That Sweet Lullaby

The mother held her baby in her arms as she rocked her gently. She sang that sweet lullaby in her soothing, gentle voice. Her dream of wanting to be a singer was fulfilled. She had an eager audience. Her daughter calmed down. Her breathing became regular. Her eyes heavy, until it was unbearable to keep them open anymore. She was finally asleep. But the mother continued to sing. Repeating the verses, enjoying the lyrics as she imagined dedicating each words to her daughter. Singing her emotions to her. Till the song slowly faded on her lips. Her eyes rested with the trailing verses. 

The day came to an end. Another battle won. All that mattered was her baby daughter in her arms.


My Stolen Moments

In those semi conscious moment of belonging to this world, there is an ugly truth revealed by my mind which drives it into a “reality” check state. Making me confront with the “reality” I have been trying to ignore. Making my three almost stranger friends (oxymoron!!) my punching bag (literally) drove me to an epiphany of the state of my mind.

Was like having truth serum in many different forms in short span of time.


Not a great way to know new people.
But what the hey: Normal is boring.

My Pseudo Adrenaline Pump

I have come to believe that there is no such thing as hate. But there is rage, pure rage. That is the monster in us that everyone keeps talking about. What the monster wants to do is as they say, “The urge to hurt someone real bad”. It is not the urge to hurt, it is the urge to speak out the ultimate unadulterated truth. It just slips out. There is no control over our mind and hence the tongue.

It is like one large shot of adrenaline. It pumps in some weird kind of energy. This feeling is beyond anger. There is infinite energy to climb a thousand stairs and pure lust to be nothing but practical. Pure lust to punish people by being blindly practical by discarding their whims of superiority in silence. Emasculating people subtly off their ego and pride.

It feels good. Right then, it is uncontrollably out of control. Vision is sharp. I feel like I’m hunting and idiocy is my prey. It is enjoyed while the shot lasts. Eventually, remorse follows.

Her Experiments With The Truth

Naked truth has no respect. You know the basics about her, and yet you try to discard that truth when she gently tries to remind you about it. Until she slaps you with the naked truth. Plain, raw truth, in the most beautiful form. And you shake her calm emotions by indirectly insulting her by simply “forgetting” her basic truth, her basic element which defines her. Her core, which she had carefully and patiently built over the years.

Whatever happened to “I appreciate straightforward honesty?”

So much of double standards in this land.

The truth is appreciated only when it is a lie. The lie is the prisoner of truth, which escapes by hammering your core. This is what you want her to do. This is what you are making her do.

Don’t build your core with porcelain.

When Everywhere I see, I see Red, Blue and White

Arranged Love. Sounds like another oxymoron to me. It is.
Oxymoron. Morons.
Too many morons with an irritating fake laughter which is forced out from their throat. Sounds like those morons are raping laughter. Yeahahaha you are so fuckin funny. I won’t laugh. Hate me.

Sarcasm is a great creation. What would have the first man/woman have felt when he/she uttered a sentence that was like a punch, but still not a punch? Pleasure! Pleasure pleasure pleasure!

Did you ever feel like you are sitting in a place and you feel you are existing in the wrong place? And that place is a “world” at that moment.  Like, you belong to a different world? Like existence is waste in this particular “world”?

Why did I every say arranged love? I love telling people what to do and I don’t like people bugging me asking me what to do. So yes, that is my assigned job. Contradiction. Probably, I am beginning to love what I hate. Probably I sat in that red cubicle for long enough that I’m beginning to think I’m extraordinarily ordinary.

I miss cursing. Mellowing down is like eating up my creamy crunchy layer. Whaat the phuck!

Too much of Blue and White in my wardrobe.
Today evening, I will use my Davidoff. Finally. FINALLY! The day is here.
Here. Now. Present, right here, right now is such a nice time.
Now this world, is where I belong. 🙂

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.


The Elusive One

In the circle of light atmosphere, with his deadpan face he questioned her, “How do I know this is it?” Hoping with her experience, she would have all the answers. A question which everyone asks.

Probably I finally grew up enough to start listening to what I want. Questioning what do I want. What do all want? What do all chase?

The Elusive One?

How do I know this is it? When will I’ll stop getting bored and jump from one stone to another looking for another shiny rock with some difference which make it shine for that little while before  I move on to something else? What is that will keep my feet steady in one place? How will I know if this is it, I’ve found him, or I’ve found what I love to do?

“Wait with all the patience you can bear and see, time will tell you everything.” is what they say.  Then pause and add, “You’ll simply know” for the dramatic effect. Cliched, obviously.

I had a simpler answer ring in my head today:
When I will find it very very hard to let go, then that will be it.