Up in the air - a point of view

With a billion miles in his back pack; he has no room left. No room for anything or anyone. Definitely no room for intangible items like love and relationships, especially love and relationships; because they are the heaviest of all. They slow him down; they are messy. And you can't throw them in the bin before checking in for your flight. On the other hand, those photographs he carries with him, the ones he shows to his co-passengers; have other people in them. You can't take a picture of yourself at the bar by yourself. It would not exactly qualify for a memory worth preserving. So you see, his backpack is light but his heart's heavy. His miles mean a lot to him like the points you get by running over people in those ps3 games. And his job is to fire employees for firms who don't have the balls to do it. One messed up guy he is. You can't live like this for long. In the end, its the sky over the clouds; all blue, up in the air.

7 days to a new year, 7 thoughts to a few dear

At 25 or so, or may be a couple of years before and after, when the feeling of age is confusing in terms of Life earned; and by earned I only mean life spent, i.e., days made through and stalled, promises kept and piled up, smiles stitched and spread, memories dusted and picked up again; there is something strange that we all miss.

Imagine missing a "i love you" in a day spent together, or a "thank you" at the elevator door. Small things. Small things add up, just like in maths. I remember when I first started to learn simultaneous equation (SE); I was excited. I could solve two variables. Throw in a few trigonometric functions and I was ecstatic. Until quadratic equations showed up and SE became obvious, got into a habit of being solved; become a passe'.

I get that same feeling, now that the year ends. It started new and fresh, and then days became habits, months became obvious; until 2009 passed by me. I thought about life (just like the last few years, nothing new about it). I got criticized and sympathized all along. I couldn't possibly solve life, but found that there are innumerable ways to make it bearable, livable, enjoyable, dramatic and divine. I learnt that nothing really matters, life's only a chance. Sometimes that one in a billion chance feels like a miracle, the rest of the time it's just the entropy (E) of the world increasing. I also learnt that how you contribute to that ΔE somehow matters. I am sure I did just fine. So in short, I lived well; I guess.

How did you fair at life this year? Is there even a need for self assessment? I'm sure if I ask Dad, he'll say: " Just Keep Going!"

I guess living was never about life and its milestones. It's all about the turns, believe me. You have to slow down. And just before you go hard on the gas again, make up your mind; for the blue skies, the clear lakes and the waving green on the way will pass you by.

To do list

get a haircut
buy a blue shirt, a red tie, a black suit and white socks
clean my place
finish writing the report
learn the new progression: G - D - Am - E
submit photograph for resume book

stop being lazy
stop looking for reasons

just do it.

the ultimate joy

A man is born to deliver, to give to others; all throughout his life. Love to his spouse, care to his siblings and time to his passions. Few men earn enough, to give to the community, the society, the country or may be the world. Somewhere in between, they die.

When does he find the ultimate joy? When he, holds the baby he made, or, drives the new car he bought, or, learns how to play the guitar and then plays it for his soul mate. May be its something simpler. I guess, its the small appreciations he receives for the small nothings he does all the time around people. That's his fuel to keep him running day and night. Until one day he dies.; happy.

You live and learn. At any rate, you live. Douglas Adams

ways to stay human.....

Insanity is like a brush stroke on a canvas. Only, the color is white. Hard to spot, yet almost harmless.
Insanity strikes me when, my plans fail, and I am assured that He has plans for me.

Thank you God.

3 things to let you know..........

It had to be now. So, in no specific order of chronology, impression or reason; I have a few thought balls bouncing in my mind.

1. In an ideal world, If I do what I've always done, I should get what I've always gotten. Even in the real world, I find perfect explanation for all my actions. Only, some are not rational enough, while the rest don't matter.
# I had to make 3 trips to the BMV (Bureau of Motor Vehicles) today, to get my driving license. I missed a document each time and was sent back with a smile (note: BMV has all female employees). When finally they took my photograph for the DL, I looked like crap. Now, whenver a bar bouncer, a cop or an aquaintance looks at my ID, I have an explanation.

2. Sometime back, I asked someone, "So, why do you pray everyday? What do you have to do to make Him consider your request?" I got a brilliant answer: " He does listen to me each time I pray. But, most of the times his answer is - No. I flatter him all the time, telling him how great he is. I thank him, to please him just enough to get a Yes."
# Last Friday evening, I cleaned my place, took a shower, lit a fragarence candle, switched off all lights and sat down to pray. But soon my mind wandered; to sex.

3. Being the joker is a tough job. You make 'em laugh all the time, and yet not expect anything from anyone, not even a smile. Its like sainthood. It'll take me a while, but I think I can get there, be Godlike. :P
See i just failed. Starting over again............
# The joker in Dark Knight says that he is not a schemer, he just does things. Yet, he kills 10 cops, brings down a helicopter, gives Batman the wrong address for Rachel and turns Harvey into Two-face.

perfect days

These are my perfect days of despair. I will never forget them just like the others from past. I bet I am not the only one thinking about it. But I sure am the one enjoying it the most.

It's a dream come true.

a few lines that stayed

Maria: I won't regret a bit if I know I die tomorrow. My parents would be sad. But it don't matter to anyone if I am not alive any more.
Maria is 35, single, doing research; plans to go back to being the professor she was.

Carlos: I bought a red honda civic with sun roof on the second day of my job. However, I have no place to stay, no place to park.
Carlos starts a new job, a new life at Seattle this Monday.

Joe: There is so much that can be done. I am unpredictable this spring.
Joe Sinfield is a professor at CEM, Purdue.


Lucas: There is more to life than basketball. Love and success don't mix. It ain't enough if you dream, u've gotta kill at least a few.
Lucas Scott is the new coach for the Ravens (One Tree Hill)


Sachin: It is very weird, it hurts (when things I know will happen, do happen)
Sachin Verma is in Delhi at JLLM.


And I thought I am the only one fed up.

:song for now:

poetry of the hackneyed

i wake up to no sunshine or breakfast eggs
no clear sky to glide no blooming path to tread
i come back at dusk not to coffee but to whisky pegs
no sleep, no dreams, wide gaping thoughts instead

this sounds like a day like everyday
like a song like every song
like words, of no special need
like poetry, of the hackneyed

they

one quiet evening with distant birds,
i'll try remembering everyone.

all who wove my sky,
all who spilled my seas.

all the names, all their faces,
all the songs, all their words.

get me the magic mirror,
teach me the zen.

tell me how, my Almighty,
tell me when.



and for now...................

my words to a beautiful story- the kite runner

Amir would fly the kite and Hassan would hold the spool. Amir would cut a dozen of those in the sky and Hassan would be his kite runner. Each time he ran to fetch the kite, he would shout to his master,"For you my friend, a thousand times over." Amir was the son of the master, Hassan, the servant's boy.
It started in 1978, when the Russians had turned Afghanistan into their pleasure factory of human masssacre. Afghanistan was losing its green.
But they still flew kites. And this made Amir and Hassan the best pals. Amir was weak, not brave enough to fight the big kids in the street. But he was a good story teller. Once he wrote a story about a poor man who got a cup that would turn tears into pearls. The story ended with the man on a heap of pearls with a bloody knife and a dead wife. Having heard this, Hassan had said," Why kill someone you love? Why didn't he use onions instead?"
Hassan was brave, but small in size, besides being a servant's son. He couldn't save himself one day while he was getting back with the kite Amir had won. He was sodomized by a grownup kid. Amir saw everything happening hiding behind a wall. Since then he knew he had failed his friendship.
He stayed away from Hassan as much as possible. He tried his best to make Hassan hate him. Then one day the servants left the house. So did the master and his boy. They escaped to Pakistan and then to the US.
Came 1988 and Amir graduated only to tell Baba, his father, a store owner now, he wanted to become a writer. He married Soraya. At the wedding, she asked him as he looked at her,"What do you see?" "I see the rest of my life", he had said. Shortly after Amir's Baba died. He became a successful writer. But he could never have a child with Soraya."God has always been fair," he would say to himself.
Twelve years later, Baba's friend in Pakistan called. He asked him to fly down to Lahore. When he did, he came to know that Hassan had been shot by the Taliban while he was taking care of his house in Kabul. And then came the fact that blew away his mind. Hassan was the illegitimate child of Baba. Hassan was his brother. All those days of kite flying and story telling flashed before Amir. And the heinous act he had witnessed cowardly came back to him.
Hassan had a son, Sohrab who lived in an orphanage now. He had to be brought out of the hell. It ws perhaps Amir's only way to be good again.
With Farid, a trusted driver, they went into Afghanistan. Afghanistan was now a blazing cemetery. Disguised as Talibans they made there way to Kabul and then to the orphanage only to know that Sohrab had been taken away by a local Taliban head for his pervert pleasures. God has always been fair. Amir had to get this boy out, take him back and make him his son. In pursuit of the boy, he met Assef, the same kid who had molested Hassan was now using his son. A fight followed and Sohrab who was as quick as his father with the slingshot hit Assef in the eye. Amir, Sohrab and Farid fled. They were lucky.
Amir brought back the boy to his wife and he was his family now. But it was not easy for the child. He once told Amir that he had started forgetting the faces of his parents. And that it was good his parents had died because he couldn't show them his face now. He felt dirty.
Then came the kite flying day. Amir flew the kite while Sohrab watched. As soon as Amir cut a kite in the sky, he saw Sohrab smiling. The healing had begun. Amir asked him, " Do you want me to be your kite-runner?" He nodded in agreement.
And as Amir ran to fetch the kite he said,"For you my friend, a thousand times over."

how my maggi turned out to be super-delicious

I wish I had remembered everything that had happened. Its like the dream that you are sure of but will never know what was it like. I had created a masterpiece but will never know how I did it.
I started with boiling a small pack of mixed vegetables that had peas, beans, carrots and corn, all neatly chopped to perfect size. They looked beautiful in the skillet which had just enough water to help them relax, enjoy the warm waters after the freezing winter in the fridge.
Well, pretty soon they realized they were neck deep in troubled waters. If I am not wrong, I added the noodles in the skillet as soon as the water started boiling. Also, I had used a fork and not a spoon to stir.( I dont want to miss a thing, just to be sure it was not a forgotten dream.)

I waited for magic to happen. But alas! The phone rang. I left the kitchen like a killer leaving the crime scene. When I came back to my noodles, all the water was gone, some spilled, some took the arial route. So I added more water as I cursed the phone, the caller and the stove. I forgot myself there to be blamed. Finally the mix was added. But like I always do, I was not finished yet. The cook in me said-" This is no work of art." So I added everything in the spices cabinet. A little bit of this and a little bit of that. I even added crushed almonds. Why? Because I could. It's God's little trick to put odd things at odd places. I forgot myself there to be blamed again.

And with little expectation for my work on the stove, with curbed down taste buds and letting no emotion overcome the only relevant one-hunger, I ate. And I ate. I loved my maggi. I always do. And I blame myself for this.

:)

another fairy tale

The phone rang thrice before he picked it up to hear the voice he'd been waiting for days. He believed that this was the voice that would relieve him of his solitude and sadness. They were going to meet tonight.
He took the much needed shower, put on his best clothes and cologne . He was ready to meet her. There she came all in red. She had grown thinner, but looked beautiful as ever. Christmas break had done wonders for her. Before he could say anything, she hugged him and he didn't want to let go. A kiss on the cheek later, he asked her how she'd been. She smiled. They were together for a few hours with other people they knew. But all he thought of was the hug.
He wanted to talk to her, he wanted to tell her that he liked her. He couldn't. She drove him back to his place. He didn't want to go back, he wanted to go to her place, talk to her, stop feeling lonely for a change. But a feeling got over him while he saw her driving. And he said-"I'm glad you came back." She laughed, touched his cheek like he was a kid.
Dan was 19 when he fell in love with Sarah, his distant aunt, single and beautiful.

fairy tale

They walked next to each other. They walked with the thousand others. Every single day since Thanksgiving, they had walked on this street, sometimes even touched each other, a gentle brush, unknowingly. But their eyes couldn't meet. She had coffee in one hand and a bag in the other. He had a newspaper and a dog. And there was music-the taps on the asphalt and the whispers in the air.

She had a history of broken relationships. She was beautiful. And single for quite a while now. He on the other hand could never build a relationship. He was intelligent.
The weather forecast was snow and winds at 30mph. They walked fast to get back home. And then it happened. She almost tripped him. She wouldn't have cared to stop and say sorry. But she noticed the dog. And then noticed the man.
Now, each time they walked on the street, they made sure to look for faces and walk slow. They saw each other, smiled at each other and kept smiling for the rest of the day.
Until one day the man stopped her, he had to. He was bewitched by her. He said Hi!
Jake and Emma fell in love.

year of Pritam

AWAARAPAN	To phir aao
	Tera mera rishta
	Mahiya
BHUL BHULAIYA	Labon ko
	Title track
DARLING	Saathiya
GOAL	Billo rani
JAB WE MET	Aao Milo Chalo
	Mauja Hi Mauja
	Tumse Hi
	Yeh Ishq Haaye
JUST MARRIED	Gudgudee
KYA LOVE STORY HAI	Gumsum Hai Dil Mera
	It's Rocking
NAQAAB	Ek din teri raahon
RAQEEB	Jaane kaise
METRO	Alvida
	Baatein Kuchh Ankahee
	In Dinon
	O Meri Jaan
	Rishtey

premonitions

i write this as i listen to songs;

so this one has to be lyrical [:P]


"moments long gone, never leave me.
of us, the rain, and the coolest things around.

of simple sounds like the wind and the whistle.
of sweet breaks from the laughter marathons.

when feelings of the gut couldn't make it to the head.
when all that mattered was chocolate, cricket and sunday."


achcha ye suno ab:


achaar ka tel aloo ke chokhe mein daal ke raat ki roti ke saath khaana
nayi pencil sharpner mein daal ke kaafi der tak ghumaana

aisa kuch bachche jaisa karne ka aaj bhi mann to hota hai par kya karein; jeena bhi to hai .[:)]

RE:writing the year '07

It was too much to keep to myself, so I chose to blog.
its always been a pleasure letting others know;
a weak cause, but strong content. [:P]

lets just breeze through the months and pick:
a thought, a day, an event, a something that stayed till today [:)]


jan : All I remember is,
JLL wale batchmates, GKK wales, and Rames
the new bed in my room at azad, kgp;
the walk in the fog to eggies;

feb : Council of Archituktuk[:P]
Frappachino at Nescafe
14th ; the rose at billoos and the drunk santra [:)]
the weeks without a bath

mar : bankruptcy
holi, juniors, the cheddis
dept. of A&RP; the key #17
the taxi trips to kolkata @ Rs. 300-1200 a day

april : fear of leaving,
the purdue news, the stanford news
the start of an end at the shot of love
the final endsems; the final early morning chai; the way that girl looked at us( immu nd
me) on our bike trip to the cheddis

may: the night when i cried making the video
the next night when they sang and said goodbye
the night i had alcohol and danced at orkos, the last dance with us
my last chance to be close to her, and she looked beautiful @ harrys, awesome on the
pulsar and gorgeous @ swagat [:P]
the bbyes
the uncertainity
the udhaaari
hasita, park, tsc, odomos

june: ghar, kgp, ghar, kolkata
the fights with dad coz he didnt have the money and i didn't have a job
the visa
the bank


july: the bank
nari @ himadri's
........
mitro @ kolkata, achcha aadmi hai

aug: i went to delhi to catch the flight, had no money for tuition fees, as if sala kismat pe kutte ne moot diya tha, sachin came, we had beer, i waited. Suddenly, things cleared out, papa and mummy came and i had the money..it always come down to fucking money in His fucking world, so i hate it and i want to wait for the day when i burn a hundred dollar bill to light my cigar in my fucking huge library
I came to purdue
God came back to life, i got a life; and some money to start with

sep: i started missing people, things, even open windows
i realized she had gone by now
the bus, the lake and the amrikan accent

oct : padhai likhai, friends online, music offline
rumi, sachin, nari, immu, hasita, venky
the beer called Heineken

nov: padhai likhai
the Maria in my office who picked me in her car [:P] she will be back for the new yr bash
the weeks when i forgot everything about everyone and went to college everyday, came
back, cooked, worked on assignments, did everything that deserves no more than what i
have written

dec: exams,
exams over,
jab we met,
kittu di,
snow, sun, ice,
its fucking cold out here
i am bored
help me out
ek dhang ka indian ladka ya ladki dilaa do agle ek saal ke liye yahan..kaam chalaa lenge[:P]

thats it....................................................
i'm done with this yr

are YOU ?


next blog: new yr premonitions

on trying to make a comeback

to what?

myself: having so much yet missing the essentials, being sad, thoughtful, retrospective and everything else of that kind

my songs: feelings of bereavement, pain, fate and love, listening to them so many times that the songs take over, make me sad, sometimes cry. why make them so powerful!

my blog: letting out feelings? or making them and then faking them through words which do nothing but always tell the reader that i am a narcissist.

she is right; all answers that are preceded by a pause, are followed by silence, coz they have nothing worthwhile in them.

i used my share of the pause, and now I don't want to answer, don't want to come back.
So don't even try asking me a question, i will run away instead, like always.

on not writing

Coz



I AM tooo BUSY to feel & write what i feel

on what it takes to be just happy.

items of happiness

beer
girls
aliens on xbox
smoking pot
sexy girls
music
lap-dance
bike
pizza
fridays
birthday
phone calls
work
sleep
movies
neighbors
shops
birds
rain
the moon
solitude
fuck words
bathtub
fights
big tv
small tv
barbecue
india
cricket
photographs
chats
bus
jeans
credit card
US of A

All of them are at arms reach.
All but one.
A HUG.
thats all i need
to be just happy.

songs for now: saawariya
the story of saawariya is based on a short story -White Nights. do read this one. its beautiful!