Mein Khayal - Mehdi Hassan

Mein Khayal - Mehdi Hassan
Ghazal by Saleem Kauser

Mein khayal hoon kisi aur ka,
mujhe sochta koi aur hai.
Sar-e-aeenah mera aks hai,
pas-e-aeenah koi aur hai.

Mein kisi keh dast-e-talab mein hoon,
to kisi keh harf-e-dua mein hoon.
Mein naseeb hoon kisi aur ka,
mejhe maangta koi aur hai.

Ajab aitabar-o-bey aitabaree,
keh darmayan hai zindagi.
Mein qareeb hoon kisi aur keh,
mujhe jaanta koi aur hai.

Mujhe doston ka pata nahin,
mujhey dushmanon ki khabar nahin.
Meri daastan koi aur thi,
mera waaqaya koi aur hai.

Jo milen kabhi unhen poochna,
dekhna unhen ghaur sey.
Jinhen raastey mein khabar hui,
keh yeh  raasta koi aur hai.

Jo meri reyazat-e-neem shab,
ko 'Saleem' subh na mil saki.
To is key mani to yeh hue,
keh yahan khuda koi aur hai.
keh yahan khuda koi aur hai.

The dilemna

Is it not better to leap towards what you want even when you know there is a fair chance of getting hurt than just sitting back in fear and letting a life time slip away?

found on a random blog

People! Pakistan's home to around 162,419,946 people! Look around! Don't marry your cousins!

times have changed
seasons have changed

my days
my nights
my dreams have chnaged

you have changed
i have changed

over this course of voluntary separation
look around just once
you will see a changed world

if at all there is something unchanged
it's the (im)possibility of us being together

indeed that has never changed

Ode to the Nice Girls

by Jessica Leigh Griffith

This is my tribute to the nice girls. To the nice girls who are overlooked, who become friends and nothing more, who spend hours fixating upon their looks and their personalities and their actions because it must be they that are doing something wrong. This is for the girls who don't give it up on the first date, who don't want to play mind games, who provide a comforting hug and a supportive audience for a story they've heard a thousand times. This is for the girls who understand that they aren't perfect and that the guys they're interested in aren't either, for the girls who flirt and laugh and worry and obsess over the slightest glance, whisper, touch, because somehow they are able to keep alive that hope that maybe... maybe this time he'll have understood.


This is an homage to the girls who laugh loud and often, who are comfortable in skirts and sweats and combat boots, who care more than they should for guys who don't deserve their attention. This is for those girls who have been in the trenches, who have watched other girls time and time again fake up and make up and fuck up the guys in their lives without saying a word. This is for the girls who have been there from the beginning and have heard the trite words of advice, from "there are plenty of fish in the sea," to "time heals all wounds."


This is to honor those girls who know that guys are just as scared as they are, who know that they deserve better, who are seeking to find it.This is for the girls who have never been in love, but know that it's an experience that they don't want to miss out on. For the girls who have sought a night with friends and been greeted by a night of catcalling, rude comments and explicit invitations that they'd rather not have experienced. This is for the girls who have spent their weekends sitting on the sidelines of a beer pong tournament or a case race, or playing Florence Nightingale for a vomiting guy friend or a comatose crush, who have received a drunk phone call just before dawn from someone who doesn't care enough to invite them over but is still willing to pass out in their bed. This is for the girls who have left sad song lyrics in their away messages, who have tried to make someone understand through a subliminally appealing profile, who have time and time again dropped their male friend hint after hint after hint only to watch him chase after the first blonde girl in a skirt.


This is for the girls who have been told that they're too good or too smart or too pretty, who have been given compliments as a way of breaking off a relationship, who have ever been told they are only wanted as a friend.


This one's for the girls who you can take home to mom, but won't because it's easier to sleep with a whore than foster a relationship; this is for the girls who have been led on by words and kisses and touches, all of which were either only true for the moment, or never real to begin with. This is for the girls who have allowed a guy into their head and heart and bed, only to discover that he's just not ready, he's just not over her, he's just not looking to be tied down; this is for the girls who believe the excuses because it's easier to believe that it's not that they don't want you, it's that they don't want anyone.


This is for the girls who have had their hearts broken and their hopes dashed by someone too cavalier to have cared in the first place; this is for the nights spent dissecting every word and syllable and inflection in his speech, for the nights when you've returned home alone, for the nights when you've seen from across the room him leaning a little too close, or standing a little too near, or talking a little too softly for the girl he's with to be a random hookup.


This is for the girls who have endured party after party in his presence, finally having realized that it wasn't that he didn't want a relationship: it was that he didn't want you. I honor you for the night his dog died or his grandmother died or his little brother crashed his car and you held him, thinking that if you only comforted him just right, or said the right words, or rubbed his back in the right way then perhaps he'd realize what it was that he already had. This is for the night you realized that it would never happen, and the sunrise you saw the next morning after failing to sleep.


This is for the "I really like you, so let's still be friends" comment after you read more into a situation than he ever intended; this is for never realizing that when you choose friends, you seldom choose those which make you cry yourself to sleep. This is for the hugs you've received from your female friends, for the nights they've reassured you that you are beautiful and intelligent and amazing and loyal and truly worthy of a great guy; this is for the despair you all felt as you sat in the aftermath of your tears, knowing that that night the only companionship you'd have was with a pillow and your teddy bear.


This is for the girls who have been used and abused, who have endured what he was giving because at least he was giving something; this is for the stupidity of the nights we've believed that something was better than nothing, though his something was nothing we'd have ever wanted. This is for the girls who have been satisified with too little and who have learned never to expect anything more: for the girls who don't think that they deserve more, because they've been conditioned for so long to accept the scraps thrown to them by guys.


This is what I don't understand. Men sit and question and whine that girls are only attracted to the mean guys, the guys who berate them and belittle them and don't appreciate them and don't want them; who use them for sex and think of little else than where their next conquest will be made. Men complain that they never meet nice girls, girls who are genuinely interested and compelling, who are intelligent and sweet and smart and beautiful; men despair that no good women want to share in their lives, that girls play mindgames, that girls love to keep them hanging.


Yet, men, I ask you: were you to meet one of these genuinely interested, thrillingly compelling, interesting and intelligent and sweet and beautiful and smart girls, were you to give her your number and wait for her to call... and if you were to receive a call from her the next day and she, in her truthful, loyal, intelligent and straightforward nice girl fashion, were to tell you that she finds you intriguing and attractive and interesting and worth her time and perhaps material from which she could fashion a boyfriend, would you or would you not immediately call your friends to tell them of the "stalker chick" you'd met the night prior, who called you and wore her heart on her sleeve and told the truth?And would you, or would you not, refuse to make plans with her, speak with her, see her again, and once again return to the bar or club or party scene and search once more for this "nice girl" who you just cannot seem to find?


Because therein lies the truth, guys: we nice girls are everywhere. But you're not looking for a nice girl. You're not looking for someone genuinely interested in your intermural basketball game, or your anatomy midterm grade, or that argument you keep having with your father; you're looking for a quick fix, a night when you can pretend to have a connection with another human being which is just as disposable as the condom you were using during it.So don't say you're on the lookout for nice girls, guys, when you pass us up on every step you take.


Sometimes we go undercover; sometimes we go in disguise: sometimes when that girl in the low cut shirt or the too tight miniskirt won't answer your catcalls, sometimes you're looking at a nice girl in whore's clothing - - we might say we like the attention, we might blush and giggle and turn back to our friends, but we're all thinking the same thing: "This isn't me. Tomorrow morning, I'll be wearing a teeshirt and flannel shorts, I'll have slept alone and I'll be making my hungover best friend breakfast. See through the disguise. See me." You never do. Why? Because you only see the exterior, you only see the slutty girl who welcomes those advances.


You don't want the nice girl.. so don't say you're looking for a relationship: relationships take time and energy and intent, three things we're willing to extend - - but in return, we're looking for compassion and loyalty and trust, three things you never seem willing to express.


Maybe nice guys finish last, but in the race they're running they're chasing after the whores and the sluts and the easy-targets... the nice girls are waiting at the finish line with water and towels and a congradulatory hug (and yes, if she's a nice girl and she likes you, the sweatiness probably won't matter), hoping against hope that maybe you'll realize that they're the ones that you want at the end of that silly race.So maybe it won't last forever. Maybe some of those guys in that race will turn in their running shoes and make their way to the concession stand where we're waiting; however, until that happens, we still have each other, that silly race to watch, and all the chocolate we can eat (because what's a concession stand at a race without some chocolate?)

Ode to the Nice Guys

This rant was written for the Wharton Undergraduate Journal

This is a tribute to the nice guys. The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny/sexy their female friends are at the appropriate moment, because they know most girls need that litany of support. This is in honor of the guys with open minds, with laid-back attitudes, with honest concern. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl’s every facet, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style.

This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they’re at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don’t end up being boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly abandoned, this is for you.

This is for that time she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a jerk, you assured her that it was all ok and she shouldn’t worry about it. This is for that time she interrupted the best killing spree you’d ever orchestrated in GTA3 to rant about a rumor that romantically linked her and the guy she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for two hours and helped her concoct a counter-rumor to spread around the floor. This is also for that time she didn’t have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing “serious” between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: “oh, but we’re just friends!” And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you’re nice like that.

The nice guys don’t often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more disturbing, the nice guys don’t seem to get laid as often as they should. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can’t. From what I have observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative bitches. Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as “oh, he’s too nice to date” or “he would be a good boyfriend but he’s not for me” or “he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn’t possibly ask him out!” or the most frustrating of all: “no, it would ruin our friendship.” Yet, they continue to lament the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks. Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can’t figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I’m going to sleep with this complete ass now!). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn’t last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.

So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you’re sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, inane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgement, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming.

Fu-zu Jen, SEAS/WH, 2003

revisiting existentialism

Wait a minute, there's a snag somewhere; something disagreeable. Why, now, should it be disagreeable? ...Ah, I see; it's life without a break. ~ Sartre

...here we sit, all of us, eating and drinking to preserve our precious existence and really there is nothing, nothing absolutely, no reason for existing. ~ Sartre

Beauty is unbearable, drives us to despair, offering us for a minute the glimpse of an eternity that we should like to stretch out over the whole of time. ~ Camus

In default of inexhaustible happiness, eternal suffering would at least give us a destiny. But we do not even have that consolation, and our worst agonies come to an end one day. ~ Camus

The absurd enlightens me on this point: there is no future. ~ Camus

Every act of rebellion expresses a nostalgia for innocence and an appeal to the essence of being. ~ Camus

At any street corner the feeling of absurdity can strike any man in the face. ~ Camus (sad but true :/)

The absurd is born of this confrontation between the human need and the unreasonable silence of the world. ~ Camus

A crowd—not this crowd or that, the crow now living or the crowd long deceased, a crowd of humble people or of superior people, or rich or of poor, etc.—a crowd in its very concept is the untruth, by reason of the fact that it renders the individual completely impenitent and irresponsible, or at least weakens his sense of responsibility by reducing it to a fraction. The Point of View ~ Kierkegaard

Above all, do not lose your desire to walk. every day I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness. I have walked myself into my best thoughts and I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it...but by sitting still, and the more one sits still, the closer one comes to feeling ill...If one just keeps on walking everything will be all right. ~ Kierkegaard

It was as if that great rush of anger had washed me clean, emptied me of hope, and, gazing up at the dark sky spangled with its signs and stars,for the first time, the first, I laid my heart open to the benign indifference of the universe. To feel it so like myself, indeed, so brotherly, made me realize that I'd been happy, and that I was happy still... The Stranger ~ Camus ( absolutely love this one and it is a MUST read book)

Without Music, life would be a mistake. ~ Nietzche

The thought of suicide is a great consolation: by means of it one gets successfully through many a bad night. ~ Nietzche

Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And when you look into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you. ~ Nietzche

When Zarathustra was alone...he said to his heart: 'Could it be possible! This old saint in the forest hath not yet heard of it, that God is dead! ~ Nietzche

I can prove at any time that my education tried to make another person out of me than the one I became. It is for the harm, therefore, that my educators could have done me in accordance with their intentions that I reproach them; I demand from their hands the person I now am, and since they cannot give him to me, I make of my reproach and laughter a drumbeat sounding in the world beyond. ~ Kafka

A first sign of the beginning of understanding is the wish to die. ~ Kafka

To die would mean nothing else than to surrender a nothing to the nothing, but that would be impossible to conceive, for how could a person, even only as a nothing, consciously surrender himself to the nothing, and not merely to an empty nothing but rather to a roaring nothing whose nothingness consists only in its incomprehensibility. ~ Kafka

A belief is like a guillotine just as heavy, just as light. ~ Kafka

My life is hesitation before birth. ~ Kafka (could not agree more)

Intercourse with human beings seduces one to self-contemplation. ~ Kafka

some (not so) profound qoutes

I don't know enough to be incompetent. (Shadows and Fog - Woody Allen)

To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering one must not love, but then one suffers from not loving. Therefore, to love is to suffer, not to love is to suffer, to suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love, to be happy then is to suffer but suffering makes one unhappy, therefore to be unhappy one must love or love to suffer or suffer from too much happiness. I hope you're getting this down... (Love and Death - Woody Allen)

I don't want to achieve immortality through my work. I want to achieve it through not dying. (Woody Allen) - don't agree with this one at all though

It's not that I'm afraid to die. I just don't want to be there when it happens. (Woody Allen) don't agree with this one too but it's nice nonetheless

nice qoute

To be stupid, selfish, and have good health are three requirements for happiness, though if stupidity is lacking, all is lost.
Gustave Flaubert (1821 - 1880)

cold steel heart

sometimes we are so scared of our hearts breaking
that we seal them in metal casings

emotion is denied all warmth of breaths and beats
inside its dark and cold

even then certain things refuse to go away
a few threads of relations survive the incubation
and it is these fine threads that extract you from the abyss

yesterday i realized i can't shut away feeling too long
i can't feign apathy even if it causes tremendous pain

i would rather have an aching heart than none at all
i would rather live as myself than not at all

idealist turned rationalist

i miss my sensitivity when i sit down to write
it makes me wish my heart was not so estranged
it makes me want to feel before thinking

id(ea)ls

we live our lives believing in one myth after another
sometimes its happiness sometimes love
sometimes its you and me
sometimes us and we

we dream a new fantasy every day
we think a negation to survive each morning

we build our own idols to escape our insufficiencies
we make our ideals as reflections of who we would want to be
and the ideals shatter
sooner or later reality dawns
and fantasy fades away in to nothingness

and then often we sit in a corner mourning our loss
we think of all that could have been
we live in a bitter sweet nostalgia
that stings every moment
but still is so very hard to let go of

i have followed the same course for long
i have mourned the loss of many ideals
i have witness the shattering of various idols

but i realized only today how very essential all this is
an ideal must fade away
every idol must be broken
existence is characterized by change
why worship the same god all your life

there is a 'sher' i have always found amusing
i think it fits here so very well

'yeh kia keh ik taur se guzre tamam umr
ji chahta hai ab koi teray siwa bhi ho'

kissed to death!

wish list

some time back some one enlightenend me with a chinese saying

'as long as you want something it can never be truly yours and when you stop wanting it it's yours to keep'*

somehow this makes perfect sense today ... i guess overtime a lot of things start making sense ... am hoping someday life will start making sense too ... though i have a strong feeling that life will stop being that very day

*(yeah i know i get memory lapses so apologies for tormenting the soul of whoever came up with this to start with)

sadness

read this on a random blog today

Sadness is a feeling that engulfs you... You cannot search for it nor can you deter it... it is addictive and once you are in it, you want to live with it... it's consoling yet it's heartwrenching.. you will want to let it go, yet you will wan to hold it tight... such is the dilemma of being sad..

These are the days

Read this on the net today . . . .

These are the days
These are days you’ll remember
Never before and never since, I promise
Will the whole world be warm as this
And as you feel it,
You’ll know it’s true
That you are blessed and lucky
It’s true that you
Are touched by something
That will grow and bloom in you

These are days that you’ll remember
When May is rushing over you
With desire to be part of the miracles
You see in every hour
You’ll know it’s true
That you are blessed and lucky
It’s true that you are touched
By something that will grow and bloom in you

These are days
These are the days you might fill
With laughter until you break
These days you might feel
A shaft of light
Make its way across your face
And when you do
Then you’ll know how it was meant to be
See the signs and know their meaning
It's true
Then you’ll know how it was meant to be
Hear the signs and know they’re speaking
To you, to you

(author unknown)

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Read this some time back ... the following seem so very true today And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;	25
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;	30
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
In the room the women come and go	35
Talking of Michelangelo.
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—	40
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare	45
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,	50
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
And I have known the eyes already, known them all—	55
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?	60
And how should I presume? (T.S. Eliot)

so it is . .

In idle moments I think of you and wonder if we gave up too soon,
In solitude I trace out memories of times spent with you.
I tire myself out with endless activities during the day,
The distractions of the workplace help take my mind off you.
At night I drop dead on the covers and watch your shadow slip away.
I know you will fade away as I drift off to sleep,
I know you will be forever gone before dawn.

At times I sit down and rationalize it all.
I know where you are coming from,
I understand your limitations.
Strange as it may seem,
I recognize the demons inside your head.
I have no regrets about what happened.
I do not look back in despair at all.

The only thought that jolts me now and then,
Is whether you were worth hanging on to?
Whether I walked off too soon,
Whether we let go too soon,
So very soon?

The road ahead . .

Today the road ahead appears unbearably long. The journey seems painfully mundane. I know there are many destinations out there. But today not a single one is temptation enough: whatever the days to come have to offer fails to entice me. I feel without aim and purpose. I feel content in a way that I find myself aloof to all I have.

Once again I feel life has not much to offer. It somehow never did. I have come so far only by self deception. I have formulated one goal after another. I have pursued one dream after another. Some dreams materialized, others lost meaning. Some destinations were reached, others abandoned.

Today I feel without the desire to go on. As per this moment I feel without reason to keep going.

I find myself indifferent to the world around me. The oblivion of the existence within me makes my being hollower than ever.

I feel at ease and yet so very restless. I find my self fulfilled and yet so very dissatisfied.

I am discontented enough to be unhappy. While at the same time I am satisfied enough to not desire a change.

I feel I am too tired. The last few months have worn me out. I feel myself burning out. And as the last flames flicker I have no desire to either extinguish my dwelling or bring on a new meaning of suffering.

I feel abstraction escaping thought once again. I feel emotion escaping my rationality once again. I feel taken aback by my own deceit. I have come too far in pretense. I have taken on too many covers to hide who I really am. And today as I try to reveal my true color I find no clue of the face I once new. I tear off veil after veil. I rip off one cover after another. And yet every time I see an alien within me. I reveal a new stranger every time. The farther I go in this pursuit the more estranged I feel. Every step forward makes the journey longer. Every attempt to uncover reality makes delusion more evident.

I feel lost today. I feel at a loss today.

I have survived the worst. I have come out a survivor for the world around me. I have fought all my battles alone and convinced my self of uncelebrated victories. And yet today I feel empty.

All the conflicts remain. All the battlefields appear ready. But there is no fighting. There is no one to fight with. All my demons have disappeared. All my ideals have disintegrated. There is no one, absolutely no one, to fight with. There is no reason, no reason at all, to fight for.

I have returned after so long to reclaim all that was mine. I have returned after so long with the courage to face all that I could not accept. And today there is nothing new left to accept. It is all the same, same as ever, same as the way I do not like it. And for some odd reason I am not disturbed. I am just not concerned anymore. My state is apathetic. My cause lost. And I feel no pain. I feel no anxiety. No concern at all. Not even the curiosity of a bystander.

dommy maddy

I do not want to be a hostage to your shadow. I do not want to live my life standing behind the bars of your fears. I do not want my vision of the world to be tainted by your dreams. I do not want to be a prisoner of your experience.

I know you have made me who I am. I know you have invested a life time in me.

I know all these years you have stood by me. I know you have always given me all that I needed. I know you have always wanted the best for me.

I have taken from you all that you had to offer. I have given to you a lot that you did not deserve.

But I just want you to accept me for who I am. I just need you to understand that I am a person of my own. I have a mind and will of my own. And if you force me to fit the frame you have built for me. I will stop being me. That very moment I will stop being everything that makes me who I am.

I do not want to be an ungrateful child. I do not want to leave you when you need me the most. I do not want to betray your love.

I want to shine under your gaze. I want to blossom in the warmth of your smile.

I only want to be able to love you my own way.

post-merlin

The nights are long,

The mornings cold,

And the days dull.

Evenings stretch on endlessly,

And a heaviness weighs me down.

I know tomorrow will be a better day,

But at the moment it seems too far away

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I did not want to get out of bed today. I did not want to come to work. The toothpaste tasted bitter as I brushed my teeth. The water splash on my face pierced deep and cold.

The music from the speakers sounded like mere noise. All the colors in the wardrobe seemed equally dull.

The wheat crackers on the shelf remained aloof. Even a sip of water was a dreary thought.

I pulled myself together. I dragged my mass out of the house.

The ride on the way kept jolting my soul. I felt my nerves trembling with every bump.

I reached work in a numb state of mind.

I feel like a cushion today. I am soft to touch and nice to hold but I feel no affection in your embrace.

I taught for three hours. I said words I could not hear. I heard words I could not understand. I walked around the class. I watched over work I had assigned. Often I could not read what was written. Often I could not hear people calling to me.

I left the school at the same time as always. I hate being part of this routine.

The ride to the office was better than the morning commute. I found myself touched by unintended affection.

I asked a rickshaw driver how much he will charge. He said ‘aap jo bhi day dein baji’. I have heard this many a times before. I pressed him for a figure. He did not give in. I felt touched by his reluctance to be bothered.

I grabbed a sandwich on the way to work. Once at the office I paid him all the change I had. It was not a lot but it was more than I pay otherwise. It is trivial to even think about it. But it is shocking how one can be touched by things so insignificant. At times when we are vulnerable even the slightest things sink in deep. I think I am too numb to take note of the calamities around me yet too susceptible to overlook the slightest signs of humanity.

i am a simple soul

I am a simple soul. I believe in who I am. I say what I feel. I refuse to let thought adulterate impulse. I refuse to practice restraint. I believe in letting go. I believe in being me for you. I cannot put on a bold face. I will not act as who I am not.

I have lived all my life fighting to be who I am today. I will not give it up. I will not give it up even if it costs me you.

You walked in at your own will. I will not hold you back from walking away. It was my decision to let you in. I will not stop you from taking the way out.

I am honest in my word. I practice what I think. I express what I feel. I will not let fear of loss put any barriers on my instinct.

often, i imagine myself running

Often I imagine myself running. At times I am running through a crowd but more often I see myself running all alone. I feel out of breath and tired. Mostly, I feel drained to the point of dropping dead from exhaustion. Rarely, I feel tempted to take a break and catch up on my breath. May be sit down for a few idle moments and store up some energy for the journey ahead. But the journey is too long and I have too little time. So I must not stop. I keep telling myself not to stop. I keep pushing myself to run on.

I run on and on. And yet the road ahead seems never ending. I try to focus on what lies ahead and ignore all that I pass on my way.

I feel thirsty and alone. I feel hungry and cold. But I must not stop. I have come so far. I must not stop now.

In moments of despair I feel I am running in vain.

At times it seems I am getting somewhere but the illusion soon fades away.

Yet day and night, hour after hour I keep running.

Sudden revelation: happiness

Never thought a good pedicure could bring me such joy. I feel my skin soft and smooth. I find my feet pretty and light. It gives me a feeling of freshness I have not experienced before. I feel content in my skin. I feel happy with myself.

Working ten hours a day, teaching thirty hours every week and working Sundays too. I have turned in to a workaholic. I have so long dreaded turning in to a mechanical animal. I have always feared becoming a corporate slave. But today I feel the fear no more. The despair of all my negative thinking stands bleak. I sit here smiling to myself. I am happy. I am happy with life today.

A year or so ago, if someone told me money can buy happiness I would have frowned at the person and walked away. Today I smile at the irony of it all. I am working round the clock. I am making a lot of money. And I am happy.

I am happy because I can buy all the trivial things that I had never thought important. I can go around and shine in the warmth of my work. I love my job. And I love my company. I am paid well. And I work hard. I work with a sense of commitment. I work for a reason. I feel focus in my life. And what better can things be than getting a handsome pay check as a perk.

I had an idle evening today after weeks. I lazed around in my room reading friends’ blogs on the internet. I connected with myself and the world around. I went shopping and got myself a few things that I have been meaning to get for a while. Three pairs of shoes, a couple of books I really wanted to read and a bunch of cosmetics. The shopping spree made me feel in control. There is a feeling of power associated with being able to buy what you want. There is a feeling of self sufficiency and certainty attached with every purchase. I feel I am independent. I feel I can stand on my own feet. I feel I can last on my own.

Getting back home I gave myself a good pedicure. God bless ‘Freeman’ for ‘bare foot’. The aroma of its grains cleansed my soul of all weariness. I soaked my feet in its soft foam and read for almost an hour. I felt my soul cleansed of all uncertainties. I saw the future as a brighter day. I felt the need to live on. After so long I felt I have a reason to move on.

A wage slave or an automaton, call me whatever you may. But I am happy today. I am happy today and I love every bit of it. I dance around the room exhilarated. I jump on my two feet in joy. I am happy today. After a long time I feel I really am happy today.

I am happy because I am Branch Manager. I am happy because people at my company value my work. I am happy because my students love me. I am happy because I have pulled through my worst stretch of ill health. I am happy because I conquered illness without letting my work suffer. I am happy because I feel myself again. I am happy because I knocked an ulcer and two serious infections out of my body. I am happy because I feel healthy, rich and worthy. I am happy because I think I am falling in love. Yes, I am falling in love. I am falling in love with myself.

light at the end of the tunnel

The light at the end of the tunnel is what makes the tunnel exist. Extinguish the light and the tunnel disappears. Allow the flickering flame to fade in to darkness and the universe becomes a bleaker place to be. Lose the illusions of hope to the pains of today and tomorrow might be lost forever.

The meaning of pursuit lies in the desire of achievement. No matter when the moment of glory arrives. Regardless of whether the minute of success ever seals the endless ticking away of time or time fails to fulfill its self imposed test. Whether we wander all our life as transgressors or adhere to the drawn path forever. It is only the path that defines the end of the road. Embrace the road or create a direction of your own in wilderness. It is the journey towards the destination that will take you as far as you desire. The moment you stop believing in your path is the moment you will lose the chance of ever seeing the end. Hope as you might to leap towards the end, toil as you ever towards your aim. It is only when you reach where you desired to be that you realize what all you lost behind.

Why won't you let me be a chipmunk?

I was born a chipmunk. I know because when I was born they uttered the chipmunk gibberish in my ears. I am a chipmunk because the first spell I was taught was the holy chipmunk gibberish. They told me that the utterance of this spell made me a chipmunk. They told me stories of blessed ones who had been embraced in to the chipmunk kingdom by saying this spell. They told me the spell made one a chipmunk the moment it was uttered. I have uttered the spell day after day but it never works. They still tell me I am not a chipmunk.

As I grew old I was taught the chipmunk stunt. I can do it for you anytime you ask. I can utter the holy spell and do the chipmunk stunt. Yet they say I am not a chipmunk. I can roll on earth and rub my head against the ground for you. I can do it the way all the other chipmunks do. But they won’t let me do it with them. They do the chipmunk stunt many times a day but they never let me do it with them.

I can even recite chipmunk gibberish for you from the chipmunk book. I know bits of it by heart. I can read the book and say the gibberish just the way they do. Still they tell me I am not a chipmunk.

I know all their chipmunk gibberish. I do all their chipmunk stunts. I believe in all their chipmunk idols. And yet they do not accept me. Yet they do not embrace me. They tell me I am not a chipmunk. I do not know why. But I know they do not like me. They do not want me. They always reject me. Refuse me is all they do.

They have this chipmunk label. They put in on the green leaf that lets people move from one land to another. They won’t even let me put their chipmunk label on my green leaf. They say I cannot use their label. They say it’s a holy label. They say I am not holy. I am not a chipmunk. Only the chipmunks can use the holy label. They call me a gorilla. They put a gorilla label on my green leaf. I do not like the gorilla label. I do not want the gorilla label. I am not a gorilla. I am a chipmunk. Why? Why would you not let me be a chipmunk? I am a chipmunk. I jump and roll over like a chipmunk. How can I ever be a chipmunk? Would you please tell me? Why am I not a chipmunk?

gibberish

Sleep deprivation
An easy way to explain a state of mind
That eludes rationality

Boredom
Another excuse
Only as hollow as the feeling itself

Hollowness
A term as vague as love

Love
An overwhelming affection
Wholly contrary to the worth of self

Self
Another form of egocentric significance

Egocentricity
Mere exploitation of the will to dominate

Domination
An expression of moral degradation

Moral degradation
Labeled stigma of blasphemous change

Blasphemy
Self annihilation to reconstruct

Reconstruction
Another attempt at creation

Creation
The causal link for destruction
Destruction
Essence of progression

Progress
Another twist in the downward spiral

The downward spiral
A convenient explanation
Only that it escapes the fertile mind

The fertile mind
A self created dilemma

Dilemma
What better way to complicate freedom

Freedom
Only an idea to instigate choice

Choice
A mockery of free will

Free will
A synonym for destiny

Destiny
Rebellion against fate

Fate
All one fails to create

Failure
Facilitator of success

Success
Gravity of despair

Despair
An offspring of uncertainty

Uncertainty
The desire to know

Knowledge
A means of control

Control
An indication of impotence

Impotence
Aggravated fear of power

Power
A survival enhancing desire

Desire
What makes all else bizarre

I feel I am waking up

I feel I am waking up
Coming out of a slumber that lasted too long
I open my eyes to see day light breaking in to the room
Is it the bright sun streaks that color my vision?
Or is it merely switching on of the yellow light bulb
That startled me out of another reverie

I look around
Hoping to look up to you
Will you take my hand?
Will you guide me through this mire?
I extend my hand to you
Hoping to feel your warmth in my palm
And your strength in my fingers
The tactile feeling of association
A reflection of security and calm

Oh but I do not see you
Today I do not feel you
You are not there
May be you never were
But today I feel your not being there
Today I see your absence
I realize the hollowness within
The emptiness that surrounds me

I close my eyes again
Trying to escape to another fantasy
No
Not again
It does not work any more
I open my eyes before idealism can take on
I shake my head as to snap out of a dream

Is this a dream?
Is reality as abstract as fantasy?
Is being as subjective as thought?
Am I as transient as the moments passing by?
Is the darkness I feel a creation of my own mind?
Is the light outside mere imagination?

I move my hand to exercise existence
I lift it to feel my face
Is this my face?
Does it feel like my face?
I feel my fingers touching skin
I rub them on one spot after the other
They feel flesh
They feel a body mass
Why do I not feel it?
Why do I not feel my fingers?
Why does it not feel like my face?

I lift my hand in front of my closed eyes
I open them with hesitation
What if I fail to see my hand?
What if my hand fails to reflect light enough to make itself visible?
I see a shadow
A shadow of movement
Am I moving my hand?
Is my hand moving at all?

I part my lips to utter a sound
I strain my ears to hear my own voice
I wait and wait
Yet nothing
Nothing at all
No sound
No sight
No feeling

I feel a tingling feeling in my feet
I bend my head to look at them
Nothing
Nothing again
All I see are feet
Nothing but just my plain feet
Why the tingling?
Why then a feeling?

I lift my legs from the bed
Pressing them down on the floor
Is the floor cold?
I feel my feet are cold
I feel I am cold

I try to stand up
My legs fail me
I try harder
Pressing my weight down my knees
My knees feel weak
My legs feel shaky

I turn my head to search support
Find something to hold
Find a thing to grab
Nothing again
Nothing around
Nothing near or away

I try again
Wishing myself to stand
Wishing harder
Closing my eyes again I press myself down
I kneel down on the floor
I must move
I must get out of here

I start crawling
Crawling away from where I am
Crawling towards somewhere else
Somewhere away from here
I crawl towards the door
Yes the door
The way out
The escape from here
My way out of here
Today I will move out of here

I reach out for the door handle
Lifting my arm with effort
Why does everything seem so slow
Why is my body so numb?
I search for the knob
The knob that will open that door
That will open this door to close forever
Yes I will close this door forever
Once I am out I will close it
I will close it behind me
And I will never
I will never open it again
I tell myself to close it after me
To never open it again
Yes never...never open it again

The knob
Yes the knob
Where is the knob
I cannot find the knob
I press my fingers on the door
Searching all over for the knob
My knees failing me again
I sit down
Letting my legs rest for a while
My hand keeps looking for the knob
Why can I not find it?
Why can I not see the knob?
Why can I not see the door?
The door
Yes the door
The door that was just here
The door that was to open
The door that was to take me out

I shake my head again
I must be dreaming again
I must not lose sight again
I must find the door
I must keep looking for the door
I look around me
Look all around me
All over the walls

I can see the walls
All of them
How many
I should count how many
One
I can see one wall
And just one wall
Why can I not see the walls?
The other walls
Where did the other walls go?
There are no others walls
I look again
There really are no other walls
Just one
One wall
One that stretches all over the place
That bends around the corners
The corners
Where are the corners
There are no corners
There really are no corners

Why
Why no corners
Why just one wall
Oh
There is just one wall
There are no corners
I am in no room
I am in a different room
A room with no walls
A room enclosed by no walls
Oh its round
The room is round
I am in a circle
No
I am in no circle
It’s a sphere
I am in a sphere
I am inside a sphere

How did I get in here?
No
Wrong question
How do I get out of here?
Yes how do I get out?
Think
Thinking
I am thinking
I am in a sphere and I must get out
I must get out

My eyes feel heavy
My body is giving in
Why do I always give in?
I hate giving in
I cannot sit
I feel tired
I must lie down
I let myself lose
I let myself fall down
I am falling
Falling in a sphere
The sphere is moving
It keeps moving
And I keep falling down

Close your eyes
Yes
I should close my eyes
I close my eyes
Think of a room
A room with walls
A room with corners
A room with a door
Yes a door
A door with a knob
Now look for the knob
Look harder
There must be a knob
Good
You found the knob
Now reach for it
Try harder
Yes I know it’s hard
Try to reach for the knob
I found it
The knob
Yes
I found the knob
Turn it
Quick turn it
I feel it getting out of my grip
No
Do not let it slip away
No
No
Do not open your eyes
Focus on the knob
Turn it
Turn it more
Yes
Keep turning it
Keep turning it
The door will open
The door must open
Keep trying
Keep turning the knob
Yes I am
I am trying
I am turning the knob
I will get out
Today I will get out
I will open the door and get out
I will close it
The door
I will close the door behind me
I will never return
Once I get out I will never return
Yes I will never return.

how much longer...

There is a universe out there,
waiting to be explored.
Do I have the courage to embrace it?

There is a world out there,
devised to facilitate my quest of self.
Do I have the instinct to follow it?

There is hope for days to come,
drawn out in the horizon today.
Do I have the vision to recognize it?

There is a sign in the stars tonight,
guiding me towards where I want to be.
Do I have the will to pursue it?

There is a destiny of glory,
scribbled in the patterns of my palm.
Do I have the fate to realize it?

There is a hunger in my eyes,
to discover and discern being.
Do I have the desire to satisfy it?

There is a abandoned dream in my heart,
to fulfill my purpose in life.
Do I have the strength to achieve it?

There is a unbearable burden on my existence,
demanding of me a choice of consequence.
Do I have the conviction to decide?

With moments passing by,
and breaths fleeing in the silence,
there is so much for me to claim.
Do I have...
Do I have what it takes to seize it?
Seize all that life has offered to make mine.

Sitting here today,
do I have the time to wait?
Do I have the time to wait,
to bring on life?