I was married. I don't have any papers.
I am divorced. I don't have the 'proof' for that either.
I would have, someday, been the father of your child.
I will not have my Arya. Maybe you will have yours.

Confessions of a procrastinator

It has been a long time since I have written something of substance. Maybe, that is the best indicator of what I have become. A procrastinator.

I think this is something I will do and end up postponing it. I am stuck up in a job which gives me no time for myself. But with all my contradictory mind I get the feeling if I had early evenings home, I would have ended up wasting them. There is so much to do. I have, or (for the currently over lethargic me) had so many ideas. I don't follow up on them. I think of studying up for something which throws me into utter confusion about what to do with my career. I think of teaching the under privileged with the ever pugnacious thoughts of the forced-workaholic me working behind the scenes in the mind. I think of playing/practising the guitar with 'tomorrow' coming to the rescue of my un-acting self. I think everyday I will work on some fitness, go for a run early in the morning only to do it once and then forget it for the next 45 days and keep up the encouragement for my increasing bulge. Probably the only thing I actually end up doing the way I want to is talking to/with D.

Honestly, I pity myself for what I have become.

If I still don't act, all I will end up with is blaming myself and getting caught up in the blamegame with myself.

Buckle up buddy, before it is too late...

I hate to, I don't want to, but I have to leave.

I will miss you, D, more than any word in any language can express. I am silent. I can't take it no more. I love you.

Drops of salty hot water slide down as I fumble to wipe them. I will be with you, always.

Failed, A lesson

Somehow, it suddenly strikes me. There's not much I've learnt in the 4 years of graduate school. Knowing myself, I happen to learn more when I am motivated to do so. Motivation works 2 ways. One, when someone motivates you to learn. Two, when you yourself want to learn. It hardly worked either way in the last 4 years or some years even before.

I am partly to blame. But I would also think of the inability of the ones, who 'taught' me, to motivate me to know. Wherever I look around here, it's the same scenario. Mindless numbed gulping down of heterogeneous information and puked up splash of ink on the answer scripts. The fault lies as much with the "taught" as the "teachers". Somewhere down the line, having been pushed around in the rugged terrain of rote learning, I fell, I cut myself, and in an effort to survive with an air of leisure, I chalked out a trail where there would be minimal rote & puke, and yet minimal effort to pursue the aura to learn. I succeeded, yet I failed. I failed in that inspite of knowing where the path leads, I didn't follow my heart. I failed in that I ended up being a glorious nobody than a knowing-something-in-its-true-fundamentals anybody. I failed in that being aware of my abilities and potential, I have almost thrown it all away.

It's an education, a lesson. Perhaps, the most important of them all I've learnt is knowing I have failed.

I happened to clean my closet today. Things came tumbling out. I told D I will give her some of my most precious possessions, for life. Those small toys and tazos and cards and stickers and corals, they are as she said, remnants of a childhood. A child at heart, I am. At the end of everything, such small mementos and moments matter more to me than all those sparkled gifts.

Yesterday

Yesterday,

I walked a lot. It wasn't that I was thinking much. I just was blank. I talked to D. She was crying. She is in more pain when I am upset.

I am just a speck amidst millions. It felt easy to be lost in the waves of hordes of people.

I am alluded to as a mysterious wonder. Just 'cause I am neither at the top, nor at the bottom.

And on top of all, I realized how 12 words can screw one up.

And here I am, living today.

Tomorrow, today will be another yesterday.

They shall run and not be weary,
They shall walk and not faint.


This is just a fall,
A fall which will remind me of the ground I stand on.


Vangelis comes when he has to ...

Hope is not in what I know 
Not in me 
It's in You 

It's all I know 

And I find peace When I'm confused 
I find hope when I'm let down 
Not in me 
But in You 

I hope to lose myself 
For good 
I hope to find it in the end 
Not in me 
It's You 

It's all I know 

Standstill

One always comes to a standstill. There’s this moment in life when you will.

If you have always been involved in the rat race, then you might be braked down to a trifle at the fag end. Being a logical guy, you’d say, that’s the best thing to have happened. Being a practical guy, you’d say, you’ll have lived your life. Being just a guy, I’d say you’ve been running in the wrong direction.

If you let life pass you by, then maybe you’ll be feeling this every alternate moment. You will encounter a red light every second crossing. You will always pause to think. You will think to act. You will think to do. You will think to think. And then you will think, what actually did you think.

If you are among those who have visions and dreams and fantasies, you must have started walking with a chrysalis in mind, let it formulate into a caterpillar, and started running. But then, you lose the butterfly. You think it’s there around the corner, behind that hedge, across that river, hidden behind those trees. But anyway you go on, without a reason. Rather, you lose the reason. You go on, more so because everybody around you is going on. People tell you that “a winning horse doesn’t know why it runs, it runs because of pain. Life is a race, God is your rider. So if you are in pain, then think God wants you to win the race.” You run because you have to run.

And then all of you will stop someday. You have to. Maybe most of you will look at it as something you have to. But there’s a reason behind it. Life’s isn’t all about being ‘The Rat’ in the rat race. Life isn’t about being the cat either.

Something/someone always comes along at such dead ends. Be it a Coelho or an Ithaca or a Haley or a Hosseini, be it that cinemascope, be it a philosopher and guide you find in your friend, be it a spiritualist or a sage, be it that ever smiling ice-cream vendor passing you by every day, be it that drunk auto driver, be it your love who you never thought it could be.

‘cause standstill is when you actually stand still, when you actually pause to think, and then when you actually will do and act, when you actually go on into the desert holding the hand of the one you cherish the most.

I can't

I can’t take it when you say it’s a waste.

I can’t take it when you say don’t.

I can’t see us parting on that note.

I can’t see when you leave in a huff.

I can’t leave without a troika.

I can’t go without a feather touch.

I can’t bear a loss of opportunities.

I can’t think of anyone but you.

I can’t live without you.

Rooftop Chronicles

I somehow absolutely hate “take care” messages, especially from ones who actually matter to me. I don’t know why. Maybe because it creates a distance or gives the apparent notion of distance.

Sitting on the rooftop, with a bunch of notes, the stark sun scorched me. Carelessly glancing through them, I had my mind elsewhere. As the sweat beads formed and dropped silently, I stared at the Latin and Greek sentences which would be the key to my exams tomorrow. I knew nothing.

The day had not been going right. Well to be honest, it had been going absolutely incredibly wrong since late last night. Arguments and rude words not withstanding I actually missed a parting “I love you”. You didn’t sleep early last night I presume/assume. I don’t know. I know I didn’t. In fact I only slept at 4 in the morning and woke up at 8.the morning went past. I couldn’t hear a voice, a sound of the voice I so long for. It made me all the more restless. I hoped against myself maybe I could yet. Instead a few texts, some rhetorically formal made its way. I, for once, thought I would wait. The wait isn’t over yet.

As the sun made its way across the horizon paving for a cool evening, I lied down on the dusty rooftop porch. A gentle breeze accelerated into a stronger one. I glanced through the notes, occasionally fiddling with the cell with eager wistful eyes. As the horizon darkened and a good many messages later, with the now pretty strong breeze literally hitting me, I nodded a vain sigh to myself. And I cried. Its been a good many days and months since I last cried. There is a subtle difference I find between breaking down and crying. You break down, and then try to maybe hide your tears. You break down, and then you find consolation. You break down, and calm down soon after. But this time I cried. I was alone. No one could watch me. No one could feel me. I cried. Maybe I howled. Maybe I wailed. When I realized, I could see lights sparkling in the distance. I never wiped the tears. The breeze carried them off.

It has been a horrible last 24 hours for me, probably one of the worst such periods in recent times. I haven’t yet listened to your voice. But yeah, now, I understand not listening to the melody kills me inside, yet I fear this doesn’t set a precedent for days to come. And yet maybe I needed this.

Writer's block

There have been things I would love to write.

There have been thoughts I would be better off scribbling.

I can't.

Unfamiliar pangs of writer's block.

Turning to stone is better than wearing stones around your neck.

Hard hitting shocks of reality.

Keeps me awake.

I fail to write.

Unfamiliar pangs of writer's block.

Today

Today is a very important day. I realized a new facet of me. I've hardened myself. Beyond what i could have thought earlier. I have steeled myself. The wall is indeed very strong and durable. And there are doors and windows built too. You don't need to break in. You only need the correct key. It is enigmatic and builds mystique. I prefer it that way. And for the one who holds the key, welcome to a journey beyond your wildest dreams. You've earned it.

Reasons of Me

I failed to see the reason, if only it was to let go after a downtown journey.

I reasoned to myself to realize I possessed something others don’t.

I gave myself enough room to live it up.

I am destined for a destiny I write of my own.

It gives a power to do and explore what I have inside.

I am what I am ‘cause

To be able to surrender is a curse I find less appealing than a boon to give up what you own.

I'm lost ...

I’m lost.

I don’t feel like talking to people anymore. Or rather I run out of topics. Maybe people also don’t find much to talk with me.

I’ve become boring.

I’ve become unidimensional, unidirectional. I don’t believe one should do what everyone else is doing without thinking. I am not doing it either. But I’m running out of options for alternatives and my independent thoughts.

I have my focus, yet I am losing focus. And strangely it’s the lack of an objective where to focus on.

I am not being able to follow my head or my heart. I’m hanging somewhere in between.

I know what I can do. I know I don’t even have an inkling what all I can achieve. Yet, I’m strangely shunning it. I’m shunning myself from the world.

I have torn myself into a façade, yet sometimes I let my ‘self’ be looked through the looking glass by others.

I’m not in a negative mood. Trust me when I say that. I’m positive.

I’m too engrossed in thinking all I can’t do at times that I forget I can also do something.

It’s not an adolescent rant. I’m past it. It’s more of an adult child speaking where he’s suddenly lost himself, where he suddenly finds confusion and then sees the light. I’ve tried abeyance, it doesn’t help.

I know who I am. Few people do. My fault is I don’t know when to come out of the shell.

My life has been a journey of extremes. I’ve tried moderation. It doesn’t suit me.

Someone had said when I set out to do something, I do it with so much passion and fervour that I leave others far behind and fail to bring the rest to the same platform, and so the real objective fails. Yes, maybe you were right.

I’m not a loner. Yet I feel lonely most of the times now. And sometimes solitude is bliss.

I got dreams of my own which I share with none. I’d love to fulfil them. But then they require lots of heart. I haven’t been up to doing by the call of the heart in recent times.

I feel I’m a letdown at times, both to myself and others.

I used to be a joker at times. Even now I am one, albeit in a different way. I’d love to be one for life.

And yet I feel I’m lost …

Ripples on the water

It’s weird sometimes when you feel you have so much to do, and yet you do nothing, you just seem to have an inclination to go back in time. Not relive, but just looking back at who I was and how I was and how everything was. It’s probably the best form of educating you about yourself. The way you’ve grown to be somebody who you are now.

Today as I stand on the threshold of yet another big step towards my graduation, I realize there are so many things I could have done different, not necessarily better. The admission test where I had to write “Twinkle Twinkle little star” and a teacher helped me then. The elation when I was first appointed monitor in the first standard and then daily lock and key games subsequently. The absolute fun masti innocent home to school and back van journeys. Admission in a new school mid-term in the third standard and getting slowly used to Kolkata life. I remember the fun filled fights of fourth and fifth standard. Early exposure to words of love and sex in sixth and seventh standards used to make us friends so hush hush and keen alerted minds. Eighth and ninth standards were spent on getting exposed to national quizzing scenarios and first crushes and basically, ‘Growing Up’. Tenth standard was more of a fun filled journey. Barring the last day, one which is forever etched in memory, when so many friends were scattered from the everyday meet forever. Tears and hugs were never lacking. Eleventh standard was when I had the then biggest fall in my life. Betrayal from a best friend to losing friends to being basically lonely and realizing this whole thing the real hard way, indeed broke and wore me down. The silver lining was I had some new friends who really have stood by me ever since. Twelfth was when I once again stood up, trying to relive the last days in school. Some friends came back realizing their folly, all in all it was a embalming of sorts. The last day of school was essentially different from the one two years back. Before it even hit that there would be no waking up at 6.30 in the morning and running to catch the bus at 7.15 and rushing to manage the traffic as a badge holder and then managing the students as captain during the prayer and then attending classes, it was over. The last day during the investiture ceremony when I broke down on stage and the photo sessions to filling juniors’ slam books to getting 7 mindboggling proposals and then all of us classmates crying together with doors closed to finally dancing and singing it out that there would be no final farewells and hugs and kisses galore. And then not faring well in the boards and entrances to taking the real tough decision to reappear for entrances a second time against everyone’s wishes and then spending a fun filled year at Asutosh, making so many friends. That was when I realized I was and could be a really good person. And then getting into my first and only relationship till date, which was blissfully beautiful. And then getting admitted to JU. Alas good things don’t last! Everything going haywire. Losing the plot and break up taking its toll on me. Probably the lowest ebb in my life. A point of time when I really contemplated and attempted suicide and failed. Nothing went right. The only thing I had left was the faith on me. Nothing else existed. Except for a few friends who made it a point to bring me back.

Today, I’ll say I am much better. It could have been worse, maybe it could’ve better too. But with age comes a certain wisdom of knowing that experiences make and mould you into a better person. I have seen low points, lower than some, and better than some. But I’ve never regretted any bit of this. I have my detractors. I have my critics. My aim is not to silence them. ‘coz I also know I don’t need to do that and prove them wrong. I know myself best. And when the need arises, as and when, I’ll prove to myself. No one else. I have never withered in the face of a challenge. And I never will. Success does not always come to the one with the most victories. Happiness does not always come to the most successful. And it’s all in the mind. If you believe, anything is possible. When you’ve scraped the bottom of the ocean bed and come back to the top battered but alive you know you can. I can.

A silent prayer, always

You often don’t reckon the power of the mind. It’s often misunderstood that the power of the arms is greater. And sometimes some believe the mind can cure cancer, which is absurd. And sometimes absurd is just the simple truth.

Up on recent, I had been to this trek to Kedarnath. It’s a pilgrimage for Hindus, though I strongly am secular based, and am a strong vehement oppose of blind faiths. My aim of this trek was merely not the temple or the shrine. I love adventure, and this trek with wildly exotic scenery and backdrop fascinated me. And even higher treks to Vasuki Taal and Chorabali Taal were of paramount interest.

We had stayed overnight at Gaurikund, intending to start early in the morning for the 14 km long trek. We went up that day, taking a long 8 hours to go up, with big resting periods in between since the group had quite a few not-so-fit members. We enjoyed Kedarnath. However the trek to Vasuki taal could not be undertaken due to horrible weather conditions, and the one to Chorabali taal had to be forfeited midway. I’ll describe the trek and the visit in upcoming posts. Sorry if you thought this post would, and sincerely hope you’d wait for the one.

We were on our way back to Gaurikund, after 3 nights at Kedarnath. Now descending is a tricky job. It’s probably tougher than going up yourself. Quite akin to life itself. Many climb up. Not many know the way to descend the downs in life. It breaks many, permanently at times. I was accompanying the porters or pittu-s as they are called in that part of the world. They are locals and come down at great speed, using terrifying short cuts at times. The rest were far behind. On my way a person, maybe in early 30’s stopped me, asking politely if I was going down. On my affirmative reply, he said, he standing there since 12 in the morning (or the night, it’s all the same to me) waiting for his relatives. And I’ll let you in a bit of info. That night it was freezing cold at Kedarnath. With temperatures reportedly striking 2 degrees Celsius. This man stood out in that hell of a cold for relatives and his ailing father, who all reportedly had fallen behind this helpless man, due to the nature of the tough trek. These people weren’t out there for some adventure or admiring the scene. It was their plain belief to come to a place termed holy. it’s admirable, even though somewhere I feel any place is holy, when you truly call God from the insides. Striking this short conversation, I suddenly found myself adrift of the pittu-s. Hurrying up, treacherously, I was again encountered, by this man. He was all of 30, maybe taking a huge gamble not to make the man go so young. He was carrying 2 children on his shoulders. They were all of four. Sad I didn’t have the time or the mental earnestness to bring out my cam. One had polio, the other had cancer. And the two were his children, his only two, and twins. Amazing faith. Scintillating belief. Unwavering loyalty. Last hope. They all spoke out in volumes through the dark eyes of that man. I took out bottle of water, and tried to talk. My brain and mind corresponded and coincidented, something which has happened, rarely in my life. Whatever I wanted to say would be less. Whatever I wanted to speak would be to undermine him. Whatever I would dare to show for care would be mistaken for sympathy. In the end, I just gave him a small hug and moved. A silent prayer, always. May God listen wherever He is.

Inside Out

Some find solace in everything they do.
Some need motivation to do them.
Some wither under criticism.
Some flutter in witticism.
Some need you in their times of need.
Some need you in their times of deed.
Some shrivel under stares of trouble.
Some revel in the eyes of a storm.
Some wither when the lights too bright.
Some shine 'coz they have never seen darkness.
Some pump their fists in glory.
Some are sober in their times of victory.
Some bow to the almighty.
Some hold their head high, 'coz God is inside.
Some respect you by a salute.
Some stay silent and salute you inside.
Some are crushed under the call of duty.
Some emerge, scathed, with backs to the wall.
Some can bring the universe down to show they love you.
Some can dry a thousand tears inside on the outside to never let you know.
Some go down in history.
Some are history.
All make history.
All is incomplete, unless some and some unite.