Saturday, April 26, 2014

Random Gyaan

Magic is for naive people. If you want magic to happen to you, you must protect your naivety with all your heart.

Each moment we have spent leads us to be what we are in this moment. Had we spent any moment differently, we would be different people. So never regret your decisions. They have made you what you are and it couldn't have been any other way.

Could have, would have should have... Fuck That!

If you really really want something to happen, never focus on the million ways it won't happen but focus on the one possibility that it will and act accordingly. That's faith.

Never try to define how low you can stoop. Instead verbalize and define how high you can stretch. Once you define it, it won't be long before you reach it; both ways.

Doubt is the antonym of Confidence. If you want confidence in yourself, eliminate the realistic probable things that are causing the doubt and have faith fearlessly that you will manage the other thousand things that can go wrong, if they do.











Friday, January 10, 2014

from her to her baby

This too shall pass my sweet child,
like everything that hurts, this too shall heal.

With time your sorrow will bear sweet memories and as it passes you'll see a bit of me in your eyes

Love yourself then as you love me today and time will see us together again...

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

and the days pass by, like a nudist parade
You try to grab a sight with your diseased eye,
and they walk on, quick, indifferent, like the flow of life.

You stand in the balcony, thinking whether to jump
but you never do, and when you actually do
the doctors ask you, "What were you thinking?"

And you keep shrinking, as the days pass
and your body grows on, unaware of the mind
aware of life in it and of death pouring in at nights


The world around you seems to have it all figured out,

And what’s really scary is that it seems to have a plan

For you too.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Mirrors

If you've never seen an elephant in your life, not even a picture of it, and i had to explain to you what an elephant is, would you be able to understand what i was talking about?

The picture you'd be able to draw in your head would be based on your experiences or your imagination. Imagination, that is again restricted by your direct or indirect experience of real life. So till the day you actually see an elephant, you would have a very restricted idea of what an elephant looks like.

in other words, my description will have added nothing to your knowledge, except for triggering some of your past experiences and a wonderful process of joining experiences to make up something new, a process we often refer to as imagination.

the entire process of my explanation to you would be nothing but just a reflection of what you already know or of what lies in your consideration set for your imagination.

Extend this to the people you meet.

what are other people, then, if you are going to perceive through them, only those things that you either already know or you have the capacity to imagine?

every conversation you have with any other human being is nothing but a revelation of parts of yourself that you had not seen before. every other person you meet then, is nothing but a mirror that reflects a part of you.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

First week at IMT G

So i come to IMT G, i'm thinking, hmm, well i have to make the most of my time here!
first week and i have this schedule in my hand. the schedule begins at 5 am with early morning Yoga and ends at 12 midnight with some closing presentations...
first nigh and at the end of the sessions, seniors start gathering like an ominous dark cloud (like the birds in the Hitchcock movie.) looks harmless at first, but then begins PDP. Personality Development Program, which is designed to make freshers at IMT understand their true value (understatement?/ overstatement?) and to get them used to the fact that they may never get to sleep again. ever.
Orientation in full formals and half the time i'm wondering, really, what is the function of this necktie hanging by my neck? and before i know it in the midst of questions from many curious souls during the sessions comes the time for PDP again and we line up like holocaust victims, one leg of the pants upto our knees to distinguish US from THEM.
before long we are explaining the exact reasons about why we want to do an MBA to complete strangers and finding out increasingly that we really don't know why. it's all civil till now but then suddenly we hear a guy come to us shout out loud 'mein ladkibaaz hoon IMT mein meri life barbaad hai!' (apt commentary on the sex ratio i must say, but man, what happened to all the dignity?)
Before we know it we are clowns in a play. shouting out the weirdest things we can think of and all the intellectuals, all the smart asses and all the shy little things are suddenly hurled into one category: Fools!
it works guys! i kinda enjoy this first day, but little do i know that there is no distinctions like 'day' as against 'night' in IMT. the next day begins before the last one ends with a rejuvenating yoga session where we understand the true meaning of 'Shavaasan'. you wish you were really dead, but you're not and the next aasan requires you to come up with your best impersonation of a lion. I'm not joking, you're a lion on a mattress, roaring to your left and roaring to your right. you conclude with a hearty laugh directed to yourself, and that's the beginning of another day. the next 120 or so odd hours are just one long day punctuated by 10 mins of shavaasan and roaring. at the end of this day, Insomnia has turned into insanity.

It’s absurd. I’m living in a Louis Bunuel movie.
When you haven’t slept for over 6 days, you can barely tell the ground from the sky. You become a walker in the centre of gigantic softball made of sky earth and other zombies that look like you. So I’m walking this soft ball of earth and I wake up in the sun. I mean literally burning in the sun in what was supposed to be an early morning Yoga session. And what do I hear?
Are my ears playing tricks on me or is it really a 14 year old guy singing boulevard of broken dreams on an even more broken microphone?
Boulevard of broken dreams from a 14 year old! only Bunuel knows if it's symbolic.

This is followed by thank you speeches in theth hindi.
Thank you speeches!! Thank you speeches as I am burning and all the life that flashes in front of my eyes is the last 6 days of bizarre neckties strangling me in the day and Personality Development at night when each of the 420 idiots was on the verge of insanity.
Welcome to Insomnia Management Technology, better known as IMT.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Of Bombay Rains.

It's been there.
There since I can remember...
And it's been complicated. a little less overwhelming now, because the passion has diminished a little. But i know how it was. i'm going to say it in simple present tense, though the rains are over now.

It's a passionate relationship.
It's that kind of love that you wish you didn't get.
The love of bombay rains
is like the love of a passionate, foolish man.
it comes into your life like a storm and totally takes it away from you. totally destroys it.
he is unpredictable, he is insensitive, you have no idea why you bear with him. he's like an annoying arrogant 4 year old, but you can't help it. you long for him. you long for him so much that you'll go upto his feet and beg for him to come back.
helplessly wait for him. carry an umbrella everyday, just in case. you know if he does arrive, you're not going to open it. you'd rather get drenched! but you think may be he'll see that you're carying it and be pleased.
Little do you know that your actions have no bearing on this bastard's whims. You may have a personal relationship with him but his relationship with you, is strictly impersonal.
you are just someone he happens to oerwhelm when he felt like overwhelming someone.

but he will listen to you. none the less. be caring, and loving. he will appear to give you everything he has and you would feel 'he is mine. all mine.'
and then his love will be too much. he'll come to your doorstep any time of the day and shatter your plans. He'll take away your loved ones frm you. sometimes forever. he'll depress you with his constant outpouring and his tiring streak of conversatios and questions that are no doubt redundent and demanding at the same time.

He'll confine you to his embrace and you'd begin to hate him. you'd want out.
you'd want to breathe freely.
you may even want to see the sun now.

The sun is reliable. he's not as interesting, but he does his job. he's a solid support. he does not bother you at odd hours. he's very predictable, sometimes boring i must say, but then, you can live with boring people if they are functional. why desire the sly and insensitive bastards who will never be there when you need them? why be treated like a doormat?
Why not be wise and go with the one who you can rely on. Who's loyalty you can trust with your eyes closed. Your childhood friend who has been with you all your life. the person you have never felt the least bit of attraction for, but who has never hurt you!

You decide it's over.
I hate this Rain. i want to see the sun now.
you curse you abuse you fight you try to break free and the rain leaves you.

for a time it's good.
You feel the sun's warmth day in and day out. you like this dry feeling. you admire the sun for his forgiveness.
I'm a morning person now!
You are a changed person. you are not that dark witch that loved the clouds and the demonic rain.

But inside, you are.

it comes back to you like an addiction.
There's nothing wrong with the sun, really, just that he's so dry! he has no sense of humour you know!
The heat bothers you. his light, his honest light becomes a glaring problem.

and you long for the rain again.
You wait you beg, you scream
and it happens again.
but not everytime.
so you can never know.

for these four months, you become a woman in an abusive relationship.

I become the rain.

Friday, August 22, 2008

Little heroics. epic of insignificance.

the grandeure of my little self.

the sky is as close you percieve it to be.

miopia is bliss.