I am happy.
:D
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Coffee and books.
There's no coffee here. There're no books either. But doesn't it give out coffee-ish and book-ish vibes? It does, na? So intoxicating, this place. Its CEPT ka campus.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Bliss.
Eyes of blue, bluish skies.
Those that know not yet, of lies.
Inflict wounds on sinful mine.
Yes, wounds; red, wet and brine.
Those that know not yet, of lies.
Inflict wounds on sinful mine.
Yes, wounds; red, wet and brine.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
:) and not :|
So what if I don't get to travel on my Thump this time? I'm still traveling na. Its the wind on face and all those things that matter, no?
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Why?
Cynthia: God, don't you ever feel like everything we do and everything we've been taught is just to service the future?
Tony: Yeah I know, like it's all preparation.
Cynthia: Right. But what are we preparing ourselves for?
Mike: Death.
Tony: Life of the party.
Mike: It's true.
Cynthia: You know, but that's valid because if we are all gonna die anyway shouldn't we be enjoying ourselves now? You know, I'd like to quit thinking of the present, like right now, as some minor insignificant preamble to something else.
- Dazed and Confused.
It was one of those days when it's a minute away from snowing and there's this electricity in the air, you can almost hear it. And this bag was, like, dancing with me. Like a little kid begging me to play with it. For fifteen minutes. And that's the day I knew there was this entire life behind things, and... this incredibly benevolent force, that wanted me to know there was no reason to be afraid, ever. Video's a poor excuse, I know. But it helps me remember... and I need to remember... Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it, like my heart's going to cave in.
- Ricky Fitts, American Beauty.
Roamer, wanderer
Nomad, vagabond
Call me what you will.
- Wherever I may roam, Metallica.
Nothing of this is important. Nothing at all. The useless study material we need to go through before the exams. Thick books filled to the brim with formulae which I'm sure we're never going to use again. All of it is a waste of time. All of it. I'm surprised such people exist. People who believe that remembering the ten principles of material handling can make one a better engineer. Knowing the Bresenhem code for a point inside a rectangle doesn't make a man a better person. I know a few who can tell you the log of 46 without opening the log-book, but inform them of an awesome weather outside with thoughts of getting out and roaming around playing in your head and they'll stare at you with questioning looks. Summers are no different from winters for them except that they feel more sleepy in winters which affects the number of hours they can study for at a stretch, which in turn affects their pointer. Jobs don't make sense. They just rob you of your intelligence. They put you in a cubicle, give you a chair to sit on and a computer to do their pointless work on. Some say the ultimate aim of any human being is to earn, reproduce, and settle down. But is it? We're habitants of a planet revolving around a huge hot mass. We're on a planet that has had the fortune of having life on it. Not ordinary life. Life like us. Complex beings. We're on one huge planet. The ground beneath our feet is full of brown dirt, yellow sand, and grey roads. Isn't there enough to explore and see and observe? Instead of all the awesomeness that we should be enlightening ourselves of, we keep busy trying to meet expectations. Expectations that our parents burden us with. We prefer not to be burdened. But, owing to the genetic bondage, we have to. Twenty years gone. Poof. Twenty years, which makes it more than 5000 days. And just one day can make one high, high on all the beauty in this world, and enough to be inspired. If fame and money makes more sense than personal satisfaction, then it sucks. I'm sick of being shouted at for not studying. Not remembering utterly useless stuff, if I may. I hate to think of an entity other than myself as being in control of my own fate. Why can't I just hit the road when I want to? There's just so much of beauty around, that I hate doing the things that I'm wasting time in doing. For every minute spent in thinking about the ways I can clear an exam the next day, I'm wasting a minute of awesome weather and open roads. I know I'm going to end up walking on the same road as most do, but I would like to differ.
Click,
and the key's in.
Turn,
and gear light's green.
Kick,
and The Thump's alive.
Tony: Yeah I know, like it's all preparation.
Cynthia: Right. But what are we preparing ourselves for?
Mike: Death.
Tony: Life of the party.
Mike: It's true.
Cynthia: You know, but that's valid because if we are all gonna die anyway shouldn't we be enjoying ourselves now? You know, I'd like to quit thinking of the present, like right now, as some minor insignificant preamble to something else.
- Dazed and Confused.
It was one of those days when it's a minute away from snowing and there's this electricity in the air, you can almost hear it. And this bag was, like, dancing with me. Like a little kid begging me to play with it. For fifteen minutes. And that's the day I knew there was this entire life behind things, and... this incredibly benevolent force, that wanted me to know there was no reason to be afraid, ever. Video's a poor excuse, I know. But it helps me remember... and I need to remember... Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it, like my heart's going to cave in.
- Ricky Fitts, American Beauty.
Roamer, wanderer
Nomad, vagabond
Call me what you will.
- Wherever I may roam, Metallica.
Nothing of this is important. Nothing at all. The useless study material we need to go through before the exams. Thick books filled to the brim with formulae which I'm sure we're never going to use again. All of it is a waste of time. All of it. I'm surprised such people exist. People who believe that remembering the ten principles of material handling can make one a better engineer. Knowing the Bresenhem code for a point inside a rectangle doesn't make a man a better person. I know a few who can tell you the log of 46 without opening the log-book, but inform them of an awesome weather outside with thoughts of getting out and roaming around playing in your head and they'll stare at you with questioning looks. Summers are no different from winters for them except that they feel more sleepy in winters which affects the number of hours they can study for at a stretch, which in turn affects their pointer. Jobs don't make sense. They just rob you of your intelligence. They put you in a cubicle, give you a chair to sit on and a computer to do their pointless work on. Some say the ultimate aim of any human being is to earn, reproduce, and settle down. But is it? We're habitants of a planet revolving around a huge hot mass. We're on a planet that has had the fortune of having life on it. Not ordinary life. Life like us. Complex beings. We're on one huge planet. The ground beneath our feet is full of brown dirt, yellow sand, and grey roads. Isn't there enough to explore and see and observe? Instead of all the awesomeness that we should be enlightening ourselves of, we keep busy trying to meet expectations. Expectations that our parents burden us with. We prefer not to be burdened. But, owing to the genetic bondage, we have to. Twenty years gone. Poof. Twenty years, which makes it more than 5000 days. And just one day can make one high, high on all the beauty in this world, and enough to be inspired. If fame and money makes more sense than personal satisfaction, then it sucks. I'm sick of being shouted at for not studying. Not remembering utterly useless stuff, if I may. I hate to think of an entity other than myself as being in control of my own fate. Why can't I just hit the road when I want to? There's just so much of beauty around, that I hate doing the things that I'm wasting time in doing. For every minute spent in thinking about the ways I can clear an exam the next day, I'm wasting a minute of awesome weather and open roads. I know I'm going to end up walking on the same road as most do, but I would like to differ.
Click,
and the key's in.
Turn,
and gear light's green.
Kick,
and The Thump's alive.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Charcoal and Blue.
I wanted to freeze time. I wanted to savor that moment, to live in that moment for a week. But I couldn't stop it, only slow it. And before I knew it, she was gone. After the door closed I felt like the last person on Earth.
- Ben Willis, Cashback.
If I was an artist, I would wanna sketch this Zooey chick. I would first sketch her in charcoal. I would then colour her eyes blue. Just her eyes. And I would leave it at that.
Sorry, these pics aren't exactly wallpaper material. Its all seek + print-screen.
I wanted to include more pics. The movie's full of such moments when one just can't decide whether to feel sad or happy. Even the pics I've added. I wasn't able to make my mind up. The scenes, these two, were totally Feel Sad. I wanted to, but all that music suggested otherwise. Beautiful's the word.
Two of my favorite scenes. Two of my favorite moments.
And the soundtrack! Man!
- Ben Willis, Cashback.
If I was an artist, I would wanna sketch this Zooey chick. I would first sketch her in charcoal. I would then colour her eyes blue. Just her eyes. And I would leave it at that.
Sorry, these pics aren't exactly wallpaper material. Its all seek + print-screen.
I wanted to include more pics. The movie's full of such moments when one just can't decide whether to feel sad or happy. Even the pics I've added. I wasn't able to make my mind up. The scenes, these two, were totally Feel Sad. I wanted to, but all that music suggested otherwise. Beautiful's the word.
Two of my favorite scenes. Two of my favorite moments.
And the soundtrack! Man!
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Echoes.
I feel so liquid.
Listen to the Pompeii version. And feel liquid.
Its, by far, the best, the strongest and the quickest musical drug I've tripped on.
If you do decide to give it a shot, watch too. Don't just listen. Download a good print, get high, somehow. Lack of sleep, booze, somehow. And then, listen. And watch.
EDIT 1 : Btw, Echoes is that song that's awesome and all. First song of the concert it is.
Listen to the Pompeii version. And feel liquid.
Its, by far, the best, the strongest and the quickest musical drug I've tripped on.
If you do decide to give it a shot, watch too. Don't just listen. Download a good print, get high, somehow. Lack of sleep, booze, somehow. And then, listen. And watch.
EDIT 1 : Btw, Echoes is that song that's awesome and all. First song of the concert it is.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Return of the M-man.
Two days ago, which makes it four days, just four days, before the project presentation, we decided our topic. And to exacerbate things, the net in the hostel, and college for that matter, stopped working. The firewall crashed they say. That's not all. Our project guide, who's a big ignoramus in almost any topic under the sun, disappeared suddenly. A few days back, I had asked him for his number as he was our guide and all, to which he was, if I am not mistaken, surprised. I have no clue why, but whatever the reason was, was valid enough for him to give me his fake number. So, we continued with the topic we had earlier decided, which was vast enough to give us the heebie jeebies. That, we should have realized much much much earlier. But we didn't. This forced us to seek shelter in nearby net-cafes. Now, there are two of them. One is never empty and the other has PCs slower than Babbage's original. I could have gone to far off net-cafes but I didn't wanna waste money on petrol. And that would've been unnecessary petrol-use, no? So I stuck to the neolithic net-cafe. Never have I googled so severely and well, desperately, for something, anything that might give us some clue, any clue, to help us move further. Or rather, start. Again, dead end. There were hardly any results of any use to us and those that were of some relevance, were papers which had to be bought off the site to view completely. We did have one e-book that had helped us a bit but we had scrutinized it to the last detail and enough to not find any new info. Then, to worsen things, we heard about internal tests. Four tests(!!!), ten marks each(!!! ^ !!!), scheduled for the same day as the the day we have our project presentation on. We then paid a certain professor a brief visit to see if he had anything that might be of any help to us. Murphy never misses a chance. The professor informed us that the thing we were looking for was difficult, no, impossible to find on the net, and he had his reasons which we found quite logical. To top it all off, two professors, who are quite a scare and were not supposed to be in the panel for that day, crashed the first-batch seminar session and gave almost every group the %$#@hole, which psyched us out with the new possibility of the same two professors attending our seminar.
My brain shuts down when stuff like this happens. With no clue what to do, I usually stop working. Its my style of saying Fuck All That. Withdrawal symptoms. The cycle repeats itself every time a few days before any deadline. Parabolic in nature if plotted (brainpower against time), it starts with the arrival of information which initially does not deliver the effect. I continue not working. A day or two later, I start realizing the gravity of it all. I start working. Gradually, brainpower changes to turbo-mode. As the deadline approaches, something goes wrong and the brain-meter starts going haywire. Now, all that load, all that work, and tenfold of what it was earlier, the brain can't handle, can it? So it retires to normal-mode again and I end up watching a movie instead.
4 days before the deadline :
“Don't worry man. Ours will be the best presentation.”
“Wait! I have an e-book. We'll use that. It has all the info we need.”
“Movie?”
3 days before the deadline :
“Don't worry man. We won't get a re-do.”
“Dude. This e-book's useless.”
“Can you think of any other topic?”
“Fuck the movie man. Lets work.”
2 days before deadline :
“I don't want a re-do man!”
“This e-book rocks man! Lets make as many slides as we can with as much bullshit as we can find.”
“Don't worry. Our topic itself is fucking impressive. They'll like it.”
1 day before the deadline :
“Argh!”
“Movie?”
My brain shuts down when stuff like this happens. With no clue what to do, I usually stop working. Its my style of saying Fuck All That. Withdrawal symptoms. The cycle repeats itself every time a few days before any deadline. Parabolic in nature if plotted (brainpower against time), it starts with the arrival of information which initially does not deliver the effect. I continue not working. A day or two later, I start realizing the gravity of it all. I start working. Gradually, brainpower changes to turbo-mode. As the deadline approaches, something goes wrong and the brain-meter starts going haywire. Now, all that load, all that work, and tenfold of what it was earlier, the brain can't handle, can it? So it retires to normal-mode again and I end up watching a movie instead.
4 days before the deadline :
“Don't worry man. Ours will be the best presentation.”
“Wait! I have an e-book. We'll use that. It has all the info we need.”
“Movie?”
3 days before the deadline :
“Don't worry man. We won't get a re-do.”
“Dude. This e-book's useless.”
“Can you think of any other topic?”
“Fuck the movie man. Lets work.”
2 days before deadline :
“I don't want a re-do man!”
“This e-book rocks man! Lets make as many slides as we can with as much bullshit as we can find.”
“Don't worry. Our topic itself is fucking impressive. They'll like it.”
1 day before the deadline :
“Argh!”
“Movie?”
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Tell me, O Son, what be bothering you?
Tell me of all your troubles.
Tell me all.
Tell I shall, but would you help?
Tell I shall, and I want to.
Tell I shall, certainly.
Ask me, O son, for words of counsel.
Ask me for knowledge.
Ask Son, ask.
Ask I would, but I won't.
Ask I would, but why should I?
My orisons, when, would remain unanswered.
Vex not, your mind, for yours is the peace.
Vex not, your mind, for yours is the glory.
Weird be the world, weirder be the people.
Vex not, your self, for I'm with you.
Tell me of all your troubles.
Tell me all.
Tell I shall, but would you help?
Tell I shall, and I want to.
Tell I shall, certainly.
Ask me, O son, for words of counsel.
Ask me for knowledge.
Ask Son, ask.
Ask I would, but I won't.
Ask I would, but why should I?
My orisons, when, would remain unanswered.
Vex not, your mind, for yours is the peace.
Vex not, your mind, for yours is the glory.
Weird be the world, weirder be the people.
Vex not, your self, for I'm with you.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Wish I had this. Wish I had that.
I feel bad. I feel worthless. I just have to be the biggest hypocrite. I just turned down an offer for a bike trip to Chikaldhara. And I was talking about a bike trip to Bombay. :|
At time like these I start wishing.
1. I wish I had infinite cash in my account. Like lots. Remember that scene from Scarface? Like more than that. I want to swim too, in pools of money like Uncle Scrooge does.
Or, if God thinks he can't make that happen, then,
2. I wish petrol was free. And there should be thousands of petrol pumps everywhere.
"Petrol. 500 ka."
"Sirji, petrol free ho gaya hai."
"Haw! Toh fir full-tank kar dijiye."
Fill-Fill.
"Thank you sirji."
Thump-Thump.
If even this, God says, is not feasible, then,
3. I wish I was in Bombay.
Why do good things have to be so unattainable? Or is it just Murphy?
At time like these I start wishing.
1. I wish I had infinite cash in my account. Like lots. Remember that scene from Scarface? Like more than that. I want to swim too, in pools of money like Uncle Scrooge does.
Or, if God thinks he can't make that happen, then,
2. I wish petrol was free. And there should be thousands of petrol pumps everywhere.
"Petrol. 500 ka."
"Sirji, petrol free ho gaya hai."
"Haw! Toh fir full-tank kar dijiye."
Fill-Fill.
"Thank you sirji."
Thump-Thump.
If even this, God says, is not feasible, then,
3. I wish I was in Bombay.
Why do good things have to be so unattainable? Or is it just Murphy?
Sunday, October 4, 2009
\m/
Hey ev'rybody ev'rybody gonna have a good time tonight,
Just shakin' the soles of your feet.
Ev'rybody gonna have a good time tonight time tonight time tonight,
That's the only soul you'll ever meet.
- Fun it, Queen.
Got drenched twice. Of the fun kind. All that anger's gone now. In fact, I just realized (and remembered) how much fun I had last night. Thanks to certain people (invisible tags).
And in case you're wondering what all that was about, mistakes and all, I'm not telling.
And the title to this post is just a product of my inability to come up with a relevant one.
Just shakin' the soles of your feet.
Ev'rybody gonna have a good time tonight time tonight time tonight,
That's the only soul you'll ever meet.
- Fun it, Queen.
Got drenched twice. Of the fun kind. All that anger's gone now. In fact, I just realized (and remembered) how much fun I had last night. Thanks to certain people (invisible tags).
And in case you're wondering what all that was about, mistakes and all, I'm not telling.
And the title to this post is just a product of my inability to come up with a relevant one.
Mistakes.
I wanna tell you something Mark, something you do not yet know, that we K-PAXians have been around long enough to have discovered. The universe will expand, then it will collapse back on itself, then will expand again. It will repeat this process forever. What you don't you know is that when the universe expands again, everything will be as it is now. Whatever mistakes you make this time around, you will live through on your next pass. Every mistake you make, you will live through again, & again, forever. So my advice to you is to get it right this time around. Because this time is all you have.
- Prot, K-Pax.
Its inevitable or what? Mistakes happen. They just have to. This can be the ARGH-II. To those who are all eh and huh, don't be. Chickenfoot's keeping me sane at the moment.
I hate Mistakes.
- Prot, K-Pax.
Its inevitable or what? Mistakes happen. They just have to. This can be the ARGH-II. To those who are all eh and huh, don't be. Chickenfoot's keeping me sane at the moment.
I hate Mistakes.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Thump-Day.
I just came back from my first long ride. And I speeded a little. I know I'm not supposed to do that till 3000 km on odo. Now I won't. But still. Its not fair na. Thump had all the road ahead empty and just for it to zoom-zoom on. But people tell me its not good to run it at speeds more than 50-60 kph till it completes 3000. How :| is that. Run-In, they say.
Anyway. I just did a 100-km-trip and I'm happy. And fresh. I didn't sleep through the night. Still, I'm fresh. I was all my spirit is cryin' for leaving this weekend. Certain people will agree. Today was my Thump's long-awaited deflowering. And now my Thump is no longer a virgin. But I'm scared now, of the mileage. I'm going to get fucked now. For sure. Fur sure.
Today's ride was awesome, cave-man style. These :
1. Thump's got the thump alright. But the power! You can feel every bit of those 18 horses jammed in that beautiful engine. @-100 was ecstatic. Throttling has never felt so, .. pleasantly plastic. So wood-like. But in an extremely good-good way. A Bullet, after all, is all about the charming, antediluvian ways of the 50s. Ah!
2. Speedman's Wobble. Fuck! Scary when you actually experience it. And even scarier when you know its called the Speedman's Wobble.
3. Sun, shades, and the open road. Thump lived up to its name today. I finally got a reason to wear those aviators.
I'm going to do this more often. Like very often. All hail vibrations!
Anyway. I just did a 100-km-trip and I'm happy. And fresh. I didn't sleep through the night. Still, I'm fresh. I was all my spirit is cryin' for leaving this weekend. Certain people will agree. Today was my Thump's long-awaited deflowering. And now my Thump is no longer a virgin. But I'm scared now, of the mileage. I'm going to get fucked now. For sure. Fur sure.
Today's ride was awesome, cave-man style. These :
1. Thump's got the thump alright. But the power! You can feel every bit of those 18 horses jammed in that beautiful engine. @-100 was ecstatic. Throttling has never felt so, .. pleasantly plastic. So wood-like. But in an extremely good-good way. A Bullet, after all, is all about the charming, antediluvian ways of the 50s. Ah!
2. Speedman's Wobble. Fuck! Scary when you actually experience it. And even scarier when you know its called the Speedman's Wobble.
3. Sun, shades, and the open road. Thump lived up to its name today. I finally got a reason to wear those aviators.
I'm going to do this more often. Like very often. All hail vibrations!
Monday, August 31, 2009
Random - III
My Circadian Rhythm has been disrupted. Bio-clock's fucked. I haven't slept for more than two hours in two days. And what not.
Exams. I hate them. The last two are today.
My Bullet deserves a blog. Maybe next time. I've realized that I'm the laziest a man can get.
Mafia Wars is fun.
I'm unable to decide what I should do after graduation which again is a big mindfucker. (Refer : Chase by Slash)
Exams. I hate them. The last two are today.
My Bullet deserves a blog. Maybe next time. I've realized that I'm the laziest a man can get.
Mafia Wars is fun.
I'm unable to decide what I should do after graduation which again is a big mindfucker. (Refer : Chase by Slash)
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Random.
Jimi Hendrix's version of All Along The Watchtower's undoubtedly the best song I've EVER heard. I get goosebumps everytime I listen to it. I have decided. I'm going to dedicate the next sem to blues. Only blues and nothing else.
People, you HAVE to watch Woodstock. Maybe I'll blog on it in detail someday. It deserves a nice long post. If you love the 60s and the 70s, you just cannot afford to miss this. Wish I was there. Attending Woodstock.
It finally rained here. I'm happy.
Aggie's blog has now officially turned insane. :)
People, you HAVE to watch Woodstock. Maybe I'll blog on it in detail someday. It deserves a nice long post. If you love the 60s and the 70s, you just cannot afford to miss this. Wish I was there. Attending Woodstock.
It finally rained here. I'm happy.
Aggie's blog has now officially turned insane. :)
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Follywood.
I mean it. That's what our Bollywood is. Every damn movie, barring a few, is poorly constructed with loads of errors. What the hell are we doing? I watched Alien and Aliens. 1979 and 1986. Years before I was born, Hollywood people made them. And how! If you haven't already watched them, go and watch them. You'll feel the same way I'm feeling at the moment. So long ago! Even the aliens are shit scary! And we can't even come up with a single scary looking alien (Jaadu was almost cute. Yes. It was supposed to be cute. But then, watched E.T.?). Why?
There definitely are a lot of talented people out there. Why then are they not trying? Love Story 2050 was crap. And so was Rudraksh and Jaani Dushman. Krish? Koi mil gaya?
We need good sci-fi directors. We so do.
There definitely are a lot of talented people out there. Why then are they not trying? Love Story 2050 was crap. And so was Rudraksh and Jaani Dushman. Krish? Koi mil gaya?
We need good sci-fi directors. We so do.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Omegle.
Omegling seems to be the new craze. Almost everyone in the hostel seems to be addicted to Omegle and no matter what time I go at to a few of the rooms, I always find the people in there chatting on the very primitive-looking interface.
I did find it a bit interesting initially but after a while it gets boring as more than half of the people you stumble upon start their conversation with the most common question. “ASL?” It loses its charm eventually. I found myself inventing stories and pseudo-improbable identities to make the conversations interesting.
On the contrary, there ARE a few interesting people using Omegle, a few having a good sense of humor and a certain level of intellect and a few who never ask your ASL and are happy chatting totally anonymously.
Although this site has an interface which seems to date back to the neolithic period, it can still be fun at times. Possibilities of bumping into stupid people are infinite. Endless. There are just so many idiots on Earth that its hard not to ignore them. There are hot chicks too. But the connection gets cut everytime I stumble upon one. Murphy?
Here are some of the many interesting conversations I had. A few Strangers were idiots. Retards. Like the one in the first chat. And a few were quite the opposite.
Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: i'll fuck u if u ask me my asl.
Stranger: How did you see me here? My webcam is off
You: no. i can see u from anywhere.
You: i've got abilities.
Stranger: do you have broadband?
Stranger: is that how?
You: i told u i have special abilities.
You: i am gifted.
You: with powers.
Stranger: Are you sure? Maybe you have a Mac? They are pretty good for multimedia stuff I head
Stranger: I guess thats how you can use my webcam
Stranger: when I think its off
You: i can somehow calculate.
You: mentally.
Stranger: Anyhow, can you put Grandma on please, I need to say hi
You: where u are from and where u are even when ur webcam is off.
You: oh.
You: grandma?
You: wait a sec.
You: here she is. Grandma. say hi.
You: hi!
Stranger: Thats not Grandma , it still says "Stranger"
Stranger: stop fooling around Tom, and put Grandma on
You: wait a sec.
Your conversational partner has disconnected.
Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
Stranger: Hi!
You: What if I told you i'm not from Earth but from Zoogoho, a planet almost 6.77 billion light years away.
Stranger : what a coincidence. even i'm not from earth. i'm from mars.
You: great! we're space-mates then.
Stranger: fuck that. lets have sex. i think Zoogohoids and Martians would make cute babies.
Connection asploded.
Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
Stranger: hi!
You: hm.
Stranger: asl?
You: 20/R/warehouse.
Stranger: R?
You: robot. I havent been dispatched yet. just out from the factory.
Stranger: oh. i see.
You: what about u?
Stranger: oh. i'm an anthropomorphic flower.
Connection asploded.
A friend had this interesting conversation with a “Stranger”. Here it is. :
Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
Stranger: i'm so happy it's finally you.
You: me too =D
Stranger: where have you been all my life
You: looking out for you
You: and here my search ends
You: i am so happy
You: =)
Stranger: we complete each other
Stranger: i have never known such pure happiness
You: i am elated
You: exhaulted
Stranger: let's be together forever
You: we are, we will be
Stranger: you understand me
You: i do
You: completely
Stranger: i don't even need to explain anything
You: no you dont
You: we are soulmates
Stranger: yes
Stranger: we just met
Stranger: but it's like we've known each other all our lives
Stranger: it just feels so right
You: exactly
You: we were made for each other
You: so that one day we find each other and complete ourselves
Stranger: i'm seriously crying with happiness
You: i am here to wipe your tears
Stranger: hold me
You: come in my arms
Stranger: but -- oh god, it's so awful, i can't say
Stranger: i have to tell you something
You: yes go on
Stranger: but you'll hate me
You: no chance for that
Stranger: you know my late nights in the office
Stranger: i... i've been seeing someone else
You: thats fine with me
Stranger: really? i'm so relieved
You: yes it is
Stranger: do you love me?
You: it is your life . . . u get to live it your way
You: i love like no1 else does
Stranger: how much?
You: there s no measure to my love
Stranger: me too
Stranger: i'm exploding with love for you
You: and i am overwhelmed with love for u
Stranger: i didn't think love like this existed
You: until we found each other
Stranger: i didn't even realize how grey my life had been
You: until i came and added colors
Stranger: colors are brighter, everything has meaning
Stranger: yes, you see!
Stranger: we complete each other's thoughts
You: world suddenly seems a different place
You: with you here
You: with me
Stranger: hold me tight and never let me go
You: i wont, i wont
Stranger: i just want to make you happy
You: and i make you happy
Stranger: wait
Stranger: i don't like you anymore
Stranger: i don't know how it happened
Stranger: things changed
You: oh, suddenly i realised that too
You: colors r fading
Stranger: yes
Stranger: the world is an awful place
Stranger: and your faults are suddenly so glaring
You: flowers are drying
You: rivers are receding
Stranger: how could i have ever loved you?
You: clouds are tearing
Stranger: mountains are dissolving
You: leaves are falling
Stranger: oceans are drying
You: fishes are crying
Stranger: monkeys are flying
You: was this meant to happen
Stranger: i think it was a necessary experience for us
You: the dark seems darker
Stranger: shadows are longer
You: there s no light
Stranger: every day feels like sunday afternoon
You: will this tunnel end
Stranger: you never loved me
Stranger: you just used me
You: i dont know wat made u think tht
Stranger: something in your embrace... distant, unreachable
Stranger: as though part of you was somewhere else
You: my love was lovelier than love
You: my embrace was tighter than embrace
Stranger: oh god, what have i done? i think still love you
You: my kiss was deeper than kiss
Stranger: take me back, i beg you
You: come in my arms once again
You: and i shall not leave you
You: ever
Stranger: i am in your arms
You: the flowers are blooming
Stranger: music sounds richer
You: clocks seem to stop
Stranger: wait
Stranger: i'm an alligator
Stranger: and you're a human being
Stranger: how could we love each other?
You: love knows no boundaries
You: love knows no species
You: love is air we all brethe
Stranger: what will your parents say
Stranger: they'll hate me
You: i will fight for you
Stranger: they'll call me a call-blooded lizard
Stranger: i can't take it, i can't stand the jeers and boos
You: with me there, i rest assure you, i wont let any jeers come to you
You: if they throw stones, i ll take them
You: if they throw eggs, i ll take them
You: if they throw roses, i ll let them come to you
Stranger: i'm speechless
Stranger: no one has ever talked to me this way before
Stranger: thank you
Stranger: & goodnight
Your conversational partner has disconnected.
The connection keeps getting asploded every now and then. Major problem. But that's our college net at fault. Rest works. Everything considered, this site is worth an hour spent if you have absolutely nothing else to do. Go check it out.
I did find it a bit interesting initially but after a while it gets boring as more than half of the people you stumble upon start their conversation with the most common question. “ASL?” It loses its charm eventually. I found myself inventing stories and pseudo-improbable identities to make the conversations interesting.
On the contrary, there ARE a few interesting people using Omegle, a few having a good sense of humor and a certain level of intellect and a few who never ask your ASL and are happy chatting totally anonymously.
Although this site has an interface which seems to date back to the neolithic period, it can still be fun at times. Possibilities of bumping into stupid people are infinite. Endless. There are just so many idiots on Earth that its hard not to ignore them. There are hot chicks too. But the connection gets cut everytime I stumble upon one. Murphy?
Here are some of the many interesting conversations I had. A few Strangers were idiots. Retards. Like the one in the first chat. And a few were quite the opposite.
Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: i'll fuck u if u ask me my asl.
Stranger: How did you see me here? My webcam is off
You: no. i can see u from anywhere.
You: i've got abilities.
Stranger: do you have broadband?
Stranger: is that how?
You: i told u i have special abilities.
You: i am gifted.
You: with powers.
Stranger: Are you sure? Maybe you have a Mac? They are pretty good for multimedia stuff I head
Stranger: I guess thats how you can use my webcam
Stranger: when I think its off
You: i can somehow calculate.
You: mentally.
Stranger: Anyhow, can you put Grandma on please, I need to say hi
You: where u are from and where u are even when ur webcam is off.
You: oh.
You: grandma?
You: wait a sec.
You: here she is. Grandma. say hi.
You: hi!
Stranger: Thats not Grandma , it still says "Stranger"
Stranger: stop fooling around Tom, and put Grandma on
You: wait a sec.
Your conversational partner has disconnected.
Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
Stranger: Hi!
You: What if I told you i'm not from Earth but from Zoogoho, a planet almost 6.77 billion light years away.
Stranger : what a coincidence. even i'm not from earth. i'm from mars.
You: great! we're space-mates then.
Stranger: fuck that. lets have sex. i think Zoogohoids and Martians would make cute babies.
Connection asploded.
Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
Stranger: hi!
You: hm.
Stranger: asl?
You: 20/R/warehouse.
Stranger: R?
You: robot. I havent been dispatched yet. just out from the factory.
Stranger: oh. i see.
You: what about u?
Stranger: oh. i'm an anthropomorphic flower.
Connection asploded.
A friend had this interesting conversation with a “Stranger”. Here it is. :
Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
Stranger: i'm so happy it's finally you.
You: me too =D
Stranger: where have you been all my life
You: looking out for you
You: and here my search ends
You: i am so happy
You: =)
Stranger: we complete each other
Stranger: i have never known such pure happiness
You: i am elated
You: exhaulted
Stranger: let's be together forever
You: we are, we will be
Stranger: you understand me
You: i do
You: completely
Stranger: i don't even need to explain anything
You: no you dont
You: we are soulmates
Stranger: yes
Stranger: we just met
Stranger: but it's like we've known each other all our lives
Stranger: it just feels so right
You: exactly
You: we were made for each other
You: so that one day we find each other and complete ourselves
Stranger: i'm seriously crying with happiness
You: i am here to wipe your tears
Stranger: hold me
You: come in my arms
Stranger: but -- oh god, it's so awful, i can't say
Stranger: i have to tell you something
You: yes go on
Stranger: but you'll hate me
You: no chance for that
Stranger: you know my late nights in the office
Stranger: i... i've been seeing someone else
You: thats fine with me
Stranger: really? i'm so relieved
You: yes it is
Stranger: do you love me?
You: it is your life . . . u get to live it your way
You: i love like no1 else does
Stranger: how much?
You: there s no measure to my love
Stranger: me too
Stranger: i'm exploding with love for you
You: and i am overwhelmed with love for u
Stranger: i didn't think love like this existed
You: until we found each other
Stranger: i didn't even realize how grey my life had been
You: until i came and added colors
Stranger: colors are brighter, everything has meaning
Stranger: yes, you see!
Stranger: we complete each other's thoughts
You: world suddenly seems a different place
You: with you here
You: with me
Stranger: hold me tight and never let me go
You: i wont, i wont
Stranger: i just want to make you happy
You: and i make you happy
Stranger: wait
Stranger: i don't like you anymore
Stranger: i don't know how it happened
Stranger: things changed
You: oh, suddenly i realised that too
You: colors r fading
Stranger: yes
Stranger: the world is an awful place
Stranger: and your faults are suddenly so glaring
You: flowers are drying
You: rivers are receding
Stranger: how could i have ever loved you?
You: clouds are tearing
Stranger: mountains are dissolving
You: leaves are falling
Stranger: oceans are drying
You: fishes are crying
Stranger: monkeys are flying
You: was this meant to happen
Stranger: i think it was a necessary experience for us
You: the dark seems darker
Stranger: shadows are longer
You: there s no light
Stranger: every day feels like sunday afternoon
You: will this tunnel end
Stranger: you never loved me
Stranger: you just used me
You: i dont know wat made u think tht
Stranger: something in your embrace... distant, unreachable
Stranger: as though part of you was somewhere else
You: my love was lovelier than love
You: my embrace was tighter than embrace
Stranger: oh god, what have i done? i think still love you
You: my kiss was deeper than kiss
Stranger: take me back, i beg you
You: come in my arms once again
You: and i shall not leave you
You: ever
Stranger: i am in your arms
You: the flowers are blooming
Stranger: music sounds richer
You: clocks seem to stop
Stranger: wait
Stranger: i'm an alligator
Stranger: and you're a human being
Stranger: how could we love each other?
You: love knows no boundaries
You: love knows no species
You: love is air we all brethe
Stranger: what will your parents say
Stranger: they'll hate me
You: i will fight for you
Stranger: they'll call me a call-blooded lizard
Stranger: i can't take it, i can't stand the jeers and boos
You: with me there, i rest assure you, i wont let any jeers come to you
You: if they throw stones, i ll take them
You: if they throw eggs, i ll take them
You: if they throw roses, i ll let them come to you
Stranger: i'm speechless
Stranger: no one has ever talked to me this way before
Stranger: thank you
Stranger: & goodnight
Your conversational partner has disconnected.
The connection keeps getting asploded every now and then. Major problem. But that's our college net at fault. Rest works. Everything considered, this site is worth an hour spent if you have absolutely nothing else to do. Go check it out.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Murphy and Coelho.
If anything can go wrong, it will.
- Murphy's law.
When things are going well, something will go wrong.
- Corollary to Murphy's law, Chisholm's second law.
When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it .
- The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho.
Nature sure has opposites. Yin and Yang. For every minus one there's a plus one. Its hard to understand the effect of this theory of opposites if one is still unharmed, unaffected even once by it.
Paulo Coelho says the entire universe helps one achieve what he wants. Murphy on the other hand quotes the opposite; That wrong is bound to happen and if some good happens, some wrong is sure to follow. Who then should we believe in? Because whatever we do, whatever we try to achieve everyday, is characterized by our desire to have that thing completed with hundred percent efficiency and output. Hence everything we do everyday is something we want, very eagerly, to return a positive output. And things we don't care about much can be disposed off or replaced by those that, as I mentioned, point to a significant size in our mental desire-box. Thus it seems as if we involuntarily tend to follow Coelho's line of thought. Or more accurately, The Driving Force pushes us into doing things that it thinks might be the ones we desire more and might want to see done at the moment, more than the other tasks which can be disposed off without much thought or concern. Say you are helping your friend. Then ask yourself why you are helping him. To help is our nature. Yes. But you just helped him because that would just make him happy (even if he mightn't show it) and that in turn would make you happy. And as for someone who doesn't help a friend, when given a chance to, just wants to hurt him in some way or the other. It may be an argument they might have had the previous night. Or it may be something else. But in that case, hurting him to prove his point might be the one thing that he desires the most at that particular moment. And so, The Driving Force forces him to act on it and so he does, ignoring all the other things he might have done instead. Coelho wins again.
Now consider this. That same guy who helped a friend do something checked a few things off his list to allow the help-friend to-do to creep in. Out of those few things that he ignored, one was going to a nearby hangout joint with some other friend. If he would have gone there, it might so have happened that he might have overheard someone talking about a local band contest and a decent enough prize money which would have done him good. But he doesn't go there and so he doesn't come to know. But how then does the affected realize this? Unless and until he doesn't comprehend the intensity of the chance that he just lost, Murphy's law cannot be applied to him. But under those circumstances, some other wrong is being discovered. But he comes to know. Someone tells him they're playing at this gig and he asks him about the show. To which he gets replied to and he realizes that had he been there at that time, he might have been able to buy performance tickets off the guy who was selling them. Its then that he curses Murphy. Talking about the corollary, if he might have finished helping that friend quickly and rushed to the hangout place, somehow managing to buy tickets, he would have later come to know that a hot chick had just dropped in at that friend's place later that night and had he stayed there instead of rushing off to the cafe to buy tickets for a contest which he anyway did not win, his friend would have invited him along to another cafe and he might even have had a chance of scoring the hot chick. He curses Murphy again.
Murphy and Coelho might seem to travel on two paths. They might seem to be totally different but in reality they are brothers. Brothers in arms. One cannot survive without the other.
To cite an example, reckon this : I've been trying to convince my dad of buying me a bike for a long time. Two years. I've always wanted a Bullet. And I've been trying to make my dad understand of my passion for biking. It so happened that a very close friend of dad once visited our place. My dad, expecting to hear a kind of an answer that might aid him win the age old battle and close the case asked him:
“Say. How is this bike called Bullet?” (Hmm?)
“Bullet? Beautiful bike! Marvelous!” (Smile on face. Spark in eyes.)
“Oh? He wants to buy a Bullet.” (Oh-no.)
“He knows what he's buying. A guy who buys a Bullet knows what he's buying. Its a very charming bike. Especially the noise. As kids, we used to drill holes in the exhaust to increase the sound. Resonance.” (Still all smiles.)
“But what about the other stuff? His driving is very fast. And reckless. Obviously I wouldn't want to buy him such a powerful bike.” (CMON!)
“No no! You needn't worry about that. Its a powerful bike alright. But its a heavy bike as well. You have to look at the power-to-weight ratio. And its a bike that one enjoys riding only if he rides it slow. I know. I used to be an avid biker. Its a brilliant bike and you shouldn't hesitate.” (Still all smiles.)
“Blah.”
“Call Mr. X and ask him. He has a Bullet and he's been riding it for almost 17 years!” (Smiles.)
“Blah.”
I was mentally smiling all along. There was a resonance between the two of us. A kind of a resonance that occurs between two people who realize they share a common interest, an interest that makes them. Plus. Whatever he was saying was all in my favor. I knew it all and after all the ball was beginning to get in my court. I was happy. Dad was reconsidering. Good. This was Coelho. The universe was helping me. But I had forgotten about Murphy then. Murphy did strike and how!
Two days after that episode, my dad must have called Mr. X and some Mr. Y as well. Both of them have Bullets and have been tripping since aeons. Murphy sucks, for from whatever dad told me, they must have had this conversation:
“Mr. X! How're you? Long time no see. I wanted to ask you something. My son wants to buy a Bullet and...”
“NO!!!! DO NOT BUY HIM A BULLET!!!! I've been riding it for years. Its a cranky bike. Not at all meant for guys of age your son is of. Just kick-starting it can give you fractures in the leg!”
“Oh? Is it so?”
“Yes! DO NOT BUY HIM A BULLET FOR GOD'S SAKE! DO NOT BUY HIM ANY BIKE I SAY! Bikes are not for 20-year-old guys.”
“Thanks Mr. X for all the valuable information. I definitely won't buy my son a bike.
And judging from the reaction, my dad might have had the same conversation with Mr. Y. So he comes home the other day and he's all You-are-so-not-buying-a-bike. Now, as I mentioned, Coelho and Murphy are very closely related and one cannot run along a path without the other. One is Yin and the other, Yang. Had that uncle not mentioned Mr. X, my dad would not have called him up and I would still have been dreaming of my bike-to-come. But since that episode supported Coelho's theory, some wrong just had to happen. And that wrong materialized itself in form of the mention of Mr. X. And that's where Murphy hugged Coelho.
Greetings to Murphy. Greetings to Coelho. You both suck.
- Murphy's law.
When things are going well, something will go wrong.
- Corollary to Murphy's law, Chisholm's second law.
When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it .
- The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho.
Nature sure has opposites. Yin and Yang. For every minus one there's a plus one. Its hard to understand the effect of this theory of opposites if one is still unharmed, unaffected even once by it.
Paulo Coelho says the entire universe helps one achieve what he wants. Murphy on the other hand quotes the opposite; That wrong is bound to happen and if some good happens, some wrong is sure to follow. Who then should we believe in? Because whatever we do, whatever we try to achieve everyday, is characterized by our desire to have that thing completed with hundred percent efficiency and output. Hence everything we do everyday is something we want, very eagerly, to return a positive output. And things we don't care about much can be disposed off or replaced by those that, as I mentioned, point to a significant size in our mental desire-box. Thus it seems as if we involuntarily tend to follow Coelho's line of thought. Or more accurately, The Driving Force pushes us into doing things that it thinks might be the ones we desire more and might want to see done at the moment, more than the other tasks which can be disposed off without much thought or concern. Say you are helping your friend. Then ask yourself why you are helping him. To help is our nature. Yes. But you just helped him because that would just make him happy (even if he mightn't show it) and that in turn would make you happy. And as for someone who doesn't help a friend, when given a chance to, just wants to hurt him in some way or the other. It may be an argument they might have had the previous night. Or it may be something else. But in that case, hurting him to prove his point might be the one thing that he desires the most at that particular moment. And so, The Driving Force forces him to act on it and so he does, ignoring all the other things he might have done instead. Coelho wins again.
Now consider this. That same guy who helped a friend do something checked a few things off his list to allow the help-friend to-do to creep in. Out of those few things that he ignored, one was going to a nearby hangout joint with some other friend. If he would have gone there, it might so have happened that he might have overheard someone talking about a local band contest and a decent enough prize money which would have done him good. But he doesn't go there and so he doesn't come to know. But how then does the affected realize this? Unless and until he doesn't comprehend the intensity of the chance that he just lost, Murphy's law cannot be applied to him. But under those circumstances, some other wrong is being discovered. But he comes to know. Someone tells him they're playing at this gig and he asks him about the show. To which he gets replied to and he realizes that had he been there at that time, he might have been able to buy performance tickets off the guy who was selling them. Its then that he curses Murphy. Talking about the corollary, if he might have finished helping that friend quickly and rushed to the hangout place, somehow managing to buy tickets, he would have later come to know that a hot chick had just dropped in at that friend's place later that night and had he stayed there instead of rushing off to the cafe to buy tickets for a contest which he anyway did not win, his friend would have invited him along to another cafe and he might even have had a chance of scoring the hot chick. He curses Murphy again.
Murphy and Coelho might seem to travel on two paths. They might seem to be totally different but in reality they are brothers. Brothers in arms. One cannot survive without the other.
To cite an example, reckon this : I've been trying to convince my dad of buying me a bike for a long time. Two years. I've always wanted a Bullet. And I've been trying to make my dad understand of my passion for biking. It so happened that a very close friend of dad once visited our place. My dad, expecting to hear a kind of an answer that might aid him win the age old battle and close the case asked him:
“Say. How is this bike called Bullet?” (Hmm?)
“Bullet? Beautiful bike! Marvelous!” (Smile on face. Spark in eyes.)
“Oh? He wants to buy a Bullet.” (Oh-no.)
“He knows what he's buying. A guy who buys a Bullet knows what he's buying. Its a very charming bike. Especially the noise. As kids, we used to drill holes in the exhaust to increase the sound. Resonance.” (Still all smiles.)
“But what about the other stuff? His driving is very fast. And reckless. Obviously I wouldn't want to buy him such a powerful bike.” (CMON!)
“No no! You needn't worry about that. Its a powerful bike alright. But its a heavy bike as well. You have to look at the power-to-weight ratio. And its a bike that one enjoys riding only if he rides it slow. I know. I used to be an avid biker. Its a brilliant bike and you shouldn't hesitate.” (Still all smiles.)
“Blah.”
“Call Mr. X and ask him. He has a Bullet and he's been riding it for almost 17 years!” (Smiles.)
“Blah.”
I was mentally smiling all along. There was a resonance between the two of us. A kind of a resonance that occurs between two people who realize they share a common interest, an interest that makes them. Plus. Whatever he was saying was all in my favor. I knew it all and after all the ball was beginning to get in my court. I was happy. Dad was reconsidering. Good. This was Coelho. The universe was helping me. But I had forgotten about Murphy then. Murphy did strike and how!
Two days after that episode, my dad must have called Mr. X and some Mr. Y as well. Both of them have Bullets and have been tripping since aeons. Murphy sucks, for from whatever dad told me, they must have had this conversation:
“Mr. X! How're you? Long time no see. I wanted to ask you something. My son wants to buy a Bullet and...”
“NO!!!! DO NOT BUY HIM A BULLET!!!! I've been riding it for years. Its a cranky bike. Not at all meant for guys of age your son is of. Just kick-starting it can give you fractures in the leg!”
“Oh? Is it so?”
“Yes! DO NOT BUY HIM A BULLET FOR GOD'S SAKE! DO NOT BUY HIM ANY BIKE I SAY! Bikes are not for 20-year-old guys.”
“Thanks Mr. X for all the valuable information. I definitely won't buy my son a bike.
And judging from the reaction, my dad might have had the same conversation with Mr. Y. So he comes home the other day and he's all You-are-so-not-buying-a-bike. Now, as I mentioned, Coelho and Murphy are very closely related and one cannot run along a path without the other. One is Yin and the other, Yang. Had that uncle not mentioned Mr. X, my dad would not have called him up and I would still have been dreaming of my bike-to-come. But since that episode supported Coelho's theory, some wrong just had to happen. And that wrong materialized itself in form of the mention of Mr. X. And that's where Murphy hugged Coelho.
Greetings to Murphy. Greetings to Coelho. You both suck.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
On Bombay.
Bombay. I've read about it in novels. Watched movies. I had thought there always was an exaggeration to some extent. I had never let myself believe that one city can touch so many hearts, affect so many lives, or help, not force, people to make decisions that can set lives on entirely new tracks. Never had I believed without some doubt that one city can intoxicate a foreigner to such an extent that he chooses to stay in Bombay, inspite of all the hardships he might have to face and those that he already did, for as long as eight years.
All doubts just melted away. Once I set my foot out of the bus, everything was clear to me. I suddenly knew why. Everything was, and still is, very psychedelic.
I loved the wind on my face. I loved the songs of the people who sing to earn in the trains. The music in their voice is the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. And the combination of the wind and their music is something no person can deny not falling in love with. The locals. Standing. Sitting. The wind in the hair. On the face. The sense of freedom. And as Balu once told me, its inevitable. That you begin to like the people, the public, the janta of Bombay has to happen. It just has to. And it did. As I stood in the crowd, with as much as a thousand psi of pressure on my body from every side, I was surprised that it did not bother me. Never did it irk me; the crush on my body which tired me when I was fresh in the morning and tired me even more when I was already tired in the evening. The experience was all that it took to bring me out of my tired sub-conscious slumber.
I loved walking alone. Walking on the streets. Along the opposite lane. Against the traffic of pedestrians. Observing people, their faces as every other face dons a different expression. Its beautiful how sometimes an expression worn by a random person on a street might not even remotely resemble that on anyone till as far as the next corner. Walking, wandering, roaming around aimlessly, hence is something else that I loved doing in Bombay. Whether it be the streets, the galis or the wide roads of the Marine Drive. There is a smell, a very distinct smell which I've never sensed anywhere in India except here, in Bombay. Some say its that of the sea. I say its that of freedom. You step in Bombay and you feel that you can do almost anything. My work is not what one would call intense but it sure as hell does tire me. But as I get out and walk; as I travel in the locals, I feel as new and fresh as one would, after having a pizza and a beer. The atmosphere has that effect on you which heroin would have on a junkie.
I loved Shantaram. So I was all boing-boing over Leopold's. Such awesomeness! Getting high on the ambience that the place so generously throws and wondering what it would have been like in Sir Gregory David Robert's time. Getting to see a photograph of him on his very own Bullet and knowing that he was in Bombay just three days before itself is an adrenaline pump and just as big as it would have been to Shantaram, when he would have been on his bike, speeding on the roads of Bombay. The place, as you enter, grips your mind and hurls it in a pit, an abyss, not dark but a bright one, where all the happiness and hope and belief and faith in the world are held together by bonds making the pit one huge pit of light. It frees the mind of all worries. Not just a-bar by the way. Such is the magic of Leopold's.
This city is just beyond me. In a extremely positive way. I just love it. And I still have a week and a half in the city before I head back to Nagpur which, after this episode, is definitely going to give me a huge suicidal depression. But that's still a week and a half away. So well, life's good.
P.S. : To all those who have lived and are still living in Bombay, I envy you all. I'm jealous and I'll always be jealous.
All doubts just melted away. Once I set my foot out of the bus, everything was clear to me. I suddenly knew why. Everything was, and still is, very psychedelic.
I loved the wind on my face. I loved the songs of the people who sing to earn in the trains. The music in their voice is the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. And the combination of the wind and their music is something no person can deny not falling in love with. The locals. Standing. Sitting. The wind in the hair. On the face. The sense of freedom. And as Balu once told me, its inevitable. That you begin to like the people, the public, the janta of Bombay has to happen. It just has to. And it did. As I stood in the crowd, with as much as a thousand psi of pressure on my body from every side, I was surprised that it did not bother me. Never did it irk me; the crush on my body which tired me when I was fresh in the morning and tired me even more when I was already tired in the evening. The experience was all that it took to bring me out of my tired sub-conscious slumber.
I loved walking alone. Walking on the streets. Along the opposite lane. Against the traffic of pedestrians. Observing people, their faces as every other face dons a different expression. Its beautiful how sometimes an expression worn by a random person on a street might not even remotely resemble that on anyone till as far as the next corner. Walking, wandering, roaming around aimlessly, hence is something else that I loved doing in Bombay. Whether it be the streets, the galis or the wide roads of the Marine Drive. There is a smell, a very distinct smell which I've never sensed anywhere in India except here, in Bombay. Some say its that of the sea. I say its that of freedom. You step in Bombay and you feel that you can do almost anything. My work is not what one would call intense but it sure as hell does tire me. But as I get out and walk; as I travel in the locals, I feel as new and fresh as one would, after having a pizza and a beer. The atmosphere has that effect on you which heroin would have on a junkie.
I loved Shantaram. So I was all boing-boing over Leopold's. Such awesomeness! Getting high on the ambience that the place so generously throws and wondering what it would have been like in Sir Gregory David Robert's time. Getting to see a photograph of him on his very own Bullet and knowing that he was in Bombay just three days before itself is an adrenaline pump and just as big as it would have been to Shantaram, when he would have been on his bike, speeding on the roads of Bombay. The place, as you enter, grips your mind and hurls it in a pit, an abyss, not dark but a bright one, where all the happiness and hope and belief and faith in the world are held together by bonds making the pit one huge pit of light. It frees the mind of all worries. Not just a-bar by the way. Such is the magic of Leopold's.
This city is just beyond me. In a extremely positive way. I just love it. And I still have a week and a half in the city before I head back to Nagpur which, after this episode, is definitely going to give me a huge suicidal depression. But that's still a week and a half away. So well, life's good.
P.S. : To all those who have lived and are still living in Bombay, I envy you all. I'm jealous and I'll always be jealous.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Walkety - Walk.
I was walking down the street the other day and as i have developed a habit of walking real slow when I'm alone, I took my time in reaching where I had to reach.
When you're walking alone and your pace is slow, you start noticing the smaller things around you, things which your mind is just too occupied to notice at other times. Things like the patterns on the leaves, the branches, cracks on the walls, the dog rolling in the sand and the expressions his face dons. Sometimes you'ld stumble upon a point from where there's a view of a remote building or a structure or even somebody in your vicinity which or who you feel if photographed even novicely would be the one of the most beautiful pictures ever taken.
When you're walking alone and your pace is slow, you start thinking. Reflecting. Pondering over ideas which at other times just don't occur to you. You start thinking of the things that you like, not those which make you laugh and give you a momentary feeling of happiness. Not those. But those which upon thinking of give you goosebumps and make you realize that life is totally worth it.
When you're walking alone and your pace is slow, you start thinking music. Your mind sings. And sometimes, you get this urge to sing it out. And so you do, not caring whether there's anyone around or not. This makes you realize that you can sing and that practice would perhaps do you great. You also realize that music does bind the universe as you start relating anything and everything you see around you with the music your mind sings.
When you're walking alone and your pace is slow, you start remembering the days that were. You begin to feel happy as your brain digs up memories, and you feel everything was worth the buck and that your life has been a lot awesomer than those of most of them out there. You feel like quitting what you are doing presently because its something that you just dont feel like doing. Instead you feel like travelling; travelling to unknown places, walking or on a bike, all alone. You swear that you will one day set off on a long journey and never come back. You feel ecstatic. You thank God for that.
Life is awesome. That we have been given a chance to explore and to relish proves it that God does want us to live it. Travelling, exploring and asking are few of the many things which we all need to learn and apply. Only then will our lives reach full efficiency. Only then will we attain nirvana.
I thank God.
When you're walking alone and your pace is slow, you start noticing the smaller things around you, things which your mind is just too occupied to notice at other times. Things like the patterns on the leaves, the branches, cracks on the walls, the dog rolling in the sand and the expressions his face dons. Sometimes you'ld stumble upon a point from where there's a view of a remote building or a structure or even somebody in your vicinity which or who you feel if photographed even novicely would be the one of the most beautiful pictures ever taken.
When you're walking alone and your pace is slow, you start thinking. Reflecting. Pondering over ideas which at other times just don't occur to you. You start thinking of the things that you like, not those which make you laugh and give you a momentary feeling of happiness. Not those. But those which upon thinking of give you goosebumps and make you realize that life is totally worth it.
When you're walking alone and your pace is slow, you start thinking music. Your mind sings. And sometimes, you get this urge to sing it out. And so you do, not caring whether there's anyone around or not. This makes you realize that you can sing and that practice would perhaps do you great. You also realize that music does bind the universe as you start relating anything and everything you see around you with the music your mind sings.
When you're walking alone and your pace is slow, you start remembering the days that were. You begin to feel happy as your brain digs up memories, and you feel everything was worth the buck and that your life has been a lot awesomer than those of most of them out there. You feel like quitting what you are doing presently because its something that you just dont feel like doing. Instead you feel like travelling; travelling to unknown places, walking or on a bike, all alone. You swear that you will one day set off on a long journey and never come back. You feel ecstatic. You thank God for that.
Life is awesome. That we have been given a chance to explore and to relish proves it that God does want us to live it. Travelling, exploring and asking are few of the many things which we all need to learn and apply. Only then will our lives reach full efficiency. Only then will we attain nirvana.
I thank God.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
On Bikes.
“Cool bikes, full throttle, and totally in the wind. This is what its all about.”
- Billy Lane vs Dave Perowitz, The Great Biker Build Off 2.
The idea itself is so amazing that every time I think of it, it shuts my mind off and detaches it from the surrounding universe injecting fluids, vibes, mixtures of countless emotions, into it. Hope, adrenaline, freedom. These things stimulate the senses in the most vigorous of ways possible giving a high not achievable by even the strongest of drugs. Imagine. Long hair. Long roads. Long bikes. A bike is possibly the only thing that, once taken an experience of, never lets one forget of it. Be it a girl. Or a boy. Isn't this what life is all about? Not having fun. That mightn't be the right way to put it. But experiencing something new all time. And a bike does exactly that.
"The core of a man's spirit comes from new experiences."
- Alexander Supertramp.
It is true. Without doubt. The wind on your face. The speed. Gravel, metal, leather, wind; these ingredients make us. They give us something new to think of, something new to ponder over. Everytime. These ingredients mix and give birth to experiences that mesmerize and enlighten.
I believe anyone would sacrifice anything and everything for such experiences. The sound of the engine and the changing gears, the feel of that metal, the sight of that long road ahead. Who wouldn't? But sadly, lots don't feel the way I do. It hurts to see the way things are here. People ride bikes for purposes other than enjoying the ride. I don't see that look on their faces while they ride, that look which should be there. A look of satisfaction. Nothing. It hurts to see such blasphemy. Bikes are not meant to be considered as creations of utility but creations of marvel. And yet they are. It hurts.
I hope people of our country come to realize the beauty of this activity called biking. And fast.
Biking is another name for rebellion. It definitely is.
Mildred: What're you rebelling against, Johnny?
Johnny: Whaddya got?
- The Wild One, 1953.
Here, I have penned my thoughts down; thoughts on a subject that's on my mind everyday, every minute. Things I'd been thinking of blogging ever since i started blogging. This post may seem very erratic to almost all of you, but give it another read and you'll know what I have in mind.
- Billy Lane vs Dave Perowitz, The Great Biker Build Off 2.
The idea itself is so amazing that every time I think of it, it shuts my mind off and detaches it from the surrounding universe injecting fluids, vibes, mixtures of countless emotions, into it. Hope, adrenaline, freedom. These things stimulate the senses in the most vigorous of ways possible giving a high not achievable by even the strongest of drugs. Imagine. Long hair. Long roads. Long bikes. A bike is possibly the only thing that, once taken an experience of, never lets one forget of it. Be it a girl. Or a boy. Isn't this what life is all about? Not having fun. That mightn't be the right way to put it. But experiencing something new all time. And a bike does exactly that.
"The core of a man's spirit comes from new experiences."
- Alexander Supertramp.
It is true. Without doubt. The wind on your face. The speed. Gravel, metal, leather, wind; these ingredients make us. They give us something new to think of, something new to ponder over. Everytime. These ingredients mix and give birth to experiences that mesmerize and enlighten.
I believe anyone would sacrifice anything and everything for such experiences. The sound of the engine and the changing gears, the feel of that metal, the sight of that long road ahead. Who wouldn't? But sadly, lots don't feel the way I do. It hurts to see the way things are here. People ride bikes for purposes other than enjoying the ride. I don't see that look on their faces while they ride, that look which should be there. A look of satisfaction. Nothing. It hurts to see such blasphemy. Bikes are not meant to be considered as creations of utility but creations of marvel. And yet they are. It hurts.
I hope people of our country come to realize the beauty of this activity called biking. And fast.
Biking is another name for rebellion. It definitely is.
Mildred: What're you rebelling against, Johnny?
Johnny: Whaddya got?
- The Wild One, 1953.
Here, I have penned my thoughts down; thoughts on a subject that's on my mind everyday, every minute. Things I'd been thinking of blogging ever since i started blogging. This post may seem very erratic to almost all of you, but give it another read and you'll know what I have in mind.
Friday, March 27, 2009
@ 6:30
Its 6:30 AM and there's :
1. Bob Dylan and Jimi Hendrix on the playlist.
2. Parle-G.
3. Sunlight. This is the only time my room gets lit brightly by sunlight. As the sun rises. And now's it.
4. Topgear.com & DC++ on the screen.
Small things. But its just at moments like these that we realize how a couple of them, together, can make life temporarily awesome.
I've got a class at 8. So the awesomeness of 6:30 AM will soon depart.
1. Bob Dylan and Jimi Hendrix on the playlist.
2. Parle-G.
3. Sunlight. This is the only time my room gets lit brightly by sunlight. As the sun rises. And now's it.
4. Topgear.com & DC++ on the screen.
Small things. But its just at moments like these that we realize how a couple of them, together, can make life temporarily awesome.
I've got a class at 8. So the awesomeness of 6:30 AM will soon depart.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Family Problems.
Found this in a joke-book by Khushwant Singh. Worth a read. Its awesome! :
Two men met at a bar and struck up a conversation. After a while, one of them said, “You think you have family problems? Listen to my situation. A few years ago, I met a young widow with a grown-up daughter and we got married. Later, my father married my stepdaughter. That made my stepdaughter my stepmother and my father became my stepson. Also my wife became mother-in-law of her father-in-law. Then the daughter of my wife, my stepmother had a son. This boy was my halfbrother because he was my father's son, but he was also the son of my wife's daughter which made him my wife's grandson. That made me the grandfather of my halfbrother. This was nothing until my wife and I had a son. Now the sister of my son, my mother-in-law, is also the grandmother. This makes my father the brother-in-law of my child, whose stepsister is my father's wife. I am my stepmother's brother-in-law, my wife is her own child's aunt, my son is my father's nephew and I am my own grandfather and you think you have family problems!”
Two men met at a bar and struck up a conversation. After a while, one of them said, “You think you have family problems? Listen to my situation. A few years ago, I met a young widow with a grown-up daughter and we got married. Later, my father married my stepdaughter. That made my stepdaughter my stepmother and my father became my stepson. Also my wife became mother-in-law of her father-in-law. Then the daughter of my wife, my stepmother had a son. This boy was my halfbrother because he was my father's son, but he was also the son of my wife's daughter which made him my wife's grandson. That made me the grandfather of my halfbrother. This was nothing until my wife and I had a son. Now the sister of my son, my mother-in-law, is also the grandmother. This makes my father the brother-in-law of my child, whose stepsister is my father's wife. I am my stepmother's brother-in-law, my wife is her own child's aunt, my son is my father's nephew and I am my own grandfather and you think you have family problems!”
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Visit Us. And Eat Too.
I hate socializing. I hate meeting family friends. I dont hate them, but its the visits that i hate. I hate replying to their very stupid questions in an alright?-is-your-hunger-quenched-now? manner. I hate it all.
Every time I go home, I have to attend at least one of those very stupid social gatherings or the friendly visit-us-and-eat-too things at various family friends’ before my parents are convinced beyond doubt that I get extremely bored -just sitting there-. Here’s what happens:
When we’re still at our place, ready to leave, I give it a shot. One last shot. I try.
“Mom, I’ll get bored. Please! Let me stay here. I’ll eat something.”
“No. They were asking about you. They are very eager to meet you.”
I acquiesce unhappily. I don’t know a single family having a guy-kid of my age. Even a chick of my age would do. But no! Kids having jobs or kids studying basic polynomials. Where’s the –between- gone? So I know that I would have no one to talk, with remote normalcy, with. It so happens that if the friends of my family haven’t seen or met me for more than half a year, they ask me this:
“Arrey! Look at you. You’ve grown so big! The last time I met you, you were (gesticulating with their hands, suspending the palms at knee-level) this small.”
Fuck! I was that small when I three. But they don’t get that. Somehow, I was just two feet high before six months. We enter their house. We sit on those sofas. We drink the served water. The uncle tries to show that he WAS looking forward to meet me. Like this:
“So, holidays, huh?”
“(I don the best smile ever.) Yeah!”
“When are you going back?”
“Blah (blah’s the date.).”
“Hm. (turning to my dad.) The stock market has gone insane! Hasn’t it?”
This is what I was brought along with, for. This is usually the intensity of their eagerness. Did they just want to know when my college reopened? For the remaining of the –very exciting- visit, I do nothing but watch TV along with the still-polynomial-learning kid who finds really horrible jokes funny. And then there’s the cell. I message a few. Hi!-Wassups. No replies.
This goes on. I feel jaded. And it’s only after we come back that my mom agrees with me. And I get to avoid the next social visit that’s there. Barring the food, everything sucks. But as the vacation bells toll again (next time), the reality hits me with such lacerating ferocity that it becomes difficult to keep my cool. The QED is there no more. I realize I’ll have to attend several visits again to prove it to my parents that I –get bored- there.
The friends of my Dad and Mom might probably have concluded that since half a year has gone by since they last saw me; I might not be a three year old anymore. And so it becomes utterly important for them to meet me. Very eager they become.
Every time I go home, I have to attend at least one of those very stupid social gatherings or the friendly visit-us-and-eat-too things at various family friends’ before my parents are convinced beyond doubt that I get extremely bored -just sitting there-. Here’s what happens:
When we’re still at our place, ready to leave, I give it a shot. One last shot. I try.
“Mom, I’ll get bored. Please! Let me stay here. I’ll eat something.”
“No. They were asking about you. They are very eager to meet you.”
I acquiesce unhappily. I don’t know a single family having a guy-kid of my age. Even a chick of my age would do. But no! Kids having jobs or kids studying basic polynomials. Where’s the –between- gone? So I know that I would have no one to talk, with remote normalcy, with. It so happens that if the friends of my family haven’t seen or met me for more than half a year, they ask me this:
“Arrey! Look at you. You’ve grown so big! The last time I met you, you were (gesticulating with their hands, suspending the palms at knee-level) this small.”
Fuck! I was that small when I three. But they don’t get that. Somehow, I was just two feet high before six months. We enter their house. We sit on those sofas. We drink the served water. The uncle tries to show that he WAS looking forward to meet me. Like this:
“So, holidays, huh?”
“(I don the best smile ever.) Yeah!”
“When are you going back?”
“Blah (blah’s the date.).”
“Hm. (turning to my dad.) The stock market has gone insane! Hasn’t it?”
This is what I was brought along with, for. This is usually the intensity of their eagerness. Did they just want to know when my college reopened? For the remaining of the –very exciting- visit, I do nothing but watch TV along with the still-polynomial-learning kid who finds really horrible jokes funny. And then there’s the cell. I message a few. Hi!-Wassups. No replies.
This goes on. I feel jaded. And it’s only after we come back that my mom agrees with me. And I get to avoid the next social visit that’s there. Barring the food, everything sucks. But as the vacation bells toll again (next time), the reality hits me with such lacerating ferocity that it becomes difficult to keep my cool. The QED is there no more. I realize I’ll have to attend several visits again to prove it to my parents that I –get bored- there.
The friends of my Dad and Mom might probably have concluded that since half a year has gone by since they last saw me; I might not be a three year old anymore. And so it becomes utterly important for them to meet me. Very eager they become.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Of Mosh-pits, Chicks, and Maiden.
“With great bad-ass behavior comes great confidence.”
- Analogous to that dialogue from Spiderman.
“FUCK Bush.”
- Vocalist, Cyanide Serenity.
“This is what happens when you FUCK with nature. Or, let me put it in simpler but more graphic terms; This is what not to do when a bird shits on you.”
- Bruce Dickinson, Iron Maiden, before starting Rime Of The Ancient Mariner.
“The greatest spiritual leader a nation ever saw was a music concert.”
“Maiden! Maiden! Maiden!”
- One of the many requests for an encore at the concert.
Words fail. The sheer awesomeness of it. Its Brobdingnagian appeal. Amplified.
But I can try. The only way to describe it is the DB- way.
1. DBT : Death By Train : Try traveling more than 24 hours in a train. 6 hours of which were spent in a general compartment. With people around you, digging their nose-holes wildly, see if you can survive the torture.
2. DBC : Death By Chocolate : The ice-cream which costed us a bomb. Here's how its made: A thick layer of vanilla at the bottom. A thicker layer of chocolate brownie on top of it. Then comes the hot chocolate. Lots of it. Lots. And lastly, a huge layer of nuts. And we ordered three. One for each of us. Tyrant proved himself worthy of his name and finished all of his DBC. Slash and I couldn't.
3. DBP : Death By Pit : The CRI winners covered Lamb Of God. That's when all the moshing started. Crazy shit! And to an alien eye, it may look/sound very enigmatic. But to one participating in the mosh-pit, the mere idea of crashing into someone else itself is intoxicating.
4. DBM : Death By Maiden : Two hours of Iron Maiden! I can finally start a -done- list with IM's name checked off it. Less than 50 meters away! That's where they were! Plain -Fuck!-!
5. DBR : Death By Rickshaws : Fuck them! All of them! Assholes! They fucked us badly. The rickshaw-walas.
This is it. This is how it was. How it went. Awesome! And i didnt even miss a single practical class. The Tyrant missed three though. I want to list out a few points worth remembering. Here:
1. The Tyrant's business card. A joker. And the guy at the entrance gates who laughed when I informed him that what he happened to see accidentally in the Tyrant's wallet was not any ordinary joker of a cards-deck but a business card.
2. The general compartment.
3. The grandness of the ISKCON Temple.
4. Corner House. Not all of us were able to complete the DBC. But the first bite of it is totally unforgettable. The look of it! DBC. Respect!
5. Mosh Pit. Easily, the best thing (after Maiden, ofc) that happened there. Then. I regret not moshing for whatever time I might not have been present in the pit for whatever reasons possible. But the time I spent in there gave me a high unachievable by anything. Bliss!
6. Chicks! Hot. Hot. Very very hot! With piercings here and there, a few looked super-sexy. And the fact that all of them listened to metal amplified their sexiness. Laurren Harris was hot too.
7. Iron Maiden. All hail Maiden.
8. Andhra Style Family Restaurant. Saved us from possible death by starvation. Hogged like dogs.
Tyrant, Slash. Any additions?
Body's still aching from moshing incessantly. Kaan abhi bhi baj rahe hai. But I give no fuck. I saw Maiden perform live. That's one off the list. Slayer should come. Lamb Of God too. Many.
- Analogous to that dialogue from Spiderman.
“FUCK Bush.”
- Vocalist, Cyanide Serenity.
“This is what happens when you FUCK with nature. Or, let me put it in simpler but more graphic terms; This is what not to do when a bird shits on you.”
- Bruce Dickinson, Iron Maiden, before starting Rime Of The Ancient Mariner.
“The greatest spiritual leader a nation ever saw was a music concert.”
“Maiden! Maiden! Maiden!”
- One of the many requests for an encore at the concert.
Words fail. The sheer awesomeness of it. Its Brobdingnagian appeal. Amplified.
But I can try. The only way to describe it is the DB- way.
1. DBT : Death By Train : Try traveling more than 24 hours in a train. 6 hours of which were spent in a general compartment. With people around you, digging their nose-holes wildly, see if you can survive the torture.
2. DBC : Death By Chocolate : The ice-cream which costed us a bomb. Here's how its made: A thick layer of vanilla at the bottom. A thicker layer of chocolate brownie on top of it. Then comes the hot chocolate. Lots of it. Lots. And lastly, a huge layer of nuts. And we ordered three. One for each of us. Tyrant proved himself worthy of his name and finished all of his DBC. Slash and I couldn't.
3. DBP : Death By Pit : The CRI winners covered Lamb Of God. That's when all the moshing started. Crazy shit! And to an alien eye, it may look/sound very enigmatic. But to one participating in the mosh-pit, the mere idea of crashing into someone else itself is intoxicating.
4. DBM : Death By Maiden : Two hours of Iron Maiden! I can finally start a -done- list with IM's name checked off it. Less than 50 meters away! That's where they were! Plain -Fuck!-!
5. DBR : Death By Rickshaws : Fuck them! All of them! Assholes! They fucked us badly. The rickshaw-walas.
This is it. This is how it was. How it went. Awesome! And i didnt even miss a single practical class. The Tyrant missed three though. I want to list out a few points worth remembering. Here:
1. The Tyrant's business card. A joker. And the guy at the entrance gates who laughed when I informed him that what he happened to see accidentally in the Tyrant's wallet was not any ordinary joker of a cards-deck but a business card.
2. The general compartment.
3. The grandness of the ISKCON Temple.
4. Corner House. Not all of us were able to complete the DBC. But the first bite of it is totally unforgettable. The look of it! DBC. Respect!
5. Mosh Pit. Easily, the best thing (after Maiden, ofc) that happened there. Then. I regret not moshing for whatever time I might not have been present in the pit for whatever reasons possible. But the time I spent in there gave me a high unachievable by anything. Bliss!
6. Chicks! Hot. Hot. Very very hot! With piercings here and there, a few looked super-sexy. And the fact that all of them listened to metal amplified their sexiness. Laurren Harris was hot too.
7. Iron Maiden. All hail Maiden.
8. Andhra Style Family Restaurant. Saved us from possible death by starvation. Hogged like dogs.
Tyrant, Slash. Any additions?
Body's still aching from moshing incessantly. Kaan abhi bhi baj rahe hai. But I give no fuck. I saw Maiden perform live. That's one off the list. Slayer should come. Lamb Of God too. Many.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Early Morning Blues.
Waking up early is, by far, one of the hardest things I've done. I just cant. The ringing alarm, the knocks on the door, the ring-tone in my cell; everything merges with the dream and a less pleasant dream replaces it. A new story starts being told.
I'm sleeping. The alarm in my computer/cell has been ordered to start its ordeal at 6:00 AM. And it just cant wait.
1. I'm dreaming about races of flying dolls and talking motorcycles at a nuclear war. A big one. A Triumph is just about to chop a Barbie's head off when suddenly another Barbie pops into the picture. But instead of rescuing its comrade, it starts singing. It doesnt stop. Somehow, in an era of talking motorcycles and really deadly flying dolls, Lynyrd Skynyrd is still liked. The Triumph stares in wonder as the newcomer continues singing Sweet Home Alabama (alarm-song). The song gets louder by every second. Suddenly, the motorcycles and the dolls are replaced by a big man. A monster. Twenty storeys tall. Someone is still singing the song and the big bad guy is not pleased. Irritated, he starts searching the streets frantically for the mystery source of the song. At the end of the road, he finds a house. He peeps in through one of the windows (He's big. He can easily do this.) and sees a guy with a goatee having a tape-recorder in his hand. The source. Determined, he charges at the guy with a sword.
That's when I wake up.
2. I put off the alarm and sit on my bed trying to remember why I wanted to wake up so early. Its cold. I start shivering. This stage is the worst.
You now remember the reason for waking up so early. So you know its utterly necessary to stay awake and do what made you see sunrise. But then, there's the bed.
I give one look at the bed. Its one mammoth pizza. Too big for even several dehydrated hungry obese men, lost in the Sahara desert for over a month to finish off. And I'm one of them. So I sleep off. Again.
3. But this time, the dreams dont have any of the dolls or motorcycles. Not even the giant. Instead, the thought of not accomplishing the task I had so enthusiastically set the alarm for and so irritatedly woken up for nags the mind. Its not the deep sleep that I wanted. But the superficial-subconscious one haunted by dreamy images of some random guy ordering me to get up and get going who my mind very adamantly ignores.
Dream time is much slower than real time. An hour goes by. And its 7:00 AM. I wake up again as the random guy wins.
This is how it is. The three stages. Seldom have i been able to wake up early. On a few days, when I have, to study, I have dozed off while doing so. Being nocturnal is so much fun. And then there's Chandrama. Who wants to study when others dream about bikes? God bless the -that someone- who introduced snooze. "I tried."
I'm sleeping. The alarm in my computer/cell has been ordered to start its ordeal at 6:00 AM. And it just cant wait.
1. I'm dreaming about races of flying dolls and talking motorcycles at a nuclear war. A big one. A Triumph is just about to chop a Barbie's head off when suddenly another Barbie pops into the picture. But instead of rescuing its comrade, it starts singing. It doesnt stop. Somehow, in an era of talking motorcycles and really deadly flying dolls, Lynyrd Skynyrd is still liked. The Triumph stares in wonder as the newcomer continues singing Sweet Home Alabama (alarm-song). The song gets louder by every second. Suddenly, the motorcycles and the dolls are replaced by a big man. A monster. Twenty storeys tall. Someone is still singing the song and the big bad guy is not pleased. Irritated, he starts searching the streets frantically for the mystery source of the song. At the end of the road, he finds a house. He peeps in through one of the windows (He's big. He can easily do this.) and sees a guy with a goatee having a tape-recorder in his hand. The source. Determined, he charges at the guy with a sword.
That's when I wake up.
2. I put off the alarm and sit on my bed trying to remember why I wanted to wake up so early. Its cold. I start shivering. This stage is the worst.
You now remember the reason for waking up so early. So you know its utterly necessary to stay awake and do what made you see sunrise. But then, there's the bed.
I give one look at the bed. Its one mammoth pizza. Too big for even several dehydrated hungry obese men, lost in the Sahara desert for over a month to finish off. And I'm one of them. So I sleep off. Again.
3. But this time, the dreams dont have any of the dolls or motorcycles. Not even the giant. Instead, the thought of not accomplishing the task I had so enthusiastically set the alarm for and so irritatedly woken up for nags the mind. Its not the deep sleep that I wanted. But the superficial-subconscious one haunted by dreamy images of some random guy ordering me to get up and get going who my mind very adamantly ignores.
Dream time is much slower than real time. An hour goes by. And its 7:00 AM. I wake up again as the random guy wins.
This is how it is. The three stages. Seldom have i been able to wake up early. On a few days, when I have, to study, I have dozed off while doing so. Being nocturnal is so much fun. And then there's Chandrama. Who wants to study when others dream about bikes? God bless the -that someone- who introduced snooze. "I tried."
Friday, January 2, 2009
ARGH!!
Anger. I'm angry. I want to break some glass. I want to slap someone. I want to tear up entire books.
I feel like... :
1. Throwing my cell out of the window.
2. Clicking the power button repeatedly. It'll make the system crash.
3. Smashing my cube into pieces.
4. Burning. Anything.
5. Kicking the dustbin outside my room.
6. Ignoring gtalk-pests. Or maybe just throwing a really acidic fuck-off along their way.
7. Shouting.
I have other things on my mind too. But my brain's in just too chaotic a state to sort them out. Wish i had vampire teeth. Aaaarrrgghh!!!
I feel like... :
1. Throwing my cell out of the window.
2. Clicking the power button repeatedly. It'll make the system crash.
3. Smashing my cube into pieces.
4. Burning. Anything.
5. Kicking the dustbin outside my room.
6. Ignoring gtalk-pests. Or maybe just throwing a really acidic fuck-off along their way.
7. Shouting.
I have other things on my mind too. But my brain's in just too chaotic a state to sort them out. Wish i had vampire teeth. Aaaarrrgghh!!!
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