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 !