Teens to Toons

why is that I am having this undeniably foolish urge of writing Why is that I am having this undeniably foolish urge of writing down and preserve all that as befallen me, which I would prefer to call as her eminence, the great, life the greatest .I feel as if I have just retired from a battle and it has been of sorts, for it has shattered me completely and has resurrected me back from the very ashes, just like the phoenix. I feel lost in a lifeless desert with unknown faces, faces whom I would not care to touch or should I say dare or to be very true to myself though not for the first time, for I have lost the desire and the will to discover them out...not that I am a loner or an introvert, but yes, I am bent upon changing all that has fallen me as if by a bazooka. Now that words have taken flight let me be true to the core...for the first time. Life till date has been as life should have been. It has had its fair share of up's and downs, what commoners prefer to

Tere khushboo mein base khat main jalaata kaise, Pyaar mein doobe huey khat main jalaata kaise, Tere haathon ke likhe khat main jalaata kaise, Jinko duniyaa ki nighaahon se chupaaye rakhaa, Jinko ek umr kaleje se lagaaye rakhaa, Deen jinhe jinko imaan banaaye rakhaa, Tere khushboo mein base khat main jalaata kaise, Jinkaa har lafz mujhe yaad paani ki tarah Yaad they mujh ko jo paigaame jubaani ki tarah, Mujhko pyaare they jo anmol nishaani ki tarah, Tere khushboo mein base khat main jalaata kaise, Tune duniyaa ki nighaahon se bach kar likhe, Saal-ah-saal mere naam baraabar likhe, Kabhi din mein to kabhi raat ko uth kar likhe, Tere khushboo mein base khat main jalaata kaise, Pyaar mein doobe huey khat main jalaata kaise, Tere haanthon ke likhe khat main jalaata kaise, Tere khat aaj main ganga bahaa aayaa hoon, Aag behte huey paani mein lagaa aayaa hoon. We wrote 72 letters each to our school addresses. That was 10th, 11th and 12th. And I thought that I had found my partner for life. All

I tell friends everything.. things normal and abnormal. I tell family nothing.. things normal and abnormal. Why? Because Family can do something and Friends can do nothing at a level where doing something can actually improve the situation. I cried and did lots of things when she was getting married. I told friends and they gave me a lot of time. They sympathised with me. They shouted at me. They did a lot. But what happened. Nothing. She got married and I am here writing this. Had I phoned mom or dad or sis, I would not be sitting here writing this. I am sure of this. Because I know them. They would do nothing except get me what I want. They would have gotten her for me. Because I know my mom. I know my sis and I know my dad. Mom would go straight. Sis would go diagonally and Dad would not move at all. But they would have gotten her. So why did I not tell them this? I tried to find an answer to this. Pataa nahin. I just want to be the sweet (hehe), innocent, virtuous kid, in front of

Kaun rota hai kissi aur ke gham ki khatir Sab ko apni hi kissi baat pe rona aaya Even though world does sometimes stop to take notice of some one, still the fight has to be fought by the person himself. No body I think has time enough to do things for others (Not that I know of. Back in my hometown, things are not like that. People still care for people). Lots of people I know are going to different places. Soon I am going to miss a lot of people, I cherish. Although I have never told them, how much they mean to me, I just wish they had understand without my saying so.

Yesterday was a day for introspection. Tomorrow is the day for the last interview. Today is a day when I am writing something good. AMD four cpu-cluster load balancing is bad. That is about as close to the real issue I am. I am going to read load balancing issues in CPU's over the three days. I come back and write a white paper on this. I can definitely visualise this. I wonder, being a chemical engineer and a good one at that, for all the stunts I pulled off in IITK labs and otherwise... why am I chugging at this place where they make me do stuff which even CSE guys would not want to. Who wants to do R&D? I had rather lay in the shade and read a wonderful novel. But still there is a thrill everyday when I wake and I know that I am going to do this today and I am going to complete and then, only then come back home. I like this place for the challenges it throws at me. I would have never found a similar job in chemical industry (include pharma and biotech as well) in India. I s

I feel empty. I feel raw. I feel rotten. I feel like not feeling. I have nothing to show, if someone to ask me about what I have achieved in my stay on this planet. Nothing. what is a few flirtations with literature, knowledge, pain and sweat. No blood. No tears. No medallions. No gallantry. Ah! I am disgusted with myself for being so ordinary. I deserve the void for I do not work half as hard as I could. I am wasting my life.

I have been reading voraciously. I am reading Linux Device Drivers, PERL for biologists, Time, Science, Spectrum, Reckless Jill (P.G.Wodehouse), several newspapers and then also my tests and other whitepapers. At home I am reading a few novels and some interesting print outs. I was wondering how I am spending time in office and I found that I read one thing for ten minutes and then move to another and working in between. I am multitasking and I find this to be pretty relieving. I have always been a diletantte. I think I need to read a bit more, a bit deep. I need to read something on the cutting edge for a brilliant idea. I was reading about some great men on Time and I found them to be absolutely irrational and unbending. I will make a move soon enough. I just wish I had been pursuing a relationship as willingly as I am pursuing the knowledge. That might just have made me "earthly" happy. (Sherene's word for what I cannot quantify)

We embraced and he went away. No promises made. He is a just a "friend". It's his. palkon ke kinaare jo hamne bhigoye hi nahin, woh samajhte hain ki hum roye hi nahin, poochte hain woh ki kisse dekhte ho khwabon mein, kyaa bataein unhein, ki hum ek arsey se soye hi nahin. I remember you still.

When I was growing up, I could always tell when my father had something serious to talk about with me, because he’d ask me if I wanted to go out for a walk. He’d suggest it casually, like the idea had suddenly popped into his head, but I could always tell that he had planned it ahead of time. When I was about to leave for Kanpur, we went out for what would be the last of these talks, the one that he had prepared, I think, to launch me into adulthood. (We still go out for walks now, but we no longer have these lecture-style conversations.) On that walk he warned me. “Don’t expect,” he said, “to find your ultimate happiness in your relationships with others. God has not designed us to be fulfilled by one another; he has designed us to be fulfilled only by ourselves.” I nodded earnestly, and in theory I agreed wholeheartedly with what he was saying, but it has taken me years to understand and appreciate that lesson. Some people say that the first year of college is the hardest. I f

Deception. I admire people who have the ability to decieve. I might even call it a genius at work. It is difficult to find it and admire it. Stealth. I love people who can work thing from backstage and never appear to the primemover. These are the real people. Somehow they realise that power is in not showing it. Now when I was coming to the real world from IITK, I was preparing to deal with stealth and deception. In my own mind, I was afraid. But when I came here, I found it disappointing. Probably I will have to move to politics to face what I wanted to. People tell me lies and expect me to believe them. Sitting in my living room , I get all the information I need. Thanks to the great network that I have. Thanks to my innate abilities of getting the information that I want. Hah. Just don't underestimate me. One is mocking me if they do that. Give me my fair share of abilities and I will make it much much better for you. Otherwise, in some rashness of my mind, I just might decide

Hi xxxxxx, Honestly i dont know what I did wrong to you...you have to be one psycho to be a back-stabber....i don't trust you anymore, but one thing i trust is that life is not that unfair..i m sure if you keep on hurting ppl who ever trust you, you are going to live a horrible life, one w/o friends. i dont know what kind of a perverse pleasure you get by all this, by hurting people, invading their lives and telling them and yourself you are not a bad person. i really wish to God your conscience, if it exists somewhere, kills you someday. anyhow, dont mail me back. even if you do, it'll go to my trash. xxxxxx ************ The first thought that came to me was "what did I do?". Second thought was " Do I defend myself this time?". Third thought was "Is this worth it?". Then I went numb. Then I laughed. And I went back to my problems with rsh. *********** "So can you let any one call you anything that they want to." "I guess I will let

In a world where life is at a premium, some people have this absurd notion that the world cares about them. In a world where life does not make sense, some people want to go over all that again and again. Sometimes, try as I might, I simply can not forget. A certain voice, a certain face, certain moments. It's not the bad memories that ultimately get to you, but the good ones. For every one memory that you manage to stow away into some remote corner, a hundred charge at you with a vengeance. It's a hard fight that requires all my gumption. But the night with A made me think that it has all been well worth it. "You were the weakest among us," she said. "Really?" "Yeah...you were so thin-skinned, so vulnerable. That's why it seemed so unfair to us that YOU should have had to face this." Silence. We reminisce about old times, about lost innocence, of a time when love could only mean one thing. And somehow, the tears gather as they always do at suc

Last week, I talked to an old friend of mine. We talked all that had happened, has happened, is happening and will happen. And then he asked me what I was doing this weekend. I sheepishly told him that I was playing a table tennis tournament. "Ah, so you are reunited with your first love." I was like wow. People have the most beautiful girls, ladies and women as their first loves and I have Table Tennis or is it Art? I got back thinking. Is it Art or Table Tennis? It surely is Art. My first love (intellectually) was (is) Arts. My first love (physically) is Table Tennis. Rest of all the sports I played were mere infatuations. I owe a lot to Table Tennis. I have a relationship which I have not been able to form with people. I have given a lot to it and it has been very unselfish. When I was fit and I was practising hard, I was playing my best and my results reflected the my efforts. It was like I was giving it all I had and it loved me back with an intensity that gave me a glow

When I think of the times that I live in Dickens comes to my mind almost naturally: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way." Then why do you talk to me? This is one of those questions which, I with all my sagacity and ability to manipulate thoughts and words, have not been able to satisfactorily answer. Today, it is a mania with me to at least analyze why this question exists. Before I started writing this (at home, all feverish) I did some research. I recalled all people who asked me that question. I went to my journals and I made all the connections. Over the past four years, twenty seven (27) people

For all times sake ( I am delirious on account of high fever), I want to record an honest statement. The most beautiful person, I ever saw. Now, on screen it is Madhubala (for all the sentimental reasons). In person, the most angelic I ever saw was in the most unlikely circumstances. When I was a kid, way back in 6th or 7th, my favorite hobby was calculating my wealth. I had this big piggy bank and I would calculate my wealth in tens and quarters several times a day. Calculating interest on what was deposited in my bank account was a heavenly pleasure. I have found nothing better till date. I still remember my account in Central Bank of India, Etawah and how the cashier would refuse to accept my deposit in tens and quarters. I still remember how my mother would smilingly take back all the coins and pay in notes, the desired amount. I would be teary eyed, for I would be unable to understand the reason for the refusal to accept GOI's own coins. Anywayz I would wait eagerly for the su

Show me all the tricks. Show me all the sparks. Show me all the beauty in the world and yet I would not want any of it. Not because I do not want it. It is because I want all of it. I want it and I want it badly. I want and want and want. But I want to want what I want badly. I want to have all that I deserve and not something that I do not. I am not averse to working hard. I will work till that last days of my life. I plan to keep my life simple. Without complications. Last night a dream. Woke up all cold sweat. Phoned up Didi and talked to her for an hour. Told her all that I could and she was cool. I guess I never knew her. I guess she is great. Just like all the people who have met her over the past few years say. We just have not had any time to spend together and whenever we do we spend too much time on saying the right things. Din kuchh aise guzaartaa hai koi, Jaise ehsaan utaartaa hai koi, Aaeenaa dekh kar tasalli huee, hamko iss ghar mein jaantaa hai koi. Tumhaare gham ki dhal

Maybe it's the fever or it is pure plain foolishness on my part. I obtained her number in America through a friend masquerading as her long lost friend. It was simple. The plot was carefully thought over. It was vintage me. And then with the 10 digit number in my hand, I was shaking with nervousness. Would she remember me or would she have forgotten me? And then sanity prevailed. The number went into my phonebook and I just shut everything up. It seems she has not reclaimed her logins. It seems she does not have any time to chat. It seems America has totally absorbed her. It seems too bad. Anyway it's her birthday and which I always pretended to forget so that it would avail me an opportunity to talk to her for a longer time. So what do I do now? Do I just phone her out of the blue. Do I mail her to the mail boxes which she will never open again. Do I send her a gift. Nothing. I am going to put an end to everything. It is right and it is sensible. That is me.

I could feel something in his rather gruff voice. He was not himself yesterday. I talked to him for long. I wanted to know what was troubling him. I am so proud of him. He is one person I would live on for. He is one person to whom I can relate without words. A double gold medallist in Mathematics and having recieved his gold medals from King (or Queen) of England. An IPS officer of batch of '47. A superb speaker of English and a great memory (which has faded visibly). An honest and upright man who cared for none in his prime. Thirty Eight transfers in 35 years of service. People speak of him highly still. I once met a man who had joined Police Services in 70's and he was in awe of him still. "Srivastava Saheb jaise log ab kahaan hain". A DIG saying that for my Grand Dad. I called him up in the afternoon. I wanted to talk to him while he was alone. And I asked him things, till he told me all. Money has all but gone in last years because of illness and foolishness of h

I talked to one of my aunts and she went into a monologue about how good she is and why I did what i did. Gawd. For the love of my life, I listened like ice, like snow. All frozen. I wanted to not hear the words. I wanted not to do the "umms ahhs" that have to be spoken at regular intervals. She harped on why I did not think her good enough (she compared me and her... what a comparison... it's like Quasimodo and Esmeralda). I think when my other aunt cornered me in sister's marriage about why I said nothing when "she" got married, the silence, the unspoken words, the unspoken tears, my defiance to my own will... She got a whiff of what happened. It must have been heroic. My stoic defiance of all my desires. I felt stupid then and I feel stupid now.And now I read the lines below. Could it have been worse. Reminded of your worst mistake and made to live through it for a lifetime. Main lafzon se kucch bhi izhaar nahi karta, Iska matlab ye nahin ki main tujhe py

I am sober. Naah. I mean I am much more sober than I was, say a year ago. I am less wild. I am more considerate. I am far more agreeable. I smile while I speak. I make friends. I am becoming a commoner. My life has been like a Himalayan river. I began slowly silently from drops to a glacier and then to tiny rivulets to reach amazing speed and ferocity. All this till now and it seems like I have reach the plains. My life is "plaining" out. A quarter of a century trying to find myself. And now I think have and I'm bored. I have it all - a well paying interesting job in a reputable company where I will probably do well, loving parents, a fun sister, friends, good health and just about everything anyone could reasonably ask for. I could but I would not. But I want more only from myself. I want to work harder, better. I want me to better myself at every stage. I want to feel the tension grip me, the cold perspiration sodding my shirt. I want it in much much more intensity. It&

People will never forgive me. They will never forgive my indulgences. They accuse me of things that I dream of. They accuse me things that I would have been proud of. They accuse me of things that I am not capable of. How can i make them understand simple things. They ask me if they matter. I make friends for lifetimes. I will do anything for a friend, well almost anything. They ask me if I consider them a friend. How can I answer that. I don't know if that can be answered. But they will never stop blaming me for things I never did. They will never forget me. They will never forgive me.... reminds me of a poem I wrote in fourth or fifth... one that is framed and put up in the house... God gives and forgives Man gets and forgets the more he gives the more he forgets But in the end he accounts for all that he has given And he has to pay for all that he has taken with INTEREST. that was good for a nine year old...