Scratch

Days shall go on, the path shall wind its course
Disease shall flow in there would be no recourse
Tears will run dry sorrow would know no end
Pain will be easiest to comprehend
Like a prison with walls too high and the window with a view to nowhere
Look in the mirror back at you not yourself but emptiness would stare

You had it coming someone did say right
Creeping you would go in the dead of the night
Into alleys dingy dreary n dark
Come out with just a mark
A gash on the arm with a tourniquet tied around
Scream you would for your feet wont feel the ground

High was a state and the stakes too
All along you thought you knew
For it was an Itch you did Scratch
To take a swig, one small whiff, you just lit a match
And caught is your world and of those who cry
For those who walk these roads dont live or die

They live inbetween in suspended animation
Not masters of their fate but prisoners of their own creation
Craving for that pinch of the needle with not IV but crack
The road you are on you aint coming back
Scratch no more that itch for you're consumed
By what you consumed and assumed

Would be a one time thing and not blind desire
Dont tell me its Wood thats buring this cant be a pyre
"Too young to die"people tell them with folded hands
As there is but your nothingness to pick the strands
Pain is our prison and through the window we stare
Its not you its not you thats not there...

Missing the bus...

Terry: You don't understand. I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum... On the Waterfront, Marlon Brando 

Lifes seldom about second chances, its not always that you could hop on again once u got off. Here I aim not to reflect on myself and who I am or not how I proverbially missed the bus, had opportunities staring at me and ended up being too lazy to see them there, but I just write to ponder over where it all went horribly downhill.
Lets face it, I am a hedonist, a couch potato, a slouch, I have aims that get defeated and deflated before the light of the day, I dream with a notion and a desire and have it all misfire before it gets conjured into a plan. I live each day in a daze, I expect some inner call to come in wake me up, shake me up and make me achieve all I dream of. I have always been like that, subconsciously aware of my shortcomings and my mistakes but consciously avoiding efforts towards setting things right. Sometimes when all it takes is to wake up and smell the coffee I avoid breathing so to speak... But what is the genesis of this??? Have things been this easy for me? Or am I just a victim of favorable consequences? Also If I was to have some epiphany how would lifes course alter?
I hope that its written someplace with the first line being "IT all started... " you know more like a book of answers... I have often looked within to spot the talent in me, what sets me apart, what makes me different but apart from my incredibly good looks (NOT) and my charming persona (NOT) I have come up with nothing, nothing that separates me. Not that talent makes you a somebody, not that not having it robs you of anything, just that it gives me an excuse to while away further. But the bottomline still remains... what now? What next? Todays inspiration was served by tikkatandoori... what will inspire me tomorrow to better what is keyed in today? Will life be just the same... monotony layered with monotony or will I find the right amount of nothing to mix with life to make somethingout of it? Or will I continue to stare at the bus long gone by and imagine what could have been? What If I cracked IIM L or maybe XLRI? What if I never attempted the two extra questions in quant? What if I read the GMAT OG end to end without stopping midway? What if I had one poori less today or walked 10 mins more? What if...

Through here until the infinite...
In wishes in hopes in flight...
As I attempt to leap
And forget to keep
The alarm set to awake
And forget to take
The risk that comes along
And thus find the wrong
Door ajar again
Leap now to comfort not pain
As in repose I sleep
Forgetting the miles to walk and promises to keep...

unsure...

I used to write... it was a passion once, and I had imagined getting consumed by the quest to learn, experience and write. In interviews and all whenever someone would ask me my hobby I would go on to say reading and writing, and to the next obvious question as to what I did write pat would come the reply Poetry. Nope I was no poet, just someone who figured a rhyme scheme and words that further rhymed, put 2 n 2 together and strung and soliloquy at times worth print, at times trash but yet it gave me freedom and yes it was worth saying in those interviews.
Been ages since I put pen to paper or keys to a word doc and poured words out in a coherent and meaningful text, maybe its got to do with the fact that there is far too little time and far too much that needs done, or maybe this is just an excuse. Maybe the reason is that I am too judgmental of my own written text than I was earlier, or maybe I am the poet who can pen a broken hearts tale than a happy hearts paean. Regardless of the reason this restless mind and aimless soul needs a stirring, one of note and one that gets the juices flowing again, or maybe I need to stop killing time in things that dont count for nothing and concentrate on what matters. Do what makes me happy...

batman...

Life is a composite of certain infallible truths... there are decisions and regrets based on those decisions that plague our lives.. this for one is not a self assessment and thus an entry filled with stories of what all has and is going wrong...this is just me trying to interpret what its like being a superhero...everytime i see a superhero flick the kid inside me wakes up toying with the idea of  self mutation/deprivation/space travel/gamma exposure and the like to basically transmogrify (calvin like) into my alter ego... akin to stupendous man...
Now this is in itself is far fetched I know but then again that is not the point why I started typing, what I do wanna discuss is superheroes... the ones that are not the me that is not...Batman by far (in his current avatar and thanks to christopher nolan) is the one I admire the most and its not because of his hoarse tone... its not because The Joker made the dark knight what it was... its more so cuse of the dark inner side he has... the genesis of his being is somewhat similar to spiderman... a common thief/street urchin laying to waste a somewhat perfect life... and thats when the story differs... Batman makes himself who he is by sheer willpower and loads of gymtime... and unlike superman/spidey/x men/green lantern etc he became the vigilante the protector... so every wound every scratch leaves its mark. the people he takes on are not in the same class as maybe the goblin or the sand man or as influential as lex luthor. But they pack a punch... the Joker, Dr freeze, the riddler, two face r not your average joes... n they are menacing, but Bane is by far the deadliest. Joker as essayed was a portrayal of a mad man... Bane is a mad menace and his superhuman strength makes him a vicious tyrant.

So in a fudged attempt to hide my disappointment over the spidey redux version I now start the countdown to July 20th... when the final chapter of batmans yet illustrious career gets written... In a world beset by inequities and full of individuals who rather see it burning I wait for the dark knight to rise and step forth to claim the crown of the superhero we await adore and love so much...

step e

With ambulatory movements suggestive of a flogged dead horse making its way to the gallows I arrive at my seat post lunch... lunch in itself hasnt been kind of late, food bears a repulsive look for the green of a grass blade no matter how alluring is not at all food, but nonetheless I am eating healthy.

Work and working with airtel is killing, I am done and bugged with being here and doing the same thing every day, yup air money is a change but yet again its the same rut and same mindset you get caught up in, but yes i have a dream now... there is something i do aspire for and no its not unassisted human flight anymore. Having read Steve Jobs and about apple I am back at dreaming about getting a job there, google was always on the list and now there is apple as well... so to be there a plan is being formalised...
a. Quit airtel
b. Prepare for GMAT
c. Get a score (700+)
d. Get into a B schood
e. Hope (now this is where the issue lies) apple n google pick me...

step a may or may not be a part of the overall schema but still getting to point e is a target that will not be compromised with..

end of an era...

tonight... its not about the departed... the ones who farted.. the ones who lived/died... the moments that lied... its about the song that dont remain... the same and it does pain... to know tomorrow the black heart sun... will no longer know the one... who once was the one within and not without... the end of an era beyond the shadow of a doubt... :(

Life has flipped, tripped and fallen I have in an abyss, and nope it aint sadness/grief/remorse that has befallen my pedantic state.. its just that things have changed and people around me have changed to and they changed far too much for me to catch up...
does it matter? its a pertinent question for what has befallen is not a recondite, and infallible yet reprehensible memory that i cant repress... its just that the ones close 2 me are far away... and yet i feel i could be the one responsible... but yet i could be the one without... so what am i losing out on? Company? Gossip? A chance to network? Naah.. am losing on a brady bunch i called my own... people have moved... there have been weddings/departures changes... some elevated to thrones they dont look down from some fallen far 2 deep in the crests of failures they cant look up from... so is my failure reproaching me from approaching the ones i trusted?
OR is it just a mere coincidence that my moments of fortitude and goodwill amongst those i loved was just a mere coincidental fallacy that was so well amalgamated with my will to be happy... and now that sadness has engulfed my being, i find myself alone... and not so sure whether my happiness was but a dream or just a mere conjured image of a happy me that will never be... or are these just emotions than any drunk unsure soul shall be filled with when not called/waited/fed... or are these unfulfilled desires to be the part of whats lost? I do feel lost somewhat... but tomorrow the rum wont remain and the gumm within shall disappear...

dont drink and drive...

Its an inglorious adventure... a fools errand... an attempt at the impossible... I ahve been foolhardy forthright... i have tried all in my might... but you, you are but a statuette... cast in shimmering gold... ur heart not be beseeched by all i have unerringly told... my life is incomplete... a sonnet that has no verse... a misty mighty pause... yet I know... I know that its an uncouthed yearning for an unviable end... its a heart that beats a bit 2 fast... knowing the moment wont last... knowing that the few moments spent with you shall have to last a life for you got no time for a no good nobody that I am... just a blur in your everyday... a speck in the dust you wipe of your feet... but here i am writng what was to be a prose is yet not a poem wnt be nothing more than a tore down unseen unread attempt at finding meaning of my ever non existant meaningless life... i still search for your presence in my dreams, not that i don’t dream of you but yet there are dreams in which I am dying you see... and i wish to see you sitting next 2 me... but I have to incept what fails to exist... for i am a dreamer and as i am writing this from me 2 u i know this will never reach its end or to the person its intended for... i know no reason as to why you should or I can have you read it out... but yet i go on in the middle of the night harping away on a notion a whim and a fancy... hoping you notice I am awake...

good evenin.. n good night...

with the end of dawn and break of light... with a heave and a ho and a last fight...

a drink and 2... and a shot for me and u...

and u go tipsy and I cant feel my feet... and then we donno where the cars down the street...

and i cant drive neither can u... hell theres so much we ought not 2 do...

but u temme its good and drunks just a state... getting homes urgent we're getting late...

so i try the ignition hell i cant get the door... u slide on the seat i can hear u snore...

damn this road homes a bit 2 far... i cant feel my hands let alone the car...

next to the car is a tree... and u aint next 2 me...

for the windshield did shatter... when u fell in a clatter...

on the road no less... ur brains in a mess...

splattered on the road it lies... i cant hear my own cries...

cant feel my legs or my hands... halted next to the tree the car stands...

i can see me too... I sit where I should next to you...

slouched on the steering in red and grey... not the ideal end to a perfect day...

ur brains a mess and my red drips on by... just the way we wanted... together we die...

and just a drink that dint end up right... heres wishing u good evening and good night..

13 hours...

It was 13 hours later that he realized the difference a boundary can make, it took him 13 long agonizing hours to surmise why the sun wasnt there... in all but 13 hours life took a new turn... a new beginning was ushered in from a door that was left slightly ajar, only for the air to flow in so that he could breathe once in a while... but then again, opportunities do seek you at times, mishaps seek appointments and keep them, this was one of those times, when the deprived and maligned nothing of a soul was to be wrenched of the last iota of ether inside would be squeezed out. And yet he smiled knowing that the desiccation and destruction is nothing but his own doing, he knew it was coming he was just 13 hours late thats all...

And then tuesday was gone... with the wind, ridin with the wild horses, up a stairway to heaven, with the sky turning yellow... and he stood there... comfortably numb...

ibid: he was a dreamer... who dreamt on too long... and he knew u shud never love a song... for the transience of words hurt you too bad... they leave u trying to grip/what you never had...

the truths heard and am on my way...

stand outside theres one thing left to say...

then again...some other day... some other day...

cuse tonight... aint about the hand that rocks...

its the glass that talks...

the lights goin...n so do u... go away...

my whites dying... i turn to grey...

but then again... i see u fading...

anticipating...

u'll go away... away.. into the night...

fading light...

i walk tonight... alone again... just a glass in hand...

alone i stand...

it never was that u were here anyway.....

so why the helll... wud u even... staaaay!!!!

so as i sing the bar does close the last order he says...

does he know deep inside theres a soul that prays...

act is done... jester stops

gibberish... iltutmish... chinar... qutub minar...

One cant help but compare... au contraire one has to compare... for ur fallacies and mistakes and the comparisons with absolute perfections is whats supposed to bring you up...that is what is supposed to egg you on... I used to rhyme it all once upon a time... this was my way of filling in the void left by my not so perfect schooling. I aint a convent educated someone who can be verbose at the drop of a hat and end up speaking at hours together in a language that has been by far alien to me for long... so i would add my own lines to fill in the gaps left by my inadequacy of words... words that were always around somewhere... lines that made the person sitting in front wonder is he making sense? hence... the comeuppance... today I am no longer the rhymer i once was... i am back to my stammering self... unsure to say the least at times... and whats brought this along? absent song... absent words... absence fills to much of my everyday now... I wish I would do something about it... I wish there was no crossroads... I wish there was just a fork in the road and I knew which road to take... I wish I was walking not crawling... running not falling... stymied and confused I stare at what life has thrown... the problems unknown, uncouth is my mere attempt at it... and I will not make it through... and that aint new... I think that is whats in store... so I would pie some more...

pie some more...

Why dont blog write on their own... why do I have to take the trouble of filling pages with diatribe that is far too non consequential for the world to pay any heed to. And mind you all that I am writing bears no significance to any individual or occurrence, and if it so happens that it does, in that case it is merely the writers attempt at obviating the realism in life itself.

Not so long ago I was alive, not so long ago I used to dream, not so long ago I used to write, not so long ago I wasn't employed. And now that I am, my creativity is best expressed in the not so often contrite abuses I pile upon my boss/co-workers/partners, the choicest of words and expressions usually best put in hindi or my mother tongue punjabi fills up my creative void. And that seems to be the order of the day for most of those around, and it so seemed till I came across you, you you you, you fill me with the will to express be more than what I am. The mere smile you so seldom chose to smile upon us mortals gives me strength to go on, to drag my ass to office, to make each day worth living. And yet you are so so far away from me, the mere mention of your name makes me long for u, makes me wish you were around. And then not so far away I have this ridiculous piece of shit barfing in my face, taking my thoughts to a new parallel, but yet I long to see you again.

What is passion, I have this friend who has discovered what we call a "Calling" in life, (well why beat around the bush), Saahil happens to now know what he always was searching for. TFI it seems is the answer to all he was searching for, ubiquity, balance, goal, a reason... there is something besides tix that brings a smile to his face. Call it fate by design or chance, but one thing leading to another has seen him land up with TFI. Rest is fait accompli, every sentence he speaks, every conversation we have is laced with teachings, with innuendos, even the anecdotes revolve around his experiences... he does not now look at the world the way we see it... or maybe I am just exaggerating, but things have changed in his neck of the woods.

But still what is passion, and where does my calling lie? Does it lie in a simple piece of pie? The pie I so sinfully washed down my throat with a coffee? Or does it lie in the coffee the innumerable cups of which I have gulped down everyday? The answer is far too confusing than the question was... for the answer aint just blowing in the wind anymore, it aint in the fast fast fast river (this is an innuendo that seems far too out of place but what the heck who is reading this anyway), the answer is an arcane quest, it would someday become a series of blog entries that might just result in a ridiculous book I might just publish and rake in some dough. Some chick once told me that I was too good with questions but I aint no good at answering them myself, well part of it is true and which one I now know.

U know what, someday I would do the moonwalk, play next to (or in a more sophisticated undertone "jam with") eric clapton and mark knopfler, learn to get over stuff, die on my 50th birthday, write a book, give up on coffee... see you smile... till that day... never say forever again...

3rd...

At times u say stuff n later on u regret it... n then there are times in the spur of the moment u say smthin n the next moment u forget it... i hate the latter... cuse at times... n especially those when the minds at a momentary high... when senses r numb...the world goes by slow... the thoughts that u taught urself are so clear and so distinct from each other... when every word is worth its weight in gold and manifold... these are times when deliriums a moment away and the moment seems so momentary so ephemeral and u dnt want it 2 last... for delirium is the ubiquitous existence the panacea u r chasing its ur goal yet this moment is when u have the worlds attention... so what do u do.. the next swigs ur undoing but thats wat u r doing... sinking... blabbering... u r the worthless drunkard at some watering hole... lying in ur own incongruous meelie of words u dnt understand... what made the crowds heads turn u dnt remember... ur minute of fames long gone... what stares u now are questioning eyes.. unsure of ur next move... the crowd thins away... ur floating now... the words seem a long distant dream... the moment so ephemeral...so effervescent burst like a bubble... the time crushed like a scooby snack... time for a coffee... :)

Valedic...

I have this notion... that someday... i would get up and walk out... and when i say walk out i intend to say that I would walk out on everything around me... people... friends... colleagues... everyone... and start a new life. It is quite often misrepresented in flicks where u start a new life and ur past catches up with u,.. with me it wont... it would be complete disassociation and detachment from all I know... and why?? I donno... maybe its because of the way 2day was... maybe its because I have realised and come 2 terms with the bitter truth that is... that the one strand of imagination i had emancipated... and kept hoping for and kept alive is not done for... this one glimmer of hope to have things work out differently has died... so maybe... in a new life it would be better... maybe I would be less of a nobody when I reappear... maybe I dont give a fuck to the fact that this is being read or not... maybe I would be a valedictorian at oxford... and the next thing u know I am all over 100 dollar bills somewhere... maybe its all a farce, the very fact that I write it here right now is for someone to read and ask me as to what is wrong or what the hell this means, or maybe we are all that ways... all bound by the world, strained in our thoughts, mindless in our actions, and confused in our lives... we are but the offspring of one human alone... the guy who started it all... so we are after all linked in one common strand... the strand of revival... for he 2 realised that he needs to wake up someday somewhere else with it all left behind... with a new start and a new morning and a new hope... maybe that day is tomorrow... maybe it is just the time i would be woken up from my sleep at 5 am in the morning jolted into a bus ride to a place dark and gloomy sitting next to a ghost and then cut off from it all thrown into a jungle unknown coming to grips with my decision of going through it all only to find myself struggling with life once again in a world where truth is just a misrepresentation of all the lies you cant carry anymore... maybe i was better of the nobody i was and not the valedictorian I am...

As Is

Life is as is... as will be... as was... as should be....
moments are as gone... as were... as spent... as done...
this time is..one tide... one breeze... waits for none...
I am as was... as am... as free...
Ended up doing an As is analysis of a fucked up juiced out squeezed tight business we are trying to envisage and run in a dying market with zilch investment and maxed out effort... its a race against time... a worthless and endless grime, a grave we dig two inches deep everyday trying to fit in more people... I do see the light in the day (n yes not night... cuse we are blinded in the day neways)... i do see we are wrong... and as a pea at the bottom of all of the queens mattresses i do try and make my point... do give them folks up above an itch once in a while that the picture aint rosy... and get out while the time is right. But then there is an escalation of commitment we all live with... my friends are going through it with marriages... some with their girlfriends... and businesses these days with rigid commitments that are far 2 much cast in stone for anyones good. Flexibility is what smaller organizations thrive on... and on what airtel sneezes and gives a flu to. We are all about the moolah... all on paper... none to see... if u make it cool... ur luck but on paper the case should predict a story all would like to hear, I aint a cynic, nor am i too old in the system 2 be critical of it... but from what I have seen its all about boss is right cover ur ass and run. So all I am looking for is 2 exit stage left before the fat lady sings, my paycheck takes a hit and the recruiters give me crap... so if my boss is reading yes i am planning 2 exit...If a consultants reading I am with Airtel for the last 2 years... and if its u my friend then is there an opening in ur parta town??? cuse life is as is... is shit... where i sit... am hit... :)

a little while later...

I stare at three drafts... three unfinished tales looking at me as i go through the posts...three wonderous incoherent pieces of utter nonsense staring at me... but then again... they are yesterday... and today if i leave this as such it will be the draft left open yesterday... so why dont i just let this be the one post that wasnt meant to impress a reader glancing through blogs of note... why not let this be not a meaningless free writing that will be unjumbled in some saner moment in time... why try and give this a meaning that means nothing to the world around... why hope that this be the breakthrough the world awaits... for a little while later when the fingers are numb... the mind unsure of the chain of thot it was at the moment an insignificant passing whiff of breeze blowing by it wont matter... it would just be another draft like the many left behind... who cares, where does this all count... the world is too busy making its own plans... I am myself 2 busy pressing the self destruct button everyday... so why wake up tomorrow in a hope that this would have made a difference yesterday... who has the time 2 see the difference being made... is difference not as transient as life itself that observed in that frame of reference as life... both look the same... the inherent transience of life so very much a part of the change itself that it all looks the same at the end of the day. Akin to an amalgam life is entrenched in its own changing self that there is nothing discernable any more... life is change change is life... deprived of sleep impalled by the hope and despair of the inability to see what things have become a little while later from where it was originally thought of... this has become a diatribe in itself... an effort 2 make sense gone waste... an effort to let things be made a mess of... I guess i should be sleeping... and this shall remain but a draft...

the ticker...

The ticker tape on newscasts amazes me... ever since my english teacher during the MBA coaching days introduced the term I have been dazed by the phenomenon that a ticker tape is... from the "Sansanni" to the "Breaking News" to the latest score updates and what not... but what would actually blow the lid of imagination and make the ticker truly fantastic would be a tape running infront of an individual...highlighting what alls happening how the day has been what the mood is like... not a mind reader per se...but a day journal... eliminating the need to converse and get into banalities such as a wassup... for it elludes nothng more than a nothing much or a rude whatever... so well... my point is when you are driving and someone honks you knowing fully well that theres no place upfront and you so very much wanna give him the finger poof goes the ticker conveying what you think in the rear glass or on the bumper... when you so very much wanna start a meaningful conversation that involves more than the usual my day in the office was crappy... you look below read what you think can be of use like "the movie juno was good" and you hve a conversation starter...
so well now that this is done... heres a fun fact... think of a chicks name... what does it end with? does it end with a vowel??? chances are it does... according to an analysis done by two very close friends of mine (we actually thought of doing our research project on this :P ) 90% of females names end with a vowel... and those that dont are either a. exceptions or b. can be substiuted for a guys name as well or c. are that of a sikh female... (try it... )
and back to the ticker... why did i think of it??? well i am a chat enthusiast... well the chat bubble in the real world burst about 2-3 years ago... but well thats when i got hooked to it... thats when i started chatting with People... so well I guess I will take time to get over it... so til i do I wanna have conversation starters that are better then a wassup... or a hey u there??? or an unquotable abuse for that matter...so i devised a mood reader... but the use is limited and works very rarely... so hence therefor the ticker... I have a patent filed for it... till it happens the things a top secret and in the meanwhile...wassup??? :D

1 AM... Friday...
Dear Diary...

I am figuring out the best possible line to be put on my tombstone...even though i know i will become a burning cinder rather than an Armani Clad casket carried someone buried in a grave with a tombstone in the shape of a guitar to represent my one only dying wish to actually be able to play one (how i would love to be buried!!! sigh)...yet I must figure out what it says.. for it matters to me alot as to how I go and what i am remembered by when I am gone... Oh but I have messed up and influenced far too many a life to not be remembered as such... but then again what the tombstone says becomes a fashion (A dying one at that) statement... so lets... make this happen... make the dead me look good... atleast better than the undead one.. The options:

1. Hey open up man... been locked too long...
2. dude if u come one step closer to read... its gonna hurt...
3. *they suck because the ones i have been working on since morning are lost somewhere in the gray area of my head... w=
4. Am sleepy!!! go away...
5. Are those flowers??? Can i get some seeds please...

And since i am drowsy right now i will close this for now to edit it later...

cheers... to coffee..

Delirium has its own way... it sets in and sets you up... you are sucked into an incongruous and inescapable feeling of floating in some spatial discontinuity... your minds numbed your souls free...thoughts are so clear and yet unthinkably you are confused about the pertinence of these very fragments serendipitous and inconceivable cognition thats a result of a well thought out path to destroy the very core of id that has kept you alive till date... so you drift away into a cocooned existence... back to the world where nothing meets the bourgeois existence you so very much are used to... so what do you do... you wish to be back again... you brew another cup and drink up... and float again...for caffeine aint an addiction... its a way of life...