It Is What It Is

Did I get too comfortable?
Or was it my vanity?
When everything was at my finger tips
I walked away
Leaving everything behind
Should I blame it on the youth?
Or do I call it a wondrous risk?
Embarked on a journey born from an infatuation
To see it crumble at my feet
Most often I look back
And wonder what could have been
The places I would have traveled
The heights I would achieved
Only if I would have waited, a little while longer…
But I wonder
If universe turned back time
And granted me this wish
Would I have done anything different than this?


When I felt the Baby kick

I couldn’t help wondering, what would be the baby thinking, when it kept pushing inside my sister’s tummy against my hand and then move around till it felt comfortable? If it can hear me, does it have the capacity to think, I wonder.

If it thinks, does it believe that there is a world beyond the womb? I wonder, what does it make of our voice if it believes the womb is its world. And when it would be its time to see us, would it be reluctant to leave the warm comfort of the womb imagining the worst of the “other” world.. I wonder.

And then in that chain, I couldn’t help thinking, if we are entirely inside another universe, growing and maturing till it is our time to get to the other side? Maybe.

I began respecting God. I had indifference to the concept, but I valued my religion. All this because a  benefit of doubt began to take birth and I wondered: What if God is nothing but a gentle soothing voice with His hand fondly caressing its tummy, the tummy being our world in which we reside. But we are in such deep slumber inside our world that probably we are unable to hear Him speak to us.

Maybe, He can feel us shift inside as we move around in discomfort or excitement of our own chaos. Maybe, He can feel us kick when we throw ourselves out of frustration to some unknown void or when we dance in the ultimate trance of euphoria. Maybe.

Maybe, He is as eager like us; like we are to see the baby take its birth in this wonderful world.

The possibilities are so grand that I do not know if what is real, is actually real at all.

The Boy in the Blue Balloon

An unpublished post from April 19, 2014

This happened one night.

A friend of mine and I were heading back home. While we were walking, I was pretending to hear all the white noise that was there outside, and at the same time trying to ignore the loud chain of thoughts inside my mind.

It was blaring so loud that eventually I had to pay attention to what it wanted to say. It was feeling disappointed so much that there was disappointment rushing in and out of my vein. Disappointment of a failed hope, half hearted decisions and stagnancy of personal life. Just tremendous amount of disappointment.

Heart was cringing so strongly with the tremendous amount of disappointment that I was forced to feel it cringing.

And in this moment, we heard the sweetest sound one could ever hear – a full throaty heartfelt laughter of a child. It was a beautiful, gladly welcomed distraction.

The boy was about 7 – 8 years old. He stood with his legs apart and hands resting on the big plastic blue balloon he was in. The balloon was then pushed in the water on a small backyard type of plastic swimming pool. This was such a thrill for the little one that he couldn’t help laughing every time someone gave a nudge to his balloon whenever it reached one of the corners of the pool.

During one of the nudges, the boy lost his grip and was flat on his back inside the balloon. And then, I saw the most intriguingly beautiful thing ever. The boy was still on his back, with a smile on his face. He seemed to be looking at the stars and enjoy the feel of the water beneath the balloon. He was in that position for a while and then he was on his feet again. Thrashing inside the balloon to his hearts glory till the time was up.

And at that moment, all my disappointments disappeared. I had learnt a lesson:
There was a momentary slip and I was flat on my back. Might not there be a possible reason, that I missed seeing the other beautiful things around me that I already have? I did. I know I did. I wasted couple of hours dwelling in the disappointments. I am but human, and I am bound to feel every emotions. But for how long, am I or anyone allowed to dwell in it?

There was another beauty that the kid taught me. He let himself stay down, saw the beauty around him, and was back on his feet again.

That is the best solution I think the boy unknowingly gave me.

Lie down for a while, but try and see the beauty around. Let gratitude never slip ever from our minds. But do not forget to get back on your feet again. There is no time to waste. All our happiness lies in the struggle to beat our challenges. And while we are at it, might as well have fun.

Learning will never ever stop.

My Addictive Life

It’s like those addictive stimulants: you have some, enjoy it and come back for more and before you know it, you are hooked.
I am wondering if that is what my relation with the corporate world has come to be now. A typical Bollywood story: It began with hatred for the whole industry. Then it begins to woo me, by throwing a great opportunity at me. I respond and start earning the recognition. I finally succumb to my human nature and drown myself in the recognitions. I see the highs it gives me and I, unaware to myself, slowly begin falling in love with the work. Its my stimulant. I keep coming back to it, again and again. And before I know it, I am spending my evenings with it, enjoying it more than spending doing nothing with coffee in a cafe. The irony.
I hunt aggressively for passion, ask where is it. And now I wonder, what if I have already found my passion and I am as unaware as I was the first time I fell in love with my new addiction. What if it really isn’t that simple?
Amusing this life and its addictions is. Everything has a funny way of unfolding itself. Maybe it is my new obsession to throw myself away from a conflict or a dissatisfaction. Probably it is the aggressive, raw, quick power that I am building. Probably it is the name and recognition. Probably it is introducing myself to the new side of me. Probably…
What is everything compared to my name that will be immortalized when I’m gone?
It is amusing. It is making me a hypocrite. It may be a phase and I’ll re-prioritize. But then, till then it is a delicious addiction. This life.

To Blue Days

Blue days. Where would be all those art filled with raw emotions be, if it were not for blue days? Poets singing ballads? Philosophers making theories for comfort? Musicians strumming on guitars?

If it were not for blue days, there would be no hope, fighting for better times and growing to be stronger. If it not for those days, there would be no logical answers to a hopeless hope. An anger putting an end to a misery. And thus moving forward.

On this blue day, I wonder what would be the reason of my emotional amusement that had caught my attention for so long? Making me act all silly and watch myself stumble with words. Should there be a reason to like? Is falling for someone that difficult now?

Before I drown in the beauty of music, I wonder if I’m hiding behind the pretext of blues and finding reasons to run away than stand up and face the outcome.

But if it weren’t for the blues, I would be as good as dead today.

To my blues and many more…

My Little Moments

I am pretty
Oh so pretty
And witty and smart
You said I’m pretty
Oh so pretty
You found me pretty
I got your attention
Should I feel nice?

(Read:  See my face in your book.)

That beautiful moment when I’m pushed to live my dreams, chase what I want, because that world is where they feel I perfectly belong. And with that they probably feel the mistake they did is rectified. With that, they feel they are living their dreams through my eyes.


Teenage love. Probably nothing will be as pure as that. It now comes with baggage and conditions and a list to avoid the mistake that was made when I was a teenager. Irony.
Then again, there is a good chance that I am wrong. 🙂
I miss how simpler I was back then.
I have changed beyond recognition too.

Talking about love, there are so many beautiful, intriguing humans. I am finding it difficult to imagine being bonded to one and one alone.


It’s sad how we replace one from other so frequently though.
It’s sad how we think we are replaced.

When home, I will raise a toast for Poda Land with a shot of gin. And some more.
For she gave me my beloved independence. For she taught me to be responsible.
For she is making me feel grown up, now that I pay my own bills.

 I once used to speak in pig language to irritate some.
Oink oink.
Now I call my BIL a green angry bird pig.
I own two green angry bird ke pigs too.
Oink oink 😀

When I realized what I was missing

It is great to be in love again. I can sleep comfortably in your arms, listening to your stories at night.
It is great to know what I love to do. I enjoy every second with it, doing it, passionately.
It is brilliant how “loving” things gives some meaning to my actions.
Other than cynicism. Blunt sarcasm. It does.

Random thought again:
Does explaining another human of my actions, my words, my raw emotions, deprive those humans from thinking at all?
Does explaining everything and anything to someone, deprive them from thinking?

Why don’t they think?
I wonder, what runs in people’s mind when they don’t think about things that should matter.
I wonder, how does an empty silent mind would feel like.
I wonder, how people enjoy ignorance most of the time.
I wonder, how do people not enjoy discovering life. Anything about it.

What are you thinking?

 I, of New York. 🙂

What do you see?

You claim to know me. What do you really see? An image that I project at you? Or an image you project of me at me? All my actions are defined by reasons you say. Now, that is a news to me. Am I getting to know myself by standing out of my own persona, listening to your claims?

In the absence of tone, a silent cry of help embedded in casual words. What did you see? Because, there was another silent retreat.

Fresh smell of laundry. Reminds me of spring, every time. 🙂

Everyone is just like everyone else.

Clair de Lune, is beautiful.
Thank you Debussy.

Those scientists should discover a device that will pen down any thought at our minds will as soon as the thought frequency is thrown out in this space. A device, which will finally catch up with the speed of thought. These fingers seem to miss out and lose many thoughts into an infinite void.

Void. Reminds me of black hole. A super-massive black hole.
Galaxy is beautiful. I should visit a planetarium again, soon.

Random Thoughts of an Exhausted Mind

There is a difference. Exhausted mind. Exhausted body.

 I should note down my thoughts. I have stopped doing that. The randomness of my thoughts is surprising me. Sometimes they are so beautiful and so fast, that it seems waste few hours later when I can’t even remember what I was thinking about.

 I hate the beginnings. I hate goodbyes. In between is the best time in any relation.

Today while walking down the road, facing the wind trying to blow me away and the vehicles that loved my legs, I realized what my dream is, is nothing but my passion. I wouldn’t know how passionate I am about my dream if I don’t even taste it. Let me lick it, let it tingle my tongue. Then there will be a big bite, the tingle will linger forever. That is my probability 1.
1 for hope
0 for failure
One risk I’ve to take.
Fear of failure, I’ve to face.

I love infinity.
I love numbers.
I love metaphors.
I love words.
I love puns.
I love oxymoron.
I love the word free.
I love freedom.
I love symmetry.
I love silence.
I love making people uncomfortable. Nice people.
I love sound. I love sight.
I love senses.
I love Batman.
I love Sherlock Holmes.
I love so many things.

Squirm sounds like worm.
Squeeze sounds squeeezy.

Secrets are beautiful. A hint about it and it creates an air of mystery. Decipher it. Find out what is hidden beneath all those lines.

The pursuit of perfect happiness. With a person. With self. One ignorable flaw discovered and it breaks the  beauty of perception of what seems to be perfect. For a person obsessed with perfection and only perfection it is tough to settle for anything. Just anything. A reminder to self: that flaw is the path to perfection. Perfection is untouchable-ly near.
Yea I created that word.

Secrets are intertwined with truth and lies. That makes it even more mysterious. How much does truth matter? How much does a lie matter? To keep a person motivated when she’s dying, tell her she is not dying? Lie. How much did it help her when she eventually heard what is happening to her? Truth eventually finds its way. Digs and digs and slaps you in your face.

How much can another human be trusted?

Sometimes it is fun to watch other person underestimate me. I like watching them get uncomfortable again when I decide to show how ignorant they are.

Being in control. At times it feels so powerful. Knowing when to be in control. Even more powerful.
I like the power.

Life is all about choices. Everything is about choices.
I chose to share my randomness with you today.

Why were prime number called as prime numbers? Who made all those rules about numbers?
Prime numbers are special. Just special. I am going to use them and make my secrets even more difficult for you to dig.

Decipher me.
I dare you.

It is so easy to fall in love with fictional characters.
It is so easy to fall in love with a voice of a face I have never seen.

The word beautiful is itself so beautiful.
Like the word free.

I should leave. I’ve to get stressed at office tomorrow, again.
I’m a grown up now. I work.


When I stood still

What is real, seemed unreal. Probably, I couldn’t grasp the moment that was then. Everything simply passed by my eyes and I questioned the moment, “Is this really it? Am I here now, breathing in this moment?”

And the mind wandered…

There is always a void within. I thought, I found one of the missing pieces. I tried putting it in a place and I was disappointed. Then I heard: disappointment is better than having nothing. At least I won’t be left standing wondering “what could have been?” before deserting a feeling. At times, keeping the image of a person as a memory is lot better than discovering what the person is and immortalizing the harsh reality.

And now, I know, there’s a long long way to go.
He was a beautiful human being, who didn’t know what’s going around him.