Coffee Break, Part 3

The last day in the big city. Feeling blue, quite seriously. Not really the emotion I expected at this threshold. After days of meeting my folk, being called thin so much that I felt all wizened and emaciated, four days of mood indigo, some feel-good and some feel-hollow rendezvouses with people, and other vague randomness, it's time to get back to where I belong. I'm spending time in the most obvious place I'd think of spending this evening in - Coffee Break.

It's not fun to say goodbye. Not fun at all. A day with a goodbye is not a good day. Never. Turns out I behaved astonishingly maturely towards the goodbye. Surprised myself. Usually, these forced goodbyes make depress me to no ends, but this time around I was up and around straight-on! Had I grown up, or had my innards frozen, I asked myself. Bah, not the time to think.

There's a bunch of people who're evidently from Delhi. The first words uttered by the girl when she entered the shop just gave it away. The accent, the casual attitude, the cautious yet careless stress on certain parts of the sentences, were all signature Delhi. I suddenly missed my CH1 corridor a lot. Especially the northie blokes. All the Delhi things - the classic Hindi, the righteous and playful swearing, the sheer loudness, the in-your-face sexual humour, and in spite of all this, that intense camaraderie and swearing by the people they held close - I miss all those. Never thought I would, considering I'd cursed them all some time or the other, especially exam-times. Today I found myself wanting to go through all that stuff. It's funny how some things silently become an integral part of your life. So silently, you never know they're there till they're not around any more. Funnier still, although they happen all the time, they're make you feel just the same on realisation, every single time. If I'd have to describe the feeling, I'd call it strangely hollow yet complecent.

Neha's borrowed my latest Richard Bach find, so I've switched over to Shantaram. I got the how-long-do-you-take-to-finish-a-damn-book-man from people recently. I just figured I like slow reading. Reading to absorb every detail, every word and every phrase and how beautifully they've been used, each metaphor and most importantly, every ounce of inspiration I can gather from the author. More than saying I've read so many books, I'd really like to say so many books have inspired me.

Getting back to Shantaram - I think I've got the gist of why the book's gained stupendous popularity. I'd wondered a while back, as to why a fugitive's tale would fascinate millions across the globe. When Mum asked me this today, I found myself giving her quite a satisfactory answer - The book's about freedom. And deep inside, skin-deep for some and way deep down for others, everyone desires freedom.

I found myself wondering what real freedom is. Whether it is, as Gregory David Roberts puts it, the power to say "no", or whether it's something else entirely. One thing I have a firm personal foothold on, however, is that real freedom is more difficult to achieve than any of us can perceive. Real freedom is when we are liberated from, quite simply, everything. And the one type that prevents most of us from real freedom, is social restrictions. To consider it blasphemous to alter the rules and regulations set by our own ancestors - humans, to be exact. To be bounded by boundaries created by our own kind, the one that makes mistakes.

And yet something inside me told me social restrictions are essential. To prevent society from going haywire, to prevent utter chaos. Is this another paradigm set in the past which could be shifted from? Or was this the proverbial Catch-22 situation which made real freedom unachievable?

Or was real freedom simply the power to believe? The faith in your own self, the faith in the fact that oneself is free? Do those who claim to be absolutely free, just believe so strongly that there's no questioning the thought? Is it really that simple?

Maybe i need to read the book more. Or maybe I need to give it more thought.

Or better still, maybe I need to stop pointless thoughts.

Having said all that, I feel incredibly imbecile!Oh, for the record, this place is playing Sinatra today. I was pleasantly surprised when I entered to here ol' Frankie's voice. Happy change from the usual hip-hop and dance numbers playing here. Way more blissful to write while listening to Jazz.

Bleh! I wanna continue reading Shantaram. Curiosity about the story combined with a wanting of widening of perspective. I don't wanna say goodbye to Coffee Break. This place has given me loads, even in the little number of times I've been here.

But for now, I'll just do a pirouette, take a bow, and hope to write further parts later.

Starry eyed

How many times does it happen that you get back to putting finger to keyboard and decide to post your thoughts up, because of a 35mm flick? How many times does a movie touch your heart so warmly that, in the words of Madhura, "It's almost unfair if you don't put something down about it". This one's purely inspired by Aamir Khan's latest masterpiece, Tare Zameen Par.

It's amazing how the man, adhering to the theme as it was, created a piece of art that can inspire the good in a person. It's the simplest of storylines. A dyslexic kid, neglected during his childhood, meets angel-in-human-form teacher, who recognizes his dormant talent and brings out the best in him. TO most, it would sound like the most overdone of Bollywood stories. This is where the execution of the film comes in, and quite literally, takes our breath away. The movie, after a point, is not about dyslexia anymore. It's not about a kid who's rubbished by society. It's not about how parents should raise their children, it's not about how teachers should be. It finally comes down to whether we're willing to build an individual-based society. A society where the development of every member is equally important as the development of the society in general.

I dunno how, but something that Rowling mentioned in Deathly Hallows just popped up. It's actually just a phrase. Geller Grindelwald's motto. "For the Greater Good". For eons together, there have been conflicts on whether the lives and fates of single individuals helps society on it's way, or gets in it's way. It's been one of those unsolved debates that we all talk about. Hundreds of kids with dyslexia are passed off as mentally retarded, when it's quite the other way round - they're way ahead of us where brainpower is concerned. Those hundreds of kids could've lead normal lives, but at what cost? Is it worth it? Will all those kids turn out to be Albert Einsteins and Thomas Edisons? Is it worth the effort and time to identify these children?

I'm not here to feed fire to the old doubts. I'm just intrigued by the subtleness by which the subject has been approached. The very basic fundamental of life. Individualism. Something I consider of utmost importance. For me, individualism is realising the simple fact that society cannot get where it needs to without every single member raising the bar for himself all the time. A dyslexic kid can think way beyond a normal one, but can he put it across to anyone? Can his talents be recognized by the standard techniques of recognition we have set? Where's the loophole here? Can we seal it at all? Does individualism, when contexted to the dyslexic kid, mean taking him a few notches up the rat-race or raising society a few notches up? Then again, what do we have to compare against when we have society?

Where am I headed to? Just this - There is no wrong and right in this. It's about belief. Whether you believe in the fact that every person counts, or you believe that a selected few can take society to it's pinnacle. It's worth the thought.

Blah! Enough of that. For those who haven't seen it - Stellar performances by Darsheel Safary and Aamir Khan. Also the kid who's polio infected.

In the cliched words of them critics - A must watch!

Coffee Break, Part 2

It's been a fun day. Had a enthralling football session in the morning. Ain't it funny how a football game you win is always enthralling, be you in the big league or be you I-play-football-cuz-everyone-does? Come to think of it, it's the same with any game. Come to think of it, it's the same with everything! Ah, me and my generalizations...

Had a very nice afternoon. Spent most of it reading up about excessively random stuff over the net. Amazing how useful a tool the net is when you REALLY need to unwind. I could write volumes of useless knowledge based on a day of the internet, and trust me you will, it would be REALLY useless. Not many things relieve your stress as much as useless knowledge does! I'm not gonna get into examples, partly because it would just be plain boring. Mostly because I don't have any right now, being in Coffee Break again. Loneliness as usual.

I'm halfway through "The Bridge across Forever". Trademark Richard Bach material. When I say trademark, I mean this - everytime you read the book, there's a different interpretation. There's a different outlook, a different perspective is built. A lot of the intense thinking in Coffee Break I spoke about in Part 1 was inspired by that man. "Illusions" is possibly the one book I'd call my bible today. A must-read, I tell people. Sometimes I wonder whether I should roam about with a "Practice what you Preach" board hanging 10 inches away from my nose.



There's a girl here today who's beautiful. I don't even wanna call her "hot". She's just plain beauty. Caught her eye a couple of times. A general good feeling. They're playing weird crazy frog-ish music. I hear an incredibly fascinating remix of Crazy Frog and We like to Party (better known as the "vengabus song"). Just heard the "I like to move it" mix. Memories of the Madagascar addiction on campus come to me. I suddenly miss the campus a lot. I should start calling this place the memory place instead of the solitude place, shouldn't I?

I really think the stuff and way I write depends quite a bit on my desktop wallpaper. When I write, the notepad window is the only one open,if you don't count the occasional spell-check through the Oxford Dictionary. Am I getting too conscious of my writing these days? I almost wondered aloud. Everything I write is running the gauntlet before it's approved. of course, the gauntlet and the criticized is both me, which makes the whole thing very interesting.....

I met Duks and Varun today. Felt good. Caught up with old times. Swapped weird stories like old times, and Duks came up with the weirdest one. Just like old times! These people are one of the few here I don't find jejune these days. And I try and convince myself I haven't become snooty. Sure.

I've to meet campus folk for dinner in half hour's time. Looking forward to it quite a bit. How long has it been, a week since I left campus? Goodness me have I become impatient or WHAT?

Why the negative words today? What's with all the self-criticism?

I was about to end it here, but the usual whooping feeling is making me go on. I sat looking around for a whole 5 minutes before continuing here. Finished the remains of my once hot Mocha. Read Asimov's short stories for a while. Watched amusedly as a guy tried to impress his girlfriend's friend with his palmistry. watched a man outside desperately trying to sell of his day's stock of lockets and bracelets to collegians hanging out outside Coffee Break. Blankly stared at a No Parking board for almost a minute. Had few more looks at the beautiful girl.

And then I realized I don't have anything to write about! How many times does it happen that we wait for something we want to come our way, and know that it won't? How overrated ARE anticlimaxes?


Very.

Random Thoughts Episode 1

I hope and pray this to be the beginning of a great great series :D

Will be updated as and when they start spilling outta my brain and start showing themselves around.



Random Thoughts Episode 1

1> Why do Random Thoughts that make considerable amount of sense disappear right before you put them on paper?

2> They say the dreamers are the doers. I somehow think most of the dreamers are only dreamers. "All doers have been dreamers" would be more apt. But then, who cares about the dreamers if they aren't doers?

3> How is it that we idolize so many different people, who are all so remote that you almost end up believing they don't have anything to do with each other? Maybe YOU are the link...

4> Richard Bach is God. Just God. Every line he prints is has all the prudence you'd ever want.

5> This is a pliagarised thought - Any book can be your Messiah's guide to your thoughts. It works. Take any book and open any page, and the answer to your latest query in life will be there.

6> Isn't it hard to write something when you're forced to write it? I find essay writing in exams the hardest thing to do. Never have I been able to write something when someone's told me to. Some people tell others to write. Period. That can't happen. Epitomizing this are people judging writing skills.

7> Why do I think a million times before pilfering even the tiniest of snippets from books I've read?

8> Does the name JD bring with it the general megalomania? I pray to the almighty it doesn't :-|


9> Random Thoughts are fun to pen down, especially when you know nobody's gonna figure your head out.

For the heck of it

It's been such a mediocre day, I wonder why I'm writing at all. It probably has something to do with the major writer's block I'd had a few months back. Dozens of incomplete posts and another dozen of unposted ones, I finally declared it high time to clear the block. It was quite the advent for me, this realisation. To the people who'd tried to convince me that a writer's block is a myth -


A conversation with Maddy left me wondering whether I should do something for QUARK. Seems like the right thing to do. All that jazz about next year being a tad too late to start and third year being very late was churning through me. I don't know what to write about that. It's just one of those conflicts which don't have anything subjective to say about them - it's binary. Still thinking.

Went to Marz-o-rin today. It'd been a while. Felt good to dig in to those sinful chicken sandwiches. Rode Divya's bike there on the way. Delightful in general :)

That's about all that happened today. Oh, of course, except football in the morning. Felt pain in muscles I'd forgotten existed. It's a brilliant feeling, especially after a long hiatus from the game.

Coffee Break. Part 1

Pune hasn't been as tenebrous as I thought it'd be. Or maybe I just like to overdo things, and maybe it was never gonna be as boring as I made it out to be. The campus had been so insanely nice to me over the last four months, I'd forgotten I had a life in Pune. I'm typing this in Cafe Coffee Break. Sitting alone, as usual. Been ages since THAT happened. Memories of hours spent here with a PG Wodehouse and Mochaccilo to keep me company flood back. Pre-entrance exam days. What times they used to be. The solitude, the intense thinking about literally nothingness, the awesome coffee this place gives me, the ocassional catching of the eye of a cute girl sitting somewhere around, all of it. Never since I've left for campus have I gotten that kind of solitude. It's people all around the place, people in hostel, people in class, people when I go to Nescafe or Monginis. Maybe that's what making the Pune days not half as bad as I thought they'd be. Lonliness reloaded.


A JEE class reunion happened yesterday. With the people I'd spent the most constructive two years with. Maybe not as academically constructive as past ones. I was quite at a loss of thoughts when our prof called it "a gathering of the future of India". Didn't last too long. First thing I wondered about was the "India" part. I don't wanna enter that cliched area, but the whole brain-drain saga came to me. Then I wondered, almost aloud, about the whole phrase. How many of us would actually make the difference? How many of us would be lost in the sea of dreamers who just wanted to make a difference? How many of us knew how vast that sea actually was and how many of us just thought we knew? How many of us even cared? How many of us were there just for the free food? I casually threw a look around, as if they were hearing me and waiting to answer. A guy next to me was playing Snake on his phone.

The food was good, though.


Had a wonderful meeting with the HCL main guy of the Pune office. It was routine work, but my first stunt at the routine. Amazing how accurately Chief and his cronies had worked out the sponsorshup simulation game. Complete with reactions and expressions and talking styles.

It's barely 7:30 pm. Coffee's really good. It's cold outside. Possibly the first time I've had a hot cuppa here. I can see a couple hitting each other outside. I can't say whether they're being playful or fighting. I wonder why I'm wondering that.

Anywho, I'm off. More from this place later.

Campus Blues

So I'm back in Pune again. Traveled in a bus full of collegian couples, returning home after a good time in Goa. Goa didn't satisfy them enough though, or I wouldn't have checked my ticket to see whether it said Honeymoon Travels.


It's been an eventful month between Diwali and the end of Compres. Loads has happened.


To start with, an event that made me a part of what is probably the greatest cult following ever. The Led Zepp reunion. The gig that made Prashant and me go insane over the band for a week straight.

Led Zeppelin. The only quartet arguably as famous as that Fab one from Liverpool. The trademark screams. The guitar solos that told the world what a guitar solo is. The insane drumming from a carpenter's son. Music that changed rock forever.

I'd heard about it earlier, for some reason never given the reaction I should have. This time though, it hit. And it hit hard. It was one of those moments of truth when everything points to just one truth. It's one of those moments when nobody says anything, but everybody's thinking it. This was Holy Grail all over again! This was a stone idol coming alive. This was dreams come true, a gig made in heaven. Bonham's son took over his mantle. I hadn't even heard of him till then. Jason Bonham. Described to me as a "befitting tribute to his father", and that is SOMETHING! The rest of the lineup was the same. As original as it could get.

And the concert was described as the greatest gig seen by many. Plant's voice was at it's best, and Page did a 10 minute Dazed and Confused. It was Nostalgia for many, rediscovery for some, and a new beginning for most.




Then there were the godforsaken compres themselves. Bad, bad times. A little less talking, a little less sleeping, and an immense increase in caffeine levels. The less said about that, the better. A good experience nonetheless. I'm ready to see that overrated place they call hell now!


And then there was those two post-compre days spent in campus. Days that exalted our spirits over the sky. It was amazing and almost amusing to see how we got over the disastrous exams so soon. First there was Bogmalo. We added a few Russians to our elongated list of the scandalized. To singing "Touch Me" loudly at a shack where folk come for peace and quiet to talking about the weirdest of things (read: censorship at work). All hit the J for breakfast the next day and ravaged into the food like the famished folk of an African country. A wonderful morning. Brought about the much-needed bonding back.

And then, after all that, we had to say goodbye.

All those cliched Bollywood goodbye scenes have years of friendships, romances and all the blah blah relationships being said goodbye to. Never did i expect to be part of any one of those, and not even in my wildest dreams to be the part of one which involved friends of 4 months, being apart for 20 days. Yes, that is the extent of the bonding that has happened.

Maybe it's the living in the same campus, eating in the same mess and cursing the same mess food, being together at Monginis till 11 pm almost every. Maybe it's the singing of the weird songs together (The title track of Dexter's laboratory being one of the saner ones we've done), maybe it's the insanely long walks had together, along the Children's park and shopping complex. BITS Pilani, Goa Campus has bonded us like those fevistick advertisements that they show.





It's gonna be a long, long stay here.

Vis(ta)-a-vis Windows

There's a strange sort of euphoria associated with suddenly get access to the web and staying up till post-midnight. After playing a fair bit of catching the cook with the general chaos Microsoft and HP created in their co-ordination, I finally managed to catch Vista by the scruff of the neck.

So here I am. With one of the jazziest but suckiest OS ever seen. It's pretty weird, compulsion is, sometimes. After all the criticism I've heard of the system, it's pretty hard to see the good side. They're trying hard to make me see the cute little gadget bar on the side which is useful as hell. To see the awesome visual effects, the general feel-good factor about the system. All I can see, however, is the terrible speed. The frequent hang-ups, the ubiquitous feeling that Linux users are taunting me. Trust me will you, that it's no fun.

It's crazy the way people curse Vista around here. Mr. Gates is right on top of those hitlists. Almost to the extent of dissembling. For technology retards like me, it's all the same. This feels like going back to basics, but a computer is a goddamn machine. All I care about is whether it allows me to go online and do the fundamentals. But yet I can imagine the plight of the tech-geeks around here. Grumbling, more grumbling. It's weird.

Things gonna change? I think not.

Disillusioned?

Euphoria, more euphoria and more more euphoria. With all due respects to Palash Sen and Co., I have never seen more euphoria prior to that historic night. The night which would probably be etched in the memories of all who witnessed it. That epic final, that god-sent cricket match, that last catch where millions of Indians broke down in pure joy, and all that jazz. I'd heard about the cricket-craze in India. Thought I'd seen it too.

I'd seen nothing.

BITS, Pilani - Goa Campus auditorium. One of the largest in the country. 2100 people stuffed inside, somewhat resembling feathers stuffed in a pillow. At every little edge India gained over our spitefully treated neighbours, explosions of sound filled the air. 2100 feet kicked up dust when they jumped to their feet at every run made and every Pakistan run prevented. Girls who I'd started to think never performed the physical act of speaking were jumping up and down with craze for the game. For a guy who didn't care two hoots about cricket, the experience was disillusioning. I realised I'm in the wrong country if I don't like cricket in here.

Sitting with a group of people consisting of guys screaming their throats sore and chics blowing kisses at every man in blue on screen didn't help. Neither did the other people who gave me looks like I was a bug when I emerged out of the audi with a perfectly straight face. HOW could i not like cricket? How could I not be filled with an orgasm-challenging intensity of pure ecstacy? Nobody knew, nobody cared. India had won the T20 World Cup.

An eye-opening night. To add to the fun, it rained. Now THAT was when it really began. Nikita and me went racing in the tearing rain, with water cutting through our skins and screams of happiness emulating from us. For her, the happiness was the World Cup. Me, though, I was just happy. I was totally unimpressed by the whole cricket deal, so I couldn't really capture it through that avenue. But the rain pushed my spirits up by MILES! I felt free. Liberated. Caught the vibes from the air.




Maybe it had something to do with Test 1 getting done that same day.
Maybe.

Sticking to the blog-title.

I just realised I've been to Mumbai and back six times in the last two weeks.
I
've seen the same crappy movie thrice. It's funny how they invariably show garbage-stuff there.

I've lived three days in the VJTI hostels. Studied personalities. Played Chess. Had cold water baths at 6:30 am. Eaten like a starven bull in a mess notorious for it's terrible food. Taken early morning and late evening walks on a deserted ground and visualised soccer maneovers. Spent more time alone than ever.

I know the road to Mumbai now.

Amen.

An hour in the life...

11.24 am.
VJTI, Matunga
Mumbai.

What does a guy do, with an hour to kill, in Mumbai's top-notch engineering college with prestige and all that jazz? Puts pen to paper and hopes the words flow like traffic on an unjammed expressway.



The letters appear shakily on the crackling brand new notebook. Though a prolonged absence from actual, conventional writing is one of the reasons, the main culprit is the resting of my arm outside a third floor window, with my biscep acting as leverage and forearm dangling outside during a midnight conversation, with the wind trying to act more like a tornado. I'd talked about cleavages and bases, among other things.

I have to wait for a long time more. I see the senior students strutting in the canteen with a sense of possissiveness. I hear the loud discussions on Orkut, i hear the somewhat muffled girl-talks about the return of an ex-flame. A black and white cat smiles at me as it walks by. I smile back incredulously. I think a girl somewhere is trying to catch my eye but that's just my imagination.

I've been running around for almost two hours now. Hostel fees, Bio-datas in the office, a random line which turned out to be one for the railway concession form. I glance outside on the basketball court and feel a dead hope of seeing a known face. I've already stalked the college to that effect once. Puneites don't usually come on this of the country. They don't like the climate.

I glance at my watch. The impatience is starting to seep in. I feel my feet rhythmically under the table. I think of the person who slaps my thigh in irritation when i do that. I miss her.

I see friendships being bred here in the canteen. Some will last.

This ain't gonna end man! Another damn half hour to go! I randomly think of Ninitha and her accusations me stealing her bakarwadis. I realise my writing's beginning to smoothen out.

I consider going for another walk around the campus. Feels good walking through an array of emotions. The college is a minimised version of the great city it is in, I feel. I drop the walk idea. Jus cuz I can. I minor commotion is caused when a guy almost steps on the cat.

I put my pen down and look around helplessly. Time seems to crawl and itch it's way across. I begin to play Tabla on the table. A few heads turn. Only for a moment.

I realise I've been stealing looks at a certain girl between sentences. I take a long look at her and turn away an instant after she looked at me. I can feel her inquisitive eyes on me as I write. I try to straighten my posture.

I begin dreaming about good old times. Times on the tekdi, in the university. I think about whether they're gonna come back, ever. Thoughts turn to the future. I start missing a certain person a lot suddenly.

I slow down, realising I can kill more time and write neater that way. I recall a joke about killing two birds with a stone.

I'm whistling Johnny Cash's "I Walk the Line." A guy two tables away hears it and quick turns around in recognition. I go on whistling. I realise how much I adore whistling. I turn to a new vague tune. I think about the new earphones I need to buy for my iPod. I contemplate on whether to go for Philips or Panasonic.

My watch tells me it's 1 minutes to go. It's started raining outside. I think of getting my third cutting chai before i leave. A guy at the next table is narrating a joke. The girls listen intently, the guys seem uninterested. In another corner of the canteen some people start singing. The girl I was looking at goes upto the food counter. I resist the temptation of following her with another chai as an excuse.

I believe it's time I start packing. It's been a fun hour! I put my pen and notebook in my bag, get in my raincoat and head to the auditorium........

TaGgEd?!?! Again?!?!?!

Whaa?? Jahnavi tagged me? Goodness, I'll be known as the local Dog if I wear so many tags!


Eight Simple facts about me:

1> I take too many things to heart. Unlearning what I know is a difficult process.

2> I detest smokers. I think pouring hot tar down my lungs is a much easier and faster process. Don't worry, it dries later too.

3> The worst emotion I have experienced is the desire to express myself but an inability to do so.

4> Randomness runs in my blood. It's been injected, I think.

5> Being lonely and happy at the same time may seem contradictory. I'm a live exception.

6> Music is a life-support system to me. Take it away from me, watch me writh in pain and die. Do not ask me my favourite band. I think it's the most ambiguous question anyone can ask.

7> I detest shady SMS lingo. It takes not more than 6 seconds (calculated, of course. Nothing I do or say is Random) to type out the whole word.

8> I don't like stereotypes.


There, sister, done!
I tag the Rambler and the Shiny Oddball :P

Adieu?

Elation? The deep desire to jump with joy and pat the next sad person on his back and say "Cheer up mate, life's amazing"?

Maybe that. Yes. Emotions running through my head when I walked out of the COEP auditorium with a VJTI production engineering seat under my belt. Well, in my file, literally speaking. The distant dream was a rampant reality. I was in a good college, a good branch, and most importantly, living on hostel. Living where superfluous restrictions are non-existent. Where adenalin can run free and control me. Where I don't have "irritating elders" telling me to sleep on time, telling me to change into better clother, telling me to lower down the volume of the speakers.

Oh but wait, I did have to come home after that. I was jumping around the place. Jack (yes, the one in the box) would've been proud. I told almost everyone i knew and cared about, congratulatory calls came, everything happened, and then it was that time when I had to break the news to the most important person - myself. Some call it "sinking in". I call it convincing myself.

This was not what I had expected. I'd expected me to be understanding, all waiting to leave this place, spread my wings and fly away! But what was THAT emotion doing here? A desire to explain, a deep, enchanting feeling of belonging? Of protection? Who would've imagined the self-convincing would've been so hard? Well i won't say hard. It was the kind of feeling you get when someone tells you that a loved one has met with an accident, but he's gonna be allright. Happiness or sadness?

As if on cue, Bittersweet Symphony crooned on. I think my computer has a mind of it's own. I'm gonna miss it, among other things.

Whippee!!!

I promised the Rambler the other day that I'd blog everyday. Hasn't quite materialised.

Maybe I should stop expecting too much from myself. Maybe I should revise the specification for a "Random Thought" to be a "Blog Post". Maybe there should just be a Bijection between those.

Oh, there's a long way to go for THAT.

Realisation struck me somewhere up the line that my fitness resembles that of a Sloth Bear. I need to get my ass moving. And FAST.

Nothing else comes to me right now. It's 8:30 am, the time when sleep really gets going usually. Imagine if an owl comes up to you in the afternoon and gives you a hi-five. :

Goodnight folks :D

The Night was Black

The night was black.



The thunder cracked like a whip off a reluctant horse. Seconds earlier, the dim restaurant had been lit up the flash of lightning. And minutes before that, an event had ignited a chain of thoughts in my mind.



Five Point Someone. Mr Bhagat's book was the ignitor. A cousin sitting at the table had said something that raised my thinking above the spinal level for the first time, ever since it had lay dormant there post-exams!



"All IITians or to be IITians hate that book. I wonder why", she said. Doesn't quite have the effect of "Charge for the guns", she said, but yeah, that was what she said. Try as i did, I couldn't conjure words to explain why. This inability didn't hurt me as much as the knowledge that somewhere deep down, I knew the answer.



The minutes rolled by. The food, drink and the dessert got us all purring like content cats. An eventless drive home later, the thoughts returned. What was it that was pinching me? Why did the need to justify myself overcome the desire of curling up in bed after a flawlessly brilliant dinner?

And then flew up another emotion. Maybe it was the food combined with the rain beating on the glass window. Maybe it was Floyd's "High Hopes" running in my ears. But right there, my levels of self-doubt reached the foundation rods. I questioned the basics of all that I had learnt to the extent that would've made punkism proud.

I have always sought one thing in life. My Holy Grail. The Golden Mean. That one position in life when you're in control of everything that u hold dear. Perfect optimisation. Not unlike the null-magnetic-field position of interacting magnetic fields.

A passing thought came to me. Does the golden mean exist? A moment of doubt and pain. The presence of Lucifer.

Two entirely unrelated emotions. Unrelated to my comprehension. Until this moment.

The night was black.