My Bad

Doing things when sane, when high, when stoned, being what I am in that moment, too spontaneous, making you so uncomfortable with my tongue, that I’m considered too bold for your taste. You love me. You would love to hate me. 

I already said something. Again.

Oopsie.
—..

Psst: Don’t you wish, you could be like that?
Be yourself that is, with unadulterated truth.

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.
Ordinary.
—-

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.
—..

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. 🙂
—..

Final Conclusion

Emotions make no sense at all, at times. It does nothing but make you feel normal and spirals your mind out of control. And when the mind spirals out of control, nothing makes sense at all. Hence emotions makes no sense at all. This is logic.

Now logic makes sense. Logic is smart. Knows what is right. Forms and runs an algorithm in its own mind and knows what to choose and how to act accordingly. Logic does nothing but states fact. Facts can never be wrong. Logic, at times might be jumping out of some imagination, if your mind is a master at imagination. But it makes sense. It saves spending energy in the wrong place.

Emotions will try and deflect those facts. If logical matter is stronger in the mind then it is smart enough to deflect the emotion itself and stick to the fact. Logic simply protects you, if you see. Might be from yourself too. In the end, logic always makes sense. Logic has its own Known Error Database, where it stores all the past failures and prevents you from making the same mistakes twice. (See what I mean when I call it smart?)  It analyses yes but emotions dig deeper than required leaving behind lots of mess for the logic to deal with. Emotion will force the logic to accept its mess as a data to analyze and still beat the shit out of logic because it doesn’t want to accept the analysis and conclusion logic produces. Your mind is spiraling out of control.

Logic makes life simple. Logic makes decision making easy.

So yes. That is my final conclusion. I choose logic over emotions.

Sounds cold? I don’t care.
What matters is I now feel at peace and in control.

Being weird is more fun than being normal.

—..

Yappy New Year!!

That corporate world with a noose around your neck (read: tie) and pins below your heels (read: heels), where you are asked to tone down the “real” you to be a “better” you even before you get to know the “real” you. Just when I thought I am discovering myself, some ugly hidden, ignored masks I was asked to pretend and paste a smile on my face. Where I’m to swallow any disgust I feel. Where I am to pretend to be polite till it is imprinted in the basic root of my character.
I feel so grown up.
In a way, it is good. Perhaps this will bring more balance, emotionally. Stop feeling remorse after every outburst because there will be none. Perhaps better personality. The sassy-ness will probably go down a bit, yea. But will probably metamorphose into a quieter and an elegant person .
I am suddenly so grown up. 😀
The best thing about dealing with anything new is giving in to it, completely. The faster the better. Soaking in it completely. And that’s how Poda Land seems so beautiful ignoring the roads and the pollution. It’s the place where all the autowalas imagine themselves to be riding a Hayabusa. Where the skin glows. Where the people are smarter. Where the women ride  bicycle with an umbrella in one hand. Where the winters are like the summers of Bangalore. 🙂
Probably this is how it is when it comes to lurve. The faster you give in, the lesser the resistance. Lesser the resistance, the more you can enjoy it.
Life is beautiful. So damn beautiful. 🙂
Yappy yappy beginning in this new new year. Where I slept off exhausted on mumma’s lap.
How sweeet, no? 😛
And a very Happy New Year to you 🙂
—..

That place with Invisible Cameras

It’s there anywhere and everywhere, those cameras.  Those people who watch, who observe your every move: both elegant and embarrassing; who listen to everything you utter sitting behind the wall or as an invisible face behind your table, are lurking around everywhere. They talk, they report, they create an image of you which will be imprinted in their memories forever until they really take time out of their precious life to get to know you  or until you move to a completely new set of place with a minute difference of different brands of cameras.
Where curtsy has to be imbibed into every cell of your body for the survival requirements even if it seems unreal and is repelled by every atom of your body.
Why? To preserve an image. 
Where the definition of you which is forever incomplete has to be masked using a poker face and swallowed in. Where a smile has to be forced out. 
Why? To preserve an image. 
Where you have to prove you are right by manipulating if required when you are on the verge to be proven wrong.  Because the image has to be superior. 
Because it is your image.
All this, only if you really care and obsesses about written off permanently in pages. And if you want to be as great and famous as Shakespeare.
 
Where you have to do things against your will because you will be judged into a permanent identity of immortality. Because you feel you are being watched.
Because you are being watched, with those invisible cameras.
—..

Ms. Wobbly Feet

One of my fondest memory, which struck me suddenly:
How Ms. Wobbly Feet got into perfect control of sane sense when the elders were right in front of my face. All I had to do was, shut my mouth, tie my hair and not giggle.
Hey, I miss you Mr. Darling Tornado! :*

The day I got to know how “light” I am. And literally. Twice. Ha. For someone who loves chocolate, butter and cheese, insult me more?

My Dearest Loved Dove, you were really patient and awesome! :*
And that Dickhead responsible for this (Bottoms up!! Cheers. Said who?), you are sucha dickhead for shaking me head till I lost my “balance”. But you are awesome. 🙂
Dove’s sister, you were the only one who scared the shit out of me ever by your suggested Madonna-Britney experiment.You are Mhashe. 😛
Dove’s cousin, you were the red batak*.
And the Budday booaay, thank you for that day.

Yea, I “miss” that crazy day.
—..
*Duck

Random Mumbles

Playful

The best thing about photography is, even if you have great memory, looking at a picture will flood millions of emotions. Even though it is too much for me to handle feelings, looking at my candid shots always makes me welcome them and smile.

Like this little girl here. I remembered everything about her when I started working with this year old picture.
She was a daddy’s girl. I assumed he was her dad. She was be playful, calm and happy whenever she was in his arms, and like a tornado if anyone else touched her. Had met her in Lalbaugh, flower show 2010. And I couldn’t help following her around for a while. Cutest smile!
——
Every girl’s dream:
1. Paint her nails blue.
2. Sport a messy hairdo.
3. Get referred as a dude, and literally.
4. Try and get callouses on her fingers.
——
I Am Free!

This will be my all time favorite amateur shot of mine. This will always remind me of how we were when we were kids:

Unbound, innocent and free. Carefree nature. And this, makes me feel that. I had written a short poem called Unbounded, which now when I think of it, fits this picture perfectly.
I had thought, and was made believe that this is a phase, that poem of mine. But now when I think of it, it is was not a phase. It was what I wanted. And it is how exactly I am existing right now.
Being a cynic is ok. But being cynic to the extent of destroying everything within yourself and others, I suggest please shoot yourself.
Fine, destroy whatever you want within yourself, but let others be. Just because you are depressed and dead inside, doesn’t mean you’ll make others believe they are too.
And yes, all this blabber talk comes out something. Make me believe that I do not want to belive this. Make me feel that, this is not what I’m feeling. I stupidly nodding to everything, like a person with no spine. And then morphing to be all that to be your pretty wife. And that is what is exactly called as being bounded.
Kids are beautiful. Remind us of so many things which eventually even they will forget as they grow up. Like that kid. And sometimes it is really amazing that, how you can actually feel what the other is feeling, if intensly. Like it is infectious.
——
The most frustratingly exhausting feeling is feeling empty. I find it weird to call empty as a feeling. Feeling nothing is a feeling. WTF.
The most irritating feeling is wanting something badly but failing to understand what that something is.
And suggestion I get to clear my head, “Go poop.” For better understanding.
Funny my dear Dove, but WTF!

I really have awesome set of close friends.

——
Best feeling ever?
Craving for cheese pizza at midnight, or anything with cheese. Why? Because I’m hungry!
Get up next morning. And guess what’s for breakfast?
Cheese sandwich. 😀
Yea, I made it happen. Made it myself.
Mom’s not gonna like it. 😀 😀
——
And then, after I started ignoring my craving, I suddenly remembered my pen pals. One was from states. Other had moved from Britain to SA, Kenya. The one in Kenya apparently resembled to Daniel Radcliffe. And the one in states, she had 13 siblings! Ignoring that, they really were very interesting people. Whatever made me delete the contacts. Kenya friend was on my FB list. Then again, what made me delete that contact again…
Hmm. Lets see:
I was 17. (Surprised that it lasted from when I was 12 to say about 15!!)
He was too British for me (?!?) But definitely very very interesting person.
Back then, I simply wanted to know how different they are. And to my surprise, they were full of feelings and emotions! Great sense of humor. Friendship was a big deal to them. Friends were someone they could talk to. And being in a different country, it was easier for them to share their lives. Or probably those two were like that. As we say, the growing teen age phase. Who knows, might have turned up like me. 😛
Yes, I do remember their names. Aden and Catylin. If they do remember me, and if something happens in this small world and we miraculously find each other again, I would really like to know how they are doing. Because, in the end back then I was like them too.
——
—..

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

Heartless Pretenses

Am I missing something by not being too emotional?
It/I was supposedly beautiful then. (Even supposedly expressed. Snort!)

For example: I used to be like this when I was truly happy. All those “cheesy” words of emotions, which I don’t have the patience to read, even my own.
Now, I prefer to give a big smile and a hug, if I’m close to the person. Or blabber like a hyperactive maniac to the person rather than write on a blank wall.

I probably just prefer being selective.

And a known fact: one is mean and arrogant when there is lots of anger built and bottled in.
How to break it without any destruction?
Solution 1. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! (on an totally isolated area.)
Solution 2. Be immature and abuse. (with many assumptions of course)
Solution 3. No idea. 😀
—..
Emotional P.S. 😛
I once recently said: Emotions can be controlled like a switch.
How?
Just flip the button.
Someone had told me otherwise, I don’t remember who (damn again!). But it can be, for some instances.