Writings on the Wall

It’s a sign of things to come...if I let in every single person in my life and give them a glimpse of the show even before its time- that graffiti will be engraved on my tombstone.


Somehow I can talk only about myself - that's what it always seems like - the I's and the Me's and the My's - they don't seem to end. Maybe that’s because the problems don't seem end or perhaps that is the reason for my problems. Either which way, I think its time to put that to an end or just take a break from the self-indulgent talk till there comes a time for an ego-stroke.


On a not-so unrelated note, a comment made me wonder how Evolution impacted our lives. I don't mean the phase from Homo erectus to Homo sapiens. Its more to do with Darwin confusing the skeptical. Apparently there is something called Devolution - I take that comment as contemptuous. How can anyone let down any thought and need just because it doesn't fit their idea of civil and becoming-like. The attitude disturbs me - the inability to see beyond the divine and the holy and the right that worries me. For its only Marx who can see utopia and dream of it like most Indian men dream of sex. Why talk about Evolution, you say when the core is being too over self-obsessed? Well, the answer is simple - my perception of my own change (within and without) consequently impacts my opinion of the society I live in. This is not to say that my actions are solely based on your approval. They are based on my free will and my tastes and habits.


What makes the argument of - Man is a social animal, so alluring, is that; as men we refuse our "superiority" to justify our capacity to be primal.


The way I see it, it should be the other way around. Not because it is fun to contradict. But so it can finally register that we are animals first and then society came into being. Don't take my opinion too literally, I don’t mean lets go back to being Neanderthals (although I know a few who are!!) I feel its high time we realize - that the need can at times be so strong that the etiquette could go jump off a cliff. So lets admit to the doom and destruction that comes with being primal and or being civilized…its not a win-win situation, for sure.....

Nostradamus 101

Have you ever seen that over-rated show "LOST". The protagonists' lives unfold in periodic pivotal episodes and all you are left with is more questions and more speculations.

Back to the real world or at least the dream state - it gets creepy when a dream recurs, right? It gets even creepier when with every 5th night; it slowly unfolds like an origami. Each fold-a new perspective, speculative, interpretative.

I am not sure if my fear is justified, not even sure my sub-conscious is playing tricks on me (most probably because it’s bored too). Whatever is the reason, I have come to a somewhat tentative conclusion - it’s all just pointless.

Life is unpredictable and trying to see my bleak future in not so many colours won't help me or anyone in any way. But, here comes the usual exception - what if your dreams/nightmares actually help you understand how you feel at the moment and perhaps of feelings and events long forgotten. I know a lot of people who have taken 5 descriptive sentences of a dream and make them seem so relatable. I have done so, many a times. It grips you especially when you start believing it is The Truth. So does this necessarily mean I should carry a dream dictionary around with me? I hope not – I don’t need anymore reason or ammunition to start (and twist) fucked up conversations.

I do recall the first time a stranger told me of his dream and it left the both of us confused – because he took as it was and I searched for a deeper meaning, in hopes to resolve any conflict. But the conflict was without not within. There are many who search for a “better” understanding of life and are many a time disappointed. “Nothing is at it seems” is their motto and in many instances it applies but when it doesn’t and we are heartbroken to find out that our assumption was mislaid, you feel ashamed. Ashamed to know that you still haven’t got the hang of this “sixth sense” concept even after practicing on unsuspecting family and friends. Maybe that’s when the dream/nightmare helps. When you can't resolve it with your eyes open, peering at every detail, watching out for the suspicious and the odd one.

It must help, I most surely hope it does to mask your eyes under the blanket of night and let it all just dissipate in a land of no colour and absurdity. Kafka would be proud....

V-DAY....Terminator couldn't help here !!

It's the dreaded day – the day that was meant to signify the martyrdom of a man, instead is celebrated as a day for heart shaped balloons and chocolate mint candies! Ok, I will admit to being tempted (to say the least) to buy the over-priced Hallmark card and hand it to a long time crush. But that's a phase every 13 year old goes through. So dare you judge me for being clinically normal!

But when you are past your teens and somewhat understanding the whole "I am an adult now" concept, does the day mean a lot more or should we discount it as just another day?

Let me clarify the reasons for the options above:
Time is something we all run short of – and with the way things are going, we might as well say, we are living on borrowed time. It's difficult to keep the romance alive when you yourself are trying to guarantee the man on your operating table stays alive. Work turns into an act of infidelity. Yes, I do admit that this is not the case with all but definitely for a majority. So, why judge the inept for indulging in a bouquet of roses and a candle-lit dinner?

I have heard of this folklore – of this special species of later Homo sapiens genealogy. Who would treat you like a goddess all year round and still have the energy to make dinner reservations at your favorite restaurant on V-Day, greet you with a bouquet of the freshest and brightest red roses and gift you a diamond ring as a token of his lasting love and affection. WOW … talk about a plot for a Hindi Horror film!

But in all honesty, how does this species function and how does the "goddess" put up with it. The sloppy kisses, the mushy one-liners. Ok, these are good – once in a while- but every moment of every day. Apologies for the old hag rant, but is it me alone who feels the over-the-top romance is suffocating to everyone who shares your breathing space? nn nA peck on the cheek, a yearning look, a hushed whisper* – now these are stolen moments that add flavor to the romance. The overt gestures are as good as a monster truck rally – the end result nothing but a disaster and name one person who won't enjoy a man-made wreck like that. nn nPublic Display of Affection (aka PDA) has been brutally tainted as an excuse for the nauseating antics. I consider it a turn-on (those still paying attention: Refer*). But boundaries is what a society is based on and it would really be nice to create a limit to the number of times you are allowed to throw up while walking along nMarine Drive. n nOnce dinner is done, there is the well-not-so-spoken-of part. The night just doesn't end with the chef's special dessert tray of high calorie pastries (which by the way, you carefully avoided to fit into the slinky black dress)

But in all honesty, how does this species function and how does the "goddess" put up with it. The sloppy kisses, the mushy one-liners. Ok, these are good – once in a while- but every moment of every day. Apologies for the old hag rant, but is it me alone who feels the over-the-top romance is suffocating to everyone who shares your breathing space?

A peck on the cheek, a yearning look, a hushed whisper* – now these are stolen moments that add flavor to the romance. The overt gestures are as good as a monster truck rally – the end result nothing but a disaster and name one person who won't enjoy a man-made wreck like that.

Public Display of Affection (aka PDA) has been brutally tainted as an excuse for the nauseating antics. I consider it a turn-on (those still paying attention: Refer*). But boundaries is what a society is based on and it would really be nice to create a limit to the number of times you are allowed to throw up while walking along Marine Drive.

Once dinner is done, there is the well-not-so-spoken-of part. The night just doesn't end with the chef's special dessert tray of high calorie pastries (which by the way, you carefully avoided to fit into the slinky black dress). Well I will leave upto the imagination of my infrequent readers...

Why this rant - in short - has love become materitalistic?
And with this I do not just refer to the love that blossoms with every spring or that between two star crossed teenagers/adult/adult-wannabes !!!
Are parents substituting their love with objects....IS LOVE BEING "OBJECT"ified???

This is not the same as being OBJECTIVE, because when its matters of the heart - they are never that simple...
So is it? I say IT IS....I ALSO SAY - WHY NOT? I ALSO SAY - EVERYTHING HAS A LIMIT....if one needs a sweaty wad of cash to tell their loved one they care all the time, everytime, I am sorry to disappoint you but I shall not be pleased

Yes with the rising inflation, it gets tough to hold your own with the MRPs and VATs and other acronyms. But Gandhi did not expect to be used ever so affectionately....

My grief - lets ge back to the craziness, the serenades, the walks arm-in-arm, the "i-dont-like-your-taste-in-music-but-will-still-listen-to-it" sort of love - the kind Shakespeare glorfifed but with a whole lot of subtlety.....

Maybe its too much to ask - but then again - so is Divine Intervention when you don't pray.....

The Perfect Man

When Jesus sat his disciples atop a much unknown mountain, one sunny Sunday, he forgot to include this statement in his weekly words of wisdom – Blessed are those who hate their job for they will get paid well for it.Did I hear someone yell – Blasphemy...well I hate to disagree. I get paid well and I well don't hate my job but it rather bores me. Any woman in my place would be quite excited to know that she shares her breathing space with men who value money and evaluate it for a living. Imagine the shopping sprees, if you manage to sink your teeth into the young hot shots and manage to suck every ounce of blood and credit point. But alas, where these men fail to garner your attention is the charm, panache and well sexual preference.Believe me all of this (none to my misfortune). I rather consider the whole affair a quest like the Holy Grail. In short, every woman (and I mean every woman) searches for THE PERFECT MAN – looks, charm, credit card packed wallet and well a trouser-full of you-know-what. However, in search of THE PERFECT MAN , we find ourselves quite drawn to the brash, unabashed, opinionated, unkempt, self-made man. (The trouser-full of you-know-what somehow never changed for me; here I speak for myself alone). Perfection is all about perception, I guess. So is the ideal a fake - a clever ruse to identify the gecko from the chameleon??? Perhaps, a lie detector test for the weak and unhinged.There is a certain appreciation for a man (or woman) who refuses to change his (or her) core values for the sake of another. But here I need to include a much debated thought - is change for the sake of change, right ? or is change with a purpose to keep things balanced, fatal to self? Rilke said "Life is lived in transformation". So it really wouldn't mater what the reason for the transformation is, right? For you are living life to its fullest with every change you make, right from the person you share your bed with to the number of sugar cubes you add to your tea.. (Note: I provide questions. These however, aren't rhetorical but rather I would appreciate no feedback on the matter. I repeat - NO FEEDBACK REQUIRED) .... inconclusive....

RD+Vampire+Me = FUN !

After listening to Vampire non stop and watching Indianchief work on his RD, I still quite didn't get what all the fuss was about...but here's the best part - I retract my statement....an RD350 isn't about fussing or shit...it just is an amazing bike...pillion's perspective alone!There's a saying that, before you die, your entire life flashes in front of your eyes. I'm pretty sure I wasn't dying, but yeah I do recall seeing my first day in school! I was very used to a particular RX135 and quite fond of it as well...but then one look at the gleaming red RD, I wondered, "Hmmm, this could be fun!"....kick start and voila...Demonic Possession! it sounded nasty, like it would just chew up anything and everything in its way and just spit it right back out! I noticed every head turn to get a look or even a glance of the beast....I know over dramatic, but there is no other way to describe it! Whilst getting ready to sit on the "bitch",(sorry but thats the only word that can do her justice and I mean it in a good way), the owner tells me - hold on tight, the rider is the only hope you have - not comforting at all The bitch kept pulling you back in and I know the rider was hypnotised from the word GO!....Hypnotic state or not, fear becomes secondary, adrenaline takes over and all you can do is hope...for a red signal The moment the bike starts moving she acceelerates so hard that she just tries to throw you off her! Next gear she's still trying to throw you off as she is going, screaming down the road and she's enjoying scaring the shit outta u. I guess I saw the speedo hit around 120 - 130 and the rest was a blur . Mostly because, while you are enjoying the thrill fo it all, you are really struggling to keep your eyes open so that you can let her know who's in charge of the whole situation and if you manage to get a good hold on her while maneouvering through stiff traffic, she is quite obedient!I had my eyes closed for abt 5 seconds...the stretch from A to B, seemed a lot shorter and lot more thrilling, even for a somewhat straight road!The rider got adventurous, too much for even my liking but who can blame him...its a "fuckin" RD....Amen. It forces you to stay alert not for any danger but for the next "fix"...something I can't comprehend ! Got off and first thought, I wonder how much it actually costs....yeah yeah, I know the drill - its a thirsty bike and it requires commitment...so what its worth it... I'm pretty sure from a pillion's perspective I can't say much besides, its Fantastic and something I would do sparingly just to enjoy it the best way I can...the whole Too much of a Good thing isnt a Good thing at allFrom a rider's perspective, I can only imagine and I still would be left with a lot of unanswered questions.TO sum it all up, "Ain't she a beauty and shes purrs like a kitten too!" DOES NOT apply to an RD....she's a mean nasty bitch, and I would know a bit about that too..

Music and CO2

Sweat mingled with tears
Make for guilty relation
This is our only recluse
The bed on your side is cold
Are you gone?
There....there it is again
That familiar song
The air is stale
With that faint musk
And the syllables slip so easily...
Fathombale only to your ear and mine
Soothing your ego
Provoking mine.

(posted originally September 2006)

Paper is all that I need ...

Sometimes a personal messsage in your messenger space can't suffice the consequent thoughts that plague your pea sized brain (pea size: refer to the giant of Jack and the Beanstalk, diplomatically avoiding any "slap on the face" comments to the human race).

I want to write and the urge is consuming, unfortunately, I can't write without another piece of paper. The kind with an ideal on it and the man who wished it to be the purpose of every other man. The kind that empowers one and indebts the other. The kind that materialises for the spendthrift and disappears in an ancient obsolete form of security, watched closely by the eyes of those who probably need it the most.

If I want to write I want to write, why am I obligated to the the ill represented fools of the world? Why do I need to be apporved by suicidal robots, wading through life's holy waters like a boat without sails....relying on Poseidon and showing no trust in Zephyr....

As frustrating as this is, I take recourse in one lone thought...its begun...the angst is lost in a pool of silvery fluid. It has now evolved into a ghost...waiting for the white light carved in the corner of his soul....

If there is a possibility that I am committing myself to a thought that I despised my whole tenure on this earth...I would rid the earth of my flesh and this instrument would have faded into the nether regions of Gaia...

But, this is not a commitment for the weak hearted...And I know my strength. It might take me far off into the horizon making it real and not a daunting mission (reminds me of the triangle somehow)

Necessities are the consequence of survival instincts....so it is said...I rely on those same instincts to comprehend my necessity. Not to be heard or published or read about or mentioned in a "soon to be outdated" text. My necessity ... my existence rests solely on one tear or smile from my perfecting soul when the pain is lost and replaced with life's adulterated frivolities.

(posted originally Sept 2006)