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 !