Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness

Thus spake Samuel Beckett. Yet, he did use as many words.

This thing about silence. The expression it may carry, the sereneness of being surrounded by it, and if one gets a little used to it, its the worst kind of addiction.( Oh well, i am only speaking for myself here) And i decide to spoil it all.
I am back here and I am here to stay.

Preacher lost his son
He is known by all in town,
He found him with another son of god
Feeding on the prayers
Never mind what god said
Love has lost its cause
And i thought....
Today had been okay

Yellow lights, yellow desk, yellow pictures. Yesterday's stuff.

My my! So much privacy !!

Quote of the day:

'When I eventually met Mr. Right, I had no idea his first name was Always'
-Rita Rudner

I am waiting....

What will I say this time around? That it is all wrong? That it couldn’t be so easy to bear hatred that turned this heinous? That I don’t want to hear about the spirit of the people? That we are governed by a bunch of ultra-selfish jokers? What will I question this time? The political will? Or how many more deaths there will be? Or when my turn is? What will I do this time around? Write another blog post? Rave and rant ? Say we need to do this and that? Again?

I belong to the tribe of the armchair critic. So yeah, i am a little sick in the head. I say i can't bear to look at the cruelty and yet i sit glued to the television. Like it were a film or something. Don't even think I care about what's happening, because if i did, would i just stop at criticising someone who can't hear me? Would i then go back to my daily life as if nothing happened? Would i feel a tinge of sadness because a party had been cancelled? Would i just wait for someone to kick the inaction out of me? Maybe when i finally make a move, many more gory incidents would have wrecked many lives. Till it happens to me, it's probably not worth any action, is it? So why blame those we chose to represent us? They are doing their job just fine. Representing what we all are essentially. A country of sitting ducks.

Dil-li

Available, in various seedy looking shops around this city, "good kwality Child Bear"
Also found, a hoarding in the heart of the city, with the following warning:
"Observe and avoid accidents"

This one is for the maker of illusions.

I have known quite a few. The ones that pull something out of their magic bag and call themselves ‘dream merchants’. I am much game for reality though. Reality that bites, cuts through, but it stays. Unlike some mirage or dream that traps us into this never ending cycle of chase and evasion. I hate the word dream. It talks of other worlds that I do not wish to visit.

Then there is the twilight zone where you step from one world to the other. The blurry line that you cross. A place where they both meet. Your reality and my illusion. Or is it the other way round? Tell me. Yes, you who moves around in circles. If you can’t give an end, can you not give me a beginning? Come on, pull one out of your magic bag now. Pull out the one that I want. I challenge.

Or else, I will throw words at you. The kinds that make a different kind of a game. Throwing, and catching, catching and throwing back. There is much fun it for the time being. Come let us play.

Oh we are keeping things vague!!

I am walking on sunshine. Under a grey sky, over a grey field.
He is on top of the world. The world is a void.
We know where we are walking, but we are keeping things vague.

We are re-living history. We have created it all.
We are making a confession. It was never a secret.
We know what we are saying, but we are keeping things vague.

I opened Pandora's box. He brought me the key.
He tried hypnosis. It was never to be.
But, we are good at it. Good at keeping things vague.

I feel the love. I feel the joy. I am on sunshine. But i am keeping this vague.

Arguing with granny about the fan and mosquito net. Finding a fridge stacked with sweets. Getting yelled at for not keeping things in order. Handling a remote that follows orders. Not having to worry what to cook for dinner. Feels like home. Feels like heaven.

My way or the highway!

I am unfair. I know. I told you i was going to be.

The mind is the playground, thoughts are like errant school children scurrying about. I am trying to get them in a line, but every now and then one manages to rush out of it and hide, one comes in from nowhere and disturbs the order. I feel like I’ve been doing this forever, feeling, thinking, making sense.
Three phones ring simultaneously. While I pick up the receiver to check if it’s mine, I feel a jamming sensation in my head. The three posts i read today were all about the Delhi blasts. One of them hit, what is, perhaps, my first home in Delhi. Karol Bagh. The place where the first emotional roots grew. The place which, for me, holds the best memories of this city. Two days ago I could have been walking through the same streets, holding S’s hand. Smug. Trying to create another beautiful one at one moment and at the next battling to get rid of the ugly bit which fell on my lap instead.
Life is so much about ifs and buts. So dependent on fate. We, little nobodies, fighting our guts out in the belief that we control the course. In moments like these, someone up there, laughs at his brand of practical joke. Smiles as he plans the next one. And we have no choice but to play along.

Are you ready boots?

To the Lcm/hcf et al...

You keep playing when you shoudn't be palying

you keep thinking that you will never get burnt

HAH

I just found me a brand new box of matches...oh yeah!

And what he knows you ain't had time to learn....

How to type trash and bore the two and a half readers of this blog- part1

I stapled my thumb today. Hurt. Also having a splitting headache since i don't know when. The father said he wants to have a "talk" with me. Apprehensive. Realised that i do not know how to spell tomorrow. Actually i do not know how to spell a lot of words. Fuck!!. I will carry a pocket dictionary with me everyday. As usual, pretty short of money and i need new clothes , a handbag, a refrigerator, a LLT machine, a laptop, inverter...endless list, won't manage even one fourths of it i know. Ultra-rich and benevolent relative/friend/boyfriend/stranger, where are you?Have been delaying writing up the to-do list before the goodbyes. Too many things to do. Too little time.

Starting to get nightmares about the "setting up place" in Delhi bit. Get to hear scary pieces of news everyday. Shudder!!. Also having this shit feeling about leaving town. Why? How? Me? Gaaaah!!

Transition phase blues.

I was arranging the books and xerox materials that i have managed to accumulate over the last five years and i can't believe i studied so much. Oh well, at the least pretended to study as much. Phew!! looking at it makes me tired. So I am glad all that is over. True in a way, but then not quite true as well. It ain't necessary that you love what you are habituated to, but leaving it behind causes some inexplicable pang. Not that i became suddenly aware of it. I have always been sentimentally attached to old things. I can't even throw away those soiled scraps of paper because Idg had scribbled something funny on it in some boring Victorian poetry class, and A had scribbled something funnier. A and I used to good friends then. Something went wrong and it never quite became all right.
My five years at JUDE was something like a colourful scrapbook, bright yellow, shades of blue, black patches, green spots. So many things put together that i invariably ramble when i attempt to recollect everything. People, incidents. furniture and a building. So many promises made that we will keep in touch. Bit of a joke this is, we know it ain't going to be that way. We've done this routine before when we left school. But then its a sort of a wish and wishing makes us happy.
Personally, i will be carrying some of those things with me, for the next 6 months at least. Moving to a city that should have been my second home, but i never quite liked it. 23 years in Calcutta( not kolkata) and the sloth gets to you. I can't believe this is the same city i was dying to quit, only some half a year ago. The countdown has begun now. Unbelievable though it may sound,everytime i climb up the howrah station subway these days, i even look at the filth rather fondly. Habit, thou art a strange thing!!
It is not a fear of the unknown, Delhi i know quite well, the people i will be living with, i know even better. I will be involved in a job that i wanted and a job that i should like. It is just that i will be leaving a large chunk of my heart behind in Calcutta. A city that is home.