Unorthodox Pages From The Secluded Diary - Part 1

You are sinking, slowly into the realms of this world. No stars here, only the murky bits of used up betel leaves. The brief bouts of hysteria pass slowly, revealing a light but stable rainbow. This won't go. It's here to stay.

It takes a hundred and forty characters to describe yourself, you discover. Maybe it's the significant things most of them focus on. Either way, it's surprising what is significant to what. People change who they are in the blink of an eye. But you don't want to. Atleast not for the time being.

It takes only a couple of twists and turns to land you in certain awkward situations, and certain sharp ones to pull you out of some. You do it though, and in the process, discover a whole new side of you.

People. People make up the world. People are temporary, but they can be your sole source of shelter, and the occasional boost of ego. What's better? You don't know them, they don't know you.

Just..be cautious, make wise choices.
When has a wandering mind ever been wise?

It is safe to say this is what you need now.

You are very cautious, at first. You observe them like a hawk does his prey, only to find out that you've been the prey amidst famished hawks all along.
You are ready to give some of them the benefit of doubt, but not all.

Pretty is the most underrated word here. So is intellect. Yet, they are characters all quite sullen and sophisticated one moment, and completely tear themselves and others apart the next.

The only one you know. She is the queen who brought me here, and already has a huge fan following. She should, because love is what she deserves.

She is pretty, intelligent and adorable in her own way. She'll make it work. Ultimately, she collects an army of several hundred on her side and every single one loves her. Well except some..because hey, everyone has enemies.

He was/is just an extension. The sort of passerby you say hello to an move on. But. The humor attracts you, it always does. So you lengthen conversations in hopes of figuring out who this specie is. Turns out he's not what you assumed him to be

By this time you've figured out what the essentials mean. You didn't earlier and well... that turned out to be embarassing.

Yes, it's true what they say. God works in mysterious ways.

Three of them, unique in their own way. All three harbour a love for the music of a bygone era, the music kids nowadays frown upon, on the basis of being 'uncool'.
- The first two you know from a different place. They are more like home than the rest.
-The third is unique. Says stuff everyone is thinking, everyone wants to, but no one has the balls to.

Surprisingly, you find a lot of your kind here. Professionally, atleast. They aren't always talking about guts and histology and the ugliness you have to face everyday.

A lot of old people, only a few acknowledgable. A lot of  their situations astoundingly baffling.
And many, most, who feel like home.

You may not name them, but you know them.
Although the gossip tingles in your fingers, eager to get out.
You have to wait.
You have to make them wait.
After all, it's always the thrill of the chase.


 

Wishes Undiscovered

It becomes insane when you have to maintain a facade of politeness, when inside you're seething, wanting just to sink into your warm, comfy bed, because you're scared that the mole on your neck might turn out to be a tumor, or because you don't know enough yet to get through the exams and you don't want to give them anyway.

You want to write. A desire leaps within you. It sets your heart on fire. It orchestrates itself in the tip of your fingers. It's behind every single tear that never really made its way out of your eyes.

Yet you seeth, wretchedly, with the pain radiating through your body.  You want nothing but to embrace this desire. Yet you know that once you do, it'll sever ties with any and everyone who has held consequential significance in your life. You don't know which bit you can handle better. Losing love, or losing life.

This is good, though. The constant appraisal of beauty. Getting lost in club music. Humming to yourself to keep the nerves soothed. You get angry, but you watch others fight to let your own steam off. You listen to louder, harsher music, because that's the way life is for you, and you're lost in the lousy beats anyway. You let insignificant verses rule your world, let them sweep you off into the skies of blinding lights and faithlessness.

But they want everything. Every little bit of you. They are humans, after all. And its only about time that you gave to them what they had to you when they sacrificed a trip to a beautiful land in order to get you to a position strong enough to recognise your own dream.

Do it for them, its the noble thing to do, the right thing to do, by them.

Maybe more people will remember you this way when you die of wanderlust.

Change

Its inevitable, along the course of days, months, years.
But its not always for the worse.

I have returned, like the age old witch, to haunt the cult.
I'm here more often though.
Because my heart resides more within verses than the world.

Perfume

Every year, a bouquet to me,
Every year, a smile to her.
I hold your life,
She holds your heart.
You are dead without me.
You are a piece of unattended, rotten flesh without her.
The latter, my dear, I'd rather refrain from;
For elegant women are all about perfume.

 

Musings of a corrupt mind

What happens when the language you thought you knew like home is on the  brink of destruction? And you neither have time to read, not even chick-lits that you would've finished in a day?

What happens when you're far away from the part of reality you'd always yearned for, and end up being somewhere else, amidst homosexual handshakes every morning?

awkward. especially with the pat on the back

Also, I am the proud mother of a kid called Procrastination.
Save me, somebody. 

Of Goodbyes and Hullos

I have been hibernating. But only due to a course of events that proved too much to handle towards its beginning.

But hullo. I'm back. Have so far seen black live human lungs that stink like fish (only this stench is more potent), sick people who made me wonder whether there a single sane healthy human being in the world and gossip like none other (which shall be disclosed bit by bit).

For now, I'm wondering about tails.
Everyone has had one.
It would be so cool if we still did. 

Science and Faith

It's about to begin, the journey of 1,825 days to what everyone calls 'excellence'.
And I don't even know if I'm going to be in it, yet.

I can smell a kind of ether everywhere. I hope to God I'm not going to be buried alive.

It's difficult to trust anyone once someone crushing it and doesn't even acknowledge how big it is for him/her to have done to you. Of course, there's a good deal of stomping and ending up falling flat on your face but that's just the kind of idiotic physical pain you shouldn't fling upon yourself.

There's also a good deal of shouting. And cursing.
(As if that's any healthy)

Its Friday. Nani would have wanted me to tie two pigtails and present myself to her properly, reciting yesterday's lessons. Instead, I sway to a little of Rihanna; curse a little with Eminem. Coarse music soothes the anguish bit by bit. .

They told me I was selfish. They've been that way for a long time, and I took their idiosyncrasies as I should, instead of looking the other way, and becoming silent.
What have I done to be proud of, or feel hurt, now that they do this to me?

'Becoming emo is not you, never you, Dawson', everyone will say.
Why emo now, then?

My tears are only perfunctory, you think. That's why. Because the people whom I could count on (only two, mind you) think there's much better in the world than to listen to someone else like they used to.

Good for them.

If only Nani were here, I would recite a single lesson, learnt by me over the months; again and again.

Blind trust is always fatal. 

The attendance

The heads of a company are in a trance, whilst finalizing a particular deal, they engage in a weird, unprecedented dance.

I guess all the superiors are taught the particulars of this dance via experience.
It includes circulating the boardroom gesticulating in a language understood by none, but nodded at by everyone. It's like a musical with the fuzzy noise of a middle aged man trying to sneak in a few minutes' sleep before his wife calls him about the groceries (back in his own office, of course).

Look busy, work none - as always becomes the motto of another fashionably boring day.

Meanwhile, for those who want to fool there superiors, here's wiki-how.

I excel because I fire so many

Two days too late?

Another flight by candy-coated feathers of countenance, another year past me.

Image source

I adopted the word Dil phenk this year, it reminds me of the random moments spent on the bus back from school, musing about random people in random cars; lying in the grass under the confident protection of the sun, wondering what cheesy story of the then-famous songs could possibly apply to me. It also reminds me of all the moments I've spent envying certain people. But most of all, it reminds me of the care-free safety that used to be associated with all of us when we were young. 

Here's to a new beginning of  dil phenk 2012. May we loose our hearts over every shiny and dull thing alike (like when we were kids) and enjoy the subtle teachings of good, bad, happy and sad in as feisty a way as the power-puff girls showed us. 

Err. Maybe a tad bit different - I could do without the huge hearts in different shades of pink.

Literally.

Borrowed Ecstasy

I'll make planes out of my dreams,
Fly them high, and let them crash,
But never let them die.

I'll take birds on solitary walks
In meadows of my imagination,
Let them sing sweet songs,
Of my sourly disposition.

I'll drink milk straight out of the box,
And consume slop in free time.
Never mind the prim and proper prissiness
The feeling of doom and utter stupidity
That it later leaves behind.

I'll walk out that door
Learn to live in overalls
Let life be led in a shady sketch.
Take time to see you work to the top,
Watch the movie of a reality
I had once tried to fetch.

I'll count seventy one days,
Perhaps four hundred more.
Let you walk down the memory lane
With bubble gum consistency,
That we reserved for forever after.
I'll probably take a rain check,
And let the faded reality
Burn in different shades of green today.

Image Source

Turbulence

There's finally a song that made me cry.

I seem to have wacky choices, but this one, the music, lyrics, everything. . .  it just pulls me in.
I've never been so hung up on a song like this before, not for months at end anyway.