Ab ke saawan aise barse...

The view from my terrace makes me want to fly in the clouds......and so do the shit-overflowing streets. The sun's taken a sabbatical, the grey sky looms over like the cape of a devil, the good old smell of moist mud has turned into a stench, you can't look up at the sky without drops impinging your face like a thousand needles & relentlessly forcing your face down. The potholes are forever clogged, every time a vehicle passes you, you hold back your breath & wait for that dirty splash, the bottoms of your lowers are always wet & sprinkled with mud, the umbrella's always up. Where has the 'crisp' disappeared? Literally. Every biscuit or chips I bite into, tastes like dough. The crush turned into romance, & the romance is now fading away. Hmmm....reminds me of a story familiar. It's like Forks, but without the vampires, the werewolves, or the clumsy chick. And like I wasn't enough to decimate my gadgets that the wet weather playing best pals too. Thank you very much but I was doing an awesome job without much help, dearest Rains! Remember the good old times back in scorching Delhi when the pouring rains were the excuse to coming late, not anymore sir, no..because its just as regular here, as the morning sun & ofcourse, hot headed Sun ain't no excuse for dropping in late now, is it? The good side to the story- every leaf looking brand new, cool wind blowing across your face, the sight in far distance, where distinct drops mingle together like mist, seaside looking awe-rendering. Not to forget the trivialities like wet white shirts (wink!!) & low electricity bills. A photographer's paradise, a pedestrian's nightmare, indeed! 

The Stale Fresh

Do I like travelling or photography. Yes. Do I like capturing random moments on my reel or watching others unfold such candid moments? Yes. Do I appease myself by watching travel diaries, for my lack of travel? Indeed. Does a hot host add to the pleasure of pseudo-travel? A little. Does the hot host's desperate attempts to add the fun element spoil the fun? Yes. Do I feel the adrenaline rush when I see people sign on a near suicide note taking the blame on themselves if anything were to happen to them while jumping off cliffs with a rope fastened to their waists, or from a 40,000 feet high flying plane, with a parachute and an altitude meter? Hell yeah!!

Where do I turn to if I want to do all of the above? Move aside National Geographic, Discovery TLC or Photo galleries. Bollywood Flicks are here. Indian moviemakers have risen beyond the trivial storylines OR dialogues OR good humour OR 'the so-called 'inspiration' from the Hollywood blockbusters. Apparently, tijori ki chaabi is the Cinematography. Hire a foreign ace photographer, throw in a couple of method actors, offload a few songs on their 'unconventional' aka offkey vocal cords, don't forget to add the 'all ends well' bit & the audience is gushing about the simplistic beauty, the fresh appeal, the soothing music. The purpose of cinema is, ofcourse, entertainment, & seems like the Indian Audience is finally maturing to a new paradigm of realistic drama, where not all the people have a sense of humour or memorable dialogue or delivery. Is being 'Regular' the new unconventional or is it just a novelty waiting to turn blase? Or is it just another paradox: In the race to be different, all have become the same- Wannabe Differentiators.

Am I ready for such offbeat cinema....Not yet. I still seek laughter, or the goosebumps while watching a movie instead of watching a star studded documentary ramble on, reminding me of the money I blew up, for the same thing I could've watched back home, with a li'l less masala, & a li'l more liberty to switch the channel as I  pleased.

Interlude

I thought there was some
time, and again I realise this folly of mine
and forever's the years I spent
here, I say to you I will be
back, with a bang.

p.s.: Thanks Jo, for introducing me to the idea of word play ;)

Knock knock....knocking on Heaven's door.

It wasn't just another day. And there was a reason why I did not call up the others. A faint connect with the feeling that I was one of the headbanging fans in the moshpit, vying for a single eye contact with the rocker singing on the stage.I wanted to absorb it in, in its pure, untouched avatar, like the moment I was standing atop a hill, with my arms spread out like an eagle's wings, embracing the cold rush of the winds against my body, & taking in each gasp of air, as if it were my last. My rocker this time was FORE.

(This has got be THE compliment my college has ever received, beating all the damned college ratings it has climbed, & no, I haven't lost my marbles :|).

Walking down the corridors, canteen (yes, it was called CANTEEN, because we at B-schools had better stuff to think about than the coolness quotient of the name of our eating place, unlike the flashy, heavily accented 'caffeteriazzz' of the DUites), IT lab (our saviour, half an hour before paper submissions), library (our refuge before the 2'o' clock exam, or when it was too hot to go outside, or when you were a rare visitor to college during a weekend for some event prep), the pentagon ( that sweet five-sided place that saw many a hesitant introduction, a charming banter of utter uselessness, or a shouted conversation between the ground floor & the floors above), the classrooms ( the place we couldn't stand to enter during college time, & can't seem to leave NOW), the TT room ( my escapade from the rest of the mess, a place that let me be myself between the playing & the watching, & the longing to play again), the khokhas outside for catching up on a fag, chai, or just a conversation, panditji ka dhaba that has stood defiantly against many a curse, or the narrow lane along the park (a jilted lover of people who forget it after college, for the flashy cars they come in, years later), the terrace (my ex-committee meetings & birthday celebrations)...It was like a treacherous climb, that takes every ounce of your energy, but keeps you going till the end. 

As I walked through the verandah to my classroom, I almost heard the patter of feet of my batchmates, coming for yet another drone of a lecture. And then it struck me hard, the days gone by..as I sat gazing on the blank board, in my favourite corner seat, to pen some thoughts, lest I lose them. And somehow, this felt as the tribute to my classroom of 2010, that witnessed many a cheer, presentations, a heartbreak, an exam. I watched a reel play, & replay was the button I could've given an ear & tooth for. It was the longest half hour of my life, even longer than the lecture of  'dearest' Prof. Chawla, & as I stood up to bid adieu to the remnants of my batch of 09-11, I brushed my hand against every possible thing from the seat to the bulletin board to take a bit of it with me, brushed the tears against my cheeks, swallowed the lump in my throat, & promised myself  to never let the floodgates open again. 

....and finally, I was speechless

Does it really end here?!! It just seemed like yesterday...I still remember his first smile at me, her first 'Hi, where are you from', the first meal in the canteen, the moment I'd entered the TT room, the first skip of the heartbeat when I saw him, the first drink, the first party....and yesterday was our last party. Only yesterday did the feeling of parting finally sink in. My college life has, indeed,come to an end.

And it ends with a sense of heaviness weighing down upon me. Not because, the group remains no more, not because I won't get to sit in the pentagon again, not because I'm going to miss the people I met here, no, but because, many things I left unsaid, many things I left unheard. What will haunt me forever is the rightness of my decision, the choice between enduring the everlasting regret of  'what could've been' vs the repentance at the outcome of having said the unsaid. I wish I could've left college with just the nostalgic memories, the moments that I would cherish for a lifetime, but leave it instead with a sense of incompleteness. I wish it hadn't been so, but regret shall remain always. Ain't it such a paradox: Always had my way around with words, and conveying myself....Words failed me, when I needed them the most.

Flashback 2010

L-E-G-E-N-D-A-R-Y is how I'd define it..Euphoric is how I feel now! 10 months and 13 days back, I'd decimated my dearest friend, my HP Ipaq phone, in the cursed waters of Juhu Beach. 3 years & loads of cussing, I still held that phone close to my heart. I won't discount HP for having made such a phone, since owning it had been nothing less than a roller coaster ride, but who likes perfections! Somehow, it felt a material loss no more, it felt as if all the good luck had been sucked out of me. I'll risk sounding melodramatic today(and you guys got to cut me some slack too), but the days that followed were the darkest of my life, personal & work both. And just a day back, continuing with the slew of bad luck that my Ipaq had left me behind with, I'd felt another part of me break away, when the messages on my new phone had been deleted mistakedly, in my state of stupor. Today, I see my phone back in its old glory, and it seemed to shimmer as brightly as Alladin's Magic Lamp. The two dreadful months in Mumbai flashed before my eyes, and suddenly I felt everything had fallen back into place- CLICK..perfect fit! Is it sheer coincidence that I gained all my old memories back, in return for the new??!! And just two days before my college ends..when, the heavy feeling of nostalgia had finally begun to seep in...I'd like to believe that I've gotten another chance to relive the past 10 months and 13 days, and this time, I LIVE IT TO THE FULLEST. I see this line from one of my favourite songs in new perspective today,

"I tried so hard and got so far...in the end, it doesn't even matter"

p.s.: ....Parents truly to the rescue. I owe it all to my dad, the smooth operator, who gave me back my heart, & a  new start. I take the hint dad..I do. Thanks.

Fizz, Time and all...

I just posted the most pathetic status message on my gmail. I was talking about fizz in a bottle & learning lessons of life from it..

Lets rewind a bit: It sounded indisputably perfect in my head when the idea had first struck me. Nothing could possibly explain my predicament better!! Really, isn't our life like a bottle, with a lot of fizz, always ready to gush out, but we tend to keep the lid screwed and eventually all there remains, after some time, is the 'tamed' cola? 

Moments later, the second I had pressed the doomed 'enter' key, I could almost hear the burst of laughter in my head....suddenly, my mind seemed to have pulled a fast one on me-'gotcha girl', it seemed to be saying. Lets think for a while though (or am I asking for too much?), did I really end up just making myself the laughing stock of my gmail friend network..or I did wriggle out some lesson indeed: about time playing games with our ideas & thoughts. About time having played both a saviour and a sinner. About time being the only independant variable in my life (forgive me for the after effects of too much Market Research). About how one brilliant idea, one unbridled thought seems excruciatingly ridiculous the very next moment. About how we give in to our impulses, only to repent the actions later. About how we can have a laugh later, though at that time,the very idea of enjoying a laugh might've seemed foolish (time at play, again!!). Despite it all, I wish I could hold time still, for once, so that all my thoughts would appear sane, perfect, so that I could take in the best moments before they passed, so that I could delay the change a little longer. But that would be asking for too much, because it ain't utopia, after all. People say, its good life ain't utopia...because too much perfection may just be intolerable, we do need our dose of bad, so that we can always treasure the good. As much as I want to believe it, I leave it to Time to help me decide, and probably 20 years down the line, I will be able to appreciate the true meaning of what people say all the time!

Cry of the Wild

Life's a bulldog, no matter how much you love or like it, it always comes & bites you in the backside. Period. Anger is considered one of the 7 deadly sins, but such a lifesaver. After all, how many times the poor emotion's been blamed for despicable things that are said, and apologised for, later. Period. How can people who understand each other so much, afford to say things that pierce one's heart so ruthlessly, it nearly makes not knowing that person the worthwhile choice. A wise friend once said to me: It's never the issues, it's the people, who are more important. And that is where the basic folly lies. Period. Ego....I wish I had a chocolate for every time some one told me I was an ego(t)ist, I would have given Cadbury's a run for its money, by now..Give your Ego a little thought and you will realise, how it has been a blessing in disguise. Egos are supposed to hold on rein, the unrestricted animal desires of human beings. It is supposed to be the sensible part of the brain, and mine works rightly so. Innumerable times I've thought of shedding my ego and making a bold move, but my ego held me back..and thank goodness it did. Musings of the day, for me. PERIOD. 

Like boys, like girls!!

Bro Code Article One: Bros before hoes...I've always been of the school of thought that says, guys are better friends than two girls can ever be, and always stand through thick or thin with their guypals, when girls turn up against each other, even when they are friends, let alone when they are fighting..

My firm belief ,though, has been crumbling slowly, against slimy moss that has been creeping up the wood slowly. Maybe, am not the best person to pass a sermon on true friendship, but I have tried in my best possible manner to always respect the rules of friendship. And it boils my blood when I see one bro easily cave in to badmouthing his bro, before a girl..Also, aren't friends supposed to be each others' pillars of strength?

Aren't they supposed to stand up for their pals before others, no matter how much ever they scream or scold the pal otherwise, for being a whimp? What if these very friends cut a pitiable figure of you before others, instead?

Call me an extremist, but my advice: Junk such despicable bros, if a 'ho' turns up. Such bros needn't be revered when they're being insufferable jerks and butting their noses into unwanted places. Better still, give an earful to such a bro, in your own coy way, because such guys can never be friends, they only 'make hay while sun shines'. 

And come on, a 'ho' can be a 'bro' too. There do exist girls who don't get jealous at the slightest hint, who can enjoy cricket with you, eat as voraciously as you do, can give many a guy a run for his money when it comes to guzzling down beers, not mind your drool when a hot girl passes by, and can share a laugh with you about the 'tharkiest' joke! A 'bro' you can risk kissing, and still feel good about, later (wink!!)

Multiple faces....

Am not a typical girl..infact, quite the opposite..I've always found sports, baggy denims, sneakers, whistling, hooting, liberal use of expletives more alluring than make-up, teddies, body hugging clothes, gossip, or accessories. So yes, flowers don't quite go with my liking..neither does the colour pink.I have always considered giving something that can be used more than as a simple showpiece on a birthday is better than a trip to Archies gallery & picking one of those rosy, pukingly embellished slates, that, in highest probability, will be passed on as a gift to someone else by the one whom you'd given it to in the first place, or find its place in the dumpster, after years of adorning the mantel. Also, I don't like cakes, as a matter of fact, I had never bitten a bite off my own birthday cake, until recently.

Ohkkaayyy....so, you are thinking, WHAT IS THE POINT...we already know it all...& frankly, if we did not, we wouldn't have been reading this blog in the first place, after all..Duhh....

Well, what you don't know is(or lets just say, hypothetically), just because I do not like flowers or cakes, or pink somethings, doesn't mean I don't like to be surprised by such things occasionally. Ofcourse, you'd be standing on the edge of a cliff, if I were to get such things regularly..but one birthday out of twenty four, I can be adjusting..it's more about the surprise element. 

This brings me to the point that once in a blue moon, doing what you've always wanted to, to please your friend rather than what he/she wants or usually likes can also work wonders..rather, it just might be essential to break the monotony. There are many different sides to the face you see and only experimentation can reveal those new facets & lend a new depth to the friendship..that is why, in most instances, people who've known you the longest know you the most, since they've experimented. 

P.S.: And yes, a brat can cook in the kitchen, a practical individual can fall insanely in love, and an extrovert can be a recluse too...

At the outset..

Reading an old friend's blog isn't much of a driver, but am sure the reason behind many a blog & mine, for certain. Taking that decision is the easiest part though..While you can't wait to get to the part where you actually get to write your first blog entry, once you do..your fingers start playing with the computer keys, the song in the background which was until now playing at a tolerable volume turns too loud, the dirt spots on you laptop screen become all too interesting as does the 'Oxford Square Supertech' property ad in the 3-day old newspaper sitting next to you. Thoughts start running across your mind at a lightyear/sec & suddenly the line between what to put down & what not disappears. Call me a narcissist, but that's my version of a "writer's block"!!! 

Oh..by the way, the name of my blog template's "Awesome Inc."..Sheer conincidence, eh??

To not judge a book by its cover is what might be relevant here, since am hoping the entries to follow will be more in sync with what urged me on to start a blog, in the first place (Do I have it figured out yet?)...Lets just say, an eventful last year (this most certainly is an understatement) that changed my perspective like never before, my unshakeable belief in my wit & sense of humour to help me make past the sail, & a trimester brimming with idleness, all together serve up the perfect concoction for my blog. 

Soon enough...

--

Warm regards & Welcome,

Quarter