Pakda pakdi

Image by Julien Lagarde via Flickr

The night waited stilly on me. It was an old habit of an old friend. I watched the mail trains speed past breathlessly across the tracks. The digital indicator ticked slowly second by painful second. I sucked on the last embers of my smoke stick and waited. My mind had not yet awoken, my heart was not yet asleep.

It was an old habit which had lost touch with me. These late night walks were my source of mental exercise. My thoughts just can’t refuse at the sight of an empty street. They start running at breakneck speed, but in a more clear and organized way. Like runners In a parade. I sat there watching trains run across parallel tracks snaking into the dark neverland. The station was dotted by a couple of beggars, who had dragged their tatters over their head to fight the night cold. The only other noise which punctured the chilling air was the squeals of a couple of kids running around the platform.  These little tykes ran around the cement seats making noises enough to make the sleeping constable grumble. I smiled. There is something liberating about childhood.

One of the kids walked up to me and stood near my seat. I looked up from the smoke and smiled at him. He looked like he had a question to ask, but just smiled. He would have been 6-7 years old. His ragged half pant was green, but had begun to turn into an imperceptible colour. The hair was black fading to brown. He was missing two teeth in the front, and the stains of his last vada pav were still visible on them. He smiled again. ‘Kya chahiye be?’ ‘Ap yaha kya kar rae ho?’ he asked.  ‘aise hi…Tu kya kar raha hai?’ ‘hum log khel rahe hain’ By now the remaining kids had gathered round.  They were playing pakda pakdi. I remembered the last time I had played the game. I was 10 and the smallest kid in the building. I never managed to catch anyone, so I gave up on playing.

I trundled out of the station by 1. The kids were running around on full steam. They didn’t look like they sepnt a day on 3 vada paavs and a cutting. They were smiling, laughing, cursing. I looked at them living their childhood. Free. Free from studies and tuitions. Free from school. Free from thoughts about a career. Free from parents looking to mould them into future investments. Free from fear. But then I looked at them again. Perhaps, this is the only freedom they have. As children. Soon they too will grow up. And the chains will rattle again. life will again chase them, hunt them when thy hide and vanish when they look for it.... Pakda pakdi

Epiphany...

I am a million thoughts

Bound by unborn expressions

Woven without a seam.

The undignified youth 

With a corrupted dream;

 Uncouth, vague, undefined;

Volatile, dull, unrefined.

The last of the best

The best of the worst,

The blessed sinner, the gentleman accursed

I am

Empty thoughts traveling on rattling trains

Getting up and down at crowded stations;

Whatever is, will be and has been
the sight beyond, the unseen.

I am

The surprising birth, the unexplained death

The beating heart, the fatigued breath.

Love lost, found and lost again

The broken heart stitched together in pain.

I am

The answer to a million mysteries

Never found never looked for

The questions raised by years of history,

Plague, sickness and war

I am

A million people speaking together at once

Gathering at crowded malls and marathon runs

I was and always will be

I am and forever will be.

A lot like Love.

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A simple conversation with a friend got me thinking about myself. The conversation was about relationships, more specifically the eternally complicated concept of love. Now, I am not the most expert orator on this thing, but it did get me thinking about my past, my relationships and people I have lost over time. Strange thing is I never thought I would remember them. Every time these memories come along, they bring with them a familiar pain. Numbing, dull and one that takes the wind out of your lungs. Nothing you do, will help you get over it. Get over it – familiar term. Reminds me of every one of those moments when my friends say ‘You’ll get over her.’  And I nod. Stupidly.

Can you ever get over someone? Can you just walk around forgetting a crush, heartache or a relationship? I don’t think so. These are memories. Not photographs; to burn and throw down the toilet bowl to flush. These are tattoos across your soul. You can’t remove them without causing permanent damage to yourself. I know. I have been there and been unsuccessful. Very. The pain is often unbearable. Sometimes it feels like you can’t breathe and every gasp of air feels like flames entering your lungs. Everything dulls in front of your eyes and the world seems fading away. But you don’t die. You live the pain again. For as long as you can; till you forget what life without the pain was like.

But pain is good sometimes. It tells you if what you lost was worth having.  If all those moments that you filled your life with were worth their little pleasures?  And they are. Like pleasant accidents you never plan. All you can do is experience them. I laugh at people who plan so much to fall in love, but try to ‘get over as soon as they are hurt. They forget ‘being in love’ is more pleasing than ‘falling’ in love. Yes, it hurts. Like the first ciggie. Like the first gulp of whiskey on an empty stomach. It burns. It fills your lungs with hot air. But you wouldn’t give that pain away for anything. Addicts are not invulnerable to hangovers and the pain of the substance. They are aware of it, but they do it for that one singular moment of incomparable pleasure. Where nothing else matters. I know this is a bad example, but you get it.

Call me a fool, a romantic or just a deranged drunk babbling; but I am in love. And I will always be. It is the most beautiful feeling you can experience. In fact that is the only way you can exist. All you can do is go through life sharing that love and hoping to god, someone does the same with you. That is all there is to it. If it hurts, let it. Wasn’t I born of pain, and shall I not die of it? i wouldn’t give up those memories for pleasure or comfort. And that is why I love, and live. J

11 for 2011!

I was planning on not having any resolutions this year, but I hate to live life without something to look forward to. So I gave it a thought. After three cups of coffee to cure the hangover, and a run throough my last writings, I jotted down a list of things I would like to do this year. So here are things I look forward to in 2011

1.Gain Weight

There once was a time when I was fat. Unbelievable but true! Now I could star in one of those ads against anorexia. So I want to gain weight again. It would be nice if I could actually take off my shirt and not have my pants fall off! :P

2. Get a tattoo

Now this has been a lifelong dream. I still haven’t decided on the design I want, but I really want it at the back of my head (which I am gonna shave). At 24, its now or never!!

3. Mend relations with dad.

I was thinking of putting this on the top of my list, but then I would be lying to myself. And putting this below no2, creates a conflict of irony as always.. So lets see if I manage both..

4. Start Investing (Take Responsibility)

This has been my bane. I cannot handle money, nor do I care about it. But all evidence points that I need to move in the opposite direction. I have started reading on certain investments and really have begin to believe in the role of aliens in the shaping of our civilization. Who the f@#k understands these things?

5. Call everyone who doesn’t remember me

Everyone has a bad habit. Well, I got them all. But losing touch with them takes away the fun. So this year, I am going to start calling everyone who hates me. It might take me the whole year, but I just miss those awkward conversations

6. Stay sober more often

I know I know…. I am on it... The lesser said about it the better.

7. Spend lesser time on FB

I am beginning to get annoyed by this trend of social networking. I intend to start using my phone on a more regular basis. Hopefully! Damn you Zucker- berg!!

8. Get my ass on the road!

 Trust me, I have been on my share of trips(hic), but a road trip is the least immoral, unethical and uncomplicated of the lot. Remains my dream and something I hope to accomplish this year. Hopefully to the Himalayas.

9. Get back to ABC…

One target for this year, remains getting my MA degree. There is nothing more important and necessary for me and needs to be taken care of ASAP.  Let me start by putting it on this list (at least I’ll have mentioned it! :P )

10.Spend more time at home

Something I have not done enough last year.  Can I hear an aww cho chweet? ;)

11.Start writing more often

Going with the 2011 theme, my 11th thing to accomplish this year would be to write my blog more often. This is difficult, being that I spend my whole day writing. But I really miss those creative exercises and hope I start writing shit like I used to. Nothing makes me feel better in the morning like the smell of pissed on paper :D

So have fun reading, cos I gotta get working on the list.. ciao. 

Dreary Christmas

It's the most wonderful time of the year :P
With the kids all yelling
And everyone telling you "Don’t you drink beer" 
It's the most wonderful time of the year :P
It's the hap-happiest season of all ;)
With awkward meetings and status and tweetings 
When friends come to call 
It's the hap- happiest season of all  (Ohh yeah!)

There'll be parties for hosting 
Plenty of boasting 
And everyone blows..  
There'll be scary childhood stories 
And tales of the boring 
Christmases long, long ago 

It's the most wonderful time of the year :P
There'll be twisting and turning  
And hearts will be  burning
When relatives are near 
It's the most wonderful time of the year (yeah ryte)

A poem by Nida Fazli.

Safar me dhoop to hogi

Jo chal sako to chalo. 

Sabhi hain bheed me,

Jo tum nikal sako, to chalo. 

kai manzilein, raaste hain yahaan;

Bane banaaye saanche hain yahaan, 

Jo inme dhal sako to chalo. 

Kisi ke liye kahaan raahein badalti hain, 

Jo apne aap ko badal sako to chalo. 

Koi kisi ke liye raasta nahi dega, 

jo mujhko giraakar tum sambhal sako,

To chalo. 

Sabhi ko hai mehfuz raaston ki talaash,

hifaazaton ki rivaayat badal sako to chalo. 

Kahin koi suraj nahi, Dhua dhua sa hai fiza,

Apne aap se baahar nikal sako to chalo. 

Bas yahi hai zindagi; 

Kucch khwaab, chand ummidein, 

Jo in khilounon se dil behla sako to chalo. 

                     ----    Nida Fazli.

Sleepy half baked memories

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Sometimes in the empty thoughts that crowd my mind, I see familiar faces. Faces that once stood for something. Smiling, laughing, joking, and yet strange in their appearance. I remember them, but I do not know why I remember them. Why do people affect you in so many ways, when you do not even talk to them that long? Yet, there I am, plagued by these bitter sweet memories, trying to remember why I remember them. They are long lost friends. People who did me a favor or two. Dates that I never repeated. Strange encounters on the bus and trains.

Sometimes when I am lonely and lost, when times seem too difficult to make conversations with people around me, I recall them. And usually, they are stuck in that perennially happy moment. And I stand at a corner of this imaginary dream and watch them laughing, joking and smiling. And I like to think they remained like that forever. Nameless, they light up my day without any reason. If you have seen me staring at blank walls and smile, you know what I am talking about. But somehow, that is a moment I remember these characters in. And in that moment when smiles become identifications, I can see my heart lighten up and smile. Some people smoke, some drink, I just lose myself in memories. Cheaper, simpler and well, no side effects.  

Sick to the Stomach

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The veins on my hand stand out. It feels numb, cold and strange. In many ways, it is not my hand at all. Punctured and poked with so many holes, in order to feed my body, it has lost all its strength. My stomach rumbles; craving for some comfort food, and yet all I have by my side is bland porridge and cold milk. The first gulp I take feels like cold metal entering through dead, rusty pipes into an old warehouse. What did they do to me? Did they strip me of all my senses? Can I no longer taste, smell, see like before? My eyes burn like I have never used them before. I try to take a few steady steps before stumbling back. Parched throat and hungry stomach add to the sapping weakness that makes up my singular structure.

Sickness can do so much to a human being. It can rebuild him, change him, or destroy him. Or like in my case, it can chew him up completely and spit him out; leaving the remaining to be sucked out by the merciless world. All I can do is wait!  

Leaving Memories..

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I’ll remember you

When someone talks too loud,

When one person speaks enough for a crowd,

When people enter the room like a storm,

When insanity becomes the norm,

When I hear the hauntingly annoying tune of a song,

When meaningless conversations run for too long,

When I hear another one of those weird sneezes,

That make me sit up and go ‘Jesus’!

I’ll remember you;

I’ll remember you

For all the silly stupid, nonsensical things that you do,

Because you truly were off your jack,

You were the crackhead who was not on crack,

But that is what made you so cool,

Although you behave like a fool,

I’ll remember you;

And this is exactly why,

Although I may fail

I promise to try,

And remember you.

Poverty

Image by carlaarena via Flickr

They mill around us in noisy silences

Hungry cries renting our musical silences

And we shall turn our eyes away

As far as our conscience has turned

To places and dreams faraway

Hoping these starving stomachs have burned

But they remain.

Like ghosts of unburied pasts;

their hungry, naked bodies crying for help.

For a piece of bread in our hands;

But there are barriers in between

We, who will feed a dog, before we feed our brothers,

We, taught to look at them as dogs,

Dogs are better, they share

Us; we just don’t care. 

I see life

Image by may the circle remain unbroken via Flickr

I see life
Thirsting, panting, crying
I see life
Waiting, wanting, buying;
I see life
Breathing, cursing, ranting
I see life
Seething, raging, recanting
I see life
preaching, teaching, writing
I see life
hurting, stealing, fighting
And all through this myriad world
I see life
Living and Dying.

600 Bucks for Reconciliation

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This was a big day. They had been waiting for this day for; I don’t know how many years. So was I. I remember a time, when going to a hotel was a big occasion. This was a once in 6 month feature when I got to taste something other than the usual rice-rasam. But it had been a long time since we had done this together. Just me and my parents. I stopped at the ATM with both my mom and dad following me into the counter. It was funny looking at my dad, who was warning me against drawing too much and the look on my mom’s face on seeing the working of the ATM. She kept asking me how it worked at least twice since then. I felt like a teacher taking kids on a school picnic. For once I was grown up.

I eat with them every day. My mom never starts dinner without me, and yet I never realized the distance between us. As I stared across the blue tablecloth and wondered what to speak, I realized that I had never had a proper informal conversation with them in a very long time. It must have been before my teens that I would have spoken to them without fear or hesitation. It felt odd. I could notice their apprehension in ordering and my mom’s eyes kept skirting the price line. I smiled. Some things never change.

I don’t know when the distance had set in. Maybe it was after my failures. But it had grown too big. I meet them everyday, see them and speak to them every day. And yet, we have not had one proper conversation. Dinners are spent across the television sets and the rest of the day in a blank radio silence. And yet, there they were; across the table looking through the menu and choosing the food. Silently…

Soon we were talking and joking. Like long lost friends who just met each other across the street. The early hesitation had melted away into familiarity. By the third course, we were talking about how much I had changed. My father had never eaten so much and neither had mom. Maybe I had never given them that much to eat. I was caught in the no-man’s land of sentimentality and nostalgia. Where everything you see reminds you of something that makes you want to cry. I couldn’t. Not now.

I paid the bill and looked at my dad’s face smiling at me. I could see that he wanted to say something and was holding it back. I knew what it was. We walked out the lobby and got into the rick to go home. My mom looked at me and said ‘Thank you.’ Was that how big a jerk I had become? My parents had to thank me for treating them to a good meal. Was this how far we had grown apart? I didn’t know the answers but I didn’t want to. I just wanted to hug them and cry, cry like I never wanted to let go. But I couldn’t. I was too stunned at my own stupidity.

Selling God At Discounted Rates

Image by FrogStarB via Flickr

The knock hits my door like a splash of water on a sleepy face. I open my eyes drowsily dreading who it might be. Its already august and festivals are on us. Rakhi, Independence Day, and Ganeshotsav rise to prominence in this month of fading rains and rising humidity.   I don’t mind festivals, what I mind is sponsoring them. I hate the fact that certain very enterprising entrepreneurs in our society would stoop to the level of using my liberalism as an excuse to collect money. In simple terms, I hate to pay for someone else’s party. So what if it is God himself? If he is so big, he ought to know to take care of himself.

I opened the door to see the jackass with his entire flock smiling at me. ‘Kya hai bey?’  was my first reaction. ‘For ganpati.’   ‘What for ganpati?’  ‘Collection?’   ‘What are you collecting specifically?’   I had by now made up my mind to annoy these guys, as they had annoyed my sleep.  ‘C’mon yaar! Stop playing around.’  I looked at him. Is he really dumb, or do you have to be like this when you are borrowing money?   ‘Listen brother! Appreciate what you are doing here. But I am not interested in paying money for your charade.’  His eyebrows knotted up ‘This is for a good cause’     ‘Really? Are you going to be donating this money to cancer affected children? To the disabled army veterans or to the alcoholics anonymous? Huh!’    ‘Eh…no but…’    ‘Well, then, no. Thank you…Check somewhere else.’

By now my dad had arrived from his shaving ritual and heard the last line. ‘ Shriram!! Stop talking nonsense and give them money!’     ‘I am not going to. If you want, do the honors yourself.’    ‘Uncle, chalega. You give na!’  Oh! Smart move a-hole… You are a salesman.  My dad came to the door with his purse. He picked out a green hundred note and passed it over.  ‘Sorry uncle. Fixed rate hai. 201 Rs.’    What the…!! I couldn’t resist     ‘Pata nahi tha, Ganpati ka bhaav badh gaya! Sorry, we will check some other place. It’s too costly for us.’    That wiped the smirk off the face of both my father and the entire collection team.  My dad was solidly pissed by now.  ‘He is just like that. No respect for tradition. An anti-society mentality! Sorry re… here you go.’ He handed over the money.  I smiled, BTW, that’s anti-societal, dad. Not anti-society. J

I am really pissed that morality and religiousness go hand in hand in society. It is not necessary to be a god fearing individual in order to be morally and ethically correct. But the opposite is always true. You can’t collect money for god on compulsion. You can’t tell me to pay up 200 bucks, on the refusal of which you will term me an unsocial and an immoral bastard. I refuse to be held ransom by people’s opinions. And I do not think the Elephant headed god himself, would mind not being dumped in the oil contaminated ocean for once this year! I hate the fact that what started as a social gathering to integrate people has turned into a competition between money minded groups, creating a platform for corporates to plant their names on billboards larger than the statues themselves. If there is a god, I am sure he is pretty pissed at the way we are using his name.  No wonder, he does not speak to us anymore. 

Morning thoughts

Image by Mo Kaiwen 莫楷文 via Flickr

Staring at broad daylight

Wishing it was night

Falling with the stars in the sky

White as lightning, dark as night,

I stand at the edge of the horizon

When vision fades out of sight

All you can see is the sun, the moon

And the stars watching over your head

While I watch over their lights

Everything melts into serenity

Life stares at you and death smiles;

Love sits by your side

And talks you through the night

So in the morning when I wake

And see the fading sky light

I wonder if this was just a dream

Am I feeling all right?

And yet somehow everything seems fine

Till the time I have you in my sight. 

To say or not to say

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Every time I look at you

There is something new

Is it the hair, the clothes?

Or is it just you?

Sitting there in a crowded bus,

Swishing the hair from your face

As you read that stupid novel

Something from James Hadley Chase.

I stand there watching;

Watching you read and smile,

While the raindrops splash on the window

And the bus crosses another mile.

The way you look at me

When you catch me staring

I wish I said what I felt

I wish I was a bit more daring.

I don’t know if you ever realized

What I felt and didn’t say

I wonder if you looked into my eyes

And knew it on the first day,

That I might never forget you

I wonder if you ever knew.

Would it make a difference?

Would you really care?

Wish I knew the answers

I really wish, I do. 

Death in a dream

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Darkness descends with a gleam,

Upon steel manors in sleepless dreams;

When broken hearts struggle and gasp

For that one evasive breath,

It slips in by the bedstead and whispers

‘Fear not. I am death.’

Turning old.... but first....

So I got to thinking today, and realized I was turning old. I know, because …I am a smart guy. And of course, some people have started giving me signs. Its dangerous. I have come to notice that aging is fatal Most people who age tend to …well, simply put, die. I know, it’s the law of life, course of nature and government conspiracy and all, but I really don’t wanna do that. Not till I have gone on a date with Deepika padukone, or Sonam Kapoor. I am good for both. Anyways, I am digressing. The point is that I have never known what to do with my life. Not my fault, there never was a rulebook given to me when I came out my mom. So I went with the flow. Followed my chi, shot in the dark and so on. I’ve been some bad places and some really freaking bad ass ones (which I would tell you, but then I’d have to kill you). But it has been interesting for me. That does not mean that there aren’t things that I do not want to do. There are. So, before I get back to the fatal task of aging, I decided I would add another one of the lists that I am increasingly becoming fond of. So here goes. A list of things I wanna do before I turn thirty ( or die) whichever is before.

10. To be on the cover of a magazine, even if it is my own. (Damn!! Should’ve done that last year…Never mind)

9. To learn swimming. My friends seem to be very fond of water and places around them, and not so fond of me. Better do this before next week.

8. To learn to dance the salsa, the flamenco or tap dance. Or maybe just learn to move to the music without stepping on somebody. That would be nice.

7. To learn to drive….a car. I know I drive people crazy already, but it would be fun if they knew I could ‘drive’ crazy too!

6. I want to get published. You know, write a book and be paid for it. A Booker or a Pulitzer on the side would be nice too. :)

5. To get into a fight. Seriously. How can you trust a guy who never got into a fight, huh? And PS : I am not psychotic. I can get psychiatric references to prove that.

4. To build a six pack. Now I know that I have a naturally, attractive (sexy) ravishing physique. But I am really trying to work in the fitness angle here.

3. To go bungee jumping. Come to think of it, this is the less crazier of the things I’ve mentioned. The dancing should’ve been here.

2. To learn to play the guitar. Or the drums. Or the f***ing tambourine. Anything that I can impress a girl with. My humour doesn’t seem to work. Seriously.

1. Now the number one was very hard to decide. It was a tie between running down the streets naked and going on a roadtrip But the unlikely winner, was decided by intuition. It is something that i've admired and envied in others. An ability to love something/someone to death.

I am counting every day trying to make these happen. Care to lend a hand ;)?

Pete Townsend acoustic Won't Get Fooled Again

A personal survey

So, I heard my friends speak about me and realized they have a lot of mistaken opinions about me. So I wanted to know if everybody has the same opinions. Will help clear a lot of doubts about myself. So I have decided to make a questionnaire that I keep asking myself but find no answer to. It is hard to judge oneself. So please help me….

1. What is the one thing that makes me stand out? (I like to start with something goodJ)

2. What is the one thing that you absolutely hate about me?

3. One thing you would warn people who meet me for the first time about.

4. One thing you would like to see me change in myself

5. One thing you would absolutely not like me to change in myself

6. A career that you think I would be good at

7. One thing that, according to you, I can never do

8. Tell me one thing you would like to hear me say

9. Tell me one thing you would not like to hear me say

10. Finally, how would you remember me when I am dead.

Please, I am sending this out as an SOS…. Please be honest, and if possible. Good. I will give my defense of my actions in my further blogs…. So go ahead, crap the shite outta me… This is your chance.

PS : for people wondering how to write the comments….. just put number and answer the qstn… I expect some answers…

Thanks a lot for helping me on this matter. Your help is valuable to me. J