The meltdown

Cold as a stone in the sky,
Floating all around
Waiting till it hits the ground.

Fore' you know it, it will all
Wash into your brain,
Cause you suffering, and the pain will

Choke you off your breath,
Leave you wondering and waiting,
For the pain, to melt away.

Speed, the sucker...

I'm slow.

What I really want to say is, I like to be slow. There's nothing more I'd wish for, if I was to be handed a book, and given a lot of time to understand what every line in the book was meant to mean. It would indeed make my day if the world slowed down to a numb buzz for a minute or two allowing me to see, analyze, interpret and comprehend all. If there was time enough for me to see that falling drop wobble itself into a sphere, only to get dismembered by the merciless undulations of an ever consuming ground. But apparently, these joyous trinkets are not what I'm made to live for. Bigger, better things are meant to await my presence in the ever near, never near future.

Its a shame we are all off our hinges in this madly accelerating world. Its a shame how deadlines can ruin a perfectly good day of learning. Its a shame we can do nothing but speed up, to keep up. Its a shame the world of poets is just a figment of my imagination. Its a shame we've let it all go dizzy and haywire. Its a cryin' shame that all I'll ever want to do is to slow down, when all I can afford to do, is try to run faster....and faster... and faster.

Definitions - BMS

Ah! A 4 – year holiday, that's what it was. The college I went to, part – time to get an undergraduate degree, and full time to hang out with a bunch of top notch dabblers. We were a tight group of friends who had all mysteriously decided that our purpose in life was way more intricate than could be realized by means of working hard towards an Electronics and Communications Engineering degree in BMS. A technical degree in hand and not a shred of knowledge upstairs.

The beginning

He was too scared to look into the mirror. The venomous residues of a previous incursion still lingered. Every ounce of determination and all the pragmatic, physical goading that a 22 year old could cough up, proved to be futile. Even as this tussle squeezed the daylight out of his eyes, “And to what avail?” cried the mind. “Why do you want to put me through that again?” He did not know. Another thing on the list of the numerous don’t - knows that seemed to have engulfed his life. All the same, the questions kept popping up. Questions that could not be dismissed, ones that did not have an answer scripted yet, the ones that would unfold themselves for all the world to see; in the future that was to be his and everyone like him. There were lots of him, surrounded by the ubiquitous uncertainties that one single nation had nurtured, only to father a vengeful, prodigal son. One among the multitude of desis who had jumped the Atlantic in search of knowledge and money, at this point he felt lacking in one and bereft of the other.

The higher view

Ever so often I find myself
Floating in the clouds, weightless
Oblivious, content and happy.

Up there, the philosophy of credit
And the theory of effort holds good.
And the world does not disappoint.

But the Eagle does not fly forever
You get to choose your moments and,
You get to go again, tomorrow.

Bleak

So, so different
So many colours
And so difficult
To understand.

You're just another
But then again
You're so different
And difficult.

Too bad you're not a genius
Rue that, but it will not help.
I guess its time all over again
To take the long path home.

Too bad you think its not your fault
And you begin to sympathize
I hope that you can understand
That you begin to realize.

So, many choices,
Yet there are none.
Fore' you finish this
Fun you've started.

So, what are you gonna
Do about this?
Will you let it all be
A waste of your time?

Too bad you're not a genius
Rue that, but it will not help.
I guess its time all over again
To take the long path home.

Too bad you think its not your fault
And you begin to sympathize
I hope that you can understand
That you begin to realize.

So you begin to talk
Like you've understood
Like the tiger has come
Right Out of the woods.

So, so different
So many vivid colours
And so damn difficult
To understand.

Smudged all over the canvas
Making your senses weak
Your thoughts seem like the canvas
The future looks bleak.

Bunch o' my brain - student

Think and thrive
Delve and derive
Stupid or clever
Student forever