Few Brilliant Things

A Book Store

It’s heaven on earth. As soon as I step into the store, everything is all right again. The more I look at the books, flipping the pages until I breathe in the scent of the pages; the more I can feel my worries ebbing out of me. Everything is non-existent, but the beautiful words spinning fantasies and adventures, luring me to get lost into. As I run my fingers on the spines of the books, I wonder which book awaits to mould me into something new. And before I know it, there will be a bunch of books cradling in my arms. And just like that the cashier will be swiping my card with a smile, beeping in the numbers waiting till I hear “tiding”on my phone. And I will be smiling back, signing the slip, opening the door and walking back with my guilt free indulgence till I see another glass door. And the books will be lovingly inviting me in.


They are the biggest risk takers I have ever seen. A business risk seems nothing when you see them taking responsibility of saving lives. Breathing into us some air of relief when there is pain. When the wiring of our senses snap, they will all be working as a team, hollering the alchemic relief to make us sane. They beauty of doctors is, they do not go helping people and saving their lives because it is their jobs. They do it, because they want to. And when they genuinely care you feel safe.

A Support

Every mood is infectious. And thus, knowingly or unknowingly our spirits either rise or fall, regardless of our own moods. It is easy to walk away, to stay away from the negativity. It is tough to stay back and give a helping hand to a “friend” when personal good being is in consideration. But, there will be one support who will still stay back and dive in and pull the person out of his misery. Or be the much needed silent support till the pain passes by. This person might be you, letting your “friend” know that he/she is not abandoned and alone. There is support. This is friendship.

A migraine postdrome.


What’s the difference?

You tell the truth, people get mad at you.
You lie, people still get mad at you.

You tell the truth, you are tagged weird.
You lie, you are still tagged weird.

You tell the truth, you are judged.
You lie, you are still being judged.

You tell the truth, people are hurt.
You lie, people are still hurt.

(For those with conscience)
You tell the truth, you feel like a fool.
You lie, you still feel like a fool.

So tell me, what’s the difference? You tell the truth or lie, it still seems to bring out the same emotion in people. People still appreciate both equally and yet people are still are not satisfied.

Both has its justifications.
But now, I want an answer.

Like a Paper Cut

One of the many words which kept me obsessed with self due to the lack of any stimulating conversation was this one: Hypocrisy. And then I looked around and paid more attention. Hypocrisy was everywhere. Every second of my breath with known humans, I could smell hypocrisy. They reeked of it. They more they denied, the more clearer they painted their hypocrisy.

Everyone is a hypocrite. This I had to reluctantly agree when I caught myself on the thin line. I was almost across. Eventually, I landed in the hypocrisy land.
At least I’m not denying.

Another amusingly beautiful dance: The Dance of Denial.
An instance: “I am right. I can never be wrong. Even if I’m clearly being proved wrong, I’ll find reasons to blame on another reason. On spot. I’ll look like a fool, but I’m not wrong.”

It is like that paper cut. It hurts for that fraction of second. A few angry drops of blood gushes out. And then, again, it is gone.

And metaphors are beautiful. 🙂

An Irritated Rant

While coming back from the “Inner Engineering” course seated in the backseat of an i20 with the most beautiful back pain, I saw 288G bus at the Palace Grounds bus stop. People were rushing in as if the bus is already moving.

There was this guy, dressed in black track pants. He was holding crutches and had polio in both his legs. What irritated me was this:

  1. The stupid “halli”* people didn’t have any decency to let him climb in the bus first. Not out of pity, but out of decency. Being courteous in short.
  2. The stupider bus driver had rear view mirror on either sides, and he didn’t have the decency to wait till he gets in. That moron started moving when that guy was just stepping in.

I should have been peaceful when I came out after the course. (I’ve one more day left, to think of it. And the interesting part: that guy seemed calm after all this! Is this what is called as getting used to? And does he really get treated that way in Bangalore halli?) But looking at this, it was the beginning of the destruction of the freshly developed peace I had gained after doing Pranayama after say 4 years. And it was a beautiful evening.

That didn’t bother  me for long, that incident. But the irritation and the anger started building up one even after the other. Those effing halliwalas! And my effing laptop touch pad!

Need to find a quick fix solution to douse the fire.
No fire extinguisher suggestions.

And I was supposed to attain “Inner Peace”
*Bengaluri gawars kamine kahin ke

Cruel Intentions

June 30, 2011
1:20 AM

The deed was done
They were cruel intentions
With  magic it was dodged and
Turned into the size of a sparkling dew
Then trapped into a box with Pandora’s lock
Engraved flowers deceiving the contents of the box
Buried deep in the freshly dug earth
Hoping Gollum won’t find the “Precious”, as he’ll call
And release the unknown darkness in the new naive air of joy

A pathetic attempt to write a free verse poem after a looong looong time, and after I had sworn that I would never write any poem, ever again. 😀 I’m guessing Drama is becoming my new muse.

Oh yea, I was pretty mad when I wrote this whatever. 😀

Those Personal Questions

Assumptions are the bases for theories.
These same assumptions are now irritating me to the extent of driving me crazy. And these assumptions come in thousand different forms.
Once bitten, with the poison.
Drama, drama, drama. 😀

The Burnt Biscuits

The moral of the story said: “Life is too short to wake up with regrets. Love the people who treat you right, forget the ones who don’t.”

Should the one, two or three horrible time matter enough to forget?

Been on my mind for a long time. The “delight” of dealing with people. The dilemma of silence.
The safest bet was:
1. Turn opaque.
2. Ignore, and walk away in the opposite direction. (The sweetest way of implying running away/ being recluse)

When the water seemed to rise above the level, so did level of the dilemma of silence and respect. When it breaks, it is strong enough to leave things shaken like the aftermath of a  hurricane.
9 August, 2011
Diplomatic solution: Decide if it is worth baking back or remain silent.  Beginning to believe silence not always means being a coward.

The Dark Blue Monster

It has been a pain in my arse since the first time I experienced it. It’s like some steam bubbling inside some passage with acid flavor which burns in the words once it slips out of my tongue. The infamous temper. It will be called many different things, with  many different reasons for every situation.

I called it my alter ego. She is strong, firm, independent, straightforward, blunt, in control and cares less. Once she got out of control and I called her my Dark Blue Monster. The name stays till she is back being in control.

She (Blue) emerges only when she is provoked, knowingly or unknowingly. And that’s when the theory of “let the silence speak” fails, and that too miserably resulting in acidic burns. When it settles down remorse of it’s result inevitably follows. More than the remorse it’s the hurt I feel after the receiver gets the burn. Probably being selfish, but what the hey! I deserve my own attention too. And nursing it and making it go, definitely takes a long time.

Weirdest thing is, she (alter ego) may end up saying things I won’t mean, but make the person believe I meant every word I vomited. Or I may actually mean it. And this part is what hurts me the most, because that’s when everything beautiful is made insignificantly ugly.

When 12, bursting out would have been understandable. When 21, bursting out will be called immature, even if provoked. If kept to minimal, I guess it is ok. Still, even that minimal is very damaging. Sometimes for the good. The pent up anger may go out in short bursts of packets towards unintended people, resulting in small, serious damages. And then cry, “Everything happens at the same effing time!”

My Catch-22 situation: Let her speak ruthlessly and preserve my self respect, or just zip her and save something fairly significant?

What is infamous, stays that way. And that’s her only defense for her ‘pet’.
Clumsy excuse.

That old argument with myself

‎”Remember Red, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.” – Shawshank Redemption.

What if that same hope pulls you down slide and makes it harder to let go of things which are already lost? What if that hope starts making you paranoid with out you actually realizing it? So much that you start obsessing about it and begin to look desperate and after some point begin to believe that, that hope is in something imaginary. So much that you refuse to be logical, refuse to look for your own good first. So much that you are actually hopelessly lost?

Irritating thing about hope: uncertainty. Or probably that is why it is called as hope. Hoping that xyz will be as they want it to be. Only thing required is understanding what is worth and what not is, differentiating between hope in something real and something long lost. Emotions blind it. So I been questioning: hope, really a good thing? At least in today’s world?

The thing that frustrates me about being a human is this: hope.