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The opposite of Zen.

Only if we start eradicating/castrating/eliminating duffers from our personal space can it be possible to get the morons up there off our faces. Effing channels beam Big Boss and the entire family watches that, Aaj Tak and other news channels decorate moronic stories and come up with 45 minutes long super-stupid *news special*. Feels like they are invading our personal space and shitting on us.
Fucking morons. Effing sickening morons.

The Quest

This was a long comment on someone's blog a long time back, I still think the same way and it still is the same. 

I agree to us being prisoners. Prisoners of our minds, of our egos, of our self contained prejudices.  We are all prisoners here of our own device.
Holding us and curbing us at the same time. I'd say, Love is over rated. All of it is. I'd say forever is bullcrap. 
Yes we get attracted. Yes we fall. Yes we agonise, torment and vice-versa. But then, just the same we move on.  Moving on is undeniable because we as humans are medically fit for Love with a person only for 4 years (the effects of the chemical changes that occur in the body when one is attracted to the other stay only for a 4 years…the same then start to wane. True story!) Love would not have been over rated if it was the ONE that we loved for life. But we don't, do we? 
Why should one fight to be with that one and then regret saying - "you are completely different form the person that I settled for&q…

something warm, something sweet, something like garam chai

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It should feel like a fresh bath. It should feel like the soft light feels, on a rainy, misty evening. Should feel like a warm hug. Should feel like an unspoken prayer, should feel like an unshed tear. Should feel like half a smile. Should feel ‘maddham’ . Should feel like the warm blanket.
Feel like life.

Should feel like I am alive.



agar

agar mujhse mohabbat ho jae, to ek nazm likhna... mere paas aake, mere kaano me wo geet gun guna na...

If it so happens that you fall in love with me, write me a love sonnet, no don’t laugh now, I mean it. Write me a love sonnet and then when you are midway through it and you realize that there is nothing really to write and then you laugh aloud at your foolishness, turn around and leave without saying a word.
And if you can’t leave, say you laugh loud and then you draw a big smiley face on paper (or a gloomy/sad/morose smiley because people tell me that is how I am generally perceived, though you know that is not the case I am mad sometimes) but the point being you cannot leave and you come to me and tell me what happened (well because you are not scared of my reaction are you? You are my man J ) then let me know, that you love me. Maybe, you wouldn’t have to say it.
Maybe I would write you a sonnet, 

Khamosh rahoon to batiyate rehna....baatein karun to sunte rehna. nahin...khamosh hi rehn…

...

Will it feel like flying with the wind whilst falling off the cliff? Will teardrops flying off my face, fall back on me as raindrops instead?

Love is blind.

...and She said that love was blind. She left her home travelled into another country. people with darker skins, a darker mind. weird language and weirder thoughts.  She didn't think about anything, She just followed him.
Mohabbat honi chahie thi, jung ladni thi...dil jalne chahie the. jeet honi chahie thi.
mohabbat hi nahin hui bas; bas jung hi ladte reh gae. khud se, tujhse...is-se us-se...sirf jung hi ladi. yaar mohabbat honi chahie thi...

pyar hua, par wo ishq wali baat nahin thi. jung ladne ki koshish bhi ki to sali aadhe dil se ki, pura dil lagana chahe bhi to kya? kabhi usne nakaar dia kabhi dil ne use nakaar dia.
 pyar pe, pyar ke nagme likhe...pyar me pyar ke nagme pyar wali baarish me bheegte gaae...
par wo ishq me bheege dil wali baat hi nahin thi...sukha sukha sa hi hai sab bas... mohabbat honi chahie thi re. sachi.
'did you plan all this? She smiles and says, 'Love is blind!'

.......................................................

do you do it too?

I look at women admire them for a quality that they have/lack and then think of my male 'friends' and how they would have liked her.

I heard this woman online with an amazing voice, an enticing name and an awesome profile pic, (no I was not stalking anyone, I was just mindlessly surfing) and instantly thought of this someone who would have easily liked her. I played out an entire relationship in my head and then thought I should tell him about her.

...and then I did

time goes by, so slowly...

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kuch waqt ho chala hai tujhse baat kie hue, kuch waqt ho chala hai tere awaz me ghule shehad ko chakhe...kuch waqt ho chala hai tujhse lade, kuch waqt ho chala hai tujhe yaad kie....


...ye waqt beet chala hai, ye waqt najane kaise par chale chala hai...


kuch waqt ho chala hai tere hoton pe apne hoton se apna naam likhe, kuch waqt ho chala hai tune mujhe yaad nahin kia...kuch waqt ho chala hai tu mujhe bhool sa gaya hai, kuch waqt ho chala hi teri aahat bhi nahin hai...


....ye waqt hi to hai, guzar jaega shayad...ye waqt hi to hai jo kat ta nahin hai...




title from this track:





sonrisa

...and what did I do today? I played hide and seek (he did the hiding) with a 2 year old kid at the table opposite mine when I was out for dinner today.

I didn't need dessert and he laughed a hearty laugh =)

.......................................................

Bonjour!

And this week comes to a close.
One day can teach you many things, and I learnt through the week. This week taught me more than I could keep pace with.
I had a panic attack (or so I call it) which was the fallout from bad performance at work, losing people over  misunderstandings, the feeling of inadequacy, the tally between 'what could have been- what should have been- what is now', the volcanic eruption of everything that I had bottled up inside of me (read as a whole lotta crap). I lived for an entire day with a nagging feeling of uneasiness coupled with a strange fear that I am going to burst into flames any moment now, and I was literally trying to save myself from falling (and yes not to mention the falling in a moving bus and the conductor saving me and pointing out the seat that remained unoccupied coz I was preoccupied, yes I was not hurt, save a non-existential scratch on the wrist). I was on a spree looking for ego-boosters and trying to be invisible both at the same ti…

sab maya hai.

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eventually we all realise there is no point in being so serious about anything.
eventually we realise that what has come will go. ( also note:  if you cum now, you will cum again later)
eventually we realise the higher you go, the longer you'll fall.
eventually we realise change is the only constant.
eventually we realise that you are just as awesome as you feel, you feel just as awesome as you really want to.
eventually we realise we need to move our butts to get things done, to progress/retract/act/react.
eventually we realise we will move on.
eventually we realise nothing will ever be enough.
eventually we realise a fling is just like a 'happy' night out, you tramp it out and are left with a bad hangover.
eventually we realise we are just as happy as the songs in our playlists
eventually we realise we invite trouble and then blame the 'others'
eventually we realise 24 hours is not enough.
eventually we realise Mom is the bestest(-est) thing in the ENTIRE univer…

OASIS

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Someday you will find me 
Caught beneath the landslide 
In a champagne supernova
so where were you when I was  getting high?

leaving...left.

“...cant take my mind off you…till I find somebody new.”
...
Oh look there is the chameleon again. Hops from one tree to the next, wears a blue today a gree tomorrow…no wait there was a red and a yellow in between as well. He takes the same routes, follows the same channels. Learns new tricks everyday…stings you today…yes you, and you there on the left wait till he stings you tomorrow..
Did you see the chameleon hop? He is coming right behind you, he will sit right besides you.  the moment you turn he will hop out, leaving you behind...he will hop out leaving without you.

... ...
Ek din ka rishta tha, Ek pal ka sath, Is lambi zindagi me bhoolna… ..tujhe bhoolna bas ek lamhe ki baat.
...

...
"Did I say I loathe you, Did I say I want to leave it all behind?"


fuck you.

lost

"kahan ghum ho gae ho?"


"dhoondhoge to mil jaungi"

DOPE

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(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RgStt2i_pSk&feature=related)


(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sCtJUOIuf80&feature=related)

.Eddie Vedder.
02.05.12


let me hear you say....hey...you've got to..yes you got it right! .......................................................

issues.

I have trust issues.

Q: Why?
A: Because every time I trust someone I fall flat on my face.

So? 
Now, I am just saving my nose and not trusting and hence not falling and hence much safer. 











over and out.

misplaced sanity

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I have been on this ‘blame-the-flirt’ road before.


(here not that this gets negated, the argument is furthered)

But today is a new day.
A flirt is someone who just likes the ‘good’ part of it. 
Now,let me explain. When in the honeymoon period of the romance, you have so much to talk about, the other person on the other end of the line is all crazy about you and you are the perfect (-est) person in the entire world.

The whole world suddenly paints itself in different shadesof yellow.
Now as the day progresses the perfect you turns into everything that is wrong with the world. The intrigue that was so attractive before now seems like the unnecessary dark shade in the character. Your smile that could brighten up the night skies in the past suddenly now is too toothy (or maybe too wide or not wide enough).



Like that loaf of bread on the kitchen shelf you turn tasteless (and rotten) with time.
The flirt stands for the good things, does not let things decay, upholds the ‘hope’/’good’/’hap…

...

"Maya!"
"You know right?"

"yes."

"How did you know what I was asking?"

"Because I do."

.....

only a life lived could be worth writing about.

zilch theory

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how many times are you allowed to start your life from zero?

fuckwho gives a shit about the rules.

the hard fact : if your starting point is the same you are nothing better than the dog who goes round and round trying to catch his tail.
get a life, find a bone. 



oh dear! baby, stop being a dog.

:)

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free will?

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"But the question keeps staring you right in the face. You think about individuality for example, who you are. Who you are is mostly a matter of the free choices that you make. Or take responsibility. You can only be held responsible, you can only be found guilty, or you can only be admired or respected for things you did of your own free will. So the question keeps coming back, and we don't really have a solution to it. It starts to look like all our decisions are really just a charade.
Think about how it happens. There's some electrical activity in your brain. Your neurons fire. They send a signal down into your nervous system. It passes along down into your muscle fibers. They twitch. You might, say, reach out your arm. It looks like it's a free action on your part, but every one of those - every part of that process is actually governed by physical law, chemical laws, electrical laws, and so on.
So now it just looks like the big bang set up the initial conditions, a…

OVER-RATED

*she'd only love two things. The first was her long dark hair. The second was how easily she could cut it off and not feel a thing. *

-500 days of Summer


I bet cigarette smoking is far safer than day dreaming. damn you reiterations.

hush.

easy come...easy go.

It is annoyingly easy for someone to come close...and suprisingly effortless to move away.

smiles

“I am worried about you L “
Surprising isn’t it how effortlessly someone/something can make your day?

random conversations: biologically speaking

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this some 'gyaan' here...(read as left brain taking over and chokeslam-ing the right brain)

slam no. 1

---"I can tell you exactly which part of the brain does what. there are specific areas which are responsible for different things. the area for motivation, the area for concentration. There are areas  where all your senses go and interact, there are areas for fear, rage, aggression, lust and unlike otherwise thought, the quest to reach ME is to reach organically...knowing your body, biologically---


slam no. 2

---"you see a particular color and say this is green or red..there is a particular phenomenon which is known as synethesia..where if shon a particular color say red...the person will say it is number 3 and so on..."

no I didn't just make this up. now I know what Penny must be going through =P

doctors know that each feeling is nothing but a chemical 'locha' somewhere yet it is seen that most docs end up marrying people in their own profession. s…

fillintheblanks

*insert sentimental crap here*

blocked.starved.disillusioned.

....


kiss

Do you remember how my lips taste? I could write a sonnet on how your lips taste, how the anticipation of the touch sends jitters down my spine…for I’d languish and resurrect in the few seconds that lead to you. Do you remember the rhythm of the breaths? Music when in silence you and I are enveloped in each other.
Do you remember the way you look looking at me? oh, but how would you? that look is forever mine.  
... you know it is a block when you feel it like your skin and all you can do is fumble up a few words.

Oye Houdini

I unwrapped myself completely. Opened myself out to the world, played every role I could possibly play…but now when I am totally completely lost, the final root is coming close, I realize I cannot erase you from me. I failed and won at the same time. Screw you. YOU are here, will stay here.
Here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)                                                                                 -E. E. Cummings.

And I want to write about love. But I cannot do it. I cannot play it anymore. I cannot hold onto the idea anymore, I need the physical tangibility in your godly stance. I want to really feel you and see you again to understand what I feel for you.
I feel you looking out for me, but more than a feeling that …

whoops!

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She is the chameleon. Hop. Stop.Look. She stops and waits and turns and looks and dives and flies and wanders and wonders.
I cannot see her…but she is here…hidden somewhere.

In your fantasies, lurking in that silent night's guilty dream. In the unwritten phrases of that melancholic theme. The dark alleys of your putrid soul. The insinuating misdemeanors, the lofty goals. Green. Scarlet. the midnight blue. You dare not blink, for she changes hue.
She will leave, for when has she ever been chained? 
Here now. Gone again. 

.......................................................


pic: here

the ragpicker

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There is this picture. Of me standing, of him standing with his back turned at me at a very distant point, looking away. Looking away from me, possibly walking away from me.
When was the last time you heard a duet and smiled? When was the last time you could say for sure that those lines were sung for you? ages ago? 
It has been ages since she was loved back. Like a rag picker, she walked on roads catching glances, collecting smiles. Those hints of love that were passed on to her, she hogged onto them and lived entire life spans.
There was this high that she was addicted to. She tried different things, alcohol, melancholy and meaningless sex. She whored out. She holed out. Nothing, just nothing would work.
It is always easier to make some noise to defy that innate silence that has become you. But then there will be someone who is walking arms in arms and looks at you and smiles. You have to walk alone, like always. you will walk alone.
....


...
there should be someone who smiles when …

rab mileya raanjha na mileya...

ye dekho bazaar laga rakha hai.
kaisi dukaane saja rakhi hain?


udhaar me kahin mohabbat milti hai; 
kishton me imaan bikta hai. 
darzi jo mila kahin dil ka, batore tukde sil lie. 
umeed ki chaadar khareedi hai kisine shayad,
sapnon ka takiya bhi lia hai. 


dhoondha bahut hai magar, koi dukaan yahan mere kaam ki nahin...
..tu anmol hai, aur meri, meri to koi aukaat hi nahin. 

words

Words make love on the page like flies in the summer heat and the poet is only the bemused spectator. -Charles Simic

Writing is like making love.
The tease when abstract words are jumbled together, hinting at something but at the same time not making complete sense. Confusing, intriguing, attracting. Stop. Wait. Continue with the foreplay, the act and the climax.
Writing is like letting it out.
You make music. The symphony, the rising and the falling notes. The Madhya ‘ma’, the komal ‘ni’ and the tivra ‘sa’. You have 26 notes to convert your feelings into music. Paint a picture with words.  Pick up a red tone to denote passion, a blue to show nostalgia, yellow to show the funnier, lighter feelings. A green to remember that special someone that never could be, a black to denote darkness that you are not afraid of, that your acknowledge as a necessary appendage.
Writing is chronicling.
Writing is making your journal entries. Writing is filling those last pages of your school CW copi…

...

this heart is a slut, and a bad one at that, falls for every man who knocked on her doors.
they mess her up and go away, she picks the change they throw at her, does a little soul searching a little window shopping and then waits for the next client to walk in; seduce her with intrigue, do her with his charms and leave her with regret.


the heart is a she. the clit a he.
the man in the woman.


she misses her. she has to learn to not do that, let him guide her as of now. 




the begginning of yet another end.

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It hurts only as much as it was a pleasure. Not an ounce more not an ounce less.
What has come has to go.
When has it stayed back? The river was destined to flow. 



if only if

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He has a slight stubble on his face, a never-ceasing smile on his lips; and a slight silent hint of adoration, when he looks at her from the corner of his eyes.
He looks at her, expecting nothing but a hello; for who but he knows that she talks a lot, but is not saying.

He walks next to her, as if the road next to the one which she treads upon be his. He walks besides her, always. Sometimes behind her, sometimes ahead but hearing her footsteps; her faltering, dancing half-hopping, half-walking footsteps; her clumsy self keeps missing the step and slipping all the time. He knows those footsteps well enough now, they walked a lot together. Together but never holding hands; sometimes their bodies touched, their glances held each other, but he looked away always. It never mattered much, for there was always a lot to talk about and whenever they ran out of things to talk about they always found something or the other to gorge on.
Nothing was different today.
He never misses an expression;…

mind over matter

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I think I have lost it. It is an empty mind that I have. Totally, completely, empty.
It likes peace. Wo kehte hain na zyada shor nahin pasand.
I am a loner who is attracted to loners, sits in a corner and looks at people. I love stairs, any kinds, it is an innate desire to sit on the stairs, as opposed to the desire where people might want to climb them. I want to sit there and look, watch. I can spend the entire life watching people.
Watching people with headphones on. I hate the noise. The clamor. I have enough noise in my head already. Empty mind creates a lot of demons like an empty house echoes every gasp.
An empty mind is impulsive, does not think.
Or sometimes it mulls over things at end and loses the track of time.
I am neither a fool nor wise; I am neither not a fool…neither not wise.
hush now, don't speak too loud. 
 ...

हुल्लड़

उनकी आँखों से चाहत बहती चली गई, हमने न रोका उन्हें...कहते हैं वो फिर शाम के आते ही चल दिए; हमने बाट देखि नहीं थी, मालूम था वो नहीं आएँगे... ...आंसूं अब आते नहीं, खाली आँखों में अब नींद भी कहाँ बची है... रूह की खोज में चार कदम चले तो देखा वहां तो वो भी खड़ा है जिसको हमने कभी पत्थर दिल कहा था; आज वो मुझे देख कर मुस्का रहा है, कहता है, तू भी वहीँ है जहाँ मैं था, तू भी वही है जो मैं हूँ.  ...वही तो नहीं हूँ मैं, वहीँ तो नहीं हूँ मैं.  ...तारों से अब बातें नहीं होती क्यूंकि मैंने चाँद की राह देखि थी...अब तो चाँद से भी बैर किया है. 
...आधे आधे पूरे नहीं होते, आँखें मूंदु भी तो क्या? नींद के शहर में ही सपनों का ठीकाना है. 
...वो मेरी नींदों का हिसाब रखने लगा है, पर सपनों के सौदागर तू रातों को कहाँ खोया रहता है? 


p.s. try not making sense of the lines above, it is gibberish at best.

bOObs DON'T talk.

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Where do you look when you speak to a lady? (Lady = me) You look in her eyes, not look too intently (unless you have specific intensions) but specially, especiallyNOT HER BOOBS. For the simple fact that the tits DO NOT SPEAK, or for that matter they don’t even listen to what you are saying ( and when you are boring the shit out of me even I am not listening to you). This well dressed, very annoying friend (though have to really consider calling him that again) sat across me as we met after 2 years. I expected pleasantries, but he was the businessman who came in with three proposals to give my sagging career a welcome break. Not that I need it (not that the career is not thanda but ‘coz I decide the pace) but I appreciate that he considered me for that particular bore-karo-session.
And then he started talking. My boobs suddenly seemed like the North Pole and his eyes the arrow of the compass that kept pointing to them.
I ignored it (I am attractive enough to understand that =P)
The…