Small Talk

Adoring the wind, fighting the mosquitoes and typing this post, here I am on the Kochi port watching ships race past each other. I should admit, the plan for the day wasn't an article on the blog, but an in-depth photography session. I guess sooner than later , even my camera will shy away from photographing things that I actually consider worth capturing. Can't help it. The breeze is perfect for nothing but thinking. I believe, had I been brought up somewhere near the coastline, I'd have been much better at intellectualism.

I don't have a topic for the day but I still plan to murmur. The things that I really want to talk about, aren't fit for an audience, and the things I'd rather say, are irrelevant . So, if at all you're reading this, you know what you're exposing yourself to ; irrelevance. Life is always such an irony. There's always something to think about, rack your brain for. Things can never be perfect, can they? But come to think of it, what fun would it be if at all it was perfect ? I think , I'd come to pity such an individual, an individual whose life is " just perfect " , I meant.

If there was one thing that I could take back from people in Kerala, it's got to be their simplicity. Kerala; a land where the richest of blokes, prefer to wear a dhoti on marine drive. The most fashionable couples, celebrate romance, over a cup of coffee and rice plate. There is an essence in their broken english. It's such a mystery too. What would have taken a 17 word sentence, they're able to both convey and get, in six entirely unrelated words. Autos; As compared to their counterparts in Delhi, they're bliss.

I don't want to be rude, but I can't help generalizing women in Kerala to be fat. That said, they're much soft spoken. Not a trait I admire or abhor, but again there's an invisible piousness surrounding them. They head out from their homes, anointed beautifully and variedly on the forehead, to their respective places of work. Call it personal opinion, but the sight is just feel-good. It's like a caricature of India's progress , minus the frill. The more youthful women though , are dressed as normally as women in Delhi, minus, again, the frill. A simple kurta, a jeans to compliment it, neat hair, a fragrance which is anything but artificial, and you'll come to draw a mental portrait of the architypical Keralite woman . 


Kerala, God's own country as they call it. 

Turning Twenty Two

So, the candles blown, hips shaken and gifts taken. I've succumbed to yet another year of existence, teetering the unit digit of my age barometer by a unit distance . In short, only yesterday , I turned twenty two. I can't but help confess, that as soon as I hit the full stop of the last sentence, I observed for a while, the cursor blink monotonously , just to be able to realise the seriousness of what I had typed. Yes, I am twenty two. I know that I am, and I'm trying to convince myself that it's as much an occasion to feel a little grown up, as it is to sit back , hold that cup of tea and think about what lies ahead.

Just a day before, I was the insane horse riding in wilderness, with its whims tugged tight to the chest, unaware of the dichotomies of an adult life. Quite in contrast, right now I'm this twenty two year old hound, trying to visualize stuff, that otherwise seemed direly trivial, with a well weighed acumen and a long term perspective. I can all but ask myself, if this transcendent shift in thinking is but natural, or a figment of of my own hypersensitivity. Either ways , I'm forced to consider it.

Responsibility, in general, is repulsive. Now that I seem to be half a year away from affording myself completely, I seem to be at crossroads.Insecurity is like a dog , wagging its tail at the very sight of food. The food, here would be success, or anything that you may fear to lose. You may try harder to keep it with you, and much ironically, you may end up losing it ,just because you tried a little too hard. I'd rather opt out of trying too hard, or trying at all.

That said, I think , it's time. It's time, when I balanced things up. It's time, that I realised, that there was more to life than just me and my ambition. It's time that I explored as deep as I could in myself, just to be able to figure out , what I'm best at doing. It's time that I assumed responsibility, and said : Look world, and keep looking.  

Ikkatees Maar Khan

The new year is approaching, and it's only expected of me to turn a little nostalgic. Or was that 'santimentalle'. The new year marks turning on the lid on a box of memories, some good, some bad, all mingled together and enclosed air tight. I know, it's only in retrospect that I'll get to enjoy them, the fact that someday I will ,is satisfying enough.

2010 was enough adventure for two years together, more so , it sort of compensated the monotony that college life has inflicted. I should  but I wouldn't talk about the past. For a change, I'm going to zoom ahead and try  asking myself, what I expect from the year ahead . It's a dangerous thing to make public, but unless I make a conspicuous assumption that nobody's reading this blog, I'm unable to write anyway, so I'd rather take the risk.

Of all things, I've ever longed for, I just hope that this year, I get , what they simply call : Satisfaction. 


Cheers 2011.

Quantum Mechanics

It's 7:50 by my watch. The usual things have already been done the very usual way. Tea had and investments discussed. Newspapers sought and kept gleefully over the side table. Menu for breakfast fought over, decided, then changed, decided, fought over, decided, changed , decided. Playlists pondered upon punctiliously,and put on hold. Blankets folded inside out. Milk bought and kept in the kitchen. Spectacles cleaned and looked into. Sounds irritatingly mechanical, doesn't it?

I think , it's just cliche to abstain from a mechanical way of life. It's probably not the 'cooler' spontaneous way of living, isn't it? The only quote that strikes my mechanical senses right now is that "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder". When I look at my life with an eye of scrutiny , holding more than just a magnifying glass, I find beauty in this mechanical living. No, I'm not saying it to justify anything. What do I have to prove to you, but my stupidity? and this instant, I don't care if I manage to too. 

While the world perceives this sub-conscious affinity for an order to be a personality trait, and definitely not a good one at that, I think I see it as if each day is a new play in the same theater. How do you draw parallels, if the theater keeps changing? In other words, how do you get to know if the day was good or bad, if there isn't an underlying benchmark of sorts. 

It might be that you haven't realized, but you were swear by a mechanism too, you just don't know it as yet.The maggi you had every time you were up till four . The decent cup of tea, every time you needed a break. That one mechanical phone call to a friend, just to know if he/she still existed. It's all so , for the dearth of another word, mechanical.

If only you could get when I say : There is beauty in order, a beauty in mechanical life. Why? I don't know. Reminds me of another quote: " Beauty is in what cannot be defined."

  

The Evil in me

There have been instances, when the mind thinks completely off track. By off track , I don't mean abstract, it's something else. It's like a diabolic intention running parallely inside me. This intention, so to say, I have come to term, the evil in me.

Now, the evil , may be harsh, but it's hidden. Never at the look of perfectly sane human, would one realise the presence of such devilish tendencies.Well, there's a good chance that it might be just me, or that you're yet to accept that the evil exists in you too. The crux is, how deep and how potent this evil in you ,is. That's precisely what might make the difference.

How one perceives the insidious devil , is a figment of your own fertile and febrile imagination. I look at it as an efficient way to vent out anger. The mind , as such, is this cage, where you can exhibit yourself to be anything you want to be, have split personalities, malicious intentions, and still sneak away fallaciously. Isn't that enough? Sometimes, it is but then, only sometimes.

It's okay for me to write about this, because I'm direly confident, that this as a phenomenon is common to one and all. There's a devil in all of us, that gets aroused at the slightest of injustice, the minutest of ridicule, and even at the premonition of conspiracy.

So, the question arises: Just because there's an evil in us (yes , us !) , does that make us bad people , in general ? Isn't it just fine, or if I may say, even more fine ( the grammatical error is intended), to be satisfied having taken revenge in the corners of one's own mental cage? That again is a matter pure perception. Some people like the real, one on one thing much better.

As for me, I think I'm pretty cool with assassinating people mentally in the most imaginative of ways. The one thing I do sulk about though, is that none of my adversaries have given me the provocation to do the real thing. If only , I had enemies worth a fight. Sigh.

Ex Why Said

Now I do realise, that the last post was a bit- for the dearth of a better word, blunt. Amongst rejoicing girl friends, are frowning friends, that keep it no secret, that they wouldn't have had the guts to say all this on a blog. " I keep a personal diary for that " he says. My reply: Chubbe .( yaar, bura mat maanio, varna main ro doonga)

But I do agree to an extent, that the girlfriend - the metaphoric " love of my life " ( while she competes fo the title with a few - no not women, but edible delicacies), needs to be kept out. Out of the blog I meant.

Now, for a good twenty seconds there, I wondered why I added the last sentence. Vaise main thoda darpok toh hoon hi, yes, self confessed. The lesson is, no matter how verbose a conversation it becomes, never forget to add the vital words. "Kept out"  and "kept out of the blog" , could have made a difference.

Now it suddenly struck me, what a blog like this could do to you. It could establish you as the " intellectual" , given cutting/copying and pasting from an ageing intellectual blog has never caused you to reintrospect your moral conscience. Though, I am yet to do that, but you wouldn't believe me , would you?

Also, the blog might as well, refurbish your "lover boy" image. It's only when you come back to your room , heavy headed , with drooping shoulders, having spent the entire day with "her" ( don't make me say the word again and again), that it dawns on you, " Aaj toh compliment dena hi bhool gaya !", followed by a well fretted " Ab kya hoga ?" followed by a further fretted, " Kahin kuch ho naa jaaye!". This, my friends, forces our variety of boyfriends, to turn on the table lamp and wield our mental pen, like stilletto dipped in red colored vitriol, that too in a heart shaped ink pot.

I do agree though, that the very post may look obnoxiously silly the following day, but then it establishes another side of you: "He's silly ,he's normal" , followed by a handshaking of links, with an underlined message: "Look look, he's so mad about me !!". Now I, the silly, can only smirk at that. No, not derogatorily.

Kuch soch rahe ho? Arre sahi soch rahe ho. I've been gifted my creative freedom. I can write and she won't feel offended. I can already imagine myself to be in the shoes of Kishore Singh, whose USP is to bitch about his wife in the newspaper. I can sense, that we're deriving this satonical satisfaction, though he's being paid to do that and I'm not. And you do get, that while this post started of with "keeping the girlfriend out", out of the blog I meant, it has been , more inevitably, about her . Such is life.

The 13th will always be special !

To have completed five months of consecutive 'committed' life is, though mutely, a matter of solitary self congratulation. As you'd get already, that I would otherwise not have the courage to pop out of my pretentious 'corportatism', so I thought I'd rather exploit this space and speak my mind more uninhibitedly. What do I have to lose anyway, besides a girlfriend ? :-P

Sometimes, it seems , it happened just yesterday.  It's like a dream you wake up from, and then realise, that it wasn't one. The last five months have been jittery, not on the romantic front, but at life's end in general. Placement(mine) on the prowl. The ever bugging CAT(hers). I guess, all this was a bit hectic on our ,so far educational, romantic life. We must have spent more hours on the pretext of studying, than any , even mildly, romantic couple might have liked to. Can't say for you people, but I think studying together is the cooler way of romancing. You may think otherwise, but not here, it's MY blog.

So, five months in a relationship, and I've become a little more sensitive. The littleness may range within 10 exp(-9) and 10 exp (-10). No matter how complacent you are , while commited, there's always this perpetual need to express that " Aayee doo Kayer !". Not that I mind. On the contrary, it's always reciprocated. That's the best part. Any non-commited people reading this ? Shame on you. Go , get committed. :-)

It just dawned on me that in the usual blabber, I forgot the main thing. It's the 13th. I could never have imagined , that every and I mean every 13th would give me something to recollect, somthing to rejoice, something to just lay back and smile about, something that would give me both, the audacity and the authority to tell myself :" One heavenly day , you went somewhere, and then the best thing that could've happened to you, happened. It was the 13th of that month."

Happy five months. You are awesome, both technically and otherwise, and I'm loving it ! (Don't laugh )