic fashion. Soon they were complementing each other, and when the talks seemed to jeopardise the gender-neutral sanctity of the blog, the focus shifted to more private media of communication.

However, another inevitable happened, and this time, the friends were the ones involved. As Harry and Sally discovered mutual interest, ofcourse in a friendly manner, it was Harry’s personal space that was invaded, much to the discomfiture of his friends. Our Harry got somewhat weird, almost to the end of being carried away. And obviously, his friendships within the same sex were the first casualty! In some uncanny frenzy, friends started to be kicked out of Harry’s room. The door was kept closed, and not opened at times as well for anyone. In case you were wondering how do I fit in here, well, mine was one of the first general relationships to be sacrificed, verbally, to be followed by intended physical kicks. And that was when I completely realised mine was a sore presence in the same room when Harry and Sally conversed virtually. Well, if the change was limited to that, me, and in fact no friend would have had an issue: I mean c’mon, we all understand a girl can be pretty effectual to a guy’s life, irrespective of the degree of involvement, and our characters were like reasonably bonded in no time. But then, that was not to be.

Sally seemed to hate me.

And I’d absolutely no clue why!

Yeah, there seemed to be some sort of disliking to my person in Sally’s mind, and she would sit and talk to Harry about it. The catch here is kinda unsettling – Harry would obviously tell me about it, being friends and activity partners for long. My only association with Sally seemed to be from my own blog, which she confesses to reading without fail. And thats even more perplexing cuz I cannot remember offending her ever! I believe she felt uneasy at Harry talking her to me, and while I don’t deny that happening, I intend to make it loud and clear that I’ve no particular urge to know anything remotely related to her if she’s uncool with it. The one thing that never fails to trouble me is baseless negative opinion anyone nurtures about me, and somehow Sally managed to do precisely that! I can’t entirely blame her either, cuz my dear friend Harry didn’t venture to obliterate the hatred ever, and I made sure to express my shock and disagreement at the same – which naturally made it slightly awkward between us. But then…

…I’ve a problem, which I’ve lately recognised as potentially very disturbing. I go out of my ways to keep people happy, often getting a raw deal in the process myself, but I would still do it. And post all this alien developments in the last few weeks, I think I’m sick and tired of playing all good. No one remembers it. No one appreciates it. No one understands it. It has become a very anti-altruist world, and I’m learning to play bad at times. Misunderstanding is one thing, and to build castles of grudge on top of that is another.

Anyway, the good part is, Harry and Sally continue to have fun together, and I can’t do without saying that am glad for them 🙂 Just cut me some slack, and return me my happiness!

So basically I was plain troubled with all the bad publicity coming from unexpected quarters for some time, and just had to puke it out. With all due apologies to Harry and Sally, if they read this [and find overstatements at places], but I’m a self-respecting man, and I’ll goddamn hurt back if hurt! And everyone should know, I do not spit venom unless absolutely required!

Disclaimer: Readers are kindly requested to avoid any form of opinion-making about anyone, excepting me. This was mostly about me, and Harry/Sally could well have been fictional props. Thank you!

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thinking tanks ..and blowing self out!

am I a speck
and more I shouldn’t expect
in the desert of life
in the galaxy of fret!

an obscure spot
on the horizon of civilization
off the promisingly unlimited resource
can I only squeeze decimal fun?

there is a city
I call my own
the one across the seven seas
is that not a clone?

do I go to my death bed
having known a handful?
am I just filling in
for some grand cosmic cycle?

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Yin n Yang ..bang bang!

How bad can life get without a personal computer, that indeed was incredibly personal to me! Reading Mark Tully while sipping on beer in this discounted-for-IIT’ians pub, in the company of this guy who scribbled his totally impulsive poetry on the high-quality table napkins, was indeed some experience this evening. It’s hard to believe that getting rid of your computer can possibly be a life-twisting enterprise! I mean I have visited this same pub like thrice this week already, went for hookah yesterday with few getting-rich-soon guys, reading obsessively in the new year, breakfasting before morning lectures, and ofcourse, attending lectures as well! That’s not meeeee!

Anyway, met this friend who came down from Zurich, and got me yummy Swiss chocolates. Wish I didn’t have to confess, but her being irresistibly gorgeous did decently itch my singlehood! Sigh 😦

And Urvashi actually did a good thing by calling me up while I wasted away pubbing desperately. I pitched her with an if-available-then-lets-mingle request, but she ain’t quite ready yet! She offered to find me someone from the HT Matrimonial, which elicited a most extempore response – “shaadi ni karni oye! I’d rather stay single than permanently mingle right away!” Little did I realise, that wasn’t quite the perfect reply!

“Why do all men run away from commitment?”

Yep, I should have known this was coming! Because intuition works, and it did!

I couldn’t agree more with what you say Urvashi. The tougher part is explaining it in a man’s capacity! How am I at fault! The Creator hardwired such obstinately repulsive disposition in my cranium, and kicked me on this unfair planet!

How reasonable do I sound if I say women do get (much) more involved in relationships in later stages, while men are all romantically libidinous initially! I remember this from the Batman series – “never play with the affections of a woman in love”! I’m no Sigmund Freud Junior to create my own interpretation of how men and women feel differently when in love! But it’s probably not universally true without occasional fails. I mean there are stable, future-secured affairs involving doting duos! Perhaps having a girl in his life massages a man’s ego, makes him feel positive about himself, or may be completes him which most men might not want to confess to. While a man in her life is like a most beautiful event to a woman, which ain’t hard to believe considering its a feminine force working behind the scenes. It must mean something when women get to bear the offspring, and not men – they undoubtedly have this infinite capacity to love, at least decently more than most men! And not that men can’t love reciprocally: just that Mars’ians and Venus’ians feel a lot differently about it. A not-so obvious deviation in perspective is acceptable from the two sexes right!

This certainly is not the best and the maximum I could have spoken about it, but the sex-dependent parameters of love make like an unending debate. They think we jump at the mention of any variations of the word ‘commit’, but I guess its just a matter of perception. The love of a man unwilling to commit wouldn’t in all probability reduce itself. Not necessarily I mean. I could say men have a lot on their minds, equally if not more important than the love of a woman. So do the new-age women I guess. Its just that ladies attach overwhelming importance to a relationship, and they will show it, while the man just wouldn’t! He can’t. He should perhaps, but inherent helplessness is the word!

I just realised I’ve ceased being politically correct on my blog. Or perhaps Urvashi demanded a frank opinion!

I’m no sexist. Just the response to a misunderstood fundamental concept!

By the way, you could say men are like promiscuous bastards, unwilling-to-stop & settle beasts. That could save me some rebuttal here!

Guess some fired-up comments would aptly complete this banter!

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PMS’ing again, random ranting once more…!

when I feel all alone
I wish there was somewhere I could be gone
not the same room, the familiar gloom
misery strewn, the lurking quarter moon
music is said to heal
pick the right spot, sigh! lyrics could never appeal!
can be with myself
but would that alone help?
write I can, and be read, and I do
the strangers we are, help me possibly, can you?
talk to yourself, it will help
problem and solution as one, what crap!
an ear, a shoulder
some kind of a calming boulder
everyone needs one, an alter ego
who’d mean it when (s)he’d say, “how-do-u-do?”
when I’m one for hundred and a half
why on earth can’t I find any support staff?
mend the brittle heart
someone who’d gather me, before I could fall apart!
{how can you still be reading me!}

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aaayeeeee aaaaammmmm….

a hermit
a lonesome crusader
but when herding
I’m somewhat better!

an escapist
a wishful thinker
live in a fantasy world
none could do it better!

I’m not so much
yet I am
now a merry andrew
next a strangely tacit man!

I wish for more
strive for less
tied down, cornered myself
God can no more than bless!

life, as I see it
is a fundamental contrast to average
things I want to do, the change that I have imaged
it’s all too mechanical, real world is a complicated rummage!

they say I’m easy
nothing enigmatic about it
ah! only if one could get me
real, true, complete!

PS: Check out this song from Evanescence (right click to save). I bet you’ll love it!

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trivia ..and not so much

It’s true
and
It’s out there
everywhere
ravishing women
on the roads
in upmarkets
cars
PVR’s
but
that’s not the point
the only point I mean
I wonder
sometimes
where are the men
yeah, the men
the machismo breed
the chivalrous studs
the shyly disposed
or the freckled geeks
for all these refined dames
talk of the country’s skewed sex ratios
greatest bullcrap yeah
men outnumber women
across the country
agreed
but gorgeous women
far outstrip
handsome men
magnanimously!
perhaps that’s indeed the truth!
or may be I’m plain crazy
driven insane
by singlehood
ghostly forlorn
finding none
cool with minglehood!
sniff-sniff
I hate the world
It’s generously
unfair!

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typical…

Not that I nurse
any doubts about it
but I have had
a shadowy realisation
I’m so much of a typical male
a typical guy
for the fiery women
who might be reading this!

they say men are dogs
weird! but I’ve started on the belief
that I am
one
indeed!

they say we ogle
hell yes we do
I do
I can say am appreciating
or checking out
in esteemed reverence
c’mon I don’t drool
and salivate
always I mean!
I look up to
my female readers
to back me up on this
do I sound desperate?
frust?
sex-maniac?
whenever I write
about you!

they say we use them
and
when done
dump them
hell again
I’ve been through breakups
twice to be precise
and that’s for the serious ones
I must have
or, I guess
I have
busted
more female hearts
unaccounted
forgotten
of the loves
I couldn’t reciprocate
and I tried
to minimize the pain
downplayed myself
just for them
what the hell
I’ll still be termed the dog
the bastard
who dumped them
when he was done
using them!

I wonder if I’m still read
by any of the two
or any one from the other few
and perhaps I know
even if I don’t want to believe
that some of them
and may be more from nowhere
are justified in hating me
because
after all
am just another dog
and shit happens!

Looks like I now
understand
all the hatred
the fire
the poison!

PS: Got slightly drunk last night, and spent hours in conversation with two guys who’ve been in relationships themselves. Hence the vomit above!

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Thinking again, conceding perhaps!

Either a lot’s been happening in my life lately, or I’m a nervous wreck? I guess am way too emotional as I live my life, as a latent aspect though. Yeah, I’m moved by things. Sometimes to alarmingly disturbing degrees as well. I must be binding way too much importance to small things in life, and big ones too.

I value life and its forms, and I’ve learnt to love, and treasure them.

I’ll shower equal affection to my pet and a mongrel on the street that might be untouchable by all standards. I remember once saving the life of a stray puppy that got entangled in a football goal post net, and was screaming painfully – I was all dressed up and on my way for a date with my girlfriend on a beautiful Sunday, and I couldn’t take one step in the opposite direction when I heard the cries! It killed me to see people just walking past in complete oblivion of the animal in trouble, worse because I knew they all noticed the dying puppy. Just because that little thing wasn’t a pedigree, and had a deemed trivial existence, the world left him to die. I remember calling the security office and before they could arrive, I initiated rescue by cutting the nylon ropes using hand grass-cutters from workers in the next field on the strangulating dog. I also remember calling my girlfriend and telling her I’d be late. And till this date, I have not forgotten the sight of the puppy that ran to the free world once he was set free. And whenever I think about it, I find my life to have been worth something, to have been put to use not just for myself  🙂

I cannot detest those otherwise irritating street urchins that might cling to you when you are on the road, or in an auto, or worst when you have a female company – I would still be cheerful to them in a funny sort of manner, utter wisecracks to them, and be dominantly gentle. Because either I know or I believe that they are innocent beings. Or probably orphaned. And the least I can offer is to be good to them. They deserve cultured treatment considering their extremely wanting lives on the common piece of land we survive, irrespective of certain quanta of roguishness inherent in most! Every smile that I’m able to bring on those sad faces bearing the dying flame of a sorry existence makes me feel more complete of my own being.

People are important to me. I value humanity. People say I’m a good listener, and I think I am not one deliberately. I must be one of those few benevolent people who really and truly want to help distressed souls. And more often than not, I go out of my way to extend all possible assistance. I have had the most varied conversations with people in my life. I have seen an assortment of human emotions. And I have learnt from them, a lot. Every experience makes me understand people better. And I love doing that. I love being an unwelcome psychiatrist!

All of this might sound extremely uninvited crap, but that’s me! This is one of those days when some modest development leaves a poignant impression on my being. I might talk of the source behind this admissive post sometime, but for the moment, this is where I end.

There are times when I think I must be freakishly insane! To assess and evaluate my life on people’s perception about me sounds vague intellection! And I still cannot help it! I guess I’m made for this, tailor-made in fact! I find reason in life by small actions, committed or received. An engineering degree in Computer Science from the best in the country cannot change my way of life. I know the course of my life, and unconsciously I seem to have got closer to it than ever before. At the end of this life, I will definitely evaluate myself, and I’ll do that in the light of what the world thought of me. It’s important, to know that you were of some use to few lives other than exclusively your or your family’s. It’s a very short life. I’d rather live it doing good, and be known and remembered for it, than just being some obscure engineer who works fifteen hours a day and is not happy at all despite possessing all the luxury of the world. I’ve come to believe, money can’t buy you happiness. Perspective can.

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