Paradox of Love

Heres a Though Experiment:

You are hopelessly in love with a woman whos in love with your clone, an exact copy of you. You are also a very empathetic person - it is one of your biggest weakness. 

What  would you want ?

Would you want the woman to leave her man and fall in love with you instead? First, you'll feel the pain your clone feels. Second, you can imagine history being repeated, exactly. How would you ever trust that woman?

In case she doesnt leave her man, then you'll be forever lovelorn.

You also know that you would keep your woman forvever happy => your clone would keep your women forever happy. So, her happiness wont increase if she changes partners. (Infact , one part of you thinks theres a possibility of decrease) . So, if its the so calledpure love, you should actually be happy for your woman.

Fry

It had taken him two painful terms to identify the symptoms. He looked them up in all the major textbooks. There was no doubt about it. All the authorities concurred: Shakespeare, Tennyson, Ovid, Keats, Georgette Heyer, Milton, they were of one opinion. It was love. The Big One.

She of the sapphire eyes and golden hair, She of the Limbs and Lips: she was Petrarch’s Laura, Milton’s Lycidas, Catullus’s Lesbia, Tennyson’s Hallam, Shakespeare’s fair boy and dark lady, the moon’s Endymion. She was Garbo’s salary, the National Gallery, she was cellophane: she was the tender trap, the blank unholy surprise of it all and the bright golden haze on the meadow: she was honey-honey, sugar-sugar, chirpy chirpy cheep-cheep and his baby-love: the voice of the turtle could be heard in the land, there were angels dining at the Ritz and a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.

:|

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”

7th Sem

To label this sem with any adjective would do it injustice. Anything that describes an aspect of it to some degree of accuracy would be contradicting to the opposite aspects, which were equally present. To start with negatives, varunie expired.She. The one who first made me realise that my heart is not dead and buried, and it still has that pounding and nervous excitement which first yearites should have. The one who always gave me an ear. The one who I could always look upto you. The one who added another layer of sunshine to quizzes. I would remember every moment of rendezvous 2010.I'd remember stalking her on fb. I'll remember her first message. and greetings near library.

Anyway. I should also remember Gagandeep's breakdown, and his dad. and Prachi's problems. and  Shuvi's. Pradeep's dengue, and her Mom's messages and phones.

A lot happened this sem. Placements. Agra trip with Shiela. Sumedh's play with in the middle of the minors with charu. Imogen Heap in the middle of majors with Stuti. Other dates with stuti.Backstratblues.Dinner at MJ. dINNER AT fLIPSYDE. THE INDIA TODAY YOUTH CONFERENCE. STIEGLITZ LECTURE AT IIC. AUTISM LECTURE AT IHC. DINNER AT EATOPIA. SHUVI'S TREAT AT HRC. DAY OUT WITH SHUVI AND FOTE AT HKVILLAGE. NIGHTOUT WITH SHUVI, STUTI AND FOTE.lunch on the day of rbn makrs with stuti. (She looked so lovely)
anyway. lunches at subway.sittings in exhall and r2. days in kunzum. dayout with papa at lotus temple.
drinks and binges. and breaking down after that. Music of imogen heap and shins and classical music. Sigur ros and zindegi na milegi dobara.
Douglas Hofstadter! MML. RANDOM PHILOSOPHERS.Richa Kumar and STS. Bolia and AIIMS visits. Naveen Garg! SChandra and the senti meeting. The sponty colloq. the sponty mml presentation. functional analysis in finance!
barclays test. blade runner. stuti and her paper balls.sts class in qahwa. whispers of the heart.9 cms per second.
what else? I havnt covered half the things.
new friends? harshad. deepshikha.riccha.
deloitte ppo!,bplan,prachis mails,stuti talking about marriage and future plans.word games. literati. rendezvous. crossword. airplane.the music gigs. rendezvous jam. Im douglas hoftstadter. im so meta, even this acronym.bang at impotency. the concert with sis. the interhostel jam. the movie quiz.not to foget.6 As and a B.
sigh
i miss varunie. i still remember the first time i saw her. in r2. i thought she was an exchange student.
I dont know why I'm even writing this. Varunie has gone. Stuti was never there. and I dont know what I am doing here. I am afraid for next year.
Winter is coming.

I cant help it

That guitar riff somehow just captures it. Her passing through my life like that. Like a breeze with a faraway destination, never meant for me. And me flaying my arms like a madman and trying to touch it, feel it.At the same time realising that it is impossible.As my brain infroms me repeatedly of the inevitability and my heart is disheartened, my arms and body refuse to listen -  they are acting outside my control.

In the end, we are just two little carbon based life forms. We'll exist for atmost 50,60 years more. In the vastness of the universe, and the eternity of time, it doesnt matter at all.So dont the chemical and neurobiological activity taking place inside me. Which feels like what people recognize as love. It would give me great relief to just send the message across. In the overall vast canvas of space time , it doesnt matter at all. Why can I not do it, then ?
Because it is pointless. It will give me great hurt, and it will sure damage cause me damage.

....

What is the puzzle? I can feel it. Yet I know words wont be able to capture it. They would diminish the magnitude of the problem.  Not magnitude. Because the puzzle has no magnitude. It is incomprehensible, but more than that. The closest who ever came to convey or express the puzzle is Douglas Adams. The question to the answer of life, universe and everything.
If we cant even describe the question, bringing in the notion of an answer is pointless.and thats exactly what 42 is.
What is life? What is consciousness/? Time, Memory? Future? To express the question succinctly, WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?

New Slang

The memory of her is forever saved in the song. It will always be there, no matter what. After she has left, after shes married, had kids, gotten old. She'll remain in there.

The truth is..

She does not like me. Yet she is always nice to me.She does not see me as I imagine she does. Does she pity me on some level? I hope not.

I  wish I was cool.

Nope.
Not going to write about it.
Not even a word.
I promised myself.
Wont write about the IIC trip and the Eatopia Dinner.
Sigh.
I realised I am extraordinarily happy when I'm with her, and have this overwhelming sense of loss when I'm not.
Its a tradeoff. I can let go off both. Do I prefer the eternal melancholy with the spikes of joy?

“Love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same.”

It is extraordinary. Shes just not leaving my mind. Its like a virus, only much worse. Fabulous.Astounding. After all those years of self enlightenment, there is still much to know about myself.

and to think that its not something unique. That there are probably many others  who felt the same, and went through the same. The mere thought is depressing. That I am just one of the many.and theres is nothing to it. nothing special about it.

Its been an interesting semester.Powerfully Stimulatingly interesting.

I can see myself doing irrational stuff and trying to rationalize it.and yet,after all the clever observation, do nothing about it. Why did I not attend the MUN workshop and go to the IHC talk instead? Why did I not hesitate a bit in getting the class postponed?
Because of the new experience, the randomizing knowledge philosophy, being impulsive and trying out different things stuff? I am not so sure.

Why am I even considering asking her out for the Stiglitz lecture? Because of the reciprocrity thing? I can easily ask Shankhayan or Prachi or Charu or PGM. It might even be better if I go alone. Why, then? I know the answer to the question. and yet I dont know it.Compelete irrationality is what it is. or is it something more serious? like a drug addiction?

“Love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same.”


Atleast I know it is temporary. Atmost one semester left.

No more posts

Irrationality

I am afraid I might start hating her. Ofcourse, eventuall I will. I dont want it to go that way. It wont remain pure then. I think staying away is better. For it. and for her.

Why do I still do these irrational things?

Issues

So..other people have issues too. and Probably more serious than mine.  

The Game

There is nothing more dejecting and disheartening than this feeling of solitude. The solitude that arises from the inability to communicate.Not inability. Impossibility. Even more so when theres nothing you want to do more than this. To go. Shake and make her understand. Talk and write letters. Even cry maybe..But there is nothing,nothing I can do that will bring her even an inch closer to me.
The Game. It is not a very high level game as Ma'am said. I just realised I am playing it everyday, every moment. and I am losing every time. and its just not the game I am losing.

Dangerous Perspectives

Sometimes it seems so silly. 

Coincidence, again?

In fact, the girl from Bangladesh married someone else, and he went to her wedding.


I would never be able to do that.

They say unrequited love has inspired some of the greatest works of art. I can tell. I feel poetic everytime I allow myself to go down that path. Ofcourse, down that path lie beautiful imaginations.and pain. and helplessness,anguish.  and whenever I come back, all that clusters and gels into a stream of melancholy that I carry everytime. and then when people look at me, they ask, why am I  tense.or why am I sad. or if I am not feeling well.

This phase has really tested me. I thought I knew all about myself. But thinking that I know and actually experiencing it are two concepts entirely different.

Toska

"No single word in English renders all the shades of toska. At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases it may be the desire for somebody of something specific, nostalgia, love-sickness. At the lowest level it grades into ennui, boredom.”

― Vladimir Nabokov 

Emotions

Why do I feel this way? Why, having developed all the experience and introspective self observational tools over the years,am I not able to control myself? Why is it that I think about her and drown in the infinite melancholy, even though I know its a potentially damaging state?

Because there is something that lives in me. Some emotion. Which developed out of nowhere. Through my rational and intuitive processes. No matter how hard I try , I cannot control it.I cannot diminish it. I cannot change it.
The only thing I can do is stay away from her. So that this part of me is incapacitated by lack of activity, and slowly go into a lull. Hopefully even wither away in some dark corner of me.
But as of now, everytime I see her, it burns even more brightly. Her thoughts serve as oil for this fire. and it dances. and every time she refers to her boyfriend, or every thought of  her with him, tortures this part.
and both these processes make it alive once again.

I should realise by now that theres no way my rational and introspective abilities can control it. Modify or extuingish these emotions. The only way out is to keep it dormant, and hope that it will erode and diminish, bit by bit.

Morality and Actions

I think the most intuitive actions, regardless of morality or empathy, are the ones which are the easiest and most comfortable. What social and moral conditioning does is that make those actions which might be harmful for the society more uncomfortable, so that  in following the most comfortable path, we chose the ones which do social good or individual good.

More thought on this later...Need to develop this.

Quote of the Semester

There will come a day when you'll feel like shit and you'll want to give up on this life and everything else. When that day arrives, save yourself some trouble and don't do a thing. Just take a nap.

I'd say just pour everything on the blog and then take a nap. For the lulz later. :)

Dream

Somethings wrong with by bed/room for the past few days. Everytime I lie on it , I start feeling sleepy. Daydreams slowly fade into real dreams, wakefulness smoothly transitions to sleep, and the other way round. Most of the times I dont know if what I am doing is real or not. Over the past few days , I've dreamt of asteroids, spaceships, mom, alcohol, bombs and what not.
The hypnogogic and hypnopompic states have become very prominent.
Only yesterday, I was having a Parliamentary Debate in a hypnopompic state : This House Believes that I should Sleep More vs THBT I should immediately get up.

:-|

Durga Pooja Day

Living the London winter with her.Playing, skating, attending church services, trying out new food, attending concerts, listening to classical music, watching football matches, and shopping,walking down the streets.
Travelling and dancing and meeting new people. Skydiving and all other adventure sports. Her to-do list and my to-do list combined. Adopting a dog. Singing in the rain. Drinking Coffee. Marvelling at the stars. Swimming. Boating. Fishing. Visiting the countryside. Cycling. Watching and ridiculing romantic movies.  Just looking at each other.for hours. and Smiling.

There, I said it.Reality is excruciating. I dont know what is a torture - these dreams, or the reality.What would I prefer - forgetting and erasing her and all these dreams, or forgetting and erasing reality? a la Vanilla Sky.

Tonight at Noon

Dedicated to you




Tonight at noon
Supermarkets will advertise 3p extra on everything
Tonight at noon
Children from happy families will be sent to live in a home
Elephants will tell each other human jokes
America will declare peace on Russia
World War I generals will sell poppies on the street on November 11th
The first daffodils of autumn will appear
When the leaves fall upwards to the trees

Tonight at noon
Pigeons will hunt cats through city backyards
Hitler will tell us to fight on the beaches and on the landing fields
A tunnel full of water will be built under Liverpool
Pigs will be sighted flying in formation over Woolton
And Nelson will not only get his eye back but his arm as well
White Americans will demonstrate for equal rights
In front of the Black house
And the monster has just created Dr. Frankenstein

Girls in bikinis are moonbathing
Folksongs are being sung by real folk
Art galleries are closed to people over 21
Poets get their poems in the Top 20
There's jobs for everybody and nobody wants them
In back alleys everywhere teenage lovers are kissing in broad daylight
In forgotten graveyards everywhere the dead will quietly bury the living
            and
You will tell me you love me - Tonight at Noon

Bitterness

I can feel it. I am turning into a bitter person. I feel alone, and no matter how many people I stay around, how y friends love me, how successful I be, I'll always feel this  solitaryness. I look into the mirror and I hate myself and I hate the world.
So maybe the feelings are not so pure afterall. No, I dont hate her. But I hate the world.I hate chance and randomness. Somewhere deep down, I hate myself.
I cant take any jokes or comments she or prachi or harshad or anyone makes. Not any longer. I cant talk to anyone about this. I cant show my feelings.

I feel like I'll be like a ghost walking in the campus. Without that soul, but with the memory of it.

A Little Annoyed

I try to look happy and all in front of her, and now she reckons that I 'giggle' too much.

JAM

This little part of my life. This tiny little part...is what I call happiness. A newfound form of happiness. For that moment, even though I contributed only 0.5 points to the cause,  I had achieved something.
The burden of illusions, of knowlingly indulging in them, vapourised in that period of joyous oblivion.

She wants to marry the guy. and No. It is not a bitter pill. It is a tasteless poison. I may live like this forever, I might not find anyone like her, but I think  , with some time and emotional effort, I'll be able to forget my sentiments.My sentiments will go, only their memory will remain.

It is my great fortune that I have friends like Gagandeep and Shankhayan, Mayank and Murari, Prachi and Shuvi.

The day today gave me an indication that this is probably a phase. And probably not one which is worse that the one I had 5 years ago in two important ways. 1. I am better prepared and more mature to handle this.
2. I have many more means and friends to get me through it, to keep me busy and deluded.

Life, and Why I hate it

" I dont want to have a 9 year long long-distance relationship".

Then break it...Break it.. BREAK IT ! BREAK IT ! BREAK IT ! BREAK IT !  screams every little corner of me


"Then go for MS maybe. or since hes in Elec, maybe both you and him can go for a PhD in neuroscience and be together"

As they say... FML.

Morality

How far am I willing to go ?

Where would my morality give way? If I have a gun in my hand and him at my mercy, would I do it? .
If I have to just write his name in a notebook for him to die instantly, would I?
Or If Mephistopheles comes to me and makes a deal, would I?
What if he dies of natural causes/accident...would I be happy?

Do I want her to break up? Yes. But would I be actually happy if her heart is broken? Would I be happy to see her in tears?

Because life is not a romantic movie.Because she might be more happy with her guy than with me. Because he might actually be a nice guy, and probably is.Because he might just not die naturally for my convenience.

Am I filled with envy? Am I filled with jealousy?
Hes so so lucky.

I think of the last moments in Never Let Me Go. I think of Toby's scream. Of helplessness. and I feel it in resonate in me.
Atleast he knew he'll die with someone he loved.Atleast he was with her.

I am much much worse. I'd anyday exchange places.

Living is becoming a pain.

Drug

Its like a drug addiction. Thinking about her is so tempting. Calling and talking . yet I know the more I get closer, the more I interact or think, the more I'll be hurt.
Its like a fire i am carrying in me all the time. A burning hell. I try to keep my head away from it all the time, but it takes effort, and its a burden. Giving in to the temptation is so easy, giving in to the torture is so tempting.

I know I am selfdestrucing. and I cant help it.

Suffering

I think I'll remember her forever. I'll always miss the life that could have been. I've entered a personal hell. I dont know how to get rid of it. The memory. Do I even want to? Yes, I guess I'd want to get rid of this after an year or so. When even that involuntary hope would have been extuinguished. or would this tiny glimmer which I cant detect always keep burning and torturing me? Have I turned into Sisyphus? or someone worse.Moments are passing, only a few months are left. I want  turn every passing second into an year. I am afraid of the life to come. I can see myself falling  down a never ending hole, gaping into the the light of heaven, with the knowledge of the surrounding darkness, and the fear of the eternity of hell, the eternity of this never ending fall. Maybe if that visible light disappears, maybe if the lid is closed, I'll be able to live in peace. But for now, I stretch my hand to touch it, knowing that it can never be touched, never be reached.
Is this the price of having witnessed it, of having nearly felt what it would have been like.
Now the head-in-the-oven thing doesnt look as absurd.I need bootstraps.
Are our imaginations a curse? That If Only question.If only if i didnt have it in somewhere deep in my head.
Ovid is wrong.

Down

I know I'll look back at this time down the years. Hopefully I'll look back and smile. Hopefully I'd look back knowingly,having grown and learnt to  compromise. I'd look back poignantly, with the blurry image of her smiling. I'll advice and help my kids and younger people who'd come up to me.

Check

She is like what she is because she trusts me on some level. She believes I wont do anything stupid or awkward.

and I guess I'll have to play the role. The letter must remain.I want her to leave.
Honestly, I dont know what I want to do.What I should do.Just wander aimlessly?
I have been terribly immature, and I always will be. What is the cure?



"you have probably waited too long "

Who Am I?

1.My name is Piyush.
2.When I say I am human I mean I believe that I am human. Same goes for all other such assertions, like when I say my name is Piyush. When I say I believe in X, I  mean I believe that it is highly likely X is true,but it always might be otherwise. Which takes you into a strange loop , because its a recursive definition.
3.I think answer to life, universe and everything lies in concepts like infinity and recursion. These illustrate the limits or inadequacy of human thinking, and separate us from the dark areas which we dont know about.
4.I like watching stars, since early childhood. I feel a deep-seated emotional connect to them. Space is another area where I believe  lies the next step of evolution, the next frontier. Theres much to know about the universe.
5.I hate the fact that most of my thoughts and philosophies have already been explored by others.It makes me less unique in some way.
 6.I like observing the beauty and elegance in randomness and coincidences.
7.I think life is a miracle. The concept that I have evolved from a tiny sperm about 21 years ago till date is something I find overwhelming and miraculous.
8.I like rains. I've not used an umbrella ever since I entered college.
 9.Lately, I've started believing in the concept of Love. I've noticed the unconditional pure love existing between humans and animals, and I find it beautiful.
10.I love to travel, but I havnt been able to as much I'd wanted. I want to explore the whole world, meet new cultures, and new people.
11.I think life is a pursuit of happiness and creating good memories. There are many different kinds of happiness, and the happiness found after a long absence of happiness is one of the best ones.
12.I like watching and playing sports. Achieving something like scoring a goal or so, gives you one of the best kinds of happiness.
13.If I were someone else watching me, I'd hate me.I dont like my voice. Lately, watching myself on television has made me painfully realise this.
14.I like to think a lot, but I've realised that I shoudnt. It makes me indecisive and less spontaneous. So lately I've started acting impulsively and instinctively.
15.This exercise is pointless.

A bolt of lighting

I should stay away from her. There can be only one advice. No one can help. No one can understand. Heck, even I dont understand.
But I dont want to stay away.If I dont, would I only feel more hurt? If I do, would it be worth it?

I need a bolt of lightning. NOW. Either for me, or for a certain someone else.

Remedia Amoris

Trying to quit loving before the feeling becomes too important
Trying to be as busy as you can, e.g. with work
Traveling and trying to avoid familiar places that remind you of your relationship
Having many affairs, or at least another affair to forget the previous one
Avoiding staying by yourself

Melancholy and The Infinite Sadness

I thought I could handle this. I've failed myself.
Oh God . this is killing me.
The Unbearable Helplessness. It feels  like I'm sitting on my knees with eyes closed and  a gun to my head which is outside my control.

Tennov (1979) has suggested that the only cure for being in love is to get indisputable evidence that the target of one's love is not interested'. He is wrong.Totally off the mark.

Ovid in his Remedia Amoris 'provides advice on how to overcome inappropriate or unrequited love. The solutions offered include travel, teetotalism, bucolic pursuits, and (ironically) avoidance of love poets'.


Travel.

Only that theres no Serendipity

I never felt magic crazy as this
I never saw moons knew the meaning of the sea
I never held emotion in the palm of my hand
Or felt sweet breezes in the top of a tree
But now you're here
Bright in my northern sky.

It's been a long time that I'm waiting
Been a long time that I'm blown
been a long time that I've wandered
Through the people I have known
Oh, if you would and you could
Straighten my new mind's eye.

Would you love me for my money
Would you love me for my head
Would you love me through the winter
Would you love me 'til I'm dead
Oh, if you would and you could
Come blow your horn on high.

I never felt magic crazy as this
I never saw moons knew the meaning of the sea
I never held emotion in the palm of my hand
Or felt sweet breezes in the top of a tree
But now you're here
Bright in my northern sky.

A Beautiful Day

Where will I find anyone even remotely close?
Also, I found out I love to watch her eat and eat.
and..I think he suspects.

It was totally worth it.No, it was priceless.
Its a little sad actually. The reality. Sometimes I wonder if its all good only in my head. Maybe she actually hates me. Or worse - has no feelings at all.
Which is probably the case.with probability equal to one.
Who am I kidding? Its monstrously humongously sad.

Actually, I think I need to get out of this place. out of this country. a whole new environment.

Qahwa

A course to remember.

"Next time, What do we Eat?"

"Oh you know, knowledge is food!"

Clearly, the French dont lack wit.

Conniving me

I dreamt

I remember the dream. In it, his name was Sameer. How extraordinary would it be , if it was really that?
My dreamy mind is peculiarly producing creative stuff which I seem to remember later.

I can easily imagine how it got to Sameer. From one girl to the other.

Life

My life would be so sad without her.Oh my god, I cant even imagine. And we're not even close.
True Love? How is this possible. This cant be happening.

I

I have had a very pronounced sense of self for quite a while now, even more so this semester. I know exactly who I am, atleast I think I know, and I know exactly what kind of person I am going to spend the rest of my life with. The problem is , I dont like that person, I think hes boring, and I want to be away from him.

Ofcourse, that is a bit of an inconvenience. How does one knowingly change himself? Moving into a new environment with new friends would help. Participating in new activities would. Actually, come to think of it, I have already gone personality revolutions in many parts of my life. I look back at what I was five off years ago, and I shudder. A whole new bunch of friends,environment,activities have surely changed me.
I need a similar revolution now, so I can watch the current me from a different perspective.

I've realised that grades matter. So do looks. Somehow my internal happiness is connected to them, and no matter how far I've tried to run away from these 'social materialistic pursuits' , I am still dependent on them.

Is this because I am looking for someone? Looking for acceptance, for completion? In many ways , yes. I feel  so inadequate when I think of the two. Its already been 21 years, which is, mind you, a pretty long time.

Where would I find peace? An inner peace. If I work a lot, get perfect grades and publish a paper, would I find inner peace? If I get my hair back, perfect health, a good body and voice, would I find it? Would I get it if I become proficient and articulate in English? Would I get it if I am with her?

Or would I only get if I get rid of this sense of self? This deep inner disturbance, this helplessness,this inner view which is making me unsettled with myself. I've known myself my entire life, yet when I look back I wonder what the fuck was I thinking.

 ********** its all your fault. I should really go to Himalyas or something.Into the Wild?

I have my Game Theory Assignment and Minor due.

A selfobsessive freak? A stalker? A dangerous mixture of the two? How does one excercise self-control? Of going down that path. How does one stop thinking about himself,without thinking about himself?  By keeping the self occupied? By always having company around? Does that mean being afraid of being left alone with himself?

Keeping yourself occupied with worldly pursuits. Seems easy enough. But the knowledge of it being a useless pursuit is so heavy. How can one engage himself knowing that theres no use? The burden of knowledge , the knowledge of futility. This is my Unbearable Lightness of Being. This is my Sisyphean Task.

Only if you didnt have a boyfriend. I would have put myself to test. I might have changed myself. I would have   done the daring task.
But you do, and I go on ...

Mosquitoes

One is inclined to think that my killing prowess would be pretty famous by now, in the mosquito world.
Seems not.

I hate you little creepies!

Inspiration

She is like my Muse. I can just look and look at her , laughing and talking and smiling ,  and lose all sense of time and space. Especially when she plays, or smiles, cracks a joke and laughs. It turns everything into such a fabulous reality.The world has colours and music.

She'll go. I want time to freeze. I want it to never end.

OMFG

Dear Piyush Ahuja,

    Thanks for your very nice note.  I'm touched that GEB's preface (I presume you mean the 20th-anniversary preface?) has resonated with you so much.  Of course you'll have to see if the intensity of that resonance persists as you continue reading the book.

    You said that you've read a lot of philosophy but have never come across anything related to strange loops, paradoxes, and logic. Well, there is a huge amount of discussion among philosophers concerning paradoxes and logic, so I guess you just haven't been reading the right philosophers.  I myself find their ways of writing, however, to be nearly universally opaque, so I haven't been much enlightened by them.  I am much more down-to-earth than most philosophers, perhaps because my early training was in math and physics, or else perhaps because I just am fundamentally a very concrete-minded, example-driven person, and am incapable of being extremely abstract.  Whatever the reason is, my thinking style and writing style are pretty straightforward relative to those of most philosophers.

    I would recommend that you get a hold of my much later (2007) book, "I Am a Strange Loop", because it covers the same main territory as GEB does, but in a very different fashion, and I suspect that reading the two books would give a far clearer picture than reading just one of them.  I'm not sure which order I'd recommend.  I think IASL is a bit easier and more straightforward than GEB is, but perhaps GEB is more engaging.  Take your pick (if you choose to follow this suggestion).

    That's it for now, and I wish you many stimulating thoughts in reading GEB.

                                                 Sincerely,

                                                 Douglas Hofstadter.

Yours Sincerely

Mr. Hofstadter

I am a student in India and I've just read partly the preface to GEB. I am sure you've recieved numerous emails like these, and even more numerous (if that means something) emails which were more articulate, more serious, more knowledgable and added to your insights about mind and consciousness.

I just wanted to convey How I am feeling right now after reading the preface.It is a feeling which is in-convey-able through language, and yet through these inadequate words, through these lack of ability of language I want to convey the essence of what I am feeling. 

The questions you raise and the way you deal with them are something that have troubled me and whom I've played with  since childhood , yet at have not discussed them at length with anyone. I am not a student of logic or philosophy, and neither I have ever undertaken any effort to convey my own thoughts about this.But after reading your writing , I somehow feel scandalized that my thoughts have already been thought by someone before me, that they are not unique. Even though I feel so,  I also have  a kind of happy feeling that I am cherishing - that I am not alone with these thoughts - about strange loops, being and conciousness, unanswerable-in-our-own-logic-frame questions and so on.

 "It sometimes feels as if I had shouted a deeply cherished message out into an empty chasm and nobody heard me."

I've felt so my entire life, especially because of reading all sorts of philosophy yet not encountering anything related to strange loops, paradoxes, and logic.

I am certainly a big fan, and even though I dont expect you to come across this mail, it is something that my strange loop felt like doing. Maybe, through following these strange insticts of our strange loops, we might get answers to questions our conscious selves are raising.

Creativity

Sitting in an auto and eating an apple.

I wonder if I'd offered the guy my apple as part of the fare, how much would he have charged me?

Anyhow, I noticed that whatever creativity is, it doesnt come to visit you in your hostel room while you'r lying and thinking.
But to think of it, most people do masturbate without  lustful videos on.

hmmmm...
In other thoughts, if "Hehe" is girlish giggling, "lol" is girlish-kiddish, :) is immature-kiddish , haha is sarcastic/loud , then how do we mature young guys express amusement or mild laughter on chats?

How do we express our thinking process? hmmm? uhmmmm? errr?
Chat Vocab - need to expand it.

I am more mature than that. 

A Beautiful Year

Somehow, I am feeling very alive. Theres so much to do, so much to explore. The word is suddenly full of colours.So much to think and right about. About Music, Mathematics,Language, Movies, Mythology, Art, Mind, Philosophy, Dualism, Travel, Sports, History, Medicines, Biology, Science, Sociology,Politics, Business, Psychology, Literature. So many books to read, movies to watch, places to visit, people to talk.

I cant afford to Procrastinate at all, else I would miss life. I cant affort to let this wind of energy pass me by. I have to flow with it, on it. It might just take me to the place where I have aspired to go, but somehow never reached. The Hidden Land in my subconcious.
Here I come...

Imaginary

Ma'am discussed in class today:
"Say you have an imaginary friend in the head. An imaginary Stuti who you talk to all the time. Because you find her more interesting. Would you go to the real Stuti and go talk to her to check...:

Why is my life full of such ironic poignant situations? Why cant it be ironically pleasant and happy sittuations?

and to say that was the only peculiar incident that happened today wouldnt be true.

Earlier in the day, I had a dream. A rare one at that. Because she was in it. The first appearance maybe? Anyhow, I was expecting it. It was about time.
and it ended with her hating me and leaving me, and me yearning  for her to communicate. To tell me the problem. Eventually she faded out on the distances, through the terraced lands, into her own country , where her folks are and me turning around, almost in tears. And with a soundtrack.
and then I woke up. with the tune in my head. A tune which I've never heard. A tune which wasnt an external sound in a guise.An original tune. and for the first time , I noticed, we can make and hear sounds in our dreams.
Would we be able to hear music some day, without our ears? Does this hold true for other perceptions as well?

Dedicated to you

Gold teeth and a curse for this town were all in my mouth.
Only, i don't know how they got out, dear.
Turn me back into the pet that i was when we met.
I was happier then with no mind-set.

And if you'd 'a took to me like
A gull takes to the wind.
Well, i'd 'a jumped from my tree
And i'd a danced like the king of the eyesores
And the rest of our lives would 'a fared well.

New slang when you notice the stripes, the dirt in your fries.
Hope it's right when you die, old and bony.
Dawn breaks like a bull through the hall,
Never should have called
But my head's to the wall and i'm lonely.

And if you'd 'a took to me like
A gull takes to the wind.
Well, i'd 'a jumped from my tree
And i'd a danced like the kind of the eyesores
And the rest of our lives would 'a fared well.

God speed all the bakers at dawn may they all cut their thumbs,
And bleed into their buns 'till they melt away.

I'm looking in on the good life i might be doomed never to find.
Without a trust or flaming fields am i too dumb to refine?
And if you'd 'a took to me like
Well i'd a danced like the queen of the eyesores
And the rest of our lives would 'a fared well.

What am I turning into?

A Suicide Note

There was no point. One line. Explains it all.
I know it wouldnt be sufficient. If you're reading it, you'll try to read into my life. Try to discern patterns that seem abnormal or out of sorts. That might give some indication Why I did this.How can I , a perfectly normal well thinking intelligent individual do this?
Please dont do that.I was not mentally disturbed or romantically frustrated. I didnt crumble under the pressure of studies or any expectations. I didnt crumble under my own expectations. (Though they were a little heavy at times)

The only thing that will come close to a succinct explanation is that . There was no point. The only point I did consider was my immediate relatives, I didnt want to put them in such a position.And that was the only thing keeping me.

Did I think too much? Could I not handle the absurdity and randomness and meaninglessness of life? No. to both. I am perfectly aware that what I could have done with my life.

Perhaps you'll think I came under the influence of passion, or it was a hasty moment of impulsive behavior. But you'll be again wrong.

I cannot possibly make you understand. You'll look at this text and shake your head. Say that I was deluding myself. That I led myself knowingly on a wrong path. That you should have taken more care of me, payed close attention.
yOU'LL probably say that I was mad and I didnt realise it and this text is a proof of that. But that is something I cannot convince you against, because whatever I say would be put in that framework. It is a paradox I cannot fight against.

What can you do to prevent such cases in future? Nothing. Heed my advice. There is nothing to prevent.

I did think of the consequences. I thought that I should leave room for my own human ignorance. Leave room for my own fallacies. That I shouldnt believe what i think or what I do. and Just continue as the wheels of the world turn.Just because I am uncertain, and i wouldnt be able to change my decision or come back to it. It is a big decision, and I should not take responsibility for it.
But not doing it, leaving room for my own fallability was a decision in itself. It was a heavier decision.It was a heavier responsibility. The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Death was light and comfortable.

And for god's sake, or whatver notions you believe-in's sake, dont go on and read my emotionally charged psychotic blog posts and blame it on them. Please. This is my last request.
I cannot possibly make you understand. i know that. But I can demand a leap of faith on your side , on account of it being my last wish, and ask you to not ask questions, or to be more accurate, to give answers to questions that dont make sense.One such question you might think pertinent - Why did I do this?
Because there was no point.And thats all there is to it.

Irony

Some people have such a good path. Why is my fate tilted away? Why irony in my life? Ok. I have seen days of satisfaction and fullfillment and happiness. But ..
I dont know. I  raise my hands. I am helpless. I concede defeat. I resign. Do what you want to do with me. Shoot me in the head.There is no meaning. There is no elegance. There is no perfection. I cant handle the ugliness and meaninglessness and lack of order. I cant handle luck and randomness. Someone shoot me.

Eyes

It is a beautiful memory.Beautiful and sad.Moving. Something that moves me to tears even as I smile. I will look back at that night and always smile. Because thats what I do. I will not be frustrated and naive. I will smile with maturity and innocence and wonder. And I will cry. I know I will. Of having known, that that night I saw  true love. pass by me. and I will know that I couldnt have done anything. I couldnt have spoken about it to anyone. It is not a burden. It is a cherishable memory. and I will look back at her acting and playing. Laughing.Talking.
Perhaps we'll meet again. She would have changed. I hopefully would have changed too. She would never know. It doesnt even matter.
Is Love simply the exagerration of difference between one woman and another? No
She was the one who turned all my theories and conceptions of romantic wrong.
When she looks at me and our eyes meet, I see something magical in her

On the Sidewalk

I like sitting on the sidewalk on the Outer Ring road early morning and watch the traffic pass-by.The slow glowing up of the sky and the accompanying gradual disappearance of headlights.It gives a perspective on life where the disappointments and turmoils of college life are insignificant. It reminds me that somewhere out there, there is a bigger picture, a bigger world. I will graduate in about 1.5 years. But this road will remain.The traffic will be the same. and somewhere down the years, maybe there'll be another student sitting on the pavement and scribbling on the handout he was supposed to read. He might not have been suffering from the same romantic disappointments or disillusionment that I have, he might not have been bearing a burden and feeling helpless, but in this one moment on the road out thoughts will align. and if I  still exist then, I would probably be far far away dealing with a whole new set of cobwebts.

There is no point

is what she said. is what I've known.
Yet these words have been ringing in my head as if I actually heard them.
and Yet these have had a bigger impact than "FYI, I have a boyfriend". Because they hit right where I am most vulnerable. And that is hope. Hope which shouldnt exist. That she had a boyfriend is just a fact, is just an occurence I couldnt have controlled. But hope is my own doing.

The Unbearable Helplessness of Being

I wonder how much fake I am? I know I am one, might be the most fake person here. No spontaneity. Never.

I know deep under that i wanted to talk about her. I wanted to lighten the burden. Perhaps in one dark corner, I wanted her to help. To help release the pain. or maybe heal it. Maybe even make fate turn on  its way, turn around, come back and lift me on its shoulders. Suddenly transform me to some other dimension where everything is alright.

How poignant such dreams are. Because one thing i have definitely learnt in life is how shallow dreams are. How impossible it is to make them into reality. How helpless you are. And I am still in a process of learning the compromise. Of abandoning concepts like hope. and it is an excruciating task.Losing hope. Forgetting is easier.
What do these tears even mean? After a while ago, maybe even hours, I am sure taht I would be telling myself how immature I have been, how stupid and fake I've been. I will tell myself to be strong and move ahead.
I am such a conniving guy. I fucking did want to talk to her about her. Yet I masked myself.


I should see Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Or maybe Vanilla Sky. yes. thats so close to what I've been feeling. I created a memory of her yesterday. I want it to develop in some parallel world where everything is alright. where She'll not disappear right in front of me. And I wont be here.in my room. In tears.contemplating what life is.I dont want to jumping off from the top into reality.

I created a memory of her. And it will torture me for the rest of my life.
Wouldnt it be better to just die?

Diamond in the Sky

Is Life simply a pursuit of creating happy memories? 

Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. THAT'S relativity. - Einstein

and It didnt feel like a night at all. It felt like just a few mins. Even thought I didnt have much to say, or even her.

I wanted to create a memory of her. I needed a night like this. Even though we are not meant to be. 

How can life to this to me? 

I've always believed that I always fall for girls only if they show a little bit of attention to me. I've never believe in romantic idealistic notions of love. But the point is , she has never shown it.  I can sense something intangible connecting me to her. Why can she not sense it too?

Why did life do this? Why did it bring her so close to true likeness, almost improbabilistically the one, and yet do this.

She didnt even remember me from 2nd year. I have never  been at the end of this.It was a big blow to what some might call my leonian ego.I've had the habit of forgetting people , or not noticing them. But rarely been at the end of it.

I never expected it.and I acted like a creep.

and yet I am just being immature and stupid and uncool.I know I am. 

I still remember that vague image of her, in a suit and a boycut in sip and byte - my early days in college, probably even my bday. 

I want to see Serendipity. 

I have a memory with her, and I guess that's the best I could and should hope for. 

Damn that IITB guy. 

Linguistic Handicaps

Form and reason. Linguistic Handicaps. Such a handicap that the self aware being cant even describe his own handicap through language. Which makes all this self-referential paragraph a milieu of nonsense. And by the very non-sense of this text, comes the essence that describes the linguistic handicap that sensible language so failed to describe. So did language fail?

Hona hai jo hone de

If you believe 
We've got a picture perfect plan 
We've got you fooled 
'Cause we only do the best we can 
And sometimes we make it 
And sometimes we fake it 
But we get, one step closer each and very day 
When we figure it out our own way..

She

What makes a good life? As a sit in my room, listening to music and reading the relationship between science and technology, this s the question that is plaguing my head. What makes a good life? A life full with no regrets.Where I dont have this sickening feeling of having followed the wrong path.
What are my dreams? Will following and achieving them make my life good.
I am lovesick.I look at her and I know that its would never be.Because I've not grown into someone ...I just havnt been what I wanted to be. AND i know that that person who was meant to be with her is the person I aspired to be. Thats probably why she inspires me and depresses me. She makes me realise that I havnt been that person. That I might never be.
Is this it? Is this the semester of slow painful realisation? She is like a mirror who shows me myself. Should I keep away from her? Shall i stay under the delusions?

Let me list out the traits of that image , of the simulcra, the representation:

1. He is knowlegdable, argumentative and fluent in English. Can strike a wonderful conversation with anyone anytime
2. He is good looking, knows how to dress and treat people, slightly chivalrous
3. He has travelled a lot and adept at practical work
4. Writes well.

What makes a good life? Being that person would make my life good?
Surely studying and getting good grades doesnt make life good. Does it?
Yes, partly.

I dont want to look innocent and childlike anymore. I want to look imposing and suave.
Perspective of life.of self. Thats all there is to it.

I can see her getting away.

Things to do:

Debating
Writing
Photography
Movie Making
Travelling

Yes, she is the girl next door. My girl next door.She would be my inspiration. She would be the bootstraps that would pull me out of the swamp..Ok.wrong metaphor.

I need to improve.I need to go out.
I should buy Shuvi a gift.

Yes.

Shuvi and Sudarshana. Preeti? I am lucky to have em. I should not run away. He wouldnt have.
As for career choice, no. Finance, Consulting > MS> PhD as of now.
Here I come.Out of the Wild.

Delusions of Work

I've grown into this dangerous mix of procrastinator and perfectionist.I leave work for late and when I actually start, I want to do it perfectly.

Barber's paradox

I fear that pretty soon my barber will face his own version of Barber's paradox. :|

Memories

I forget but I do not forgive.

Slow Show

Standing at the punch table swallowing punch
can’t pay attention to the sound of anyone
a little more stupid, a little more scared
every minute more unprepared

I made a mistake in my life today
everything I love gets lost in drawers
I want to start over, I want to be winning
way out of sync from the beginning

I wanna hurry home to you
put on a slow, dumb show for you
and crack you up
so you can put a blue ribbon on my brain
god I’m very, very frightening
I’ll overdo it

Looking for somewhere to stand and stay
I leaned on the wall and the wall leaned away
Can I get a minute of not being nervous
and not thinking of my dick
My leg is sparkles, my leg is pins
I better get my shit together, better gather my shit in
You could drive a car through my head in five minutes
from one side of it to the other

I wanna hurry home to you
put on a slow, dumb show for you
and crack you up
so you can put a blue ribbon on my brain
god I’m very, very frightening
I’ll overdo it

You know I dreamed about you
for twenty-nine years before I saw you
You know I dreamed about you
I missed you for
for twenty-nine years

You know I dreamed about you
for twenty-nine years before I saw you
You know I dreamed about you
I missed you for
for twenty-nine years

Of Idealism Lost and Growing Up

Today I experienced a sudden desire to get back in touch with hindi. Alright .Not so sudden..Partly brought about by Shuvi and her love for all things Indian.She directed me to this site bombayproductions.com ,which is basically a desi analog of grooveshark.and thus I undertook  a journey of nostalgia and descended down both in time and my own psychology.  It  led to  the epiphany that I've totally abandoned my mothertongue - the language which I make myself believe I speak daily and the one with which I've been brought up in my home.The one in which I once exhibit such expertise, that I used to single handedly solve the Hindi Crossword in Chandigarh Bhaskar. From those heights of language proficiency, I've plummeted to a depth where I can barely make the wild card in Hindi Samiti events .Those rare occasions where I  do answer a riddle or a blank in Word Games, are followed by show of celebration that might give someone the impression that I've won the Nobel prize.

But I'm digressing.Where was I - ah yes. the site. I immediately developed a liking for the site and dug out my favorite hindi songs from the long lost memories of a not-so-distant past. Right now I am listening to Lucky Ali, and his music and songs inspired a thought in me, for which l logged in . Unfortunately, for me and for you, in my effort to give this post a structure and a systematic introduction, I've forgotten the original idea altogether.Except that it had something to do with the song O Sanam.or Anjaani Raahon Mein. Beautiful songs, arent they? I've loved them ever since I first heard them back when I was about 7 years old.And they never lose their charm - no matter how many times I hear them.

I used to get all dreamy whenever I heard them as a little kid. Dreaming of an epic love from a previous life or of a love yet to come.or both. Of journeys and wanderings. Of beautiful things to explore and emotions and ideas to unravel. Where did that idealism and romanticism gone? I miss it so much. 

A pity . Isnt it?

Dayaa - as Bharat would say.

Einmal ist keinmal

After a long hiatus from blogging, here I am , in Mumbai, in an IITB hostel, with one part of  my mind urging me to go out in the rain and brood over the happenings and non-happenings of the past year. The rest of my mind, the Kingdom of Procrastination, is trying its best to suppress the rebellion. It would have had, too, had its arsenal of weapons not been  compromised by the better part of my brain. The weapons like Game of Thrones, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, ALIAS, and House.The main weapon,the WMD, Chuck, has been exhausted and is out.


So yes, here am I, as a result of a treaty between the Kingdom of Procrastination and the independent intellectual rebels, overlooked by the Ministry of Lazyness and Indoor Comfort. It was decided at the treaty that the rebels would extinguish their flame of adventure and romance, and lay down their arms to the ministry, in return for a safe passage to this blog, where the aforementioned brooding can take place in a carefully monitored environment. It was readily accepted to the rebels too, for the meditations in the rain are transient and unstable -guided by adventure and romance, they lose themselves in time and space, like tears in rain. 

In other words, I am back !

C'est la vie

I never would have imagined that any girl would ever say anything to me that goes anywhere close to " If I can be rude, FYI i have a boyfriend". But there you are, and that I guess, is that.

Pippa Passes

The year's at the spring,
And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hill-side's dew-pearled;
The lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the thorn;
God's in his Heaven—
All's right with the world!

As You Like It

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

Quotable Quotes

O sleep, O gentle sleep,
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down
And steep my senses in forgetfulness?

Vanilla Sky

My dreams are a cruel joke. They taunt me. Even in my dreams I'm an idiot... who knows he's about to wake up to reality. If I could only avoid sleep. But I can't. I try to tell myself what to dream. I try to dream that I am flying. Something free. It never works...

What is any life without the pursuit of a dream?


Just remember, the sweet is never as sweet without the sour.

Isn’t that what being young is about, believing secretly that you would be the one person in the history of man that would live forever?


I want to live a real life... I don't want to dream any longer.


Because without the bitter, baby, the sweet ain't as sweet.




 

To Be or Not To Be

“ To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die, to sleep,
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there's the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause – there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of disprized love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment,
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action. Soft you now,
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remembered ”

Fuckin Loser?

I dont know why I always drive her away with my conversations. I always thought I am better online than real. Sigh.

The Fading Dream

And though I finally found her, or her spitting image... I find that I am helpless.
What if she just floats right in front of me? just passes by...
Would that be the end of it ?

Agony

Catch your dreams before they slip away
Dying all the time
Lose your dreams
And you will lose your mind.
Aint life unkind?


:(

I so wish...

London Day 1

Written when those memories were still fresh..

I still remember when I first stepped out at Heathrow. The gush of cold air. The people.THe englishmen.The NRIs. The sikh who offered me his mobile. The crowd with placards.
It was THE MOMENT. I remember thinking about how far away from home I was. I remember that feeling of an adventure - of finally doing something. I had that feeling - that rare feeling of actually living a dream. An experience you had looked up to for years - and finally living it. I could have spent hours and hours there.
I remember fiddlng with the coins and trying to work out my way with them. I remember trying to figure out the public telephone and asking people for help.
I remember being angry at my sister for being too 'busy' - yet at the same time happy for being alone and independent.

I am afraid one day I will forget it all. Or worse - I will forget how super out of the worldy awesome it was.Once I start travelling abroad frequently, will I not feel the same breath of excitement? Will I not look at the world with curious inquisitive marvelling eyes.Will I get used to it all, and forget the beauty and extraordinariness of it all? Will I get used to it?

Thats why need to pen it down.everything. the long walkalators and the helpful policement. The nepali guy who sat with me first time in the tube. The first time in the tube and the coulourful mix of people. The girl looking for arnos grove. the hefty arabic speaking/looking woman.

I will not forget stepping out in canary wharf plaza. The cold breeze.People in long overcoats. The christmas lights. The taxi who refused me a ride because my destination was too close. working my way round those skyscrapers, the roundabouts, jamie's italian to fraser place.
I will not forget walking in the sticky snow and looking at frasers place.The sudden warmth I felt stepping inside.
I will not forget the fragrance- the fragrance which inspired and urged adventure.

The best month of my entire life.

Dreams and Diaries

Time slows down in our dreams,and getting back to senses we get the shocking realisation that what felt like days were actually only a few mins. And then we get the feeling that we're might forget it. We dont want to let go. and as the cherished memory and the sensation fades off, we try with all our might to cling to it.
The whole of December feels like a dream .It feels so unreal now- when I'm reminiscing those moments. How did a month get over so quickly? I dont want those wonderful memories to fade away...
When I was there, I used to think that this is it. This is THE life changing experience.This is the inspiration,the dream I was looking for.But now all that seems so distant.
Its baffling how soon I have forgotten London and the spirit it espoused. How I have reverted to my old self. I know I had changed while I was there. I had grown. In one month, I had touched the tip of an ocean..An ocean which had inspired writers,great leaders,artists and intellectuals.I had breathed an air of fresh life.Now it feels like I was just under a spell. I am back at square one. Slowly melded back in the milieu, the same environment, gone back to the same behaviour, got caught up in the rat race.
I listen to the music I associate with that month and I fall in a trance.I feel like it reignites that flame in some small corner within me.and I try to preserve it as long as I can.
I miss London. and I miss the person I was while I was there.

High

Yes..! I felt that again...again! Maybe just a feeble one...but still..means I havnt lost it..Means maybe I am just waiting for the right one.  I know this particular one isnt it.Highly highly improbable. But atleast I felt it again. I was afraid that I have turned old and boring and uhmm...numb. But there is hope for me yet.

Regrets...

So much was missing from today's event. It could have been so much different. 
I regret not doing anything.Anything more than I what did. I should have made an effort. I was trying to be neutral, when I shouldnt have been. But then, did I see it coming?

Did I? I should have..I was too meek.Was I afraid  ? Afraid of people ?
I regret so much. and I am so sorry. 

Dreams made Flesh

In between..the sleep and the wake..the concious and the subconcious..the memories and the dreams..lies him.
In between..the pretentions and the honesty..inside  the liminal spaces but  outside the walls..Do i need to hallucinate to go there? Do i need to be high to clamber those walls? I want no boundaries.Where is the vast expanse?
Psychedelic is good.Psychedelic is underrated. I like psychedelic.I like dreamy.the phantasmgoric.kaleidoscopic.
If life is a delusion what is real? The mind made the flesh.
Rid me of this mortal coil
Free me of this useless toil

Quo Vadis?

Enough!

I think I've had enough of myself. Enough of being whiny and self obsessing. Enough of this low self esteem. Enough of the delusions I'm living under.
I'm going to leave myself. Create a new self . Live differently.Think differently.Be independent.
Here I go....!

Holi Reminiscing

Hiding like people in bunkers during war times fearing being bombed.Hiding like Jews during Holocaust.This is Holi for me.This is what I've turned it into.
I miss being home. The friends who used to stand and shout at the gate. Me bombing and hiding in my balcony. The motorcycle hooligans...and garrisoning near Anuj's place with an army of water baloons and waterguns and eggs and what not.
I miss the holi sweets.Miss massaging with oil early morning.and then getting the colour off.atleast trying to. Mom encouraging me to stay inside,with dad hoping for the opposite.
I dreamt of the park today.I miss the park.
I dont like it here. Sometimes I wonder if down the years I'll miss this place the same as I miss home now. Doesnt look like it.Because I havnt done anything exciting here.havnt gone out of my shell. It has been the same since day one. Same department gossips.Same last ditch effort before the minors.The quizzing and lazying around during normal days.Nothing much exciting.Nothing memorable.
Thats why I made a resolution today.I'll turn it around.I'll create good memories out of this place. I still have two years.

It didnt happen.And I only realized how much I wanted it to after it was all over.After I woke up next morning. Maybe I am being swayed..Afterall I am supposed to be neutral..I should be neutral. I was neutral ..until it was all over.
Whats wrong with me?

"So this is how liberty dies... with thunderous applause. "

Winds of Change

I am feeling good again. After 2 months.Theres something in the air which wasnt before. The weather seems a lot more pleasant. The music is uplifting. What used to be the burden of work just feels like ...useless light cotton clouds.I can notice the stars shining again.
I feel like floating through..Nothing seems important. I want to do some good work..talk to strangers...drink cold coffee..Laugh.Play.Swim.Travel.

The winds of change I was waiting for have finally arrived. :)

Ramblings - II

I have a huge respect for those who bond with animals. Because its a friendship beyond beyond any gender, racial, colour bias . Its a friendship without any expectations or judgments. It is beyond language.

Its a pity that I've never shared a relationship like this. I try to, but somehow they never warm up to me.Maybe they're able to read by deep rooted inhibitions? Maybe my body language throws them off. I dont know.



"If you think dogs can't count, try putting three dog biscuits in your pocket and then giving Fido only two of them. " - Phil Pastoret

The Winter of My Discontent

In the end, its only me who will last. These friendships are going to crumble,one by one, bit by bit. One or two may survive, but then, I have had a history of loosing touch. Of moving on.One of my professors once said that the more friends she adds on facebook, the more lonely she feels.Right now, I can totally relate to that feeling.
Its ironic how I feel more lonely here than I ever felt during some of the solitary sojourns I had in England.  I was from a different culture, different country - but I was never an outcast.
Its the same feeling I get when I feel homesick at home. As they say, home is where heart is - and mine is always wandering in far-off places.

Good Times

Last Day. Dont wanna leave. Dont wanna whine.
Time to wake up. Back to the concentration camp..Back to reality.