There’s a boy in a room.
And a girl in a city.
Living each other’s dreams
Treading their paths. Living life.
When the world sleeps, they talk.
Share their days.
They talk about love.
About happiness. About life.
He loves her. She knows he does.
She likes him.
Doesn’t tell.
And he waits.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
A compliment?
Today I was talking to one of my friends about (who else?) myself when he said this about me vis-à-vis another common friend of ours.
"People like you are meant to change the world, but people like him were made to survive in it"
:)
I really don't know if I should take it as a compliment or a judgement. Any ways, it was quite thought-provoking. So much merges into what I am into these days, self realisation (/mockery /denial /discovery /pity) All things self, though.
"People like you are meant to change the world, but people like him were made to survive in it"
:)
I really don't know if I should take it as a compliment or a judgement. Any ways, it was quite thought-provoking. So much merges into what I am into these days, self realisation (/mockery /denial /discovery /pity) All things self, though.
Know Thyself...
Somehow, this poem makes so much sense to me right now...
Know ThyselfThe Riddle of the World...sometimes it becomes too puzzling for me.
by Alexander Pope
Know then thyself, presume not God to scan;
The proper study of mankind is Man.
Placed on this isthmus of a middle state,
A being darkly wise and rudely great:
With too much knowledge for the Sceptic side,
With too much weakness for the Stoic's pride,
He hangs between; in doubt to act or rest,
In doubt to deem himself a God or Beast,
In doubt his mind or body to prefer;
Born but to die, and reasoning but to err;
Alike in ignorance, his reason such
Whether he thinks too little or too much:
Chaos of thought and passion, all confused;
Still by himself abused, or disabused;
Created half to rise and half to fall;
Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all;
Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled:
The glory, jest, and riddle of the world!
Monday, November 27, 2006
Murphy
Going as per rationality, the Murphy's Law must apply to all the phenomena of this universe, including those dictated by the Murphy's Laws themselves, no?
Keep thinking ;)
Keep thinking ;)
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Confession
This post for a very selfish reason.
Today was a bad day. And I am writing this so that I remember everytime I see it, that how bad it was. Maybe I will look back at it someday and have reassurance that it wasn't THAT pathetic, or at least something good came out of it all.
In the end, its every man for himself, and it's never too late to work towards a better life. Maybe this is it.
The feeling of remorse for letting down a close friend shall always pinch. I'll have to do something about it.
I am sorry, Sumeet.
Today was a bad day. And I am writing this so that I remember everytime I see it, that how bad it was. Maybe I will look back at it someday and have reassurance that it wasn't THAT pathetic, or at least something good came out of it all.
In the end, its every man for himself, and it's never too late to work towards a better life. Maybe this is it.
The feeling of remorse for letting down a close friend shall always pinch. I'll have to do something about it.
I am sorry, Sumeet.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
<...>
As I push the door, it opens with a creek, almost poetically. As I enter, I can distinctly smell the smoke of a freshly stubbed out cigarette. Strange, because it has been quite some time since anyone has been here. The tinge frolicks around with my nostrils for a few moments before they get used to it. Is it really the smell, I ponder, or my mind playing around with the memories I have of this room, his room.
The room is dark and gloomy, still I can make out the faint outlines of the furniture inside. There isn't much of what can be accommodated in a hostel room, but still, his room has quite a lot of stuff, all randomly placed inside. Because of the darkness, I cannot see it, but it is there, I can feel the obstacles. Almost like they have an aura around them, his aura.
As I flick up the button of the bulb, the room is immediately filled up with soft gloomy yellowness, pushing the darkness to the corners, making it hide in the shadows. There is a chair immediately in front of me, a cluttered workdesk to my right, a pile of unlaundered clothes on the bed, a couple of suitcases unwelcoming me into their owner's domain, a wheezy typewriter stashed away in a corner, tons and tons of paper everywhere: class notes, correspondence, his "idea" pages, the "festival material"; all strewn about. Everything looking back at me just like I am looking at them. Without passion or emotion, devoid of energy, just us gazing at each other. A feeling of statis grips me. It seems nothing has been touched since then.
A crunch beneath my feet. A used up matchstick. A box of matches on the desk. Depressing amounts of cigarette stubs in the waste bin. Stubbing-out marks on the desk drawer. An empty box of cigarettes.
Then I see it.
On a small bedside table I see a stubbed out cigarette. Perfectly left untouched. The ashes are there, the insignia of the brand intact, as he used to keep it. The filter a bit crooked with the pressure applied on the top and still standing in the little pile of ash. Beside it is a letter pad, with the impressions still there of the note written on the page that must have been above it, the page that must have been hastily torn apart by him. A page that he was carrying with him when he was found.
A suicide note. In my dead friend's pocket.
I can feel my eyes getting moist. I must go away now. I give one parting look at my friend's last smoke, and close the door behind me.
-Pratyush
The room is dark and gloomy, still I can make out the faint outlines of the furniture inside. There isn't much of what can be accommodated in a hostel room, but still, his room has quite a lot of stuff, all randomly placed inside. Because of the darkness, I cannot see it, but it is there, I can feel the obstacles. Almost like they have an aura around them, his aura.
As I flick up the button of the bulb, the room is immediately filled up with soft gloomy yellowness, pushing the darkness to the corners, making it hide in the shadows. There is a chair immediately in front of me, a cluttered workdesk to my right, a pile of unlaundered clothes on the bed, a couple of suitcases unwelcoming me into their owner's domain, a wheezy typewriter stashed away in a corner, tons and tons of paper everywhere: class notes, correspondence, his "idea" pages, the "festival material"; all strewn about. Everything looking back at me just like I am looking at them. Without passion or emotion, devoid of energy, just us gazing at each other. A feeling of statis grips me. It seems nothing has been touched since then.
A crunch beneath my feet. A used up matchstick. A box of matches on the desk. Depressing amounts of cigarette stubs in the waste bin. Stubbing-out marks on the desk drawer. An empty box of cigarettes.
Then I see it.
On a small bedside table I see a stubbed out cigarette. Perfectly left untouched. The ashes are there, the insignia of the brand intact, as he used to keep it. The filter a bit crooked with the pressure applied on the top and still standing in the little pile of ash. Beside it is a letter pad, with the impressions still there of the note written on the page that must have been above it, the page that must have been hastily torn apart by him. A page that he was carrying with him when he was found.
A suicide note. In my dead friend's pocket.
I can feel my eyes getting moist. I must go away now. I give one parting look at my friend's last smoke, and close the door behind me.
-Pratyush
Psst ... Pratyush doesn't know I wrote this story in his name. :)
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Nobody.
I am nobody.
I live in all of us.
Come to think of it, almost everybody is a nobody at some point of their life, and I am one right now.
Why? I don’t know, but I have this feeling that I am slowly pushing myself back into the darkness. While the world around me is bubbling and thriving, I am getting more and more secluded, an outsider, a lonely onlooker to the party.
This too, shall pass.
I live in all of us.
Come to think of it, almost everybody is a nobody at some point of their life, and I am one right now.
Why? I don’t know, but I have this feeling that I am slowly pushing myself back into the darkness. While the world around me is bubbling and thriving, I am getting more and more secluded, an outsider, a lonely onlooker to the party.
This too, shall pass.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
The Clock Turns Back...
It may not make much of a read. (Reading the footnote would hopefully help.)
Now, "Before Sunrise" was a stunning story, a fairy tale as well as an almost real time movie. The actors were impeccably true to their characters, which in turn were breathtakingly so lovable (for the lack of a better word) It is a fairytale happening to two people in real life. Sends you in a trance. "Before Sunset", the sequel, couldn't have been more apt. It is, in every sense of the word, a breathtaking production. I did not even realise that the movie was through till I saw the credits rolling in. It was so encompassing. And then, this poem. Don't get waylaid by the one hour thing, it IS important but let's just say it's a thing that started it all, and hence I chose to keep it in the composition. Whatever, not getting into THAT. Just watch the movies and maybe then the poem might make some sense.
An hour is what the papers sayThis poem comes after a completion of a marathon run of "Before Sunrise" and "Before Sunset" at my very local theatre that I fondly refer to as Klysh. (It means that I watched these wonderful movies on my comp :p)
The clock turns the backward way
Oh I wish time did so too
It should turn back, for me, for you.
Let's go back to the same ol' days
And write down everything anew
Let's sit down and set it straight
A different script, for me, for you.
On although a second thought,
Maybe, just maybe we should not.
This is more real, this is more true
Having just enough of magic, for me, for you.
The clock, however does turn back
One more degree of separation
Let's see if the magic still works
For this man, is it hope, or jubilation?
Now, "Before Sunrise" was a stunning story, a fairy tale as well as an almost real time movie. The actors were impeccably true to their characters, which in turn were breathtakingly so lovable (for the lack of a better word) It is a fairytale happening to two people in real life. Sends you in a trance. "Before Sunset", the sequel, couldn't have been more apt. It is, in every sense of the word, a breathtaking production. I did not even realise that the movie was through till I saw the credits rolling in. It was so encompassing. And then, this poem. Don't get waylaid by the one hour thing, it IS important but let's just say it's a thing that started it all, and hence I chose to keep it in the composition. Whatever, not getting into THAT. Just watch the movies and maybe then the poem might make some sense.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
The Strange Case of the Birthday Card...
Well, just read this.
(Information : Certain parts of this presentation are inspired from real life.)
These days, my literary standards have taken a plummet from their erstwhile summits. (Mt. Everest? No, more like the top of Faculty Building, heh heh!) Anyways, I am trying out a new way of writing that is impromptu, thoroughly unrevised, one go, straight-from-the-gut-through-my-fingers-and-on-the-screen kind of writing. I'll stick to this for the time being till the "literary standards" hit a Mariana Trench. Then maybe I'll contemplate on a new way to tease the world.
Till then. Smiles.
(Information : Certain parts of this presentation are inspired from real life.)
Once I sent a birthday card
for a lady extraordinaire
’twas a plain and simple electronic card
"To show that you love and care"TM
After googling for a hour or so
Oh! Finalising it was so hard
For a special lady on a special day
A cute-ish birthday card
The forgetful that I am, I knew
It might happen, with fate,
That I forget to send the card to her
On the correct d-date!
So I thought up a little plan
And set up the card thus
To be delivered to her on the right date
No worries and no fuss!
There was an option on the card
to tick on the place that said,
Tell me when this card is sent,
And also when it’s read
So I put a tick mark each
And press the button to send
The card that wished a happy day
From a very happy friend
I should’ve avoided the ticks, I feel
should've sent an unmarked card instead
'coz I got a message saying the card was sent
But never got one saying that it was read
So boys and men, and all such fellas
Keep this in mind I hark
Either do not send a greeting card
Or send one without a mark.
These days, my literary standards have taken a plummet from their erstwhile summits. (Mt. Everest? No, more like the top of Faculty Building, heh heh!) Anyways, I am trying out a new way of writing that is impromptu, thoroughly unrevised, one go, straight-from-the-gut-through-my-fingers-and-on-the-screen kind of writing. I'll stick to this for the time being till the "literary standards" hit a Mariana Trench. Then maybe I'll contemplate on a new way to tease the world.
Till then. Smiles.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Suicide Note : It starts all over again...
Life, they say comes a-round-a-full circle.
This semester is no better than the previous. Same story, pre registration time, full of enthusiasm in choosing courses, courses that seem interesting (in the long run, they DO turn out to be!), courses with the best facutly teaching them, courses that would require me to think and learn. But these are courses which would also need me to attend classes.
Why I do not attend a lot of classes, I cannot figure out. Maybe I have lost that trait somewhere. I don't attend classes, lose out on the course, finally end up either passing with a poor grade or flunking (Yes have done it a couple of times yeah!) Is this life? Is this the way things should be? Is this what I wanted to be?
No.
The worse part is ... I scripted it myself. I am becoming exactly the same kind of person I loathed when I entered the institute gates for the first time. You know the one, Mr. Seem-to-know-it-all, Mr. Blabber-mouth, Mr. I'm-an-IITian-so-I-must-be-bright, those types. What it actually means, is that I haven't learnt ANYTHING after my JEE preparations got over. The trouble is, I haven't tried to, as well.
I was never a fighter. When it becomes too much, I just lie back and leave it. unfortunately that is not what works. I postpone/procastinate/or just ignore everything till it becomes too much to handle, at which point I just shirk it off. But but but, I am in a system that doesn't appreciate it, and it shouldn't either. I end up being more miserable.
I am thinking right now, that I would start studying this particular course (the mid-sem preparation for which triggered this post) after my midsems get over. But i have too much on my hands to make this commitment. As such I am going to have a hell lot of work in the next two weeks, there is also the CAT exam on 19th november after which we have, lo! the End sems. When does Saumya study? Saumya doesn't, gets an F, grinds his teeth harder, becomes a bigger sore loser, starts complaining around and then again goes into depression, something only a very few close friends can prevent as well as cure me out of.
Had it not been for them, I'd have been a major wreck already, not that I aint, but a bigger mess would have existed in the space currently allotted to Saumya Jain on this planet. If you know you are one of them, I should also let you know that I value your presence in my life and would always remember you people as my saviours.
...to be continued, hopefully.
This semester is no better than the previous. Same story, pre registration time, full of enthusiasm in choosing courses, courses that seem interesting (in the long run, they DO turn out to be!), courses with the best facutly teaching them, courses that would require me to think and learn. But these are courses which would also need me to attend classes.
Why I do not attend a lot of classes, I cannot figure out. Maybe I have lost that trait somewhere. I don't attend classes, lose out on the course, finally end up either passing with a poor grade or flunking (Yes have done it a couple of times yeah!) Is this life? Is this the way things should be? Is this what I wanted to be?
No.
The worse part is ... I scripted it myself. I am becoming exactly the same kind of person I loathed when I entered the institute gates for the first time. You know the one, Mr. Seem-to-know-it-all, Mr. Blabber-mouth, Mr. I'm-an-IITian-so-I-must-be-bright, those types. What it actually means, is that I haven't learnt ANYTHING after my JEE preparations got over. The trouble is, I haven't tried to, as well.
I was never a fighter. When it becomes too much, I just lie back and leave it. unfortunately that is not what works. I postpone/procastinate/or just ignore everything till it becomes too much to handle, at which point I just shirk it off. But but but, I am in a system that doesn't appreciate it, and it shouldn't either. I end up being more miserable.
I am thinking right now, that I would start studying this particular course (the mid-sem preparation for which triggered this post) after my midsems get over. But i have too much on my hands to make this commitment. As such I am going to have a hell lot of work in the next two weeks, there is also the CAT exam on 19th november after which we have, lo! the End sems. When does Saumya study? Saumya doesn't, gets an F, grinds his teeth harder, becomes a bigger sore loser, starts complaining around and then again goes into depression, something only a very few close friends can prevent as well as cure me out of.
Had it not been for them, I'd have been a major wreck already, not that I aint, but a bigger mess would have existed in the space currently allotted to Saumya Jain on this planet. If you know you are one of them, I should also let you know that I value your presence in my life and would always remember you people as my saviours.
...to be continued, hopefully.
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