Romanticizing Death .. (14th Dec 2010)

( Before Going through this prose, I want you to listen a song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AuJrEBtmM1Q

(When You Say By Ronan Keating From Notting Hill)

Three.. Two.. One.. And I am still alive. But nothing could stop this to happen. I guess it’s the bonus time. I thought of opening my facebook account once again; actually activating it. But the prime replacement of thought was “let it be deactivated”; when my life will soon be deactivating.

I couldn’t resist; and my fingers -still conscious- landed over the keyboard.. Password: Pur****

And the outcome was “Your account has been activated”.

Bloody hell, my eyes –still conscious- can figure my relationship status as In a relationship; but what’s the use of changing it now. A change here and there would be numerous likes and comments. People who never intended to know with whom I was committed; would surely like to know the reasons behind my breakup.

I guess I can’t even count the number of times I heard this song; actually we heard this song TOGETHER; and my ears -still conscious- can sense it’s the only song in my playlist blah … blah … blah ..When you say nothing at all .. blah blah blah.., When you say nothing at all” But now I am totally pissed off why didn’t you said anything?

The smile on your face is so much away from me that I can only hold a pretentious smile; and even I don’t need to act much since it was only you who could sense that I am faking it. It may continue habitually now, after all you don’t need me anymore.

The truth in your eyes excelled in brimming dilemmas in my life that all I can do is wash them away with my tears. And no one can even figure out their dryness, since the one who can sense had already left me.

The touch of your hand never made me feel alone; but now anyone’s presence around me makes me helpless, since I can’t answer them when they ask how you both are doing?

The beauty of lyrics reframed within my own limited words is lying all over the floor. I can feel pity for these crumbled white papers; which once claimed that my love story will never turn yellow. I can feel it, since I am still conscious even after six pegs of whiskey. May be the words over my screen are dancing with the lyrics; but they aren’t actually of romantic genre.

Few fingers gripping the mouse, and rest of my another strong hand typing a text- Can we start again? – CLEAR – Can we start Again? – CLEAR – Can we start again? – CLEAR – And in a click, I swapped MS Word window with my facebook page; and guess what people know that I am single since last 26 minutes.

Certainly in the next few minutes my heavy eyes- almost conscious- will demand for bed, although I carry the same poison in my every single breathe. Love was the slow poison I took exactly six months back; but I took the best medicine on time, i.e. break up. Since the sound drunken sleep will not stop my breathe; what’s next in my box are the side effects waiting for me. Three.. Two.. One.. And I am still alive; OR just alive!!

One Night Stand!!

Amongst those soporific souls arranged in arrays of 3xn, I walked slowly to discover the ideal space to spend that long night. The hour hand had already jumped to the next two digits of my watch since midnight but still my legs were covering that small distance in the dim light. In a couple of steps my body seized, yet I was in motion when I found her sitting in front of me. She was as gorgeous as 6 years back when I first encountered her in our very first ED class. Confused over how to use the drafter, she was almost on the way to penetrate her divider into my butt. But I saved my ass that day. After six years, she wasn’t the same confused soul, but seemed to be more responsible and mature personality.

I thought of spending rest of the dark hours gazing at my first love in the dim light; but I don’t know why I stepped forward. I know it was too early to fall in the same trap again and too late when it was exactly the same trap. But before I could leave, a couple of small shaky steps resulted into our first physical contact. I stood still, and without any displacement, I took a ninety degree turn.

Her tender cheeks were pushing me softly and I was balancing the force by holding the opposite bar tightly. Her silky hairs trying to make me giggle and her closed eyes pushing my heart to cloud nine. I wonder how serendipity plays with our life. The girl, who seized my voice for 4 years when she appeared in front of me, that night, seized my motion; and even my life for those few hours. She was sitting still and I was standing still, yet both with each other and in the same harmonic motion for those shortest two hours of my life; that too when I expected it to be a long night. The to-and-fro motion of our flesh was so uniform throughout those dark hours.

But soon the night was lightened when glow along with a chaotic noise entered through the window. I was scared, really scared. I wished I could stay there for some more time, but the innocent voice of a kid from the window made her to open her eyes. And before she could discover that the stand of that one-night was me, I left.

She scratched her eyes with her soft fingers; and the kid again quoted those words, “chai ..chai..”. She slowly moved her head twice depicting a No to the kid and slept again; but this time leaning over the horizontal bars of the window. I never thought travelling without a ticket in Punjab Mail could gift me such memorable hours. Being a still-stand for few hours, when unknowingly a sleeping beauty and more-over my first love leaned over me in the dim light of train compartment, is the first and probably the most beautiful one-night stand I had; that too without losing my virginity.

Molding the box – 2

The words like bad, minor, vicious could never had gained importance without learning the meaning of division. Under the name of classification, the “one” world have been differentiated into uncountable categories. The one-good-world sounds a mere imagination; and when people ponder their heart for the change they end up discovering it to be an obsolete philosophy.

But, in actual, the good still stand out there, and we are not able to grab it because the other side too exists at exactly the same position. Like doesn’t attract like, unlike do. So there must be something good in you that is trying to attract the bad; may it be a bad feeling. How-so-ever the philosophies ask you to be positive and good, still once a while we fall in the trap of these negative thoughts. And hence, all philosophies sound obsolete since we tried really hard to avoid them.

Feel bad, it will help you to understand you better; but don’t let these feelings to over-rule you. Understand the good that exists in you since you were born. Spend time with yourself to know yourself better on the philosophical or theoretical grounds; but more than that, spend time with others to understand you on the practical or worldly grounds.

This is simple as anything; (only if you consider it simple) Stop complicating, start simplifying. Stop differentiating, start integrating. The divisions or boundaries that you have created regarding your goals, accomplishments, love, relations, mould them so they look bit hazy, rather than sharp. And you will feel the difference that these old-age philosophies can bring out.

Random Thoughts!!

Love is really shit. You pressurize yourself to bring it out of you, and then you have something or other to re-generate it. But sex isn’t the same shit, one can neither dare to taste it nor intentionally smell it.

The desire is not of being in love or having sex, but of being you. Clamped with rusted nuts, we just act to be happy; and if not happy yet mature. And then someone; who was also clamped somewhere and possibly played the same game of pretence; simply knock the nuts and set you free. Free to be you in their presence. You can laugh with everyone; but you can cry just in front of them. And certainly, we call it Love.

Clutched between metals and materials, I thought of penning down a love story of two cancerains. But soon, when the real account that inspired me to write was on mid-way, I realized they weren’t together anymore. I wish I could write their story with my pen, but it will remain a story, a dream that he wished to come true. The story remained incomplete, and eventually deleted from my pages. But they are penning their accounts, anecdotes by anecdotes, separately in their own diaries which will remain undercover forever.

.

.

Socrates was once asked, “What’s the cure for love at first sight?”

The great philosopher said, “Take a closer look. It helps a lot”.

- A story that turned into random thoughts!!

People ask me how can i write so much about love, when I never had a successful love story?
and I say, "One sided Love Stories teach the MOST"

To whom do you beautifully belong?

Unknowingly, 14th june turned out to be a memorable day of my life. It was you who occupied the entire day of this idiot. And now since I know what you mean to me, how can I waste any moment to let you know what you mean to me.

If your mind, the sub conscious one; or souls around you, the conscious ones, ask you someday, “To whom do you beautifully belong?” May be you won’t utter my name but I want my silhouette, carved in splendid colors, to be in your eyes; my words, voiced for your praise, knocking your ears; my hand over your shoulder; and my hearbeat in your virgin heart. And just a smile over your gorgeous face will say- “Yes, I belong to you and you belong to me, certainly beautifully.”

You don’t need to say anything, Am I that idiotic that I won’t understand your silence?

I never understood why a lover need to be on knees while expressing his love, Why a person bend on knees while making his prayer, Why a sufferer cry on knees while he is broken..
Just because he needs to surrender him entirely, his soul entirely to the one he always desired. And I won’t take any more moment to surrender my life to you and in you, because I love You.
Do you ?

Moulding the box (I)

“If a man puts a gosling in the bottle and feeds him until he is full grown, how can the man get the goose out without killing it or breaking the bottle?”, asked Riko.



Living in the state of illusions, the box shines and the box reflects but seldom it ever tried to discover whether the box is self contented or not? The blue box seduces the red, and even the pink seduces the pink. Unfortunately or may be unwillingly, the transparency of the box has turned obscure now. The seduction is obviously not a new concept, since we all are the final products of this initial step, yet the stretched definition to identify it favors this distortion. Rather what pulls my strings is the anger that sometimes supports it and habitually follows it.


The entire breathing space to anger is, in most cases, given by fear. Ironically, we take our box for granted by assuming that fear invites anger to overcome it. The very often established example I experience is with the senior-junior relation. The fear of not being respected by juniors is generally expressed with anger through technically penetrating words (and you know what they penetrate) under new definitions for mom and sisters, technically hilarious quotes under often ridiculous perceptions and technically romantic music under clouting sounds (Followed by counting your account). In the fear of being insulted by others, they start insulting themselves.


One of my favorite quotes that Dr. Stephen Covey ever quoted is between stimulus and response; one has the freedom to choose. Until and unless you make your mind to accept the insult, no one can ever insult you. Such thoughts can only be understood by upgrading your style of living because when the ball rolls in such courts, people prefer a jerk to avoid it, and what they turn out to be is mere jerks.

Angry? Any fear? Go and jerk off, it will relieve your frustration.

But I have an alternative. I call it my quantum theory of coming close to God, no shortcuts, just discrete levels to attain those energy states. When I call it discrete, I mean it, nothing less than cent percent approach. Explore the loosened nut that connects you to your alter ego. The nut may be a guitar or few songs, a book or a page & pen, dance or just a long walk. Make them discrete just by the way you perform it. That’s how the molding initiates.
“If a man puts a gosling in the bottle and feeds him until he is full grown, how can the man get the goose out without killing it or breaking the bottle?”, asked Riko.

Nansen gave great clap with his hands and shouted, “Riko!’
“Yes, Master” said the official with a start.

“See,” said Nansen, “The goose is out!”

(He quoted this in his book “The goose is out”. He, who occupied Indian newspapers and magazines with third-rate criticism against himself. He, who was blamed for hammering the Indian culture, he who was known as Osho.)

Exploring our box (I)

Let the good in you never die. I read it somewhere, but in the race called life I was not quite sure is it really alive in me? I thought my spirituality can hold God in me, but yesterday I realized by a single example that I had been selfish many times in my life too. Being it a personal matter, it won’t be appreciable if I add it here, yet I will surely not dishearten your spiritual soul for giving your time to my article.

I know this totally sounds bogus in today’s world when you start with spiritual thoughts in a group meet, since all the youngsters are interested in knowing the updates of technology, geography and geometry of glamour world, histories of celebrities and economics of their dad’s bank balance, perhaps knowing that they are fading the mirror of reality, yet they call “this is what reality is”. I would like you to stop this very moment, leave this article if you believe in the same reality. It would be better, go out, and do open your eyes this time, look for some cleanser, clean your mirror, and then come open this page. I will prescribe you some good cleansers in the end; even you can either jump to the concluding paragraph for it or follow the road without any short cuts.

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Robert Frost

Through my last two stories I tried reflecting those neglected parts of our society that surely don’t have any connection with your lives yet still I will come up with certainly the same question with different issues: Are you ready to open your box? , but this time, in a very straightforward language (no developed lingos like dassol), will ask you certain simple questions : Are you capable of doing good for others, doing good for your near ones, and doing good for your nation?

“People will laugh at me if I ll come up with such writes”, I replied my friend, who is more than a friend to me, an inspiration, elder brother for me. “Let them laugh, since they are not capable of understanding the inevitable nature of change. It’s really easy for us to lead a materialistic, so called their real life like them, but are they really capable of leading a spiritual life along the same track like us?” , he replied. And I did it. I thought rather than opening the box, I should come with “exploring” and “moulding” the box too. This very beginning of exploration will hold a very simple example of honesty that made me proud of my nations’ citizens.

They call it poor and hungry India and I don’t blame them because the only source through which they opened their box was Slumdog millionaire. Great movie, yet it depicted only a side of the coin. I had few friends from US last week in Bhopal, and they appreciated Indian culture and hospitality (yet, I regretted people staring them like aliens).
When we were at new market, one of my friends forgets her bag, holding all her money, passport and other important documents in the auto rickshaw. We all scattered in the market to find that auto rickshaw, prayed God since it was really difficult for us to trace an auto driver, when we don’t have any of his contact details. After few minutes we received a call from the hotel where they were staying, “Sir, the auto driver brought back your bag to us that you left in the auto”. Poor, yet Honest India.

I belong to a university I feel is full of negative energy, (and how I calculate its negativity can be good joke to laugh upon, keep on, laughing is good for health), and I always I had this complain. But even last week I dreamt of a new aura of my college environment. According to Freud’s Interpretation of dreams, dreams are nothing but fulfilling your wishes. And if I can dream of it, why can’t I make it true (Ignited minds). It’s all about the good in you, it’s you who can make things good, and positive I rather say. And this is how you can do well for others, near ones and your nation. It’s only you who can create the thoroughfare of spirituality between you and your real world.

Few good prescriptions:
The monk who sold his Ferrari by Robin Sharma
Ignited Minds by APJ Abdul Kalam
Positive imaging by Peale
Bible, Quran, Geeta and Guru Granth Sahib Jii