Teens to Toons

In the last few months.. I have been on a sort of exploration for new forms of music.. Besides knocking into led zep, I think the most enriching experience has been coming across the album "Quadrophenia" by The Who.. Quadrophenia is one of those self-introspection kind of albums (i guess there are not many of them...). It has made me think a lot. There are days and weeks, when u end up spending most of your time in the office, analysing and writing reams of codes. U get drowned in your work and end up ignoring your own interests. Somehow, you get lost in this queer crowd of things created by you. Then one day, suddenly you wake up and say to yourself, "Man, where was I all these days". It's a situation when the real you and the present you become two different persons. It comes as a shock to you, when you see your life separating from the real you. Dont know how it goes for others, but I had to live this situation.. It was kinda pathetic.. Luckily, thats when

It actually began, quite reluctantly. Unnecessary as it may seem, life teaches you what you allow it to teach. Even Life cannot teach you what it offers you. One has to let himself dissolve into the experience and let it sink in, and that I might call religion or education. Whatever the other person is willing to accept. Nay. Does it matter? Nay. Life is about teaching oneself. Being a self-thought-taught "person", picking up bits and pieces from various experiences, I tread on a path; I have myself laid out for myself. Never have I asked, in other words, begged for words, from "messiahs". Never did I think myself of having enough virtue, call it patience, to learn from others. So "rich" were my experiences. Things change, dynamically. Responding to an open question, throwing caution to the winds, I immersed myself into a debate, with people who thought, had streamlined their thinking apparatus and abilities. Gradually, they pestered; read "lee

When the last tree has fallen, When the last drops of water are polluted, When the last bird ceases to sing, Will “they” realize that money cannot be eaten. Reading these somewhat crazy lines, I was joyous, at being finally able to have convinced myself, that this human race has faintest of hopes of living out the new century. I had been troubled for a pretty long time at, what seems to me, a race to extinction. I am an educated, liberal and informed individual. Having been educated at the best of the institutions, I developed a deep admiration for Mother Nature and her so “wily” ways. Listening to my Guru and his talks on “biomimetic” methods, I sensed a deep concern in him. Of late, all he talked of was “Green” Chemistry. I connect to people, people my age and people “not” my age, irrespective of who and what they are, thanks to my rootless upbringing. I used to be appalled at how short sighted “genuinely” gifted men can be. Talks of Dollar salaries, Ivy League scholarsh

Last weekend, I was thinking about how people tend to post more about negative experiences in their lives than about positive ones. Today is no exception. I feel kind of bad about having such a negative attitude, but writing about things makes me feel better and refreshed too. The first time was after Puchee told me that I have a super ego and that I have an inferiority complex. Personally, I don't think I have a super ego or a complex, but every time I hear him them say that, I feel as if there's something wrong with me; as if a part of me is somehow wrong. Those feelings of not being normal have been accumulating, and today they seem just too much to ignore. I finally asked him why he thought I had a super ego and an inferiority complex. He said that I seem to get really defensive when we talk about people, people we know and discuss them. I t is that I always tend to blast them away and their accomplishments. He was specific to the way I talk about women in general. H

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars, and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance." The night wind whirls in the sky and sings. I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. On nights like this, I held her in my arms. I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky. She loved me, sometimes I loved her. How could I not have loved her large, still eyes? I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her. To hear the immense night, more immense without her. And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass. What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her. The night is full of stars and she is not with me. That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away. My soul is lost without her. As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her. My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

Which OS are You?

Withered away, the burning heat of the day Evening silently soaked the heat within Wearing the diamonds came the night O’ Soul why are you silent, smile!! Three things have affected me lately. Hope, fear and death. Silently they walked past me in the night and left me awake. Gasping for breath, a parched throat and burning eyes. These days have been gloomy because days are heavy with tension. Work and nothing else. I need to relax and let the natural “me” take over. But it does not happen. Rather I cannot let that happen. Reading a lot these days has been a need. A need because I need to exist in an unreal world where I can be what I want to be. It would be difficult to be that in the real world. I even pretend to dream these days. Pretense has become my entire life. Every moment of my life is “pretending” to be me. I am doing it for the fact that people might not recognize the “real” me if I were to show them who I am. Living a life where everything is drive

In times of concious desire for pain, a man seeks loneliness. Loneliness when desired by a human, and is self imposed, is solitude. This is probably the time, when one turns to god or to oneself, seeking answers in a process of self discovery. Ultimately, a person wants to know why is he desiring the pain. It is said of man, that he seldoms does anything, not for his own sake. Almost all our actions are based on seeling for results and have a hidden ulterior motive in the times to come. All our efforts are directed in a way to achieve a goal and in a sense, we become puppets to out whims and desires, thus causing ourselves to be motivated, influenced and manipulated for the result we seek. So is it pain, what I seek? Sometimes they say "follow the heart" and sometimes they say "follow the mind". I hardly know what am I following, but the desire in me, rightnow is to feel the nothingness and soak up all the pain, I can inflict upon myself. Nobody can d