Hourglass

How brave do you have to be to live your dream(s)? 

What's important? Suffering? Evading? Suffering in Style? Who decides? When?

Each day she cried. Not because she was gripped by this listless sorrow but for there was never time. The to-do list, painfully and out of habit, grew longer each day. The bucket got heavier.

Things Happiness Is Made Of (vol i)

1. Just up and finishing the last few pages of a book you've been reading over the last couple of days.
2. Hot cup of coffee/tea. Better if you can go 'clink' cheers with a partner.
3. That smile in the middle of a kiss.
4. A breezy ride to work. Colors. Shapes.
5. Sneaky coded messages... "red dragon come in to the hide out spot. over"
6. An awesome song stuck in your head.
7. Finding an old list...almost accomplished.
8. A story brewing in your head, the characters speaking of their dreams and woes.
9. An affectionate message from a furious friend.
10. A warm gooey cupcake.

10 Day "What's on Your Mind?" Challenge - Day 3

What is this challenge all about? Post a status on Facebook for the next 10 days(starting today) and post screen shots of the same.
Keep it 'interesting'. Although originality is preferred, no one's going to throw you to the piranhas if you quote.

Where are the previous posts?

Day 1
Day 2

If you'd like to join in/share, find the linky below:


p.s: It is quite a lame challenge, agreed. But I am tired of the poor blog gathering dust. Maybe this will get me started with serious blogging again. *fingers crossed*

10 Day "What's on Your Mind?" Challenge - Day 2

What is this challenge all about?

Post a status on Facebook for the next 10 days(starting today) and post screen shots of the same.
Keep it 'interesting'. Although originality is preferred, no one's going to throw you to the piranhas if you quote.

Where's day 1?

Here

If you'd like to join in/share, find the linky below:


p.s: It is quite a lame challenge, agreed. But I am tired of the poor blog gathering dust. Maybe this will get me started with serious blogging again. *fingers crossed*

10 Day "What's on Your Mind?" Challenge - Day 1

Challenge objectives:
Post a status on Facebook for the next 10 days(starting today) and post screen shots of the same.

Keep it 'interesting'. Although originality is preferred, no one's going to throw you to the piranhas if you quote.

When it's Monday how can sleepyhead be too far off? Today's post:

If you'd like to join in/share, find the linky below:


p.s: It is quite a lame challenge, agreed. But I am tired of the poor blog gathering dust. Maybe this will get me started with serious blogging again. *fingers crossed*

How a smile works

You know I stare at you.
Today I want to stare at you while you are doing your thing,
smiling your charming little smile.
I want to experience the entire process-
Of your facial muscles flexing,
your glorious 'fair' skin stretching
and tightening around your cheeks;
(Is there a slight hint of a dimple?)
Nostrils flaring momentarily,
and your eyes, as they squint,
with those mesmerizing eye-lashes
gather around them the wrinkles,
Cheeks brighten as they rise
lips playfully rise and
the bright sparklies failing to hide the shyness
you'd want me not to see.
I want to see all of this
and then
...
 I want to kiss the living day lights out of you.

Babble mumble

I can't weep.At least not anymore. All the tears, the red burning tears that I was so used to shedding, scarcely serve to quench my now-frantic heart. 


↓


For, what are tears if it is just brine. They tinkle down and you, oh you terribly divine you, just wipe them off with your charming smile, which leaves me feeling mushy inside.


↓


Tears, to be taken seriously, should be thick, bloody and should dry your heart with each falling drop, leaving you, exhausted, lifeless. Unwipable. Only to be healed. 


↓




If corpses could talk, mine would probably -through it's weighted tongue- force out through faded, choked sighs the loss of the briny-sweet tears and the charming/disarming smile.  


↓


The eyes would,then, probably bleed the real tears again. For a corpse, even a corpse much-in-love, doesn't need a heart to be quenched. Only memories to breathe off of. 


↓


Muchas gracias, you.

Breaking the rules

Hand placed yearningly on the windowpane, like Caesar the chimp; I sat watching the raindrops fall. True they are governed by gravity and must fall but stuck at office, the raindrops felt as free as the wind.

I grabbed my favorite cup of coffee and walked out purposefully to sip it, royally, in the rain.

If you or anyone you know has written a Friday Flash 55

Please tell The G-Man , like I did.

You've got mail

Prologue

2030, aug 24th, 6:35 pm : I found this letter while cleaning my desk. The handwriting seemed very familiar. It is only after reading one whole page that I realised that it was mine.

Chapter

Eyes set on your closed eyes with those perfect eye-lashes which make my heart skip a beat every now and then, what I heard you say last night:

I told you that I am not the perfect man that you think I am. I told you that I can be a screwed up, clueless, selfish prick hidden behind a shimmering porcelain mask. You laughed your generous laugh and told me that I was absolutely mistaken; that I didn’t have it in me to hurt a single soul and even if I did hurt you, I'd hurt myself more in the process.

You’ve got to understand that the nice, carefree boy-next-door that you know isn’t the real (or atleast the entire) me. Instead I'm a complete wreck, an unappetizing mess oozing out insecurities and wracking addictions off multiple sores, which running down my legs are creating a filthy puddle near my feet.

And hey, you’re not helping me when you’re looking straight at me with those big eyes, and the goofy grin of yours and calling me awesome. Perfect. Gorgeous. Hot. There is nothing that I want to do more than to pull off these so-called perfect layers of skin and fancy clothes and show you the toxic beast that lies waiting underneath. I want to show you the scars that are skin deep, marking me as an outcast for life, making memories unforgettable. I want to show you the scars that were supposed to be but I escaped. I want to show you the cold block of ice that is where my heart should be. I want you to lay your ear on my chest so that you can hear the absence of anything that comes from within, the silence where there should be pulse.I want you to lay your ear on my chest and hear the sudden eruption of heart beats that you cause by your touch.

I want you to, finally, come to terms with the fact that I was broken a long time ago and that there isn’t anything that you can do to change or fix me. I just want you to meet the real me. Only then can I trust mysel with you.

Did I really hear it or was I dreaming, like always?

Epilogue

Eyes set on your closed eyes with those perfect eye-lashes which make my heart skip a beat every now and then, what I whispered into your ears last night:

I will dance with you with yellow soles in fancy shoes in vacant lots under broken streetlamps, immersing my sickening soul in the music of our beating hearts. I will sing along with the radio, even if I sing horribly off-key. I will read out my favourite poems even if I mess up the lines. I will bear with your anger and moods and maybe sometimes argue with you and harsh words will slip out, but I promise to make it up to you with sincere apologies and sweetest of kisses. I will hide in your arms and cry out my sorrow, drenching your shirt with my tears.

Did you say you are broken? Or did you just sigh? It doesn't matter for I will love you best even if it's with my broken heart and my crushed hopes.

Value added Services

Dear The One,

I haven't met you yet; or maybe I have and  am unaware. This is to let you know that you are being thought of very fondly this moment.

Sincerely, Me

Image credit: Aby Abraham

p.s: shared with Monkey Man as a Sunday 160.
Like to text? Say what you want to in 160 characters, including spaces.
If you're brave enough give it a go - it's not as easy as it looks!

Muah Muah

Lips can speak a thousand words.
Lips can touch a thousand emotions.
Lips can touch a million senses.

Lips can bring back the kiss that was a guilt-free aweso-ndary indulgence, in the wee hours of closeness. The parting lips give out the sighing breaths at dawn break bringing back flashes of that magical moment when nothing else mattered. Cool breeze flowing through the window waking up the lips from a caged pout into a indebted smile.

Apology

Any relationship-quack would tell you that the main problem in the modern relationships is that  people are concerned more about what they get out of the relationship than caring about the other person’s need. So this note is a confession stating all the things I, should have, but didn't do.

• I am sorry I was(however occasional) the band-aid on your wounds and never the gyrating Zandu Balm for your pain.
• I am sorry I refused to be badnaam for you. Although I tried to be a an item, bomb and even an atom bomb, once in a while, I sincerely believe Munni does it much better.
• I am sorry that I could not pull off the pious-Sita-meets-the-seductive-Shiela act too well.
• I am sorry that I could never enter your heart through your stomach. The cooking lessons came a bit too late and getting a Subway made wasn't your idea of cooking.
  
• I am sorry I was not much of a Juliet and decided to give death a pass even at the prospect of separation.
• I am sorry I could not teach you chemistry in a hot, flowing in the wind-blowing-from-god-knows-where saree like a certain teacher you so fancy. You wanted lessons in how-not-be-a-jerk and I thought it too impossible a task.
• I am sorry I couldn't get the message when you said 'tere mast mast do nain'. It only occurred to me later that you meant you couldn't take me seeing through the intentions of your heart.
• I am sorry I couldn't be a good K-serial-esque waterfall-eyed loyalist and decided not to fight the tears that wouldn't come after exhausting the nth tissue box.
• I am sorry I was I.
  

This Post has been Published as a part of

Unusually Unsaid Understanding Vol .III (Wings)

Mecca Masjid, Hyderabad

...one of them perched on the cornices not flying, yet, but at peace with the wings that would have me fly through possibilities,  still undreamt .

And the prize goes to...

There are times when I feel exceedingly grateful for being born in an age where communication is the way it is. The miscommunications, the non-communications, and the missed-communication have their silver linings too.

Although, at times I want to bleed words in a hope that someone/something would notice and take the pains to just take a moment and just try. The result, might most often be failure but at least the I deserved the time and the effort. And then, there are times when something inside me refuses to bare it all, refuses to be a like a goldfish trapped in a glass-bowl without any hope for an escape or even a compensatory privacy. If I can't have the right to be understood, I should at least have the freedom for absolute privacy. There can be nothing more humiliating than being a thing of display but a subject of indifference.

In the few secretive moments of wishful clairvoyance, I see myself standing farther than the sound, the light, the tough, the smell I want myself to be engulfed in right now and I am thankful for the content smile that escapes the lips wet my the dripping tears of an overnight chore.


 It is for the likes of the following that I know that this year (2010) and life in general has been kind to me:

'You know why I like you coz you are you. coz you aren't the average simple girl.coz you are complex and that speaks to me dozens than your one simple smile. I like the way of putting yourself, the  simplicity of your being. The way you have a great style and the mindlessness and random gibberish you talk and think. It is not about whether your thoughts are high or not but has get depth. I like you coz you are you. It's not that complex you know...loving you, I mean.'

p.s: 1) thanx PGB 
2) I am aware that the week-long challenge has failed, owing to some technical difficulties. I am off desserts since yesterday.12 more days to go. T_T

Trend-spotting

(week-long challenge Day-1)

I am not much of a tweet-er but here's my take on some of the trends that caught my fancy today:

• #lastminutegifts - bad memory+ late realization +a deeper hole in the pocket out of guilt + inadequate effect on the recipient. Advice: one might want to pack it brilliantly for an initial 'wow' effect, which would most likely be followed by 'Oh! Its nice(I-don't-know-how-else-to-hide-my-disappointment)!' effect.

• #ihavenorespect- for someone who doesn't finish all the dessert on their plates.

• #icanttakeyouseriously- if you try too hard to make me take you seriously.

• solstice-  comes just four days after 18th dec(see no. 8 )

• Onions-  like them cooked- burnt, fried, curried, pickled, irrespective of the price they might be sold at.

• #stacheswaggin - no ^&^% idea what that means but me likes the way it sounds.

•  Comic Sans- all time favourite font, hands down. Elegant but fun!

• #dearex - remember how I used to say those three special words all the time? Well, I've got three new words for you, 'Screw you, B**CH!' sincerely, I've moved on.

• #dontgosmack- If you thought you were being real smart but ended up seeming #dumber than usual.

• dumber - All I've got to say is I wish I could tag people for this one.

When grey matter turns fuschia

Sickened by the -ism binge in the past couple of months, I had decided to put on the rosy glasses again.

To think without prejudice, caused mostly by the 'knowledge' that I had willingly/otherwise forced down my throat, was the plan.

Ideal situation: I was getting paid and appreciated for every word I DID NOT write(/think). The more I did not write(/think), the more appreciation and money came my way, and I spent every penny I did not earn by writing(/thinking) to increase the amount of writing(/thinking) I did not do. I worked indefatigably from dawn to dusk at not writing(/thinking) anything worthwhile.


But I guess the damage has been irreparably done and I failed, quite pathetically, I must add.

Plan B? To get back to whatever I was supposed to be doing, avoiding the implementation of any creative ideas for escape that might creep in now and then.

I freaking failed again!! (yes, quite pathetically, I shall add!)

 The more I wanted to write(/think) the  more I could not.

Plan C? I, hereby, take up a week-long challenge! To post here everyday at least once for the next seven days failing which I shall not indulge myself in dessert of any sort for a fortnight!

gray matters

Notes from an Incipient Misanthrope (Stage I)

Confessions

"Sometimes I wake up early and even my soul is wet"

                                                                       -Pablo Neruda

-Grief is a product of idleness and isolation- a combination that I failed often to solve/escape.

-I've been :

• a patriot but inactive citizen,
•  an affectionate but distant sibling,
• a jovial but remote friend,
•  passionate but lost love;
• dull with brightness,
• unkind to beauty,
• an egoist to laughter , 
• with power, passive.

I have been everything that I thought I would never be.

-Was It I who suffered ,suffering in style the illusion of change, the poison of hope?

I shall give in to the image I see reflected in the cruel eyes when I look at you with an innocent desire to be spared the indignity of rejection. I give in, I give up.

'too soon',  you say.

You did not live my life, living helplessly each moment snowballing into years and decades reasserting the crack between the mind and the soul - having to see the wreckage of the bliss that you knew existed within you, one speck at a time.

-Sometimes tears seem so irrelevant. The cause too perverse. The soul drips with the tears I don't care to shed anymore.


-I am a cynic, an indifferent realist, I am all that you would care to define me as, for I have failed. I have failed my definition of myself. 

A project long overdue

Its weird the way we take so much pain to get to one class and so much more to bunk another. Whatever the case, when I am sitting in a classroom, by choice or compulsion, I experience these sporadic, yet as Barney Stinson would say, ‘full of awesomeness’  moments where a word, a phrase or an idea just hits me, and sometimes hits me hard. That is when I know the class was a success, whether or not the syllabus has been covered or I have learnt something ‘useful’, is secondary.
To draw a conclusive balance-sheet of what I have picked up from my classes here is a mini-statement of few of my classes last semester (yeah I took the liberty of getting myself a half a year  extension) . I might have forgotten the context, the exact words nonetheless the idea stays:

•   Okay, so here we were at 9am, Friday morning, learning big Greek words and bigger ideas propounded by Aristotle, and in spite of all of them being thrown in my direction…the only phrase that hits me(not that I am not listening to the rest) is ’mad elephant emotions’. Now, it wouldn’t be too wrong to say that I have my fair share of emotional effusion. So the natural pull.

• There are good people and then there are God-people. Here speaks the great Prof: ‘People, here, have been too obsessed with God to care much about good.  ’

• Where is the pursuit of the ‘impossible beauty of human thought’,  is the question I leave the class with.

•    One can have epic dreams but might, as it happens in more often than not, they might end up caught up in a domestic destiny. Whatever happens inside at least the household can be high up. I quote, “If you aim for the stars, you’ll at least reach the terrace.”

•  “At some point of your life you have to disobey, man!!”

•    “Some people who do just acts are not necessarily just”

•    ‘MBA students have no mind.’(It’s all about the mumbo jumbo of following rules after rule. Nothing new ever spring out of that lot.)[Ahem]

•   A quest and the eternal hope for something new and interesting keeps a healthy mind going. So, the phrase here “contented pigs/ discontented Socrates”

•    At any given instance we are dramatizing who we are.

•  Life will invariably throw you in situations you don’t want to be in.

•    The meaning of life is not at the end, it is throughout.

•   Everything we do is for once.

•    ‘Life is a perpetual preparation for something that never happens’

To be or not to be

There are times when you take decisions. Then there are times when you aren’t sure and change them. And then, there are times when you feel abso-frigging-lutely sure you made the right choice. The stages are difficult, sometimes overlapping because doubt is like dandruff, no matter how many anti-dandruff hair products you use,  no matter how much you ‘eat right, drink right and sleep right’, it just manages to miraculously make its presence felt.
polithinks:Yet these liminal moments of doubt are what make the final resolution so rewarding.

Cleverly Disguised As A Responsible Adult.

I have a strong Dee Dee instinct and it worries me sometimes.
All the forbidden buttons seem to attract my curiosity and fan my urge.

People keep telling me things that I shouldn't do, the things that I tell myself I shouldn't do, not for the nth time at least. But I still end up indulging my whim to see if things would be different this time around.

the stupid cow disease

But i am stuck. Its like watching your favourite movie over and over again. Except its not a good-favourite. Its just a pathetic obsession. There is no happy ending or happily-ever-afters.You keep expecting things would turn out differently with the characters involved so they are not heart broken/killed/handicapped/reduced to useless no-ones by the events in the plot. You know nothing would change, yet you sit through it hoping, till it ends up disappointing and disturbing you again, getting ready to give it another run.


I ,apparently,take a different route/approach each time but they all seem to send me to the same place. 'I am stuck' is the thought of the day.

eternal recurrence is a bitch