Friendship - In all its Murky Glory

The dynamics of friendship, if one were to notice, are ever-changing. And more the number of people one is closely associated with, the higher the rate of acceleration of changing dynamics. In any given environment, be it at home or at work or even at school or college, acceptance of perspectives – both from us to others’ and others’ to us, is never possible. 

 And if in case perspectives are aligned in the most convenient of manner, it wouldn’t be prudent to assume that the views and opinions would continue to do so. Each day brings about a newer line of thinking for each individual. Swirling thoughts become clearer, while thoughts with clarity become as murky as dirt mixed with water. 

As a part of a friend-circle, one gets to experience a lot. Intake and output of values, thoughts, ideas and opinions are so digressed that it becomes but natural that one pays a lot of attention to what is being discussed or debated upon. It is also in a friend-circle, that one understands the concept of closeness. Even though the whole group might be one, a rapport develops between two friends that is different and completely unlike the rapport shared with the rest of the group. Such a subset within a bigger picture is however not restricted to the same two people. Either one or both can have a closer rapport with someone else in the same group. 

While such an intrinsic development may not hamper the group’s resonance on the whole, sometimes on account of the aspect of confidentiality between two friends, there could be a juxtaposition and conflict of loyalties. In such situations, it becomes difficult to prioritise – which shadows the whole aspect of friendship. 

As a part of a group, even I have been forced to take and make choices. Certain choices have hurt but were necessary, while certain were remarkably easy to carry out. The point however, is not making choices or choosing sides. The point is about how to balance the scales in such a way that at no point of time, there emerges a conflict of interest. 

I am standing right in the middle of such a quagmire today – I cannot talk about certain issues for fear of complicating them yet the nature of forthrightness compels me to take a stand again and again. It’s as though each time I open my mouth, the wariness that has crept because of underlying tension and constraints rears its head and forces me to keep my opinions to myself. And yet even as I take a stance for not talking, I realise it’s not my problem which has caused these tensions to creep in. It is someone else’s fault, someone who does not even realise that they are the ones who have the situation to escalate; by allowing ego and pride to enter into an otherwise easy camaraderie.

Of Bloodbaths and Madness

In spite of being a Tamilian, I have never relished the impertinences that pass off as song-and-dance sequences in Tamil movies. While the videos provide voluptuousness and sultriness with an altogether different meaning, the lyrics make one wonder about the existence of lyricists capable of penning down non-innuendos.

But whether the songs appeal to the majority of Tamilian masses or not, they definitely do appeal to the minority of non-tamilian masses that somehow manage to catch hold of one stanza and then spend hours together to fish out the whole song, before downloading it and spreading it across. Sometimes I wonder how these guys carry out the complex name typing in the search engines, for it's not as though the Tamilian alphabets and pronunciations are as easy as the English vowels and consonants. I think this is what they refer to as the power of the triple Ds - dedication, devotion and determination. 

Anyway, getting back to the point, in the past few years I have come across lyrical creations like 'Manmada Rasa' - involving a skinny guy trying to match beats with a girl almost double his weight, 'Appadi Podu' - I still haven't manage to figure out the video and the audio correlation for this one and 'O Podu' - don't know what's worse with this one; the song or the choreography.  

And now, there's a new kid on the block. This one's called - 'Kolaveri di' which means having a deep-set intention to commit a bloodbath. After hearing about the wondrous uniqueness of this bloody song - pardon the pun - through three different sources within a mere matter of hours, curiosity got the better of me and like the individuals specified above, I found myself mouse-pointing my cursor onto the Great Google rectangle and clicking on a YouTube search result - one of the hundreds spouted by the esteemed search engine - and had the full song at my disposal. Sung by Dhanush, son-in-law of the popular Tamil actor Rajnikanth, the song as been self-termed as a 'soup song'; whatever that means.

The song talks about a moon and its distance in the background of the black night sky correlative to a guy whose love interest is fair but whose heart is black and the guy's failure to understand why the girl doesn't reciprocate his love back...whew! And then to top this, the guy further goes on to add about how the 'soup song' is an anthem for all those guys whose love interests act as indifferent as this one's does...interesting, I should say.

As a note of positivity, I can only bring myself to commend upon the music director's beat - ironically, this one's not an ARR composition - along with Dhanush's ability to sing. Apart from these two, the rest is all a query to me.

'Why this Kolaveri, Kolaveri, Kolaveri di?’ he asks...and I can't help but retort, after listening to the song thrice, 'Why this manduthanam, manduthanam, manduthanam da?'

Courtesy - Fact or Fable?

I set store a lot by the word 'courtesy.' And when I say this I don't mean to imply that I adhere to the literal meaning of the word as described in a dictionary. I don't want a man to stand up from the dining table, just because I am going to be sitting there nor do I want anyone to say 'excuse me' 100 times, if they are having a bout of 100 sneezes one after another. 

When I use the term 'courteous', all I am asking is for a simple reciprocation for gestures that require to be done so. While growing up, I was dedicatedly taught to use the three golden words of the Englisg language - please, thank you and sorry. As the days went by, of these three words, I realised that the first and the last were seldom used. The third however, when used, came across as being uttered as a favour to the person who was actually doing the favour in the first place. Talk about ironies - nothing beat saying thank you like "yeah, whatever..."

The thing about courtesy is that no one can teach you to mean it. With all due respect to those who tried being the teacher with me, I wasn't exactly a model pupil. I can recollect this incident when I was about seven and my aunt had taken me to her friend' house. The friend was celebrating her daughter's birthday and while going home, she handed me a pack of pencils. In the excitement to see what brand of pencils, I had received, I conveniently forgot to say 'Thank You' making my aunt prompt those words to me. And I know this that even though I duly repeated the prompt, I wasn't being enthusiastic or meaningful about it. It became like a formality that I had to adhere, lest my aunt started to feel affronted.

And this is what is important. Not just saying the words like a mantra, but meaning it whole-heartedly. After all, it does not take much to mean them, does it? When we can ask for favours without any qualms, why does it take second, third and quadruple thoughts to bring out a simple two-worded terminology? And for those, who invariably get their things done without being asked, the least you could do would be to show - and mean - the most poignant of words to the person bestowing the unasked favour on you.


The world's populace is many and varied. There are people who you want to avoid but are unable to do so; there is that lot that you want and crave to meet desperately, but who avoid you and then, there are friends. No other relationship offers carte blanche to the level that friendship does; where friendship is concerned, it is like there is no courtesy and there is no discourtesy. 


This is perhaps the worst part of friendship; where one is revealed to bare everything because the unwritten rule and accord of friendship states that there cannot be any secrets between friends. And since sharing things is not a favour, the concept of being courteous does not even arise. One can push and shove, yell and cuss, ask and demand; but no way is one required to say sorry, please or thank you. It does not bode well for the culture of friendship, or so they say. 


For most parts, this setting seems to be fine. But there are times when one actually expects one's friends to reciprocate and they fail do so, leading to unmitigated frustration - not just with the culpable but also with one's own self. And while one might not feel pity for oneself, the feeling of expectancy of such a gesture, would leave the person further mired in guilt and despondency.

Childishness would demand retribution and disappointing the censurable in the same manner, but then one were to do that, what would be the whole point of being an adult and dealing with things like these maturely? Maturity versus immaturity, friendship versus expectation, society versus trends; the list of mental disarray needing to be disambiguated at these times, looks to have no bounds.


Things, it is said, have a way of falling into place. But even if they do,courtesy still would remain as disambiguous as it is. Or maybe, it is crystal clear and I am the one who keeps expecting something more than it could actually be imparted to; Could be that, being courteous is as courteous does.

Metallica - An Experience Unlike Any

When I first learnt about the existence of rock as a genre in music - about a decade and a half ago - my thoughts veered towards pelting of stones and rocks at a stereo. And since such a vivid imagination presented itself in my idea-starved brain right at the onset, it became the curtain finale to my initiation to the genre - even before the curtains could actually rise. 


To be honest, I must actually say that I didn't really take the pain to learn and understand the theme when I was trying to decipher its literary implications. And I must add that this lack of interest and enthusiasm led me far far away from rock music. It was as though both of us existed in some parallel universe - walking alongside, but with a distinct lack of possibility of a confluence.  

College life, however changed a lot of things. What was once percieved as being completely black or white, began to be looked upon as being murky and gray. The entire lifestyle changed and this change of lifestyle brought about an actual introduction to the world of rock music. Where I was once staring blankly at people discussing rock bands, I began to come to know about the various bands that existed; though I didn't really bother to look up about them further. After all, I knew something now as opposed to nothing before, didn't I?


There's a very popular saying - or is that a movie - about never saying never. It's actually quite simple to unravel this piece of philosophy and I can say this with much more confidence than anyone else I know, because of the number of times I have said "Never will I do this" only to end up doing the same thing. A few years ago, if someone would have prognosticated and told me that I would be going to a rock concert, I would have laughed openly at the person. But after a couple of days of travelling hundreds of kilometres and post watching a rock concert - Metallica no less - I must say that I have come to perceive the "never say never" phrase in an altogether new light. 


I was introduced to Metallica about a couple of years earlier, by a friend who used to be a fellow writer on a sports site. The first song I downloaded and listened to made me want to vomit my guts. The music was slow and the singer had this thoaty voice that made me ask myself as to who termed this band a "Rock Band?" But hey, what did I know; so I shut up and downloaded a few more songs just for the heck of it. 


Two days later, thinking that I could get a better perspective about the band and the songs I started to listen again, beginning with the same slow track as Nothing Else Mattered except a determination to listen to what the band had produced, even if my second thoughts echoed my first on the band being a Thrash (er). I must admit that it was Sad but True that I had indeed made a mistake about my first impression about the band. The singer was awesome and so were the guitarists and the drummer. Life without Metallica soon started Fading to Black and made me wonder whether I had to get myself admitted into a Sanatarium for what seemed to be fast developing like an addiction. 


I became a Puppet and the band my Master. Head-banging became a common feature in my house and my dad started to wonder whether my mental faculties and Batteries had started to fail. In this context, I must mention that I had also started to listen to bands like Green Day and Linkin Park and getting myself further acquainted with the sub-class genres under the banner of rock. The more I listened, the more I liked and I realised that music, in its entirety, is something that draws and sucks you inside it, even before you can say, "Whoa!" Transcending boundaries, it makes you relish the thought of being a music lover. You don't need to be an expert on the subject, you just need to listen to it and you'll understand the passion that goes behind every song. 

Getting back to Metallica, after poring every bit of news I could accumulate about the band, I realised that they had never toured India. It was like The Day that Never Came and I began to wonder whether I would ever get to go to a Metallica concert, if at all they did decide to come to India. And just like that, even before the thought could fully dissipate from my mind, there came the news that the band would be making their debut tour to the country. After the Long Nightmare of wait - in my case, relatively short - the ticket bookings opened and I finally was the proud owner of a Metallica concerto ticket. 






But second thoughts about the travelling and the housing came Creeping like Death and threatened to Blacken the whole aura of attending the concert. But just as things felt like Cynaide torturing the mind, everything began to fall in place. Relatives came forth and tagging along became easier. The Tolling Bells of time started to roll and the moment was finally there. Rather I should say, I was where, where the moment was. People surrounded in black t-shirts, proclaiming their affinity to the band milled around while I tried soaking in the feel of actually witnessing a favourite, that wasn't so, just a few years ago...


Amidst rife speculations about the time limit and oppostion from family - far and wide - determination to make the most of the concert overwhelmed every other negativity. I was here and that was all mattered, everything else could be taken care of later. The first one hour was spent battling emotions of surrealism while the latter part was spent memorising every bit of the ambience around. 


The singers and the crowd were Fuelled alike; the energy vibes and the pumping enthusiasm all over were such, that they gave a new meaning to the word excitement. Hours spent standing, just to gain an entry were hazy and a distant memory; life was suspended for those two hours and everyone was on a high - as high as they could get, while being One with the Gods.


And then, just like every other good thing in life, the show came to an end. And just as high as the bubble blew, the more resounding its pop sounded. Where people had started to yell to enter the grounds, they went rowdy and ballistic while trying to get out. It came out as being exceedingly ironic - watches being consulted, fans talking about work pressure and office punctuality; life had finally intruded upon the dream.


Now, days after the concert, all that Remains is the Memory. As the song goes...Fortune, Fame, Mirror Vain, Gone Insane...but the Memory Remains...the only low point, that you cannot sing the Ra...Ra chorus single-handedly; you are definitely in want of a palpable crowd, who can change the feel of the lyrics just as it needs to be done.

Impetuousness

I have tried formulating ideas that make sense; not just to me, but also to others. But owing to very basic nature of my psyche, I haven’t been able to go beyond a few lines. So here’s what I have finally come up with – writing jibber-jabber, with a flair that makes the jibber-jabber appear less what it actually is. 

Of course, the deepest realm of my rationality would argue that jibber-jabber cannot be more or less, but who’s delving into that corner of the brain in the first place? These days my new motto is first act, then think. Because once we start thinking, even our deepest passions start to get threatened by second, third, fourth and Lord knows how many thoughts. It is said that the human mind is in a state of constant activity. So maybe by acting impulsive, I would probably be doing my mind a huge favour, so to speak. 

Impulsiveness, to me requires temerity. It is not easy to break the shackles of years’ long advices and preaches drummed into the head; it requires guts to stand up and say that no, I won’t be stopped now. But more than anything else, it requires steadfastness. Steadfastness, because not everyone you meet is ready to thump your back with pride and say that your act of impulsiveness is being appreciated. Nine times on 10, people hate when you start to think out of the box and try their level best to pull you a couple of pegs down from your potential endeavour of capriciousness.

Coming to think about it, I wonder whether these people purposefully resort to such underhanded tactics because they are jealous. Jealous, because they never thought of changing or breaking the mould and just decided to tread the much-worn path because it was convenient. Or maybe they are just worried, period. After observing the minutiae of the behaviour of people all round me for a considerable period of time, I have realised that worry in individuals manifests itself in a number of ways – abuses, pleading, begging, crying and even physical assault; the last of course, being an irony of the highest order. 

However more than these two factors, what strikes me the most about people who rant about unprompted attitude, is their lack of questioning. As a child growing up, I was always taught to stifle my questions about the way things in a society were. There were no answers except for “We never questioned our elders.”  Philosophising would provide the answer that asking questions is perhaps the best way to learn, for at no point of time is one self-sufficient to know about everything that needs to be known. 

But as usual there seems to be a definite chasm between philosophy and practicality; between asking questions in the classroom and asking questions about societal norms. The former is appreciated and lauded, while the latter is denigrated and slandered. So what’s a sane individual to do? He keeps thinking and mulling about issues, forms his own opinions and judgements, and then finally realises that nothing ever matters – one can never question the society but the society can always question you. Hence, dunking the thinking and slumming life, as it comes and as it takes its weird course...

In the Horizon...A Gecko

I stare at it morbidly. It's there, right in front of my eyes viewing me with its beady oculi and I keep staring right back at it. Or maybe it's just my imagination playing games with me. How can a gecko keep staring at me as though I were the only object in its line of sight? Yet rationalisations and practicalities aside, I continue to stare at it, caught up in the fascination of what makes a gecko tick - or should I call stick - to walls.

I have never been a hater of wild animals. On the contrary, my epitaph would probably talk about my dreaded fear of the many and varied creatures of the animal kingdom. Lizards, snails, earthworms, caterpillars, dragon flies...blah, blah...I can keep on going but I am sure, the point must have gotten across. Ironically, I have never been afraid of cockroaches and spiders, even though many of my contemporaries shudder at the very mention of these two creepy-crawlies. I sometimes wonder if this is an aberration to the very existence of fearing creepy insects by human beings. This wondering is substantiated with my currently failing and ailing de facto quest to find a fellow human who is scared of lizards, making me further underscore my point with much more vehemence than I would ever want to acknowledge.

Getting back to the point; the gecko on the wall is mid-sized, has dark rings or circles or whatever is regarded to be grammatically right to talk about a gecko's skin tone. It has a longish tail and four spindly legs, which look so wobbly that I am sure will not be able to support it as it climbs higher on the wall. Yet it climbs and climbs and just like that - starts hovering above my head like a mass of oblongated dirt. The stare which was morbid, now fast exceeds the levels of paranoia and psychosis.

And I am not feeling paranoia without any rhyme or reason. Having a family background which charts the course of a lizard's travel up on the walls with superstition and orthodoxy, I have developed a fear that the lizard scampering on the ceiling will fall on my head where the superstition reads, 'Lizard falling over one's head being equivalent to a near and dear one expiring.' My father scoffs at this rationale - I have to remind myself that he was the one who put this fear in me in the first place - while my mother pretends to be deaf. It's like being caught up from three different sides...left, right and above!

Considering the fact that I live in a metro - Mumbai was , is and will be - it's kind of weird to be stating superstition and astrological charts. But there again, Mumbai comes in India and when in India, think and do as the vintage Indians do. At least, that's what I pacify myself with...

The gecko meanwhile, has found an outlet to scarper and I find myself heaving a big sigh of relief. To the best of my knowledge, till that point I never knew that I was actually holding my breadth or following the course of the lizard's movements so carefully. But anyway, the gecko's gone and my attention reverts back to the football match going on between Arsenal and Manchester United; there's my favourite team socking the Gunners left, right and centre and where was my focus...riveted on to a dark coloured gecko...prioritising, I never did learn that. 

I get back to the game...the eighth goal for Manchester and am whooping for glory when I see it again in the periphery of my eyesight - the gecko with the spangled skin...and once again my eyes start pinpointing its progress as though it's just going to leap out from the wall and make a straight dash to my prestiged head!

Despondency

I am as childish as the word is,
I am as naive as the term sounds,
I hear judgements passed round...
As though my childishness is a tinder for my annihilation....


People say, they know me well...
Yet they skim the surface,
Verbally jousting my sureness,
And making it appear as a perennial jest....


I cannot deviate from their perceiving,
For then they term me an outcast...
My deepest emotions, conflagrate in my heart...
The veneer of indifference, leaving a window naught open...


The world seems to have moved ahead,
Acquaintances and associations, scattered,
Friendships and relationships altered...
Yet, I am where I am...not by choice, but by chance...


I no not, how to change,
For if I ask, scepticism abounds...
I cannot be, because I am forced not to be...
Even though, in the recesses of my heart...I want to be.

Just a thought...

I keep thinking about this and that,

I wonder about the whats and the what nots...

I cannot ask my mind to shut off;

Thinking is its forte..the purpose of its very creation...

But I know what needs to be done;

What can and should be changed;

What merits a turnaround and where...

If I only I could put all these in place;

If I would be determined to want to cause a alteration...

Things would be better...or so I feel...

I wish I could have a straight forward answer;

because I think, I now know all about myself...

A variant that eternally claims,

The grass is somehow greener at the other end...

Truth and Lies

When I learnt to speak...

No one told me what to say,

What to talk and what to hide...

I learnt all by my own self;

When I grew up,

I learnt to adapt...

Learnt to lie and felt that was cool,

I said untruths and denial became my life...

Where was the truth, the atom of honesty?

There was none, but who actually searched for the same?

Things were simple and things were easy...

Truth complicated matters, did it not?

That's what I thought, what I deduced...

But then truth ended matters...

Falsification and lies ---made me lie even more...

What's better, what's not?

I am not to judge...

For I am as depraved,

As any human who took the crookedly simple lane...

Scrambles

When I struggle to remember
When I struggle to keep up
When I lose faith in you,
And when I lose faith in myself...
When I fumble on a step
When I falter on my words
When I cry over spilt milk
When I decide without thinking
When I pause without cause
When I talk and chatter,
And when I am muted thoroughly...
I always know you'll be there
Whatever I do, whenever I do...
I don't lose hope,
For I know, without hope
I'll lose my only connection with you....

Swirling Mentations...

Feeling lonely as always,
Standing out - looking in at the milling crowd,
wanting to fathom, why am I so disconnected?
I began to realise - why wasn't I one of them...

My skin-tone different,
My hair-texture different,
The way I talk...
The way I walk...
All unlike the accepted norm....

But...who sets these norms?
Weren't they different too?
No two fingers alike....
Or were they all created to be synonymous zombies??

My being different...
Is it a matter or pride or shame?
Different horizon, different perspective...
What's right and what's wrong?

An impasse...

A point of no return....

No compromises anywhere...

Denial - in its unequivocality, everywhere...

Dear Roger Federer...

Oh dear Roger Federer, how I wish I was an alchemist...
I could have given you a potion to stay eternally young...
There would not have been any rivals, peers or nemesis;
There would have been only you - through and through...
People and players would have come and gone...
Decades and decades worth of trophies would have accumulated...
One lord and one master to conquer the sport...
Your fans would have been perpetually blessed...
But you know what?
Like always, there would have been a catch...
Others would have rued their chances, cried over their minor mistakes...
But they never would have had a chance, would they?
That's why Roger..
Even as it pains me..
To see you lose and observe your failings...
I would not give you the potion...
The mantle's passing on,
As it should be...
and that's why Roger...
I am not an alchemist and you are not a follower of alchemy...

Perplexing...

Uninterested, disenchanted...
Disillusioned, indifferent...
Suppositions and assumptions,
Presumptions and predilections,
Life's all about these...
Varying and mutating, 
Shifting paradigms, deign to attract...
Each day, each hour, each minute;
No one knows why,
None knowing what else to try...
an uncanny existence;
a weird rut of complacency...
Boredom towers, ennui hovers;
The world's demanding change,
The world's exacting a revolution...
The pace, however set;
doesn't remotely evoke an inspiration...
Craving and begging;
Down on its haunches...
yet not given up;
The world's showing...
One last chance of utter salvation...

Singularity and Thoughts...

Clairvoyant, is what they call me...
For I predict their future;
They are in awe, they are spell-bound;
Yet they fear me, hold me at bay...
I am the source, of their wariness and cageyness...
Caught in the irony called life,
I am needed yet discarded...
I keep my silence, lest my words ache others;
I keep my eyes down, lest my sight harms others;
Yet I can't keep my ears closed...
My hearing acute - I know the curses that spout;
Why the curse, beyond me...
Am I not the salve they need, when need matters?
Why the hypocrisy, why the turntables?
A prisoner of birth, the author quotes;
My existence..in tandem with his perfect profundity...

Thoughts...

Observation is my forte,

For I am helpless to do anything else,

I can't speak - mute I am;

I can't hear - deaf I am;

I can watch but cannot point - a cripple...

Mentally and physically, shortchanged;

far worse than a human could ever be...

Emotionally - am a wreck;

like a ship that has been tossed and turned...

I know I could have jumped the plank;

If the pirate called fate, had not tied my hands...

If I could, who could I call out to? 

Would anyone would have even reached out?

Now I don't suppose anything, don't assume anything;

Try and let it happen, as it has been so far...

Yet I do want to make a difference, an effort;

A change - even a slight one, if I could...

That's why the observation...

But, what I could and what I actually can;

A chasm - as wide as the night and day...

The only way to link the two;

Make my existence a far worse crepuscle than it needs to be...  

Friendship

I tried being a friend,
I tried to understand you...
You were fine at first,
Hiding and concealing your drawbacks;
Then it started spilling forth...
I thought, maybe this was you;
You were not God, were you??
But, how mistaken was I...
Your snideness, your judmentalism,
You cynicism, your cavalier attitude...
In your eyes, nothing was ever right...
No one was ever perfect, except you...
You say you care, you say you understand;
But why, when I need you to be there?
You never come forth....
I don't to be submissive, 
I am not a fool, like you take me to be...
I am me, if you cannot accept that...
What's your worth to me??

Betrayal

Honesty unvalued,
Dishonesty - a necessity,
Reason to survive, reason to exist...
Underestimated people,
Undervalued sentiments,
Commitments - just a word;
No deliverance, no lingering guilt...
All experience reneging,
All experience emptiness,
Yet all trust over and over again,
Yet all believe in faithfulness...
I did so too, aren't I a human?
I gave chances - second, third and countless...
And they they failed...
Or was the failure mine??
I do not know, I do not comprehend...
All I now know...
Is never to trust, for the hollow promises;
Have left me a leering skeptic of all kinds of premises...

Cricket World Cup...As I see it...

There is a cup and there is a world,
There are teams and there are players...
There are legends and there are blotches...


Embarrassments and laurels,
Eccentricity rife with anticipation,
Passionate encounters, arguments and displays...


All want to win,
All want to rule and enjoy,
Who will best the others;
The odds will be whose to defy?


I cannot prognosticate,
For a believer I am,
My objectivity ruled by passion...
My eyes blurred by favouritism...


Multi-hued bearings,
Multi-faceted talent,
The cricketing world's waiting;
For one eleven to become a phoenix.....


Controversies abound,
Speculations thrive,
Opinions and judgements clash...
Mocking one and mocking all...


Patience is the key,
Forbearance is the opportunity,
And them, who take it...
Are the victors; despite experts' hoarse call...

Addictions...

Addictions are an irony,
Making craving a priority,
First the sky's always blue,
Then the storm creeps in stealthily....
That's when the world turns over;
Mysteries open, denials and negations swarm....
Life seems dreary,
Every step a mortal agony...
Everyone's addicted, aren't they?
Need not be drugs, could be just stuff...
I am addicted too;
I am in denial, I am justifying....
My addictions stem from childhood,
I knew not the word, just kept my passions afloat...
Now I know, Now I realise, Now I speak out;
But who listens to me?
Everyone's in their own habituation-induced spree...

Perplexities

Dignity wrung out,
Self-respect wrenched open,
Derision and contempt everywhere;
even my scruples look away...


I did not want this,
Yet contexts are reduced to this,
Trying and modifying, difficult;
When all routes end in a complex cul-de-sac...


Then I ponder about changes,
Wonder whether that's the justest option?
Then I think more and more;
But the answers, as always, somehow evade me...


There are critics and judgementalists,
Writing me down, bogging me down further;
They think they are gospels, preaching doctrines;
When their own life is as perturbed as mine...


Why can't they just let go,
Let me be me to think and understand further;
I know I will not be always right;
For if I was, then I wouldn't be a human, would I??

Questions

Burning desire, raging passion...
Sincere dedication, utmost devotion...
Ruthless pursuance, relentless struggle...
Only allure - the goal; nothing before, nothing after...

Teasing pictures, tantalising glimpses...
Distracting sounds, deviating scenery...
Meddling kith, intruding kin...
Making work and focus; 
Bleak and glassy...


Mental fatigue, physical weariness...
Emotional pall, spiritual lethargy...
Gnawing irritation, grappling vexation...
Forcing to abandon, compelling to destroy;

Solutions thrive, answers abound...
Responses satisfactory, Cues reliable...
Yet, why am I stalling?
The procrastination evident, the disinterest visible;


My pick of selections were my own;
Yet they seem unconnected and disjointed to me...
Have I been wrong, did I make a mistake?
I have none to ask...except my moral sense;
A sense that has long faded like my once-prosperous serenity...

Incongruity

Mundanity seeming to confound,
Friends appearing ambiguous,
Life - perplexing as never before...
Routes starting to blur,
Overlapping, intersecting and veering abruptly,
Start and finish-lines - missing and misleading...
Choices - blinking and flashing,
Fading away as spryly as they flash,
I look out - wanting an opinion,
Battling inner and outer demons;
Yet, no one's out there...
The ball's in my court;
The irony though - my loss any which way...

Experience and Truths

I thought I could rely on them,
I thought I could believe them,
But when the trust and belief was put to test;
All broke away, severing ties and my heart...
I still see them now,
Meet them, verbalise and converse;
But my trust and faith, never ever on them...
They point at me, curse and call me names;
I am wrong, they say but are they even right?
Subjective and relative theories;
They claim to be experts, 
When I give my say, they sneer and scoff...
My knowledge about people and friends, rudimentary;
Yet with them, I thought I had my life...
 My integrity, one sided;
For they never felt that way,
Each falling upon the other to put me down....
I now know what I have to do,
Need and want to do;
I need to escape them all,
Before my mind gets corrupted and jaded by their puerility...

Looking beyond the Horizon...

Why does one get attached?
Why does one feel connected?
Why do emotions get scoured easily?
Why cannot the heart be impenetrable?

Why do the tears gush freely?
Why does the throat clog up?
Why does disenchantment set in?
Why cannot sentiments be pragmatic?

I cannot stop asking why?
I cannot stop thinking how?
I have to know, I need the answers...
But I swallow them all, as abruptly as they began...

I am complaining,
I am crying and ranting,
Yet, change choices - I cannot,
Change favourites - I will not,

You will, that's the word;

You can, that's the thought;
That's your answer, your assurance;
The unspoken promise makes everyone turn towards you - like a planet towards a star...

Vamos Rafa!!!

Victory is glory,
Defeat is gloomy,
You vacillate between the two,
Giving us glimpses of bereavement and glee...


You gave it all,
Body, heart and soul,
Nothing was amiss,
Except your physique...



Fans left bereft,
Critics left stunned,
Unexpected was the answer,
Expect - we didn't the spectre...


Bravery, hidden deeply;
Fear, shown openly,
Faith and trust, never will waver;
Optimism and hope, never will falter...


Regroup - we know you will,

With your mettle and audacity,

Rewind - though we never want,

The hurt and the pain that linger on...

Be fit, be strong;
All that we ask,
A future to behold,
All that we crave...


We know, you shall;
We know, you can;
You are the promise,
The ultimate provider of fandom deliverance...

Complexities

I tried to forget,
I tried to block,
Tried to evade,
Tried to escape,
But unsuccessful, I was...


I wanted to answer back,
I wanted to retaliate,
Wanted to lash out,
Wanted to hit out,
But circumstances, made me stop...


I tried to accept,
I tried to adjust,
Tried to walk away,
Tried to be nonchalant,
But emotions, gave me away...


I am clueless now,
I am helpless now,
Perplexed and confused,
Aware yet unaware,
But reforming is out of the question...


My intrinsic nature,
My innermost thoughts,
Actions and passivity,
Are mine and mine alone,
Compromise I can, but never on my individuality...

Rambles

Want and desire

Need and demand,

Anticipation and expectation,

Traits, common traits...

Hard to resist, hard to ignore;

Temptation irrestible;

Unreliability in one's willpower...

Satisfaction and gratification;

Never promisory, dejection looming;

Disregard and nonchalance, in complete oblivion...

Inherent nature- unchangeable and irreversible;

Animals of a different breed,

Creatures of a different kind,

Mankind- Lowly beasts of a higher creed...