Friday, May 28, 2010

You Know You are Grown Up When ...

Life is a long journey to undertake and every once in a while you cross a landmark that you thought was still miles away. I have reached one such stage. There used to be days when i thought this would never happen, but much to my parents' surprise and my own horror, this day has arrived when i am living. I feel like i just had my skin peeled off. There is a sense or burning pain, but i have grown up. There is no doubt. How do i know? Well,

You Know You Have Grown When

  1. One of your friends gets married every second month leaving you really wondering if you're that old.
  2. Conversation among your friends revolves around Real Estate Prices, mutual funds and the share market and not movies, girls and .... you knw ;)
  3. The kid you used to babysit now talks to you about Metallica and Iron Maiden.
  4. Unemployment is no longer a proletariat symbol but an embarassment, and you worry about the low pay package you have in comparison to others
  5. You call it a night and turn off the lights at 11 pm.
  6. All the girls you hit on are working and treat you like a kid, while the ones you stare at are younger (where is my generation)
  7. The Jeans pant never leaves the shelf before Friday and printed t shirts in Yellow, orange and red colors begin to look too weird on you
  8. You walk into a departmental store asking for rubber, and the guy goes 'Check the Medical next door' ( True story!!)
  9. The movies, music and matches you watched are now being termed as 'Classics'
  10. Drinks mean Scotch, Beer, Vodka,Rum......i think you got the point. They used to mean pepsi(50 ps waale) and nimbu paani once upon a time.
Is that Enough? Cos I got more if you want.....

Sunday, May 23, 2010

Shall I see you Again?

Shall I see you again?

Smiling at me for reasons unknown

Shall I see you again?

Shall I see you again?

Walking through crowded streets

Hair trailing in the wind,

At dead tired bus stops

Outside crowded street shops

Shall I see you again?

When I am tired and beaten

With all the world’s weariness

Burning with stress

Shall I see you again?

When the whole world has gone to sleep

Amid dark days and darker nights

Between warm sheets and cold breezes

Between sniffles and sneezes

Shall I see you again?

In sleepless nights and weary days

When I tire of my stupid ways

When I long for someone

I could talk freely to

When memories attack me

And there is nothing else left to do

I shall walk down the same old road

Thinking about long lost ages

I will hum and sing an old weary note

And turn my life’s pages

And there standing in a corner

Surrounded by smiling faces

I shall see you again

One more time

I shall see you Again!

Sunday, May 09, 2010

10 Things I Won't Do today

This is the last day of my beginning. From now the middle begins, and will eventually end. I am no more the person I thought I would be. Things change, so do people. A lot of things have changed for me. Today will see the beginning of some changes and the end of many routines. I am listing some of them for your convenience.
  1. I will not wake up at 10 ‘o clock and eat breakfast at lunch
  2. I will not carry the unshaven, grumpy look ( My mom’s glad about that)
  3. I will not be seen in my crumpled tee and dirty blue jeans.
  4. I will not wear my slippers everywhere anymore
  5. I will not drink tea at 2 in the afternoon and again at 5 in the evening.
  6. I will not say ‘yes’ to the next plan my friends make without thinking twice
  7. I will not be online in the middle of the day (tentative)
  8. I will not be shirtless and sitting on the top of the water tank at midnight.
  9. I will not be home till 8 in the evening.
  10. I most certainly will not be unemployed.
I’d like to add a bit more. But I’ll save that for later.

Wednesday, May 05, 2010


Sun Rise at Baner Hill.Image via Wikipedia
The wind blew in from the south, bringing in the waves with renewed zest. I sat facing the west. The sea’s vast expanse lay sprawled before me, as the waves lolled to a restless stop at the foot of the rocks. Around me couples crowded in cuddly love, savouring the attention some others gave them. I could hear my friends laughing and fooling around. I stayed away, trying to enjoy the moment.
In those few moments of absolute solitude, I relaxed. I lost myself in the sounds of the sea crashing against the wet rocks. I listened to the sound of little wings flapping vainly against strong gusts. I watched the sun dip his orange fingers into the grey waters, staining the sky with a pink shade. I watched an artist at work, painting a large canvas. I stayed still, not wanting to move. I became a part of the painting.
How many moments like these have I lost? Scores? millions? In search of something more vibrant, I have lost silence. I have lost the joy of listening. The primal joy of sitting empty upon a wet rock and watching the waves come and go. Staying up all night just to watch the sun rise. Sitting empty and silent watching the sun set. Moments that make you feel someone was there to share. And yet, you knew to utter a word would destroy the moment. To wish for friends who look at you and know you are lost somewhere. To know that regardless of how long you take, they will wait.
We left soon. But I did not. I stayed there. Looking at the sea long after the sun had gone. Long after I could see anything. I stayed there longing for the peace of those few moments. Wanting a piece back from time, when my heartbeat breathed a sigh of relief.
Everything seems so finite and limited. But don’t you think that is what makes these times and moments so special?
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Saturday, May 01, 2010

The Man Without A Past

I can see him swaying in the sweltering sun. The mud clings to his skin, like magical powder; leaving a trail on the road as he walks. He is silent, like his eyes. Dead and dreamy. His entire persona is a contradiction in itself. His clothes, once respectable are now torn and grimy. The spit, sweat and vomit that has deposited themselves over the years rises as fumes around him. Funny as it may sound, that is his aura. People passing him try to stop breathing. He does not care. He walks his own road. Twisting and turning, going zigzag, down a straight cemented path. The world tries to ignore him, as he does the same. He is naked bottom down. His skin has turned black over the years, a sticky kind of black. His shirt is barely enough to cover his modesty. But who cares? Not him. Some cringe at his sight, some walk faster, some just stop and crack a joke, and some others laugh at that. I stare and wonder. Who is he? Does anyone know him? Did he have a family? Where are they? How does he live? How does he find food? Does he have a past? I have asked everyone in my locality. They know nothing. And yet they all agree on one thing. He has been around for a very long time. He goes on past me. Not blinking once, not turning or stopping. On and on to an unknown destination. Some place he might call home.

We are born into clichés and grow into them. We are taught to be what we should be.even if we chose to be something different, there is a cliché for that too. We are bound by a group, by its past. We are products of our past, and struggle to keep up its name and status. We all have a past to live up to, and a past to create for others to live up to. He has none.