Letter to a friend.

Dear Pari,

Apologies for being late. The romantic that I tend to be – with which I am trying in vain to disguise the facts of my own forgetfulness and lack of respect for time and beings – have always been ironically a prisoner of time himself, waiting in hopelessness and at the same time with eternal hope the coming of the hour where the mind shall wander high and above into those ethereal skies of fluid writing. As much as it is impractical and seems to carry tinges of fatalism, the thought of arranging or let us say, getting mystically arranged for such a “date” with my keyboard has always borne an invaluable premise for the things to follow – which impart me a certain independence and bliss experientially when I endeavour to cast these wordly pearls of little value from the immanent ocean of silence.

Like a fisherman standing on the edge of water, I look at the impermanence of the words themselves that will be unknowingly or knowingly get caught in the net of stream of consciousness. But what is to be remembered is always, obviously, the place where they all have gestated – that space which is inside me, which is inside you; that which is inside everyone and inside which is everyone. Within the space-time, they gestate like my very own children, waiting sometimes desperately and sometimes with ever so slightly terrifying dormancy, to cut the cord of ghostly semi-existence so as to come out of their period of rest or unrest and see themselves manifest in forms that shall play with the world, get all dirty with its muddy ambiguities and sharp with its polished precision and meet in the end like we all do, their own deathly rights in the old attic unless before their last moments, they trigger something of your own – like the autumn leaves carrying the message of our own transitoriness.

Now that I have laid to rest all that aspired to rest, we can get to the rest of the business. Let me begin with something that you can relate to in current context – Writing has always been close to me but closer are the events and people that inspire me to write. You, Parijat, have been an inspirational presence in my life. And when I say that, that does not just have to do  with occasions when you have devoted your time, which by the way is not an easy thing to spend in life – finite and meagre as it already is, to listen to my puny complaints of life and nihilistic conclusions and then with your ever fresh cheerfulness would silently inspire me at level somewhere deep within where even someone’s words would not reach – sympathetic or empathetic, but also when I observed you with others and more importantly you with yourself. There is no one in this world who would go unnoticed if he or she had a pleasing and much coveted combination of childlike innocence and worldly maturity. You are one of those for me. I am not a psychologist who can read minds or see through layers but I am an engineer who can on occasions extrapolate. Keeping that in mind, I’ll assume that your outside demeanour only points to an even healthier and pure inside. Where words fall, beings connect on higher realms and I had the privilege to share that realm with you where you became my Guru – one who inspires. My friend says, ” You do not have to go and take a formal permission and education to make someone your Guru.  Anyone who inspires you become your Guru that very instant and you then bow to that being out of your own volition and love.” Although one should always remember that this Gurutva also can be a transient quality and though, I am committing a sin of confessing my Shishya feeling towards you, I’ll suggest you to digest this with ease and not let it go to your head which I know you won’t but still a word of caution never killed anybody. Our greatest enemy is Arrogance: Try to be always aware of it. Hence, stay unmoved with this little piece of honest admiration.

Moving on, I have always appreciated your fluid way of meeting with people. In the world, where people are content with their little stagnant pools of friendships and kinships stinking of selfish motives and unnecessary emotions, you are an example of a river – never stagnant and always reaching to far and near both, never making pools and sharing with all. There are no prejudices, no stereotypes, no expectations that prevail in your sense of bonding with others which again is a pointer to something inside of you – vast and flowing which you are in communion with.

As an honest friend and well-wisher, it is my duty to shed light on the other side of the coin. We all are fortunately or unfortunately a part of a game tainted with grey hues. Nobody is perfect. And one who thinks is perfect is at the bottom of the ladder. All I have said is my own account of your current existence and its qualities. But just like any other weather conditions, these too are also subject to change. Be who you are currently and go from there because who you are is pretty awesome. Make that your departure point. The only way is up the ladder. But always remember, there is no end to the ladder – only a direction. Up or Down. Choice has always been ours.

Words have no limit but limitless words have no meaning. There are some things now that should be passed in silence. But before signing off, I would just like to add – Strive on to find something in you from where stem all these rich qualities – virtues and vices both –  but which in itself has always been the subtlest and ever-present base of your very existence.

Happy Birthday.

The Golden Crescent.

Hours after the sun – ever-lonely in his majesty – has bidden farewell
I slide open the worldly curtains off my puny eyes
Miles away from the stagnant city scrapers and too many brisk voices
On a lonely highway flanked with nothingness on both sides
This evening belongs to fellow travelers and our rendezvous with the silence of the night.

And Lo! We behold a gift from the sky
Like a graceful yet sombre jewel the crescent disc hangs lowly on the canvas of horizon
For a few orgasmic minutes, a humbling privilege in the hearts of men and women blossom
For it is only once in a while that one can witness the moon’s golden smile
And breathe in the most modest of its phases
For it hangs – so low and near in the wildly black heavens – as if by a silky strand of a cosmic pendulum
That in the vast enveloping nihility, I had just stretch out my arm and with a swift yank along the inky skyline
With a stamp of authoritative aloneness make it for the night mine
And on this sharply chiseled and gleaming with tangerine buddy of ours
I had a like gleeful child slide from one tip of lunar tranquility to the other a thousand and one times.

For such an evanescent celestial stint in caging Time
Lustrous golden is the color that exemplifies its kingly might
It commands supreme dominance with all its ingenuity in the spectator-less opera of the night
For stars are white and dusk is no longer in sight
Aaah! What stream of beatitude flows from the concave glacier towards the collapsing darkness of the cosmic ocean
Bathing in it are the eyes of the both worlds
The immensely infinite twinkling gazes from the firmament
And the riveted greedy visions that belong to me and friends alike
One can almost sense the envy tainting Jupiter’s pride
For its audience has been stolen by an ephemeral elysian sight
Like the most vulnerable of arts, you too exhibit extreme transitoriness
Coz disappeared you have already in the river of time
Yet like an apparition you still hang on the horizon of my mind.

Lucid Moments.

There are times that empower within me a certain lucidity of great magnificence, a feeling of physical and mental lightness that facilitates the ability to levitate higher than self thereby abandoning the heaviness that bogs us humans down to indefinite drudgery. And that is when in the most serendipitous of happenings, I am made to rendezvous with my muse; a communion that I always am craving to achieve at any time of the day. It is like a psychological or spiritual orgasm that culminates in fluid literary outburst. Such a spontaneous high-speed conduit is established that as soon as any thought or subject is painted on the canvas of mind, it is translated into its linguistic counterpart so instantaneously that I seem to always lose the control of the movement of the pen and the presence of someone else at the helm is felt no less than overpowering. It is to be thus remembered that spontaneity as much as it carries casualness is somewhere born in the depths of the heart and is therefore closest to being honest. Hence, I am forever grateful to such majestic times of immense featherly lightness and aspire to witness more of them in future because there is nothing else that makes “present” overwhelming to me other than these volatile yet expansive moments of ethereal lucidity.

The Green Life.

Grass greets the dawn; dew its myriad eyes

I, high on reveries green, trample on this verdant scene

Lo! Behold the theater of Life.

Haiku #1

Misty meadows among mountains bedazzle the sight

Mud and mire bedeck thy feet forlorn

Like forever You move on!

An Ode to the Angel of Night.

“Be refreshed in the darkness.” —Rumi
“There is a great joy in darkness. Deepen it.” —Hakim Sanai

Night arrives with an intoxication I love to devour
Like an impish angel with its motives mysterious and dark
Coyly, it whispers to me:
“Let us take a stroll down the starry boulevard
Moonlit especially for you tonight, O my dear lord!
Let this be our dreamy little love story
And Let us talk while we can but don’t you dare speaketh
As by midnight
Along with your secrets darkest and deepest
I shall take you in with all my glory mightiest.”
Her eyes radiant, breath misty and words enchanting
Found me acquiescing for my own pleasure
As I sense at this hour an idyllic scene in making
And the angel with a snap of fingers…..

Night arrives with an intoxication I love to devour
Be always drunken urged Charles
O poet! I choose no wine, no poetry, no virtue
Only night’s deepest of silences and blackest of hues
A tipsy treat to all my senses
“Look me in the eye”, Darkness demanded.
“Listen to me, please, will you?”, Silence beseeched.
“Breathe in the chill”, Air hissed.
“Taste my holy dewy waters”, Mist invited.
“Hey you! Yes you, touch us” Illusions of ghosts provoked.
Wings brought forth by chaos
And I aim for the stars dancing
That is when I feel the envy —profoundest—
In the eyes of an owl protruding
A rotation of head and it contents itself
With the quick view of the world sleeping
Sometimes, Schadenfreude is our only answer to Envy
And the owl with a blink of eyes…..

Night arrives with an intoxication I love to devour
The distant calls of the blue bus I yield in to
The warm waves of pregnant words I drown into
And thus, embarking onto our journey to the higher road
That leads us to the hallowed firmament and skies beyond, We all
—The mystical driver with his silence pacifying,
The bewitching bard and his pupils with their words mesmerizing,
The rollicking band whose members know all about Time and I with my wondering—
Inside Jim’s bus guarded by Blake’s angel of night
Wallowing in Charles’ prismatic drunkenness
Raise toast to this Romantics’ voyage
And at the clank of our glasses…..

Night arrives with an intoxication I love to devour
The journey to the end of world begins at this blessed hour
And so, somewhere a train makes a screech jaded and haunting
Its shadows on the buildings takes along the dreams of people slumbering
To the lands far and unknown, ready to to unfolded.
A killer hides behind cedar tree somewhere in the mountains
For he shall quietly linger there till half-light to strike
As he wants his victims to feel beautiful just before they die
Belle de Jour Belle de Jour, the victims think of themselves at the first light
A hint of narcissism, eh?; Sadly he dines at this junction of day and night
Just when they feel closest to life and themselves
He calmly draws the last sigh off them
“There, there little buddy. Thank me for I have captured your eternal beauty.”
In the vast plains below away from city lights
The intense gaze of planets and stars is adored by a dreamy child
For a moment, he desired to kill his parents
For that very moment, he had fucked himself
Or maybe take a leap of faith in death
Live for the first time and decease for the last
And at the distant whistle of the train…..

Night arrives with an intoxication I love to devour
The old man at the end of line
Looks at this night sky fine
To him nothing but a graceful mirror of darkness
Disgusting reflections of past and visions of future teeming with hopelessness.
Tears in his eyes and weariness in his thighs
A sudden revelation hits him like a lightning bolt out of the ethereal skies
And makes him see it all:
Only memories belong to you
But not those “You”s
Half of the work is perpetually done
You always get rid of the past “You”s
Half of the work is to be done
Renounce the memories: painful or blissful.
The secret of life unravelled
It’s designed frame by frame; the graph of cruel continuity shattered
The eternity of the Present frame: pure, giving and untainted
The ending is nothing but an illusion for it is Always a new beginning.
And as the last tear droplet filled with memories and wishes drips out of his eyes…..

Night arrives with an intoxication I love to devour
A tormented writer begins to cast his spell beneath the lights of lamps and stars
in the company of Melancholic Solitude —a muse to his artistic self and a friend hard to find—
At the sights of own creations shivers go writhing across the spine.
The two friends laugh hysterically, psychedelia dripping out of blue veins
All this calm, fear and depression, the ephemeral visions and lucid dreams
Leak onto the parchment as ink rains
Aaah! The masochist’s only rule of love: the joy of pain.
The autumn leaves in the air drift aimlessly
The face on my windowpane blows them all to the address of his lover —heartily—
Miles across the oceans and lands
Where she has proudly succumbed to a pair of unworthy hands.
The July rains kiss the kid on the bicycle
Soaks away the corruption from his soul
Wait! How do you cleanse the incorruptible?
The rains fell there but arrived here through a wormhole.
The writer falls spirally in a bottomless pit when the eyes rolled and turned within
With one last flicker of light and the fading whoosh of the faintest din
The Stars within dive and die
Leaving holes dark and black; sucking light out of the brightest of girls and boys.
How he envies the blind!
And as the lamps begin to fade out…..

Night arrives with an intoxication I love to devour
With mind wide open, I welcome the confusion it intends to offer
The transient night of cusp, the mysterious presence of number 23 —ubiquitous—
Me and the fellowship returns on the Blue meteor flashing across the inky ether
But this aesthetic odyssey shall not be over
Until we doze off together.
As the blazing piece of rock —heartless and cold— disintegrate
We, the children of cosmic stardust —full of life and glory— too burn out into ashes and embrace our fate
Like phoenix our creations rise and shall with immortality integrate.
The angel’s business for the night is done
For it has once again transcended its lovers to the meadows beyond, where begins all the fun
Because somewhere behind the fog in the lap of horizon
—Where meets the ocean, the stars and the sun—
Under the trees evergreen play those little children whom we forgot in our run.
Night arrives with an intoxication I love to devour
Like an impish angel with its motives mysterious and dark…….

कुछ शब्द तेरे नाम !

कभी हुकुम तो कर ए मालिक
पेश कर दूंगा वो ज़िन्दगी
जो बस्ती है नीली गहरी खामोशियों में
थी न जो कभी दुनिया की इस भीड़ में
वो जो बहती है मेरे, तेरे और उनके नगमों में
जो थी न कभी हमारे खोखले लफ़्ज़ों में

कलम से टपकते उस संगीत में
जिसके शब्दों के सागर में डुबाता चला मैं खुद को
या उस अजनबी की दीवानी करती निगाहों में
जिनमें देखता मैं अपनी ही ख़ूबसूरती को
मोमबत्ती की नाचती लौ में
आहुति देता फिरता जिसमें अपने सभी जज्बातों को

टूटते तारे के दो पल के अस्तित्व में
अँधेरे में ओझिल होती उसकी चमक की रेखा में
आईने के भांति जो करवाती परिचय
मुझको मेरे ही इस छोटी पर हसीन मौजूदगी से
गंदगी में भी जिंदगी का सबूत पेश करती
बारिश के बाद गीली मिटटी की महक में
जाड़े की उस सुबह की घनी धुंध की सफ़ेद नदी में
जो बहती चली जाती
जिसके आगे का न तेरे को पता लगता, न मेरे को
जहां देखा वहां पाया इस तार को मैंने
हंस दिया अपने ही होने पर मैं

छोड़ पीछा अपनी इन आदतों का
जिसकी चादर ओढ़े तू अपने डर को छिपाता
दरवाजों की भीड़ में खोल कभी तू
उस तनहा दरवाज़े को
दुनिया की भाग-दौड़ में जिसे तू कहीं पीछे भूल आया
अरे क्या करेगा इन साँसों का
जब सीखा ही न हो तूने कभी जीना
कहीं मिट न जाऊं मैं किसी दिन इस दर्द से
क्यूँ न तू ही पहले कूद जाए इन इश्क की लहरों में
शब्दों के इस जाल में अगर तू कहीं खो जाए
सफल हो जाएगा लिखना मेरा
अंजाम दिया अगर तूने इन शब्दों में जागती अपनी हसरतों को
सफल हो जाएगा होना तेरा !!

The Dreaming Lady

The deep black sky
I must say, is at its prime
Patronizing infinite glittering jewels
That steal the show
But Alas, there is no one to witness the spectacle
Coz everyone has slipped into a dreamy slumber

The night is chilly yet pleasing
Somewhere in the mountains
A lady gazes fondly at the sky
The jewels staring back at her
Her beauty, she finds incomplete without them
But she can choose only one
Like her companions
She craves for the moon
The majestic of them all
The dominating one
But Alas, she is afraid
Afraid of its ability to exhibit multiple facades

Her searching eyes lay on the brightest star
Twinkling with all its ingenuity
Makes her think; this is the one
But Alas, the star is a weakling
As she won’t relish the company
Of one who vacillates all the time

It’s the morning star then, she guesses
Bigger than the biggest star
Brighter than the moon itself
But Alas, it’s a mere servant which
Duly revolves around its king
And the king pays him in light
He keeps to himself
and is a rare sight

Puzzled, she returns to her warm chamber
Just to find herself smiling at the dimming embers.

“Yaar, Isko Ismein kya achha dikha…:O..???”

OK. So this is like, what…ummmm…the umpteenth time, I or some other guy said, “Yaar isko ismein kya achha dikha (Dude, what the hell did she find good in that guy)..??????”..8O. And to be honest, when I am writing this, I am precisely thinking the same as I check someone’s profile on Facebook. The other day, I was with a friend at Inorbit Mall. A group of four people in mid twenties was sitting next to us & one girl in the group was quite pretty. And we could tell that one guy was trying his bowels out to impress her. So the guy was getting a hard……time, trying to make all sorts of jokes and display his irritating liveliness. We were definitely laughing if not the girl, who was definitely feeling an urge to kick his ass. Now, isn’t it justified when we say, “yaar mere saath baithti to aisa sehna na pad raha hota (If she had sit with me, she would not have gone through this) ”or “isko ismein kya dikha (What did she find in him)?”…😀..And believe me, as much as it sounds hilarious, it is equally true & for sure gives you a great deal of pain. More importantly, whenever we say That, we are thinking subconsciously that we engineering single guys are the best if not better…:mrgreen:…I can’t tell as to how much joy and at the same time, the sorrow I feel because I said the same in 1st year & saying it again in the 4th..😦. Now, before you all start judging me a loser and stuff, I must say IT IS NOT EASY YOU SUCKERS when you are in an engineering college.

When I look back, I feel that I have had so many discussions on the same topic. How, after we came to college, each & every year we discussed that when we used to be geek, we had two thoughts all the time: 1) “Ek baar entrance ka paper mast ho jaaye, phir to life chill”…..Courtesy: the circular loop or the CATCH-22 kind saying “Bas ab padhlo phir to zindagi mein aish hi aish hai”…& 2) “I don’t give a damn to girls because once I get into IIT or any other good college, I would be flanked by them. Oh, I would so very much make one hell of a Casanova.” At the same time, we would also laugh on our commerce studying friends when they would tease us by telling how many girls they have as friends & how many girlfriends they have already. But to be frank, neither me nor any other guy would get annoyed because we knew “ek baar paper ho jaaye, phir dekhi tu”. I really don’t know how to put the same in words NOW. But they say that there is always light at the end of the tunnel. I can’t say how the tunnel is like but in each engineering college there is one guy who is the light, the smoothie, the Brad Pitt of the college. He would be like some Sex Yoda and literally every guy would approach him as to how one should make advances with some chick. And it is always so hilarious to see that that guy is always in demand. He would counsel you with his advices even though sometimes you can’t even imagine how utterly idiotic & ridiculous they can be but remember the rules: Nobody is permitted to question the cognition of Yoda. (By the way, I used that word “cognition” deliberately for mine and my friends’ sex Yoda. He is in love with the word lately…😀). And after some time, you would surely start appreciating the guy. Once, I and our sex Yoda were at this cafe having hookah and there was a girl sitting whom he was staring at. So, I asked him that can he win her over? He said, “I don’t know. But you see, always remember that there is nothing more flattering for a stranger girl than a long, intense I- want-you stare.” After a while, the girl came to us & we were like “aaj to gaye beta.” She talked to him & said that I remember you from somewhere. They got into talking & when she went away, I asked him. He said that he attended her college fest and that time also, he might have stared at her for very long. HOLY MOTHER OF GOD. She remembered the Yoda from that stare and gave him her number this time. Seriously RESPECT. But he is Yoda and we are normal, petty human beings. So let us not talk about him.

I won’t be exaggerating when I say that I remember each girl clearly in my head for whom I felt the need to deliver That statement. Once, there was this smoking hot lovely Oh-My-God chick at CCD with some loser. And that guy besides having spikes & a fancy mobile had undoubtedly nothing else accompanying him. Holy shit, I can still feel the pain when she kissed him on the cheek. Already I was envying the guy. But now PDA, GOD, this guy gonna get killed or something. :x But when we got out, we found out that the guy had a frikking BMW. WHOOOOSH, I am sorry but can I have your number now? And the bitch goes with the rich. That was just a special case.  I remember when I was in Chandigarh enjoying my summer vacations for the very first time after coming to college and we four friends met after a long time at Dominos. One was from IITD; one was from IITB; one, a Commerce guy; & one from TRIPLE IIT. After a little chit-chat about colleges, placements and the packages offered, we switched to the more ever interesting topic: GIRLS. LOLS would have been the expression by everyone if that word would have been in use then. Anyways, we continued with it. Breaking News: Everyone is still single. Nice start. Somehow topic drifted to our school girls but still no Lick. Damn “U” keyboard. The IITB guy is still in his ever nerd Limbo. The IITD guy is seriously vexed by his relationship status & is trying really hard to update the same on Orkut. Yeah children, don’t be alarmed because there used to be a networking site named ORKUT during our era. And when it comes to me, one answer would suffice,”Mere to naam mein hi likha hai”..😀. Now, let us not talk about the commerce guy because the mighty jaw-dropping confidence was visible. The guy was one hell of a hotshot, rather he was advising, “Yaar in sab chakkaron mein mat pado. I am telling you, it is of no use”. I better not say anything on that comment because I swear I can right now write an insanely agitated blog on that one. These morons always throw that attitude, ALWAYS. Sitting there, we decided that whenever a nice girl enters, we would see the guy companying her & see if we were better or not. Don’t laugh; we used to be that nerdy once. A group of teens enters. One girl was nice but she was properly escorted by (again) a spikey who was chewing a gum & walking as if he owned the place rotating the keys in his useless finger. And we all three if not four commented to each other “Yaar tu bhi usse achha hai, tu bhi, aur……aur kuch hadd tak tu bhi.” But still she is with him. Lucky ************(In Chorus).” I so much want you all to just see that guy once. They say “There is nothing worse than a wasted talent.” That goes out to that girl & all those who are in the same category. Seriously, what do you all girls want from us?  I request u to PLEEEASE stop playing with our minds and hearts.

As much as I love to tell you about all such incidents, I also have to keep in mind the time & space constraints. But I would like to tell this last one. AN EYE IF T*** came to our college to play a basket ball match. Both the girls’ team & boys’ team were here. The boys’ match begun. GOSSHHH, there are 5 flits on the court. There was one who had this pony tail and who was like a female Jeannie. The other one was…..Wait, just imagine the most beautiful incident happened in your life. Yeah, so the guy was exact opposite of that and was wearing a pair of skinny jeans & seemed to play his own gulli-danda version of Basketball. But somehow, their female companions were cheering for him, rather them. I mean literally, there was a live KLPD session going all over on us poor guys though we retorted with our ever-amazing hooting capabilities. The flits lost convincingly.  But the crux of the matter was, is and shall always be, “ehni SOHNI kudi…..te ehna TUCHA boyfriend……rabba!!!….uthale rabba uthale!!” (Courtesy: One of my friends.) Yeah, I am surrounded with despos. But remember guys: there is only one thing that we can live with and that is Hope. Let us just hope that there would be one girl out there for each one of us who would be strong enough to take the right decision of coming to us & save herself and her talent unless you are totally pathetic. Because they say, “If a man really desires something, the whole universe conspires in helping you to achieve that.”…😉

P.S. This post is dedicated to all those girls who I want or wanted to be with because you can’t get a better guy in your life. (OK, this is my blog, Self-Bragging is allowed to me…:mrgreen:)

No Strings Attached

The desire to write can be great sometimes. The itch can be a lust in its own simple form even at the times when you feel that Dude, You completely suck at it. But here I am, trying my hand at free hand (‘mind’ as a matter of fact) scribbling just to fulfil the desire. Somebody said, “You can control the desires.” How I wish that was completely true. But what is better; To succumb to the mighty gallows of it or take a pragmatic path of going against it thereby proving your Mount Olympus virtue as well? Certainly, food for thought. And please don’t let yourself wander on the lines :- If a man really desires something, the whole universe conspires & blah blah blah. It is bigger than that. If you can’t sense, I must tell that I am already faltering because I don’t know exactly what to write. If you write purposefully, you know the course to take & you end up writing it semantically & syntactically. But…………….

Involuntarily, I give a thought purposefully & suddenly thousands & millions of ideas creep in & then I start picking among those as to which one I should write on to. And then I think which is cool or which is uncool; which thought can culminate into a satirical genius or which can bring the sarcasm out of me; what people shall click the like button to on Facebook & what people won’t even bother reading; what shall project me as a knowledgeable writer or what shall project me as an attention seeking imbecile or what shall imply that I am trying to create a revolution by my writing because Shakespeare said in his sonnets that there is nothing immortal & Everything dies, but in one sonnet, the visionary dopey said I don’t know, maybe the writing of mine immortalizes the very presence of me. Or I might again end up looking an ass. You see, I had to go through the dictionary, rather, a thesaurus to find adjectives for a ‘foolish person’. So I came up with imbecile, ass & foolish itself. But then I think, dude why are you trying to be cool by showing off your fake proficiency in vocabulary. To hell with that. Why can’t I just use the word, you know, what we use in our daily life & which pretty much is the best of the synonym available to describe the same?

Damn it, I feel like a blind man in a strip club. They are so many. They are all good, not good; interesting, boring; sensuous, ugly; curvy, not so curvy. I don’t know because I am blind. Only the people near me can tell. “Hey, you should get a lap dance from that one. She is HOT.” But you see, I don’t know. I can just take a decision based on the surrounding notions. I don’t know which thought or idea to write here coz they are too many. People can tell me, “Hey, write on the recent ragging issue. That shall exhibit that how considerate you are….& more importantly it is the hottest issue around &….people shall get impressed”. Just a mere impression! Can it do anything at all to get in the minds of my honourable faculty whose left brain if not logical and rational is definitely jeevan vidyatic, & that too seems fake sometimes & whose right brain if not intuitive and subjective is definitely unkind, blunt & impractical. Or shall it carry my message to all those that how ridiculous and irritated I feel when they rag their juniors while they themselves used to whine like a poor little child.

“Or write on Rock & roll or the band Queen that you have been listening to lately which shall show how musically inclined & cool you are.” Sorry, that I am using That word again & again but I can’t help as it is again one of those that can very much describe the essence of what I intend to say. But will it develop the interest in people’s mind for rock? Shall they start listening to it & appreciating as to how great a singer Freddie Mercury was and that one can’t deny the fact that the guy could sing over a range of 4 octaves or How great the Iron maiden band is because it is one of those rare bands that supports multiple solos in a song & how beautifully coupled they are & how versatile Metallica is by coming up with Seek & Destroy, Fade To Black & Nothing Else Matters? Or will the fight between the Metallica fans & Megadeth guys come to an end if they just ponder on a simple fact that hadn’t Metallica fired Mustaine, there would not have been a Megadeth at all? How blessing in disguise for Mustaine that has been. This section will be incomplete if i won’t mention the mighty Noel Gallagher. How madly I am in love with this straight-forward, intellectual, insanely humorous guy. Coz this man has the courage to bluntly say “We’re not arrogant, we just believe we’re the best band in the world.” Or “I’m not like John Lennon, who thought he was the great Almighty. I just think I’m John Lennon.” Or “I don’t care what people say because I love the genre of music I compose & I shall not experiment just to satisfy the whims of some critics.”

“Or maybe write about your guitar interests. That shall pose you as a rock star.” Will that influence people to take onto their passions regardless of what people think & not let that go? They don’t know how much they shall regret later. Who says that they are for the girls or to impress any other being or just for the mere notion of the sexy image? They are because they make you happy. Don’t stop pursuing them just because you think you aren’t that good. As Hendrix said “Sometimes you want to give up the guitar, you’ll hate the guitar. But if you stick with it, you’re gonna be rewarded.”

“Or maybe write about the novel you are reading. That would attract the literary fiends & end up making you a literature enthusiast.” But will that, will that……Oh, damn it. I can’t think of anything in this context. Oh, I just got a mail from Varun known as Ramu in his batch in which the guy has mailed me the Hindi assignment. And suddenly he has reminded me of something that I always take pleasure in feeling as to it never existed. HOMEWORK. :(.  But still, so thoughtful & compassionate of our felicity coordinator. With great powers come great responsibilities. But they might also be accompanied with the loss of humility. As Marcus Brutus said “The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins Remorse from power.” Ain’t the case with this guy.

Ok so where was I? Yea or “Why not just tell about how you feel being Singhal (Pun not intended. But damn, you are smart people).” Wait. Somebody pinged. Naaah, forget it. How I wish it were a girl. Who wants to write when you got a gal to talk day & night? A gal to love, a gal who would hop on & cling to your mind like a parasite & make all other endeavours perish coz after all She is the One for whom you shall give away your life. Who wants to do anything when you got a constant feminine touch along with you? I don’t know coz I am Blind but people say that it is the loveliest feeling one can ever get. Maybe the People are right or maybe not.

I must say there are endless thoughts, ideas to write. As my mother says “let the thoughts come & pass. They will always be in your poor little head. Coz the day you get rid of them, you effectively achieve what they call as Nirvana. A thought-less, pure mind.” Suddenly I am realizing, how magnificent this lap dance has been, how utterly erratic yet beautiful & fulfilling. That it makes me question; Is being erratic, unplanned & unprejudiced really fun? Or is it just a mistake of an undeveloped, reckless mind which doesn’t weigh the consequences? A Food for thought AGAIN.

…..If u don’t write purposefully, then you end up writing something what you just read.