You were never meant to cruise - all you have ever managed to do is, trudge and drag your feet. And just when you convince yourself to embrace mediocrity, you get stymied - pushing the bar of desirable achievement even lower. The desire to learn lingers, but the drive to accomplish is dwindling into the grey dusk. Humbled by the weight of this momentary lapse of life-force, you buckle and fall. Vanquished by the onslaught of your own thought, face down in the sand, you wonder if it had been a good idea to have let your mind run free with the ingredients for a full fledged bomb of defiance.
From this point of mental drudgery, you gaze ahead at a plume of smoke, hanging in the air for a wee bit longer than you'd expect, before floating on into the darkening sky. Somewhere beyond the folds of heaven, you hear Morcheeba belting out "Run Honey Run". The world wobbles as you gather your thoughts and yourself. You follow the smoke into the thickets, and then alongside a clinking stream. Further down the road, by the gurgling water and under a tree, a group of merry travelers sit. You're welcome to join them, but camaraderie like almost everything else in the world, comes with a price. Give and take, buy and sell, a barter of souls - the offspring of the oil that keeps the cog - wheels of an extremely complicated world in motion.
Conditional Acceptance - the root of most things human. The inherent curiosity in you compels you to make the trade and seal the deal. It is indeed perfectly safe to do so, as long as you know the ubiquitous truths of this kind of an acceptance. The most important one being the ability to exercise a checked acquiescence to whats being offered. Its like walking into an open bar and settling for a glass of water.
All said and done, your destination never changes. At the end of the day, a quest for knowledge and happiness pretty much sums up the convoluted endeavors you bundle in and out of. Everything else is an incarnation of the same basic impulse. Knowing just this is not enough to sail across smoothly, but its similar to having a magic sail that can move your boat in the middle of a dead ocean bereft of wind, so you may alight upon beautiful shores, be accepted and exercise acceptability.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Monday, November 1, 2010
Thinking on the move - Valley of Life
At one end of your mental plane is the realm of reclusion, sheltered by a poignant gray sky, dictated by a pervasive notion of pointless existence and the ideology of staying aloof while at the same time playing along to earn acceptability in your clique. Afar, at the other end is a valley - complete with meandering rivers, carpets of lavender and green, reverberating with wondrous cries of vibrantly colored birds. One as inviting as the other to your eyes and mind, you may not be in a position to choose either, and will rather live both lives in regulated quantities. You are your own arbiter and the victim of thine own decisions. But lets talk awhile of the seemingly livelier of the two, of the place in your head that is not bereft of emotion, that which is not eroded by the winds of lethargy and dull reality, of that little corner which yet harbors a desire to fall in line with the rest - to laugh, cry, get hurt and heal.
The valley is crowded, filled with faces and words - it defines your life as a son, a brother, a caring friend or a vengeful foe. It whets your material appetite and at the same time, ties you to some of the most beautiful, enviable moments and emotions you can cherish when the easy chair beckons. This plausibly pleasing, and deceivingly serene haven was supposed to be your first home.
But you saw right through it all, like you always do; riddling the walls with contemplative bullets, you stripped the place bare until the storms and fires were all that you could see. You knew that your kinship, loyalty and love for the near and dear ones was unwavering and would ever remain so. But there were some other strings that got broken strained by the intensity of your relentless thought-driven invasions. A vision gained and the due price paid, you decided to change flanks.
The faraway, gray land is now your home, a grayness that you can color green, or orange or any other color has no name. A place where you can scatter the trinkets you carried with care from the other end - from the valley. As you nurture your notions of a perfect world, you fill in color and character into emptiness, naively smiling at the idea of a prospective glen to coop yourself in, forever. You build mountains all around, tall and majestic, a stronghold to keep out any remnants from the wanton land you left behind; a fortress to fend off any scraps of ego, ire or vanity that may come riding in, on the wings of the cold zephyr. Your job done, you watch in wonder as nature plays its part in beautifying your world. Bustling with life, surrounded by all that you hold dear, its time for you to close your eyes and catch some precious moments of bliss.
Soon it will be the time to wake up, wrap up and leave; the time to append another dimension to your limitless mind, the time indeed to go in search yet again, of a never to be found heaven.
The valley is crowded, filled with faces and words - it defines your life as a son, a brother, a caring friend or a vengeful foe. It whets your material appetite and at the same time, ties you to some of the most beautiful, enviable moments and emotions you can cherish when the easy chair beckons. This plausibly pleasing, and deceivingly serene haven was supposed to be your first home.
But you saw right through it all, like you always do; riddling the walls with contemplative bullets, you stripped the place bare until the storms and fires were all that you could see. You knew that your kinship, loyalty and love for the near and dear ones was unwavering and would ever remain so. But there were some other strings that got broken strained by the intensity of your relentless thought-driven invasions. A vision gained and the due price paid, you decided to change flanks.
The faraway, gray land is now your home, a grayness that you can color green, or orange or any other color has no name. A place where you can scatter the trinkets you carried with care from the other end - from the valley. As you nurture your notions of a perfect world, you fill in color and character into emptiness, naively smiling at the idea of a prospective glen to coop yourself in, forever. You build mountains all around, tall and majestic, a stronghold to keep out any remnants from the wanton land you left behind; a fortress to fend off any scraps of ego, ire or vanity that may come riding in, on the wings of the cold zephyr. Your job done, you watch in wonder as nature plays its part in beautifying your world. Bustling with life, surrounded by all that you hold dear, its time for you to close your eyes and catch some precious moments of bliss.
Soon it will be the time to wake up, wrap up and leave; the time to append another dimension to your limitless mind, the time indeed to go in search yet again, of a never to be found heaven.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Home calling
Raindrops, from up above
Pitter, patter they fall
Scatter and go a thousand ways.
Its got me thinking of home again.
I know the light is filtering in
Through the curtains in the hall.
Sunday morning news
Is lying on the floor.
Mama are you in the kitchen,
Hot breakfast on the stove?
Papa's by the porch ,
A cup of Coffee in his hand.
Pitter, patter they fall
Scatter and go a thousand ways.
Its got me thinking of home again.
I know the light is filtering in
Through the curtains in the hall.
Sunday morning news
Is lying on the floor.
Mama are you in the kitchen,
Hot breakfast on the stove?
Papa's by the porch ,
A cup of Coffee in his hand.
Monday, October 4, 2010
The knot speaks
The knot speaks
Form deep within my entity.
Dull throbbing
From the depths of insanity.
I hold my head in my hands
To keep my mind from floating,
The grays offer me their warmth
In the black of the night.
I need to,
Fly away
Up there
And feel
Ever So light, so light.
Down there the
Walls are all
Crumbling
Into dust
And you surrender, to the pain.
Form deep within my entity.
Dull throbbing
From the depths of insanity.
I hold my head in my hands
To keep my mind from floating,
The grays offer me their warmth
In the black of the night.
I need to,
Fly away
Up there
And feel
Ever So light, so light.
Down there the
Walls are all
Crumbling
Into dust
And you surrender, to the pain.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Thinking on the move - the knot speaks
The world is big, far too big for my liking. There are too many people around. Like ants they walk, like dogs they bark and snatch from each other and from the world like monkeys. The norm has been written and rewritten, trodden upon and generations have watched unknowingly, the pervasive pointlessness of this temporal sustenance. Dazed by the sheer speed of competition, we follow in the wake of a ship that has borne millions of our species before our time. A select few stand on lonely shores and watch the sails slip into the horizon. While the normal man tch-tches in pity and drinks his soup out of cheap china on the deck of the vessel, the thinkers silently smile and light their pipes. Sitting on warm sand, they welcome the solitude of intellect and the saline freshness of the sea breeze.
Affluence brings with it either a desire to grow trees of gold or a detachment well afforded. The unfortunate ones spend a lifetime trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive shimmer of lifeless diamonds. Like many others, I belong to neither of these factions. Serenaded by the uncertainties and wonders of this limbo, I trudge along willingly - a little lost, and acceptably happy. Amidst all this talk of echelons and thoughts is the knot.
The knot is ever-present, and I've felt it more than ever in the past few days. Its a heavy cube of dark smooth iron with rounded edges and corners - well, not literally, but my imagination has it defined that way. Its a weird state of mind to be in - jerkily pulled away from reality but at the same time being closer to it than I normally am; questions stream in and out of the head without getting answered, followed by the the compelling need to do something different, to be free from the rigour and monotony this life has to offer. All said, I would indeed be fooling myself if I were to truly believe all of my own words. I realize I'm merely ranting, without start or end. But the knot is real, as real as the stark pointlessness of it all and the undying spirit of human fantasies.
Affluence brings with it either a desire to grow trees of gold or a detachment well afforded. The unfortunate ones spend a lifetime trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive shimmer of lifeless diamonds. Like many others, I belong to neither of these factions. Serenaded by the uncertainties and wonders of this limbo, I trudge along willingly - a little lost, and acceptably happy. Amidst all this talk of echelons and thoughts is the knot.
The knot is ever-present, and I've felt it more than ever in the past few days. Its a heavy cube of dark smooth iron with rounded edges and corners - well, not literally, but my imagination has it defined that way. Its a weird state of mind to be in - jerkily pulled away from reality but at the same time being closer to it than I normally am; questions stream in and out of the head without getting answered, followed by the the compelling need to do something different, to be free from the rigour and monotony this life has to offer. All said, I would indeed be fooling myself if I were to truly believe all of my own words. I realize I'm merely ranting, without start or end. But the knot is real, as real as the stark pointlessness of it all and the undying spirit of human fantasies.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Thinking on the move - throb
Grim frustration grips your being. Aimlessness, your temporal aide. You feel something caged within the confines of your skin. The most dearest of feelings is at the least detestable in this state of suspended commotion. Nothing enthralls, no one matters, music your only resort. Deep breaths to pour out the knot, strand by strand. Coursing through a chaotic passage of faces and familiar surroundings, you zombie your way through those couple of hours. You seek a creative outlet and find yourself lacking in all aspects - a unanimous deficit of motivation and talent ruling your senses. Stark reality stares you in the face leaving behind a fertile silt to sustain an unchecked growth of a deep rooted feeling of insignificance. Point blank frustration. Remedies are few and you choose the best one around. Clinking, clean melody floats in as Opeth takes over. Sad tunes and melancholic words elevate you, beyond the reach of the agents of materialism prowling the lower strata of thought.
Music in all its diversity, never disappoints. No matter what parameters define your current setup, there's always a song you can lean on. There is always a tune to drown in, and forever words to wrap your brain in. If nothing works, there is always the music of nature - Silence; priceless and crystalline in all its pristine delicacy - the sound of silence.
Music in all its diversity, never disappoints. No matter what parameters define your current setup, there's always a song you can lean on. There is always a tune to drown in, and forever words to wrap your brain in. If nothing works, there is always the music of nature - Silence; priceless and crystalline in all its pristine delicacy - the sound of silence.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Streak
I've waited long enough,
There's no help coming.
Gotta help yourselves out,
By swimming in the drain.
If you're dizzy with pain
And you cannot breathe,
You better sooth yourself with
Another hollow promise.
Thinking aloud and running blind,
Spaces to see and questions to find.
Subdued laughter and a silent song.
And the paths keep winding, all along.
The graffiti fades
As the rain beats down.
Upon your window
Thats turning brown.
Gripping fear owns
Your feeble mind.
Coz there's no messiah
To hold your hand.
Thinking aloud and running blind,
Spaces to see and questions to find.
Subdued laughter and a silent song.
And the paths keep winding, all along.
There's no help coming.
Gotta help yourselves out,
By swimming in the drain.
If you're dizzy with pain
And you cannot breathe,
You better sooth yourself with
Another hollow promise.
Thinking aloud and running blind,
Spaces to see and questions to find.
Subdued laughter and a silent song.
And the paths keep winding, all along.
The graffiti fades
As the rain beats down.
Upon your window
Thats turning brown.
Gripping fear owns
Your feeble mind.
Coz there's no messiah
To hold your hand.
Thinking aloud and running blind,
Spaces to see and questions to find.
Subdued laughter and a silent song.
And the paths keep winding, all along.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Bunch o' my Brain - Nothing Special
What am I to make of all these frays?
Nothing ever seems to hold me in its sway.
Counting these tears it makes me feel I am,
Just another shadow on the blinds today.
Nothing ever seems to hold me in its sway.
Counting these tears it makes me feel I am,
Just another shadow on the blinds today.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Of Desires and post BG blues
The Bhagavad-Gita talks about the concept of redemption from the vicious circle of life, death and rebirth among other things. It preaches many ways to cut away from materialism. Karma Yoga - being the act of performing our duties without expectations of a reward, it says is one way to attain unity with the so-called eternal truth - the Brahman. The ideology of an all pervading, everlasting Brahman aims to focus all the energy of a person into attaining this union.
I remember my father asking a question to an ascetic at Iskon once. He asked, "Why am I here?". I was a school going kid back then and did not seem to understand the question. Now I find myself asking the same kind of questions, perhaps a little too early in my life. Desire for money and comfort is a common factor that will dictate most of our actions. The problem arises when it becomes the only factor driving our wheels. A little thinking can make one realize that the quest for money and happiness is never ending if we do not decide to live in and partly for the moment. Dreams are good, but it is absolutely necessary to hold them in check so we do not miss out on the tangible present, daydreaming about a wispy, yet to arrive future.
There are some very important points to be taken away from a reading of the Gita. The difference between renunciation and non - attachment, the concept of action without expectation, tolerance towards people and tranquility of emotions are only some that I can list. But I do not agree with the concept of total material aversion. Materialism is needed in controlled doses in order to be acceptable in the world and in turn to accept yourself. As long as we keep in mind that the money we set out to earn should forever be the means to an end and not the end itself, we will do fine. The Gita talks of an ideal Yogi as a person who is unmoved by just about anything. What then, is the point of living? How are we supposed to make sense by driving ourselves with devotion towards a far-fetched notion of a supreme being? How will anyone be at peace by disregarding the tangibility of a loved one's feelings and aiming for a so called higher union? Towards the end of the book, I am left with an almost conceited image of God with its endless attributions of anything and everything to the Brahman.
Based on this particular interpretation, to me, the Bhagavad-Gita is a mixed bag. I'll accept the goodies and Lord Krishna can keep the rest. The good part about the Gita is its possible detachment form religion, when treated strictly as a moral/spiritual thesis. Especially for people like me who do not encourage a substantial belief in the conventional God, although I would'nt go as far to call myself an atheist; everyone has his/her own God. This reading does not have me leaning either way from my current stance, but is helpful in tweaking a few spiritual screws in the contemplative realms of my system.
I remember my father asking a question to an ascetic at Iskon once. He asked, "Why am I here?". I was a school going kid back then and did not seem to understand the question. Now I find myself asking the same kind of questions, perhaps a little too early in my life. Desire for money and comfort is a common factor that will dictate most of our actions. The problem arises when it becomes the only factor driving our wheels. A little thinking can make one realize that the quest for money and happiness is never ending if we do not decide to live in and partly for the moment. Dreams are good, but it is absolutely necessary to hold them in check so we do not miss out on the tangible present, daydreaming about a wispy, yet to arrive future.
There are some very important points to be taken away from a reading of the Gita. The difference between renunciation and non - attachment, the concept of action without expectation, tolerance towards people and tranquility of emotions are only some that I can list. But I do not agree with the concept of total material aversion. Materialism is needed in controlled doses in order to be acceptable in the world and in turn to accept yourself. As long as we keep in mind that the money we set out to earn should forever be the means to an end and not the end itself, we will do fine. The Gita talks of an ideal Yogi as a person who is unmoved by just about anything. What then, is the point of living? How are we supposed to make sense by driving ourselves with devotion towards a far-fetched notion of a supreme being? How will anyone be at peace by disregarding the tangibility of a loved one's feelings and aiming for a so called higher union? Towards the end of the book, I am left with an almost conceited image of God with its endless attributions of anything and everything to the Brahman.
Based on this particular interpretation, to me, the Bhagavad-Gita is a mixed bag. I'll accept the goodies and Lord Krishna can keep the rest. The good part about the Gita is its possible detachment form religion, when treated strictly as a moral/spiritual thesis. Especially for people like me who do not encourage a substantial belief in the conventional God, although I would'nt go as far to call myself an atheist; everyone has his/her own God. This reading does not have me leaning either way from my current stance, but is helpful in tweaking a few spiritual screws in the contemplative realms of my system.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Take over me
They said that they've been watching
This road for long.
They say that its been always,
Winding along.
They said - Son get yourself ready
To get your feet dirty
It drips like dew - its bitter,
Bitter bitter, bitter - feeling.
Fill my mind,
Make me blind,
Overflow.
Burn yourself
Into me
Take over me.
The sun's out gleaming,
Searing you
Drape yourself in shade, all u will
But you will get scorched.
How now? how far? how many steps,
To the meadow?
How do I cure this bitter,
Bitter, bitter, bitter - feeling?
Fill my mind,
Make me blind,
Overflow.
Burn yourself
Into me
Take over me.
This road for long.
They say that its been always,
Winding along.
They said - Son get yourself ready
To get your feet dirty
It drips like dew - its bitter,
Bitter bitter, bitter - feeling.
Fill my mind,
Make me blind,
Overflow.
Burn yourself
Into me
Take over me.
The sun's out gleaming,
Searing you
Drape yourself in shade, all u will
But you will get scorched.
How now? how far? how many steps,
To the meadow?
How do I cure this bitter,
Bitter, bitter, bitter - feeling?
Fill my mind,
Make me blind,
Overflow.
Burn yourself
Into me
Take over me.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Blunting the Blade
My wishes abound
But my plate is empty still.
There's peace to be found
Over the hill.
My strings are all strained
With worldly tunes.
The drapes are all stained
With mystic runes.
If you don't
Find me midst yourself,
If you care enough to see,
You'll find me gazing,
Searching the sky,
Blunting the blade.
But my plate is empty still.
There's peace to be found
Over the hill.
My strings are all strained
With worldly tunes.
The drapes are all stained
With mystic runes.
If you don't
Find me midst yourself,
If you care enough to see,
You'll find me gazing,
Searching the sky,
Blunting the blade.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Bunch O' my Brain - Pointless
The knot is back, it feeds on peace.
Not in my heart, not in my mind.
Nowhere and everywhere at the same time,
It feeds on purpose, and discredits life.
Not in my heart, not in my mind.
Nowhere and everywhere at the same time,
It feeds on purpose, and discredits life.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Justice, delivered.
I will sit right under your wings and
I will peep out every other day.
To see what's become of my world,
To see the fires burning.
They will face my wrath and drown in vain
When I cry my burning tears of pain.
Let the mountains crumble when its dawn
And the morning will play my serenade.
My name's seared in their memories
And they cry to me when in pain.
But I will rain hail upon them and
Watch them cry out louder still.
For the filth that they have brewed inside
Makes me look away in hate.
The time to put an end to it all
Its time they faced their final fall.
Hear the message ringing on the wind
When I call to them in a violent way.
The colours melt before my eyes
And they gape at floating oceans of grey.
The dream I wrought breaks below me
As the hand mars that which it had made.
The light fades from the horizon
And the orb fails into darkness.
I will peep out every other day.
To see what's become of my world,
To see the fires burning.
They will face my wrath and drown in vain
When I cry my burning tears of pain.
Let the mountains crumble when its dawn
And the morning will play my serenade.
My name's seared in their memories
And they cry to me when in pain.
But I will rain hail upon them and
Watch them cry out louder still.
For the filth that they have brewed inside
Makes me look away in hate.
The time to put an end to it all
Its time they faced their final fall.
Hear the message ringing on the wind
When I call to them in a violent way.
The colours melt before my eyes
And they gape at floating oceans of grey.
The dream I wrought breaks below me
As the hand mars that which it had made.
The light fades from the horizon
And the orb fails into darkness.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Thinking on the move - reversion into reclusion
The last time these wheels were in motion, you were on a quest; a quest for simple joy. Myriad thoughts about the world and your significance in the scheme of bigger things were top most in your stack. Your raw understanding of the fundamentals of reclusion brewed a withdrawal beyond materialistic aversion - a consequence of chewing your mental gum for too long, and too fast. Sliding down an acute slope, you felt the world slip away. The Shylock inside you demanded his pound of flesh, not ready to be a victim of the others that made your being. You obliged, with a sincerity that you dared not meddle with. The path into normality was suddenly in front of you. Tugging at the rope, you felt human. Supporting and being supported at the same time, a semblance of emotion seeped in. New waters, unknown landscapes splashed onto your canvas. At first, there were colours, bright and beautiful. Then there were shades of grey. Like the onset of fuzzy logic into a binary system, your mind revolted. Change was evident and imminent - it was you against your mind all over again. The greys of the mind and the greys in the heart collided. A flurry of smoke ensued, leaving your mind victorious.
What started out as a process of redemption, has now left you more aware of yourself. Shylock is now dead. A cold mercenary resides in his stead. His sword weighs you down; the ground is sloping yet again, steeper into reclusion, deeper into void. Your mind plays captain again, steering an empty vessel now, which yearns for the open seas, and lonely serenity.
What started out as a process of redemption, has now left you more aware of yourself. Shylock is now dead. A cold mercenary resides in his stead. His sword weighs you down; the ground is sloping yet again, steeper into reclusion, deeper into void. Your mind plays captain again, steering an empty vessel now, which yearns for the open seas, and lonely serenity.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Too Cold
I sever these strings
With pain in my eyes
The sun goes down today
With a hue of sadness.
There's not much to say
But these words will stay
True to my self and
Shielding my faith.
I'm too cold for you,
I'm a winter thats white.
You're the summer that shines
And cries sometimes too.
The winds in my courtyard
Freeze the frost I own.
It blinds all my sorrow
And gets me through.
The nights seemed so short
When we walked, and we talked.
The days stretched its wings
When my mind rebelled.
I'm afraid of this change
That leads me away
From the space I hold dear
And the paths I have known.
Forgive my intrusion
But I meant it well.
We will find our peace,
And our laughter, my friend.
With pain in my eyes
The sun goes down today
With a hue of sadness.
There's not much to say
But these words will stay
True to my self and
Shielding my faith.
I'm too cold for you,
I'm a winter thats white.
You're the summer that shines
And cries sometimes too.
The winds in my courtyard
Freeze the frost I own.
It blinds all my sorrow
And gets me through.
The nights seemed so short
When we walked, and we talked.
The days stretched its wings
When my mind rebelled.
I'm afraid of this change
That leads me away
From the space I hold dear
And the paths I have known.
Forgive my intrusion
But I meant it well.
We will find our peace,
And our laughter, my friend.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Baby eyes
Deep as the ocean
Dark as a stormy night
How they glimmer,
With unearthly wonder
Baby eyes.
Reflections of joy,
A watery innocence
Divinity in a pompous hell
Grandeur on a stark street,
Baby eyes.
Insatiable curiosity,
In every nook
What do you see?
Where do you look?
Baby eyes.
Dark as a stormy night
How they glimmer,
With unearthly wonder
Baby eyes.
Reflections of joy,
A watery innocence
Divinity in a pompous hell
Grandeur on a stark street,
Baby eyes.
Insatiable curiosity,
In every nook
What do you see?
Where do you look?
Baby eyes.
Monday, May 24, 2010
In a minute
So many years
Since I've known you
So many days
I've grown into you
Sanity is again
What you make of your world
The rules you make
Will in the end rule you
You're me
You're you
You're floating
You're through
You're thinking
What to do
Shell bound, you're drifting,
In your mind, safe and sound.
A smile in
Everything else out
No fetters here
To tie your spirit down
The world that watches
Your every careless move
You choose not to see
The eye that sees you.
You're me
You're you
You're floating
You're through
You're thinking
What to do
Shell bound, you're drifting,
In your mind, safe and sound.
Since I've known you
So many days
I've grown into you
Sanity is again
What you make of your world
The rules you make
Will in the end rule you
You're me
You're you
You're floating
You're through
You're thinking
What to do
Shell bound, you're drifting,
In your mind, safe and sound.
A smile in
Everything else out
No fetters here
To tie your spirit down
The world that watches
Your every careless move
You choose not to see
The eye that sees you.
You're me
You're you
You're floating
You're through
You're thinking
What to do
Shell bound, you're drifting,
In your mind, safe and sound.
Bunch O' my Brain - me
The bees dont sting here,
In my corner of deliverance
There's light inside my box
I'm shell bound, safe and sound.
In my corner of deliverance
There's light inside my box
I'm shell bound, safe and sound.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Bunch o' my Brain - a cold rhyme
The gift of the ballad,
And of stories untold,
I'm just a cold salad
Served dry, eaten cold.
And of stories untold,
I'm just a cold salad
Served dry, eaten cold.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Mask
Like the first rays of sunshine
And the unfurling wings
The blossom of a flower
And songs that I could sing
Like the scent in the breeze
Remind you of the good old days
Like the joy to be found
Wherever I be bound
Standing and waiting to see
What you’ve got to show me
Hope to be right here
Pray that you don’t disappear
Show me who you are
Behind that forgiving mask
Show me that you care
Is all that I will ever ask
Rid me of this plight
As I gaze upon this sight
Rid me of this plight
As I gaze upon your sight
Standing and waiting to see
What you’ve got to show me
Hope to be right here
Pray that you don’t disappear
And the unfurling wings
The blossom of a flower
And songs that I could sing
Like the scent in the breeze
Remind you of the good old days
Like the joy to be found
Wherever I be bound
Standing and waiting to see
What you’ve got to show me
Hope to be right here
Pray that you don’t disappear
Show me who you are
Behind that forgiving mask
Show me that you care
Is all that I will ever ask
Rid me of this plight
As I gaze upon this sight
Rid me of this plight
As I gaze upon your sight
Standing and waiting to see
What you’ve got to show me
Hope to be right here
Pray that you don’t disappear
Monday, May 3, 2010
5 seconds
Lights off,
The screen is white
It shoots at me, a blank stare
On from the wooden chair.
Testament in my ears
The wall feels like stone
I revel in the dark
The music leaves its mark.
Feel nothing
Except the cool breeze
Sneaking in quiet,
To quell my cerebral riot.
The world of worries
Is dwindling in the distance
Damp with a cold shiver,
The lights there, dont glimmer.
The solace of a cold nothing,
The gift of a shut out.
The mind runs no errands -
My precious 5 seconds.
The screen is white
It shoots at me, a blank stare
On from the wooden chair.
Testament in my ears
The wall feels like stone
I revel in the dark
The music leaves its mark.
Feel nothing
Except the cool breeze
Sneaking in quiet,
To quell my cerebral riot.
The world of worries
Is dwindling in the distance
Damp with a cold shiver,
The lights there, dont glimmer.
The solace of a cold nothing,
The gift of a shut out.
The mind runs no errands -
My precious 5 seconds.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Drivel
The ship of blues is sailing
With seeds of love in your brain
The song kills the silence
And you let it blow you away
Sound of hooves in the distance
Fills a misty hazy morning
Vision's not a forte
When the mind is drifting away.
Chisel the ice before I freeze,
Neath' the tall swinging trees
Splash into my song and please
Pull me right into your breeze.
My fettered wishes abound
But the plate is empty still
The will to conquer it all
But the fear of losing speaks
Furrows on your forehead
From walking the thin long rope
But grains of wisdom on the ground
Will foster a garden of hope
Chisel the ice before I freeze,
Neath' the tall swinging trees
Splash into my song and please
Pull me right into your breeze.
With seeds of love in your brain
The song kills the silence
And you let it blow you away
Sound of hooves in the distance
Fills a misty hazy morning
Vision's not a forte
When the mind is drifting away.
Chisel the ice before I freeze,
Neath' the tall swinging trees
Splash into my song and please
Pull me right into your breeze.
My fettered wishes abound
But the plate is empty still
The will to conquer it all
But the fear of losing speaks
Furrows on your forehead
From walking the thin long rope
But grains of wisdom on the ground
Will foster a garden of hope
Chisel the ice before I freeze,
Neath' the tall swinging trees
Splash into my song and please
Pull me right into your breeze.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Thinking on the move - weekend musings
Amazing things can happen - only if you allow them to. Letting go might be the most difficult thing to do when uncertain, but the mystery it brings along is worth the effort. Its like watching a gift unwrap itself slowly and not unlike a song you hear for the first time. A minute into the maze and you're hooked - the richness of sound, depth of voice and intensity of the words somebody so carefully chose, weaving in and out of your porous mind.
You choose not to believe in these fairy tales until they catch you unawares and hold you deep in sway. Once struck, priorities change in a fleeting second and leave you wondering if resolve was ever a friend of yours. For now, let the ticking clock fall and get lost in the obscurity of deliberate oblivion. For now, let the strings of concern be severed. For now, go unshod, skipping light in the streets of a breezy dawn. Go there, where dignity is a commodity you will not need to buy at the expense of joy. Seek out that one plank you'd like clinging onto, for now, if not for life.
I've seen sad eyes and heard their stories spoken silently without the bearer's consent, in the middle of the night. I've learned that a chuckle to hide the yearning is no good when your whole being screams out loud. Its time you realized that its hard to dream of happiness when you're playing a constant blame game against yourself. Wont you be contradicting life, with notions of self imposed melancholy when being happy is the whole point of existence? If these words sound completely new to you, then its time for a pivotal change in your mental alignment.
If the harsh ground realities are the only things that make sense to you, you've never heard of Carl Sagan or his ideology of the Pale Blue Dot. If a song has never made you feel like crying, you've never heard High Hopes by the forefathers of psyche rock. The joys of spacing out cannot be experienced when you're crawling on your knees. Stand up and promise yourself the gift of happiness, every single day of your life.
You choose not to believe in these fairy tales until they catch you unawares and hold you deep in sway. Once struck, priorities change in a fleeting second and leave you wondering if resolve was ever a friend of yours. For now, let the ticking clock fall and get lost in the obscurity of deliberate oblivion. For now, let the strings of concern be severed. For now, go unshod, skipping light in the streets of a breezy dawn. Go there, where dignity is a commodity you will not need to buy at the expense of joy. Seek out that one plank you'd like clinging onto, for now, if not for life.
I've seen sad eyes and heard their stories spoken silently without the bearer's consent, in the middle of the night. I've learned that a chuckle to hide the yearning is no good when your whole being screams out loud. Its time you realized that its hard to dream of happiness when you're playing a constant blame game against yourself. Wont you be contradicting life, with notions of self imposed melancholy when being happy is the whole point of existence? If these words sound completely new to you, then its time for a pivotal change in your mental alignment.
If the harsh ground realities are the only things that make sense to you, you've never heard of Carl Sagan or his ideology of the Pale Blue Dot. If a song has never made you feel like crying, you've never heard High Hopes by the forefathers of psyche rock. The joys of spacing out cannot be experienced when you're crawling on your knees. Stand up and promise yourself the gift of happiness, every single day of your life.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Bunch o' my brain - spilt milk
The days burn like paper
Dipped in yellow oil.
Ashes on my feet fall,
Searing slowly like regret.
Dipped in yellow oil.
Ashes on my feet fall,
Searing slowly like regret.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Eatable Quotes - too many
With more that 7 billion of us around, we are all at a point in time where everything can be attributed (blamed?) to the incredible diversity and an unnecessary abundance of humans.
Bunch o' my Brain - bitter
Just another bit in the buffer
To make the code longer.
Another person to change
An already changing world.
To make the code longer.
Another person to change
An already changing world.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Dawning
Strewn on the canvas
He hides,
Is a bright smile,
He desires.
Silencing his pride
He tries,
And solicits attention
On the sly.
A Fledgling at the game
He strays
But keeps at it,
All the same.
Messages go unanswered
Yet again,
Only a matter of time fore'
He despairs.
The angry artist cries
And brandishes his graphic sword.
Every slash, splash and drop
Meant to mar, dealt to scar.
Try as he might for ever long
His strokes cannot destroy
That which he in his dreams wrought
That of which his eyes bespoke.
A knowing, tired sigh he sighs
With a wry smile of knowledge
Of the foolishness of his cries
And the vanity of a lover's rage.
A shattered dream invariably spills
Many more fragments of pain,
Than those splendid little thrills
We stitch together in our brain.
Its all a question of seasoned taste
Where no science can steer a ship
That sails by with enamored haste
Driven on by a desire's whip.
He hides,
Is a bright smile,
He desires.
Silencing his pride
He tries,
And solicits attention
On the sly.
A Fledgling at the game
He strays
But keeps at it,
All the same.
Messages go unanswered
Yet again,
Only a matter of time fore'
He despairs.
The angry artist cries
And brandishes his graphic sword.
Every slash, splash and drop
Meant to mar, dealt to scar.
Try as he might for ever long
His strokes cannot destroy
That which he in his dreams wrought
That of which his eyes bespoke.
A knowing, tired sigh he sighs
With a wry smile of knowledge
Of the foolishness of his cries
And the vanity of a lover's rage.
A shattered dream invariably spills
Many more fragments of pain,
Than those splendid little thrills
We stitch together in our brain.
Its all a question of seasoned taste
Where no science can steer a ship
That sails by with enamored haste
Driven on by a desire's whip.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Eatable Quotes - of words and weapons
Never step into a battlefield with denial as your primary weapon; passive reasons will follow; and reasons dont kill. Survival needs you to either be knowledgeable or a coward or a lucky fool.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
for a smile...
Can you paint me a picture,
Will you write me a song?
Crayons lie around me
Red and blue and white.
Shall I make the sky look red for you
And turn the oceans to ice?
Will you smile again in wonder
And shudder in delight?
Gods come forth,
Whisper wisdom in my ears
A summer night
Escalates into the dark,
I transcend into the light.
Will you write me a song?
Crayons lie around me
Red and blue and white.
Shall I make the sky look red for you
And turn the oceans to ice?
Will you smile again in wonder
And shudder in delight?
Gods come forth,
Whisper wisdom in my ears
A summer night
Escalates into the dark,
I transcend into the light.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Thinking on the move - all over again
The process is largely periodic, like a sinusoid. You make yourself a promise that the rain will seep down only enough to dampen the shirt you wear; and not the spirit you hide, protect and cherish. Shuttling between your real life and your corner in your brain, the deviation from that solemn oath grows with each wrinkle the world gives you. Phrases like damage control start making sense and resurrection measures get underway. A lull, a peak, another lull, another peak and the chariot moves on, drawn by horses you can never completely master.
Like a child throwing stones at an apple on the tree, you wish to be focused and steadfast. You wish to be like the madman who is beyond reality and sanity. Like the one who's lost everything, you'd like to shove your fist into the face of the world. All you end up doing is hanging around the centroid of this triangulation.
Not belonging is a challenge and a heroic struggle up there in your corner. Step on the ground and the challenge is a battle for life, respect, money and the struggle is against yourself. Those who venture afar will tell you that the mountains are only as beautiful as the storms were fierce. Thinking too much has never done as much good as thinking enough has. So ask yourselves the right questions and set out on the road once your dues are paid; not a moment to waste, not a shred of doubt and no tears to wet the soil. No violins that play in your ears, but the song you sing will be sweet. A burnt skin wont matter to the righteous if the path you've walked is fair.
Stay strong,
Move along,
It isn't wrong
To not belong.
Like a child throwing stones at an apple on the tree, you wish to be focused and steadfast. You wish to be like the madman who is beyond reality and sanity. Like the one who's lost everything, you'd like to shove your fist into the face of the world. All you end up doing is hanging around the centroid of this triangulation.
Not belonging is a challenge and a heroic struggle up there in your corner. Step on the ground and the challenge is a battle for life, respect, money and the struggle is against yourself. Those who venture afar will tell you that the mountains are only as beautiful as the storms were fierce. Thinking too much has never done as much good as thinking enough has. So ask yourselves the right questions and set out on the road once your dues are paid; not a moment to waste, not a shred of doubt and no tears to wet the soil. No violins that play in your ears, but the song you sing will be sweet. A burnt skin wont matter to the righteous if the path you've walked is fair.
Stay strong,
Move along,
It isn't wrong
To not belong.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Thinking on the move - the snap out
The fleet foxes were weaving their magic. Perception and reality never collided so violently ever before. The haze in my mind was begging me to let go. While the me; fettered to the iron pillar protested. "Stay, dont sway, stay, dont sway....." I seemed to chant. What appeared to be a split in the path from a few miles up the road, was drawing ever too close now. The harmonious words in the air fed my inner most desires. I concluded that I was still sane enough for the world when I found myself not being able to see how it could all happen; how it would all come to pass if I did not persevere now. I understood many things at that point of time, and it did not gush in like an epiphany, rather eased itself in, and lounged into my brain, waiting for my attention. The dream I had about an hour ago, did not seem to help. It almost felt like I had seen it all before. The street outside looked too proper with diffused sunlight sprinkling a feel good spirit on portland street. Yet again, I had warded off an attack from the brighter side.
Things will be different from now, I truly believe. I will need to use certain friends who do not frequent my mental cafe and I will need to keep them entertained, but for a short while. Once I get past the rapids, they'll stay on without persuasion. Tori Amos is now the entertainer. She croons to the magic of her own fingers; "Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high...." she sings. Music inspires me and is usually my first and last resort by default these days. But selfishness, in all its disguises is the best motivation a human can ever get. The pain in her voice completes the process and I am left staring at my laptop, no more an object demanding negligence, but a tool that will get me through the next few months, into the dreamed of life.
Things will be different from now, I truly believe. I will need to use certain friends who do not frequent my mental cafe and I will need to keep them entertained, but for a short while. Once I get past the rapids, they'll stay on without persuasion. Tori Amos is now the entertainer. She croons to the magic of her own fingers; "Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high...." she sings. Music inspires me and is usually my first and last resort by default these days. But selfishness, in all its disguises is the best motivation a human can ever get. The pain in her voice completes the process and I am left staring at my laptop, no more an object demanding negligence, but a tool that will get me through the next few months, into the dreamed of life.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Eatable Quotes - motivation in motion
I dont lack motivation. But I'd appreciate it if it did not run away every 5 minutes.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Night tune
Kiss the shadows
Of this night so cold
Wrap yourself in a blanket
Of memories and smiles
Hang around in the backyard
Of your far away mind
Pick the flowers u want
And hold them to your heart.
The streets are foretelling
I see the leaves falling
Shimmering with the dreams
We set out to own.
Can you make the leaves
Fall again?
And get these colours to fly,
To fly.
Through it all but,
Still the same old sting.
Heard it all before
And now you want to sing.
You've played your part
I've tried to play mine
What can we ever do if,
There isn't enough time?
The streets are foretelling
I see the leaves falling
Shimmering with the dreams
We set out to own.
Can you make the leaves
Fall again?
And get these colours to fly,
To fly.
Of this night so cold
Wrap yourself in a blanket
Of memories and smiles
Hang around in the backyard
Of your far away mind
Pick the flowers u want
And hold them to your heart.
The streets are foretelling
I see the leaves falling
Shimmering with the dreams
We set out to own.
Can you make the leaves
Fall again?
And get these colours to fly,
To fly.
Through it all but,
Still the same old sting.
Heard it all before
And now you want to sing.
You've played your part
I've tried to play mine
What can we ever do if,
There isn't enough time?
The streets are foretelling
I see the leaves falling
Shimmering with the dreams
We set out to own.
Can you make the leaves
Fall again?
And get these colours to fly,
To fly.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Pull me back
This perspective has an effect on me
I dont think that it will let me be.
No you wont get off cheap,
On your way, well on your way, freak.
I've let myself take over me
Zooming into the next level.
I guess you'll know the road is rough,
When the tires start coming off.
Drifting into the place I want to be
These words, they lock my doors.
I see them standing by the highway
Pointing fingers at your excited face.
A hopeful evening stolen well,
To catch a glimpse of that smile
She dances on the edge of the eye
And explodes into the brain.
I know we cant save us both
We'll need her to set us free.
Splash into my song and please
Pull me right into your breeze.
I dont think that it will let me be.
No you wont get off cheap,
On your way, well on your way, freak.
I've let myself take over me
Zooming into the next level.
I guess you'll know the road is rough,
When the tires start coming off.
Drifting into the place I want to be
These words, they lock my doors.
I see them standing by the highway
Pointing fingers at your excited face.
A hopeful evening stolen well,
To catch a glimpse of that smile
She dances on the edge of the eye
And explodes into the brain.
I know we cant save us both
We'll need her to set us free.
Splash into my song and please
Pull me right into your breeze.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Definitions - time and state
Yesterday - Mostly a photo album with my best and worst pictures and rarely, the battered object of my analytical and philosophical quests. Strangely, I tend to confuse it with tomorrow.
Today - just another page, smeared and blotched with yesterday's ink, another moment to lose myself in.
Tomorrow - a song, a time to celebrate / regret today and yesterday and the days before.
Regret - a feeling of letting someone, but mostly myself down.
Hope - the most misunderstood and cliched word in the history of mankind - yet it seems to serve its purpose.
Determination - a substantial cousin of hope, but bears no kinship to the future.
Happiness - a state of being where all of the above add up to a smile that spreads warmth.
Freedom - the privilege of retaining the smile.
Today - just another page, smeared and blotched with yesterday's ink, another moment to lose myself in.
Tomorrow - a song, a time to celebrate / regret today and yesterday and the days before.
Regret - a feeling of letting someone, but mostly myself down.
Hope - the most misunderstood and cliched word in the history of mankind - yet it seems to serve its purpose.
Determination - a substantial cousin of hope, but bears no kinship to the future.
Happiness - a state of being where all of the above add up to a smile that spreads warmth.
Freedom - the privilege of retaining the smile.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Why cant I
It runs like a movie in my head
Churning frames by the second
Black and white and grainy
Quaking as much as I'm shaken.
I picture the white paths I walk
Devouring the land, I'm smiling
Will it fill the void I'm feeling?
Or is it the illusion thats playing?
Its a question to no one
No one's gonna answer
But still I ask why?
Why cant I?
Its what I have to do?
There's no other way you say?
Listen to yourself and think again
If you've thought enough.
The smallness I feel shatters all
Convention killed, I can float free.
Chasing the gossamer I feel
Like the kid who ran his summer away.
Its a question to no one
No one's gonna answer
But still I ask why?
Why cant I?
Tell me please, Close my eyes
Tell me why, why cant I?
Chant those words of wisdom again
Tell me why, why cant I?
Churning frames by the second
Black and white and grainy
Quaking as much as I'm shaken.
I picture the white paths I walk
Devouring the land, I'm smiling
Will it fill the void I'm feeling?
Or is it the illusion thats playing?
Its a question to no one
No one's gonna answer
But still I ask why?
Why cant I?
Its what I have to do?
There's no other way you say?
Listen to yourself and think again
If you've thought enough.
The smallness I feel shatters all
Convention killed, I can float free.
Chasing the gossamer I feel
Like the kid who ran his summer away.
Its a question to no one
No one's gonna answer
But still I ask why?
Why cant I?
Tell me please, Close my eyes
Tell me why, why cant I?
Chant those words of wisdom again
Tell me why, why cant I?
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Bunch O' my Brain - Arbit Sunday morning blues
Its not the first time,
I've wanted to sound this strong
Its not the first time
I've felt like I dont belong.
I've wanted to sound this strong
Its not the first time
I've felt like I dont belong.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Thinking on the move - cherubic enchantment
An angel flutters by. The corner of your eyes register in a fleeting moment what an hour of visual dissection can never achieve. The mind shuttles between the woe in front and the bliss at your side. You count seconds and iterate through strategies in your head. Defences drop, quicker than a lifeless bird. Hurtling down at max speed, there's only one thing to do. A slow buzz ramps into a steady oscillation, and you employ muscular services even as the amplified drone of the slicing air hits overdrive. You crane your neck unsure of the following moments. A quick sampling of the desired vision and you shoot back into feigned attention at the worthless jargon you were already supposed to know. The feeling of weight returns to replace the void around, by a room full of people; snap! goes the silence and the denizens speak their tongue with the sounds of clattering keys that are getting jabbed at, with all the fury a hungry, sleepy student can muster. Misery reigns your realm for the next few minutes as thoughts of a never to occur future, vex your fruitless present. And then like the coming of knowledge, you realize that you're not alone in this quest for gold; your object of preoccupation is in truth, the cynosure of greedy eyes in this ignoble gathering. " What a fell world?" you muse - a result of the inability to grade yourself and your actions sans the added weight. The scope pans out to the whole room, moves slowly up the stairway, past the unwitting sentry all the way into the pleasant, starry night. The clock reads 20 minutes to midnight and a million to the dreamed-of life. Its a good time to leave confused readers to their abusive taunts thrown spitefully at your crisp narrative. Its the time to take a walk home. Fever Ray whispers soft songs into your ears that remind you of forests and trees and mountains and of long, green walks taken under a pristine, moonlit sky in glad company.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
Thinking on the move - the second chance
You stand at the signal, waiting for those aberrant junctions inside the panels to respond to a timer that sends a stream of electrons to interrupt the controller. Out in the material world, two dozen people look at you and half a dozen, evanescent opinions are born. It takes 25 feet and a couple of gazes to get you across. It takes less than 20 seconds but a lifetime of feint to paste a smile on your face that reflects a non - existent, hollow culture. Generalization might be a blunder in a world with over 7 billion people, but I'll take the chance. And amidst all the chaos walks a free soul - oblivious, obvious and calm. You look at her and wonder what's beneath her feet; why the cacophony of a steel world fails to draw her attention. Unperturbed, measured footsteps resound in vacuum, obfuscating your know-how of your fellow humans. A swift journey down the echelons of her mind shows a smooth walled tunnel. Concealed beneath, furious, scorching fluids squirm through the plumbing. Fiendishly intricate wiring inside seems to be the reason for an out-of-the-box sense of dressing she flaunts. Jumping out, the macro world greets you with a cold stare. What you see next is the very antithesis of your latest peek. Coarsely open, the ghost of a redneck approaches, emanating an air of a cruel neighborhood that is wont to challenging a person's survival. You can almost feel the desperation that led to his lowly act of thievery last night. Its probably a cheap drug that he won off his homies from the last bet, that rules his senses right now. And its probably the shoes of his last poorer-by-a-life victim that he wears. What does that mean to you? How has it changed your day? How will it change your life?A butterfly effect perhaps? Or was it just the melange speaking? Can it be possible that you just processed a set of unverified, probably wrong details that will not have a bearing on anyone within five hops of your social brigade?
Who knows,
Why care,
As long as the light lasts
Stand and stare.
Drink in,
Cast out
As long as you live,
You have your shout.
Why care,
As long as the light lasts
Stand and stare.
Drink in,
Cast out
As long as you live,
You have your shout.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
What I want to know is...
I happened to be thinking (yes, I possess the ability) how my life would have been different if I had chosen a career path that's not Electrical / Electronics engineering. It was then that I realized that I wanted to know about a lot of things. So I listed down all the things that I'd like to study. (I'm not adding "in the future" as it adds an element of cliche to it, and people, including me tend to add cliche to cliche by saying stuff like, its not gonna happen if it's not happening right away. So lets not worry about a time frame and for my sake assume, that I will indeed find the time)
1) Music - evolution and composition.
2) Computer Science - to win the war against coding.
3) Mathematics - always a troublesome area for me, but I like to get my hands dirty.
4) Literature - short stories / poetry.
5) Film making - Script writing, direction and cinematography.
6) Theology - just to find out why so many people are drawn to religion.
7) Philosophy - I'm capable of thinking about such stuff for hours together.
That is pretty much it. Electrical Engineering will always be with me. Its not the eternal love of my life, but I like it enough to always keep it in my sack.
1) Music - evolution and composition.
2) Computer Science - to win the war against coding.
3) Mathematics - always a troublesome area for me, but I like to get my hands dirty.
4) Literature - short stories / poetry.
5) Film making - Script writing, direction and cinematography.
6) Theology - just to find out why so many people are drawn to religion.
7) Philosophy - I'm capable of thinking about such stuff for hours together.
That is pretty much it. Electrical Engineering will always be with me. Its not the eternal love of my life, but I like it enough to always keep it in my sack.
Bunch o' my Brain - Knot
Uneasy lies my head,
I'm counting minutes.
Desires all lie dead,
I'm feeling careless.
I'm counting minutes.
Desires all lie dead,
I'm feeling careless.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Thinking on the move - the beginning
Beneath your calm facade is a gushing cascade. The delicate fibers of social etiquette try without success, to quell the screaming vulnerability you harbour. Why is it that you cant seem to resist peering into tinted windows, a mere five minutes after your tryst with a mirror? And why do you limit that look to a passing glance, when a good stare is in order? What keeps your shutter closed my dear, do you fear the sting of the wind? Or is it the dogs that snarl at every scent they cant place? Is multicasting as exciting to you as the overture in that song you adore? Is your need to shut out the world justified when you can surfeit your ears with music? Are you frequented by a vision of a softly lit room with tingling, warm carpets and tasteful trinkets? How many times have you felt like shouting and refrained? Is your style a result of a closed loop with every stranger you happen to be stimulated by? Where is that originality the world needs? Are you a sponge that soaks itself with the drifting moisture in the air? Has it dawned upon you yet that you're either a true source or a victimized sink? Living with questions is only as easy as faking an answer. A green apple stands out because it did not color itslef red influenced by the rest in the basket. Has slowing down ever been a priority? You need to be different or you need to be good; if you'd rather play safe, be both. Contrary to popular belief, freedom comes from within. Did that phrase sound good even if you did not understand every word? Have you had moments when making sense seemed unnecessary? Have you ever experienced the joy of that one face or voice that fills up a void? Have you ever felt that competition is more a waste of natural ability than an agent of skill enhancement? Think about it, anything can be important and everything can be trivial - but choice is a tricky friend we all need to handle and solicit help from, very carefully; sometimes having none is an option we'd like to have. Again, it's a question of perception, dictated by thought and taste.
So many questions, a few inferences and some tests of taste. Going on would be easy, but its a pain to satisfy the need for accurate representation of abstract visions. The same visions that I intend will spring up, if your eyes see what mine do.
So many questions, a few inferences and some tests of taste. Going on would be easy, but its a pain to satisfy the need for accurate representation of abstract visions. The same visions that I intend will spring up, if your eyes see what mine do.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Saffron Skies
I'll tell you all my stories,
Sad and clear.
Its time for purgation
Time to let go free
Trees,
swinging trees.
Take me away yonder,
With the floating breeze
Symphonies that play outside these walls
Un-trouble my weary eyes
Lay yourself down to sleep
Down on warm green grass
Cover your cold body with
Saffron Skies.
Kill these gray boundaries
Just wait and stare
In wonder, at the heaven
Stretches of joy,
Dont pinch me awake
The mist is yet to come.
Loath to take the long path
Back into the city.
Symphonies that play outside these walls
Un-trouble my weary eyes
Lay yourself down to sleep
Down on warm green grass
Cover your cold body with
Saffron Skies.
Sad and clear.
Its time for purgation
Time to let go free
Trees,
swinging trees.
Take me away yonder,
With the floating breeze
Symphonies that play outside these walls
Un-trouble my weary eyes
Lay yourself down to sleep
Down on warm green grass
Cover your cold body with
Saffron Skies.
Kill these gray boundaries
Just wait and stare
In wonder, at the heaven
Stretches of joy,
Dont pinch me awake
The mist is yet to come.
Loath to take the long path
Back into the city.
Symphonies that play outside these walls
Un-trouble my weary eyes
Lay yourself down to sleep
Down on warm green grass
Cover your cold body with
Saffron Skies.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Pocket full of stones
Fell is the curse of the green leaf
That buys you and gets bought.
Count them slowly all you want
No slower it seems to run out.
You hopped all day and sang all night
And stole an afternoon nap.
The world looked smaller to your eyes,
When the evening had come by.
Dont you think you're dreaming
Sooner than you are allowed?
Where'd you think you're going
With your pocket full of stones?
Somber, concise and diligent,
They cruised by, through them all.
Past all the mighty mountains,
That held you back afar.
Toil and trudge, that you will
But theres always more to climb.
You chose to burden the beaten path
So, heavy your footsteps fall.
Dont you think you're dreaming
Sooner than you are allowed?
Where'd you think you're going
With your pocket full of stones?
Gilded skies lead you on,
And promise to take you there.
Where the sunshine filters soft and warm,
To tickle those dancing strings.
Off you go, down the road
Sweating, trudging, till you drop.
Brace yourself for you chose to share
Of all things, the dreamer's plight.
Dont you think you're dreaming
Sooner than you are allowed?
Where'd you think you're going
With your pocket full of stones?
That buys you and gets bought.
Count them slowly all you want
No slower it seems to run out.
You hopped all day and sang all night
And stole an afternoon nap.
The world looked smaller to your eyes,
When the evening had come by.
Dont you think you're dreaming
Sooner than you are allowed?
Where'd you think you're going
With your pocket full of stones?
Somber, concise and diligent,
They cruised by, through them all.
Past all the mighty mountains,
That held you back afar.
Toil and trudge, that you will
But theres always more to climb.
You chose to burden the beaten path
So, heavy your footsteps fall.
Dont you think you're dreaming
Sooner than you are allowed?
Where'd you think you're going
With your pocket full of stones?
Gilded skies lead you on,
And promise to take you there.
Where the sunshine filters soft and warm,
To tickle those dancing strings.
Off you go, down the road
Sweating, trudging, till you drop.
Brace yourself for you chose to share
Of all things, the dreamer's plight.
Dont you think you're dreaming
Sooner than you are allowed?
Where'd you think you're going
With your pocket full of stones?
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Ten days
Bang in the centre of my head
It stays all the time.
Drinking all these worldly treasures in.
Claws at my deepest fears and,
Stirs up a storm.
Wield your cunning powers
Another day
Let me go and let me
Have my day.
The wait for the horses lasted
Ten full days
Days of apprehension and a little pain.
But the story now plays inside
The warmth of this wood.
Wield your cunning powers
Another day
Let me go and let me
Have my day.
It stays all the time.
Drinking all these worldly treasures in.
Claws at my deepest fears and,
Stirs up a storm.
Wield your cunning powers
Another day
Let me go and let me
Have my day.
The wait for the horses lasted
Ten full days
Days of apprehension and a little pain.
But the story now plays inside
The warmth of this wood.
Wield your cunning powers
Another day
Let me go and let me
Have my day.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Chime time
A distant breeze, once carried to me
A priceless gift on its crystal wings,
The light grew weary all around
As dusk drifted into the winter sky.
Ever so lightly, it crept inside
The vision of a high priest in prayer
As somewhere afar on a river bank
He joins his palms to salute the sun.
The magic contained, in a mere chime,
Set me adrift in an ocean of mist
Where the devil inside the water did sound,
The rover's knell with the Inchcape bell.
It took me away to the tall, cold halls
Of an ancient Chapel in the streets of Rome
Where the walls quivered in obeisance
To the mighty clangor of a holy peal.
A ding, a dong, a chime and a clang
Myriad pictures in an instant sprang
And silenced the demons in my brain,
For a splendid second, if not for life.
A priceless gift on its crystal wings,
The light grew weary all around
As dusk drifted into the winter sky.
Ever so lightly, it crept inside
The vision of a high priest in prayer
As somewhere afar on a river bank
He joins his palms to salute the sun.
The magic contained, in a mere chime,
Set me adrift in an ocean of mist
Where the devil inside the water did sound,
The rover's knell with the Inchcape bell.
It took me away to the tall, cold halls
Of an ancient Chapel in the streets of Rome
Where the walls quivered in obeisance
To the mighty clangor of a holy peal.
A ding, a dong, a chime and a clang
Myriad pictures in an instant sprang
And silenced the demons in my brain,
For a splendid second, if not for life.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Bunch o' my brain - What goes a O comes a O
The circle's coming at you my friend
To give you what you gave me.
Its coming around to show you
All the places I have been.
To give you what you gave me.
Its coming around to show you
All the places I have been.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
"Bunch o' my Brain - Sensible" - the centurion \m/
You're not mad, I'm not sane
Thinking is such a pain.
I'll yield and tell you if I must.
In nonsense we trust.
Also, this happens to be the 100th post on this cheap imitation of my pessimism, projected onto an optimistic plane of mind, by my alter ego. Drafted by the whirlwinds in my brain, my dialogue with myself and no one in particular, tends to range from poetic prose to prosaic poetry, encompasses the physical and questions the metaphysical, indulges few and bores many, enlightens no one but refracts me (reflection is pretty much impossible I've learned) plausibly well, if not accurately. I'd like to thank anyone who's been kind (and patient/crazy/patient(the other one)/mad/intellectually gifted/parenthetically tolerant/tangentially eccentric/admirably athletic/patient(see what i mean?)/critically critical/ killer rajan) enough to go through all or any of my musings. Here's hoping for a quick double century!
Hocus Pocus gilli gilli boom.
My bliss
With nimble fingers,
You cradled my dreams.
Held me captive,
With a heavenly gaze.
Fresh like the morning breeze,
You helped me off my knees.
When I'm tired of walking,
I long to see you again.
Soothing Rain, make me yours.
Wash over me, Like a song.
Caress me, make me strong.
Warm sunshine, you are my bliss.
I like the feel
Of your hands upon my head.
You'd carry me
If I asked you, in the night.
My hero, for ever long
My god, if there ever was.
When I'm tired and hungry,
I long to be with you.
Soothing Rain, make me yours.
Wash over me, Like a song.
Caress me, make me strong.
Warm sunshine, you are my bliss.
Soothing Rain, make me yours.
Wash over me, Like a song.
Caress me, make me strong.
Warm sunshine, you are my bliss.
You cradled my dreams.
Held me captive,
With a heavenly gaze.
Fresh like the morning breeze,
You helped me off my knees.
When I'm tired of walking,
I long to see you again.
Soothing Rain, make me yours.
Wash over me, Like a song.
Caress me, make me strong.
Warm sunshine, you are my bliss.
I like the feel
Of your hands upon my head.
You'd carry me
If I asked you, in the night.
My hero, for ever long
My god, if there ever was.
When I'm tired and hungry,
I long to be with you.
Soothing Rain, make me yours.
Wash over me, Like a song.
Caress me, make me strong.
Warm sunshine, you are my bliss.
Soothing Rain, make me yours.
Wash over me, Like a song.
Caress me, make me strong.
Warm sunshine, you are my bliss.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
An outlet
Hmmm... I just got done with a meeting with a couple of professors. Nothing special - just a weekly routine, yeah; just my weekly dose of "I'm a dumb***k".
"AAAAAARGHHH~!%^%^&!!!" is all I'm afraid I'm allowed to put in here. A lot of censor worthy expressions with lots more of the weird-ass symbols, would fall short of doing justice to what i feel right now. Trust me! its not even funny, how much I feel like knocking myself out cold with a frying pan. I'd christen myself Einstein if I understood 5% of what these guys talk. Frikking over achievers, always standing round the corner sporting a "my day's as good as yours sucked!" smile. Oh! lord, I seek swift deliverance.
In retrospect, I always wanted to be the guy who could play the guitar AND understand Maxwell's equations. I can now, in fact play a bit of guitar and as for Maxwell - I appreciate his ability to smoke up and write fiendishly complicated stuff, but now he can lie back, count his blessings and while he's at it, get himself a fine unearthly tan from the infernal heat in hell. How the hell am I supposed to believe that I was created by the same God, who also created Guiseppe Caire? Its during times like these that I fail to acknowledge the existence of an entity worthy of being called God. I'd love to be a really clever person, and I'm even willing to work hard for it, but hell no! This is Graduate School son! you also need some of that "u have it or you dont" stuff (WHAT!! Lycra?). Have it or dont, I dont care - I've always believed that just hard work IS in fact enough. Hopefully it will stand me in good stead. But for now, I'm pretty much done prattling.
"AAAAAARGHHH~!%^%^&!!!" is all I'm afraid I'm allowed to put in here. A lot of censor worthy expressions with lots more of the weird-ass symbols, would fall short of doing justice to what i feel right now. Trust me! its not even funny, how much I feel like knocking myself out cold with a frying pan. I'd christen myself Einstein if I understood 5% of what these guys talk. Frikking over achievers, always standing round the corner sporting a "my day's as good as yours sucked!" smile. Oh! lord, I seek swift deliverance.
In retrospect, I always wanted to be the guy who could play the guitar AND understand Maxwell's equations. I can now, in fact play a bit of guitar and as for Maxwell - I appreciate his ability to smoke up and write fiendishly complicated stuff, but now he can lie back, count his blessings and while he's at it, get himself a fine unearthly tan from the infernal heat in hell. How the hell am I supposed to believe that I was created by the same God, who also created Guiseppe Caire? Its during times like these that I fail to acknowledge the existence of an entity worthy of being called God. I'd love to be a really clever person, and I'm even willing to work hard for it, but hell no! This is Graduate School son! you also need some of that "u have it or you dont" stuff (WHAT!! Lycra?). Have it or dont, I dont care - I've always believed that just hard work IS in fact enough. Hopefully it will stand me in good stead. But for now, I'm pretty much done prattling.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Ghosts of penitence
The Silent night speaks again,
Through the black holes in her eyes.
Questions and Answers
Are exchanged.
Mary Jane she reminisced,
Used to be her friend
Now the fumes of hope have all been
Put away.
She let go of all the strings
And walked into the sunset with the breeze
But she's seen all the time, wandering
Singing songs of pain.
He lies down on his countenance
Ashamed to see the eye.
The faces of his friends are still
Awake.
He sees the blood still dripping down
From the wounds he helped make.
The knife sticks from the backs of those
Betrayed.
The stares he felt were colder than the ice
He shriveled up and curled into a cave
But he's seen all the time, suffering
Singing songs of pain.
Tonight the ghosts of penitence are prowling
Tonight they stand for all to see
But they're here all the time, preaching
singing songs of pain.
Through the black holes in her eyes.
Questions and Answers
Are exchanged.
Mary Jane she reminisced,
Used to be her friend
Now the fumes of hope have all been
Put away.
She let go of all the strings
And walked into the sunset with the breeze
But she's seen all the time, wandering
Singing songs of pain.
He lies down on his countenance
Ashamed to see the eye.
The faces of his friends are still
Awake.
He sees the blood still dripping down
From the wounds he helped make.
The knife sticks from the backs of those
Betrayed.
The stares he felt were colder than the ice
He shriveled up and curled into a cave
But he's seen all the time, suffering
Singing songs of pain.
Tonight the ghosts of penitence are prowling
Tonight they stand for all to see
But they're here all the time, preaching
singing songs of pain.
Monday, February 1, 2010
No Excuses - Alice In Chains
I usually put up only the posts that I write, but this one is a gem. A really well written song, and the execution is up there with the greats. In all its simplicity, strength, completeness and melody - AIC, ladies and gentlemen.
It's alright
There comes a time
Got no patience
To search for peace of mind
Laying' low
Want to take it slow
No more hiding
Or disguising truths I've sold
Everyday
Something hits me all so cold
Find me sittin' by myself
No excuses that I know
It's okay
Had a bad day
Hands are bruised from
Breaking rocks all day
Drained and blue
I bleed for you
You think it's funny
Well you're drowning in it too
Everyday
Something hits me all so cold
Find me sittin' by myself
No excuses that I know
Yeah, it's fine
We'll walk down the line
Leave our rain
A cold trade for warm sunshine
You're my friend
I will defend
And if we change
Well I love you anyway
Everyday
Something hits me all so cold
Find me sittin' by myself
No excuses that I know
It's alright
There comes a time
Got no patience
To search for peace of mind
Laying' low
Want to take it slow
No more hiding
Or disguising truths I've sold
Everyday
Something hits me all so cold
Find me sittin' by myself
No excuses that I know
It's okay
Had a bad day
Hands are bruised from
Breaking rocks all day
Drained and blue
I bleed for you
You think it's funny
Well you're drowning in it too
Everyday
Something hits me all so cold
Find me sittin' by myself
No excuses that I know
Yeah, it's fine
We'll walk down the line
Leave our rain
A cold trade for warm sunshine
You're my friend
I will defend
And if we change
Well I love you anyway
Everyday
Something hits me all so cold
Find me sittin' by myself
No excuses that I know
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Nonsense and some AIC
The distance between an honest feeling and its expression is several miles. For some, it takes an instant to travel and others might grow old trying to. Such is the complexity of human emotions, that a shot at disentanglement will more often than not lead to a much severe intricacy. It takes a courageous mind to break the strings and have a go straight at the core, and its no wonder that so few of us tend to do it.
Why is our system so fuzzy, when it could have been so much more easier for it to be a discrete implementation of likes and dislikes? Why cant happiness be a boolean expression, with a binary result? Beats me to no end, that it takes a bucket full of apprehensions and months of thinking to convey a feeling. It also amazes me as to how easily we are able to build so many mental membranes of abstraction, and further more are able to reform them, owing to the smallest of stimuli. Leads me to believe that emulating/replicating a human mind is pretty much not going to end in satisfactory results even a thousand years from now.
As an engineer, I tend to think of trade-offs in every possible theory/application that I come across. I have indeed come to believe that what we deem an unnecessary complication of abstract feelings is in fact a trade-off with our ability to find joy in simple and inexplicable ways. Its all a very intricate, sometimes weak, sometimes strong mental structure that we build for ourselves in our lifetimes. The whole deal with expectations, desires, emotions and ethereal visions of happiness is best left to itself. Delving into their dynamics would be a waste of time, when we can lie back and enjoy what they have to offer. There will be the darker side to all these elements too and they will exist in the same intensity that we'd like the lighter/happier side to be. But then again, we'd never know warmth if not for the chill. So lighten up, put on some music and be regaled by the sights, sounds and the wispy prods of human emotions.
Oh, and in case you're in mood for some Alice In Chains, here's a good one.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r80HF68KM8g \m/
I'd recommend headphones and an ear for lyrics.
Why is our system so fuzzy, when it could have been so much more easier for it to be a discrete implementation of likes and dislikes? Why cant happiness be a boolean expression, with a binary result? Beats me to no end, that it takes a bucket full of apprehensions and months of thinking to convey a feeling. It also amazes me as to how easily we are able to build so many mental membranes of abstraction, and further more are able to reform them, owing to the smallest of stimuli. Leads me to believe that emulating/replicating a human mind is pretty much not going to end in satisfactory results even a thousand years from now.
As an engineer, I tend to think of trade-offs in every possible theory/application that I come across. I have indeed come to believe that what we deem an unnecessary complication of abstract feelings is in fact a trade-off with our ability to find joy in simple and inexplicable ways. Its all a very intricate, sometimes weak, sometimes strong mental structure that we build for ourselves in our lifetimes. The whole deal with expectations, desires, emotions and ethereal visions of happiness is best left to itself. Delving into their dynamics would be a waste of time, when we can lie back and enjoy what they have to offer. There will be the darker side to all these elements too and they will exist in the same intensity that we'd like the lighter/happier side to be. But then again, we'd never know warmth if not for the chill. So lighten up, put on some music and be regaled by the sights, sounds and the wispy prods of human emotions.
Oh, and in case you're in mood for some Alice In Chains, here's a good one.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r80HF68KM8g \m/
I'd recommend headphones and an ear for lyrics.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Bunch O' my Brain - Rage against the Machinery
Curse you cowardice,
You reside within.
Curse you wounded fate
Bleedin' irony all over my life.
You reside within.
Curse you wounded fate
Bleedin' irony all over my life.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Writeup about not yet writtenups.
yeah... i like the title too.
My mind has lately been in a very writer/movie friendly mode. Even the simplest of things transpiring around me play like a movie clip and lines form themselves in subtly sarcastic and mildly complex ways. I therefore seem to have a lot to write about even though there's not much interesting going on. So I deemed it appropriate to wrap it all up in a single post and get off easily. So here I go, guiding my varied streams of cerebral energy into one gushing confluence.
1) Farewells! Yes, the goodbyes, sayonaras, the ciao's and cya's. I desperately need to write something about my inability to execute presentably, my farewells. I always seem to think that I'm one goodbye too short and hence tend to reiterate my tata's and birla's. Soliloquy is a common ally during farewells and there are several things I'm telling myself and several more that I am not listening to, me telling me (please dont count; I swear I'm not self centered) .
2) The aeroplane. Apart form topping my "most boring ways to travel" list, it also features on "I'm sorry, I need to gape at this!!" list too. Its really amazing to think how these heavy beasts carrying thousands of kilos manage to get airborne and get back on the ground safely at mind blowing speeds. The only incentive to squirm into a window seat in an airplane is the view outside, be it a thin black freeway needling its way through snow clad landscapes with the horizon gobbling up a crimson sun, or it could be the sight of a well planned city with right angle roads sitting smugly, flanked by mountains, OR, it could be a first hand view of the intricate mechanical engineering in action on the wings, during landing and take off. In-flight entertainment and frequent meals are the only way to strangle the clock and you could also make good use of time by not sleeping a wink, like me.
3) My trip down the dreaded road of "order in life". I am by nature not very organized. I am clean, but cluttered and somewhat inefficient owing to the pervasive influence of disorder in my life. So I valiantly decided that this semester will be a struggle to achieve order and ward off the demons of anarchy. The past 3 days have been as proper as an English tea table. I've been sleeping at 12 and waking up between 6 and 7, making organized lists of things to be done and executing about 70 percent of these tasks (which is up there based on my procrastination dominated history). I also manage to eat at the right times and have reorganized my closet space. Enough said. I'm on my way to orderliness and hopefully will get there in the months to come. Bon Voyage.. wait! am I supposed to be saying that?
4) The part where I declared a vendetta against all fat gujaratis who have an inclination towards kicking the WBC's out of my calf muscles. This one is the most recent; fresh out of the farm. Soccer happened about 3 hours back and so did the flying kick that sent me spiraling into the depths of limb centric agony. And to think I even helped that son of a gun stand up after he had executed successfully, the operation code-named "make Harsha limp for a week". I had a brief vision in slow-motion, of Diaby delivering a jaw crunching blow to John Terry's well positioned head, before I felt the full force of dhokla - power just under my right calf. I will limp all of the 3 steps to my bed after I'm done publishing this post; I walk away a humble soul, forever afraid of fat gujaratis and their unwarranted desires, mostly revolving around the inviting prospect of temporarily maiming a perfectly good limb.
Adios.
My mind has lately been in a very writer/movie friendly mode. Even the simplest of things transpiring around me play like a movie clip and lines form themselves in subtly sarcastic and mildly complex ways. I therefore seem to have a lot to write about even though there's not much interesting going on. So I deemed it appropriate to wrap it all up in a single post and get off easily. So here I go, guiding my varied streams of cerebral energy into one gushing confluence.
1) Farewells! Yes, the goodbyes, sayonaras, the ciao's and cya's. I desperately need to write something about my inability to execute presentably, my farewells. I always seem to think that I'm one goodbye too short and hence tend to reiterate my tata's and birla's. Soliloquy is a common ally during farewells and there are several things I'm telling myself and several more that I am not listening to, me telling me (please dont count; I swear I'm not self centered) .
2) The aeroplane. Apart form topping my "most boring ways to travel" list, it also features on "I'm sorry, I need to gape at this!!" list too. Its really amazing to think how these heavy beasts carrying thousands of kilos manage to get airborne and get back on the ground safely at mind blowing speeds. The only incentive to squirm into a window seat in an airplane is the view outside, be it a thin black freeway needling its way through snow clad landscapes with the horizon gobbling up a crimson sun, or it could be the sight of a well planned city with right angle roads sitting smugly, flanked by mountains, OR, it could be a first hand view of the intricate mechanical engineering in action on the wings, during landing and take off. In-flight entertainment and frequent meals are the only way to strangle the clock and you could also make good use of time by not sleeping a wink, like me.
3) My trip down the dreaded road of "order in life". I am by nature not very organized. I am clean, but cluttered and somewhat inefficient owing to the pervasive influence of disorder in my life. So I valiantly decided that this semester will be a struggle to achieve order and ward off the demons of anarchy. The past 3 days have been as proper as an English tea table. I've been sleeping at 12 and waking up between 6 and 7, making organized lists of things to be done and executing about 70 percent of these tasks (which is up there based on my procrastination dominated history). I also manage to eat at the right times and have reorganized my closet space. Enough said. I'm on my way to orderliness and hopefully will get there in the months to come. Bon Voyage.. wait! am I supposed to be saying that?
4) The part where I declared a vendetta against all fat gujaratis who have an inclination towards kicking the WBC's out of my calf muscles. This one is the most recent; fresh out of the farm. Soccer happened about 3 hours back and so did the flying kick that sent me spiraling into the depths of limb centric agony. And to think I even helped that son of a gun stand up after he had executed successfully, the operation code-named "make Harsha limp for a week". I had a brief vision in slow-motion, of Diaby delivering a jaw crunching blow to John Terry's well positioned head, before I felt the full force of dhokla - power just under my right calf. I will limp all of the 3 steps to my bed after I'm done publishing this post; I walk away a humble soul, forever afraid of fat gujaratis and their unwarranted desires, mostly revolving around the inviting prospect of temporarily maiming a perfectly good limb.
Adios.
Monday, January 18, 2010
19th, the morning.
I leave thee with fond memories and I vow to return ere the winter drapes thy streets again...fare thee well, Bangalore.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Must have's - bengaluru 2 wheeler riders
1) A heightened sense of competition.
2) A deep rooted mistrust for every pedestrian, cow, rider, driver, dog on the road/footpath/divider.
3) A fully functional horn (a scratchy drone with an itchy contact won't do... live loud or die trying)
4) An ability to memorize and effectively implement the mantra " Butt in and Cut in".
5) Brake only to avoid a life threatening collision or to let a chick (hen magalu) cross the road.
6) An ability to use creatively, kannada swear words (ask Mr. HD Deve Gowda for free tips) in order to victimize / defend.
7) A license or a lack of moral/social conscience.
8) A deep understanding of the following wise lines:
a) Rules are nothing more than conventions.
b) There are no conventions.
9) Respect for potholes.
10) Strong belief in - "There are no non-free lefts"
On a more serious note - Learn to believe that Helmets save more lifes when strategically placed on the head, than aesthetically around your wrist/handlebar/on the petrol tank.
2) A deep rooted mistrust for every pedestrian, cow, rider, driver, dog on the road/footpath/divider.
3) A fully functional horn (a scratchy drone with an itchy contact won't do... live loud or die trying)
4) An ability to memorize and effectively implement the mantra " Butt in and Cut in".
5) Brake only to avoid a life threatening collision or to let a chick (hen magalu) cross the road.
6) An ability to use creatively, kannada swear words (ask Mr. HD Deve Gowda for free tips) in order to victimize / defend.
7) A license or a lack of moral/social conscience.
8) A deep understanding of the following wise lines:
a) Rules are nothing more than conventions.
b) There are no conventions.
9) Respect for potholes.
10) Strong belief in - "There are no non-free lefts"
On a more serious note - Learn to believe that Helmets save more lifes when strategically placed on the head, than aesthetically around your wrist/handlebar/on the petrol tank.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Christmas Fog
There's a voice inside my head
It speaks of the road ahead
Of the black clouds I might see
And of the pain that I might feel
There's a needle in my brain
All thanks to Mr. Layne
It muddles the songs I hear
Down in a hole in fear.
Trembling, holding the wheel so tight,
Red lights disappear down so far...
Colour my dreams today
Paint them red, coded grey
Holy smoke up in the air
Where am I? oh where?
Hear the sound man sing
From behind a riddled sky
Hold me, hand me a spike
High up, without a hike.
There's a tune inside my ear
Dont drift in, just stay clear
Withering leaves tell me a tale
Of winters past and pale.
There's a ant inside my eye
Marching, making me cry
Blue and white, it struts around
She flies, I'm on the ground.
Trembling, holding the wheel so tight,
Red lights disappear down so far...
Colour my dreams today
Paint them red, coded grey
Holy smoke up in the air
Where am I? oh where?
Hear the sound man sing
From behind a riddled sky
Hold me, hand me a spike
High up, without a hike.
There's fog up on the terrace
A circle of friends in thought,
Silence heard and ghosts seen
In the fog on Christmas eve.
There's an angel in the air
I'm talking, I'm almost there
Her voice sounds like the breeze
Rustling in the trees............
It speaks of the road ahead
Of the black clouds I might see
And of the pain that I might feel
There's a needle in my brain
All thanks to Mr. Layne
It muddles the songs I hear
Down in a hole in fear.
Trembling, holding the wheel so tight,
Red lights disappear down so far...
Colour my dreams today
Paint them red, coded grey
Holy smoke up in the air
Where am I? oh where?
Hear the sound man sing
From behind a riddled sky
Hold me, hand me a spike
High up, without a hike.
There's a tune inside my ear
Dont drift in, just stay clear
Withering leaves tell me a tale
Of winters past and pale.
There's a ant inside my eye
Marching, making me cry
Blue and white, it struts around
She flies, I'm on the ground.
Trembling, holding the wheel so tight,
Red lights disappear down so far...
Colour my dreams today
Paint them red, coded grey
Holy smoke up in the air
Where am I? oh where?
Hear the sound man sing
From behind a riddled sky
Hold me, hand me a spike
High up, without a hike.
There's fog up on the terrace
A circle of friends in thought,
Silence heard and ghosts seen
In the fog on Christmas eve.
There's an angel in the air
I'm talking, I'm almost there
Her voice sounds like the breeze
Rustling in the trees............
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Anything that works
I wonder what'll kill us first,
Sammy's dollar or the nuclear bomb?
If the sting aint enuf' my darlin'
CO2 can get you too.
Would I be lying if I said
That the world is a beautiful place?
Would you let me rule my heart
When I'm down there on my face?
No you do not rejoice yet
I'm only as sane as you are, Now!.
Dont take away my moment from me
I've only got a few to drink to.
Life should be a
Long lazy dream
Am I asking for too much?
It's a cuppa' bitter coffee
With a lil' cream
Cappuccino!
You might be the star on the block
Or a homie tryin' to build your bricks
You might be upto no good at all
Machiavellian, doing your tricks.
Or all you ever want to do is
Light a smoke and fill your lungs
You might be the one who's cussing
But they are the ultimate thugs.
Life should be a
Long lazy dream
Am I asking for too much?
It's a cuppa' bitter coffee
With a lil' cream
Cap - Cap - Cappuccino!
Chant it, preach it
Make it your mantra
As long as I live,
Anything that works
I dont even care
Dont tell me that you do
Anything that sells
Anything that works.
Life should be a
Long lazy dream
Am I asking for too much?
It's a cuppa' bitter coffee
With a lil' cream
Cappuccino!
Sammy's dollar or the nuclear bomb?
If the sting aint enuf' my darlin'
CO2 can get you too.
Would I be lying if I said
That the world is a beautiful place?
Would you let me rule my heart
When I'm down there on my face?
No you do not rejoice yet
I'm only as sane as you are, Now!.
Dont take away my moment from me
I've only got a few to drink to.
Life should be a
Long lazy dream
Am I asking for too much?
It's a cuppa' bitter coffee
With a lil' cream
Cappuccino!
You might be the star on the block
Or a homie tryin' to build your bricks
You might be upto no good at all
Machiavellian, doing your tricks.
Or all you ever want to do is
Light a smoke and fill your lungs
You might be the one who's cussing
But they are the ultimate thugs.
Life should be a
Long lazy dream
Am I asking for too much?
It's a cuppa' bitter coffee
With a lil' cream
Cap - Cap - Cappuccino!
Chant it, preach it
Make it your mantra
As long as I live,
Anything that works
I dont even care
Dont tell me that you do
Anything that sells
Anything that works.
Life should be a
Long lazy dream
Am I asking for too much?
It's a cuppa' bitter coffee
With a lil' cream
Cappuccino!
Am I insane? Or are you?
Long ago when the great apes carried seeds of humanity, I wonder if sanity / insanity was an issue. I wonder if a bunch of apes similarly positioned in mind and body, decided to stigmatize a slightly different one among them, and labeled it insane. I sometimes think if it is possible that a slight deviation in behaviour translated to an aberration to the norms of the neanderthals (anybody who questions the existence of norms among neanderthals should look into a mirror and gaze intently at themselves until they believe otherwise) thus giving the world its first boorish lunatic; if over the 200,000 years of human evolution, a crack became a crevice, and holy water flowed to widen the divide and gave rise to the sane and insane factions among us, as we see it today.
I would have convinced myself that insanity is in fact a curse of the white sheep to the outnumbered, unconventional black ones, if not for a particular group of madmen. The ones that were born among the "sane", but defected to the other side midway through their lifetime. This I strongly believe is due to the mis-wiring / detatchment of certain neurological elements, as a result of direct or indirect impact of an action with an equal and brain smothering reaction.
All this evolution centric thinking and scientific pondering has led me to think bout one other thing. Catch 22 has enlightened me enough to know for a fact that (if not anything else), a madman knows not, about his standing among the think - alikes of the world. He does not comprehend the ways of the sane, and a friend was also quick to point out (from personal experience) that they deem that every other person in the world, is raving mad. So how on earth does someone realize the onset of insanity? What if I was insane? (I personally think it'd be pretty cool and the world would expect nothing but drivel from me) How the hell do we know if we are insane? for all I care, every madman thinks he's sane. Its pretty trippy and dangerous to think of the world as a place where people thinking and acting alike became the sane faction and and the rest were shunned as non - conformers, whackos, wierdos - insane. Coz then, even a slightly rebellious mind will be tempted to choose the less trodden path. It would then lead to the destruction of conventions for starters and an obliteration of moral rules bringing up the main course. A scoop of brilliance for desert, and we have a brand new psycho, another joins the sparsely populated city of delusion, where your contorted mind makes the rules and you follow them religiously, bereft of trifles - only the higher layers matter (the physical layer is for the communcation theorists, if u know what I mean).
I would have convinced myself that insanity is in fact a curse of the white sheep to the outnumbered, unconventional black ones, if not for a particular group of madmen. The ones that were born among the "sane", but defected to the other side midway through their lifetime. This I strongly believe is due to the mis-wiring / detatchment of certain neurological elements, as a result of direct or indirect impact of an action with an equal and brain smothering reaction.
All this evolution centric thinking and scientific pondering has led me to think bout one other thing. Catch 22 has enlightened me enough to know for a fact that (if not anything else), a madman knows not, about his standing among the think - alikes of the world. He does not comprehend the ways of the sane, and a friend was also quick to point out (from personal experience) that they deem that every other person in the world, is raving mad. So how on earth does someone realize the onset of insanity? What if I was insane? (I personally think it'd be pretty cool and the world would expect nothing but drivel from me) How the hell do we know if we are insane? for all I care, every madman thinks he's sane. Its pretty trippy and dangerous to think of the world as a place where people thinking and acting alike became the sane faction and and the rest were shunned as non - conformers, whackos, wierdos - insane. Coz then, even a slightly rebellious mind will be tempted to choose the less trodden path. It would then lead to the destruction of conventions for starters and an obliteration of moral rules bringing up the main course. A scoop of brilliance for desert, and we have a brand new psycho, another joins the sparsely populated city of delusion, where your contorted mind makes the rules and you follow them religiously, bereft of trifles - only the higher layers matter (the physical layer is for the communcation theorists, if u know what I mean).
Clinging on to the edge of reason
Trying too hard
To satisfy my soul
I'm delving into depths unknown to me.
Trying too hard
To satisfy my soul
I'm delving into depths unknown to me.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Maria
Wind blows at my face, I go to
Another place
Another time
Standing right across the street, she looks
More beautiful than ever
In the dark
Lips spread into a smile, I can hear
Words I've never spoken
pouring out
Raindrops freeze as she moves her eyes
My whole world is coming
To a stop
O Maria,
I'll be long gone fore' I tell you.
O Maria,
I'll be long gone fore' you know.
Another place
Another time
Standing right across the street, she looks
More beautiful than ever
In the dark
Lips spread into a smile, I can hear
Words I've never spoken
pouring out
Raindrops freeze as she moves her eyes
My whole world is coming
To a stop
O Maria,
I'll be long gone fore' I tell you.
O Maria,
I'll be long gone fore' you know.
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