Away...

This is what I felt, when for two days I was in Bangalore.......

I was in a different city. I know you didn’t miss me. I was looking for you even there in that strange crowd. I looked for you from over the skies. I looked for you in that pool. I dreamt about you all night. But I never found you, not even in my dreams. You were faceless. It appears everything is diminishing – the moistness that I always felt in your lips, the look of your eyes that expressed anger, and everything that I always followed for understanding what you never said but the most I miss is your smell. I feel lost, like a child in a fair, where there are so many attractions but my eyes search for you. I never find you and then I become disheartened. I don’t weep because I always knew this was to be so.

I came back. I searched for your signs everywhere. I went back to those places where I think I left you. Those moments are there. I close my eyes and relive them only to realise that they are gone. I have lost them or they were never mine. But I know I lived in those moments. I was disturbed last night, I felt like screaming your name, I was angry. Then I searched for a memento. I know I have lost them all, returned them or you never gave me one but still I searched. I know if I ever loved you, I’ll find one, somewhere, somehow. I found your hair in the jacket that I wore in winters. I know they were yours, don’t ask me how. I smelled them and then kept it back. I did not feel bad. I know they will not stand time, like me, like everything here and I always knew this was to be so.

Even in words I tried to find you. Ask all those books which I have read, they know it. They will vouch for me. The paper on which I wrote this will also swear by it and so will the pen. It seems everyone at my home knows you. The fan, the bed, the table and every night they ask me – Have you met her today? I don’t answer them. I keep quiet. They understand my silence and it appears they are sad. But I cheer them up; tell them stories of people I have met. The long list of work I have to do. I plan with them about it. They know I’m faking and so do I but we never question each other. We all knew this was to be so.

I know you are here with me, while I am writing this. In fact, I can see you in the water bottle in front of me. Strange but Yes I can. There is some water left in it. It’s been days and also it hasn’t rained. I reason it out not to drink. There is a paper, which boasts that it has your smell. I have preserved it. How long? I don’t know. Oh Delhi….I miss you. I want to be with you but I know this will never happen and the tag of being ‘unsuccessful’ reminds me that this was always to be so.

Trishanku - I

He was fighting for more than survival. The city by now had sapped all his strength. Both Physical and Mental. The monotonous routine of to and fro from office was lost in the blue screen of the television. His only source of entertainment. Off late he had started watching ‘Tamil’ channels. First out of curiosity, then trying to learn the language and finally because at midnight they were the only channel showing lot of cleavages and navels. As time passed and the skin show was more often repeated than not, he started contemplating watching discovery...may be animals are better than humans!

Whatever, the idea was still stuck in his head when summers arrived. Delhi in summers is all about sweat and power cuts. Both have an interesting relationship. When ‘power’ dies ‘sweat’ takes birth. So, our dear friend has to undergo long bouts of sweating, which in no ways was amicable to his health. Don’t know but science says that most of our body weight is cause fluids.

Guess like its a human tendency that we often reason when we are alone. We ponder. We debate and we try to find answers to those innumerable questions, which are hidden in the core of our hearts. Some, like to run away from them and find that ignorance is actually bliss. Anyhow, our dear friend...sorry, we forgot to give him a name but anyhow how is that important? He could be anyone from anywhere doing anything. Yes, so our dear friend also had to undergo this painful exercise. He christened this as ‘path to destruction.’ Why? Reason, at the end of this non-senscial debate, the end product was that he realised the ‘unsucessfullness’ of debating it. He never emerged with a perfect plan and even if he did he never implemented it. But the regularity of these self-discussions were as regular as the power cuts of Delhi and both were able to bring out one thing - sweat.

His friend circle was not a big one. Hold on. That nowhere means he was socially unacceptable. Just that those he called ‘friends’ were just acquaintances. Check his orkut. I believe there are only three people added there as friends or perhaps four. Call it his bad luck all were in different cities. So, more or less, they were numbers on his mobile phone, which once or sometime twice in a week realised that they need to buzz.

The conversation was mostly about -

1. How they doing?

2. Why life sucks?

3. How are their respective girlfriends?

4. Why he don’t want to have one?

5. About his heart breaks?

6. And, about job.

So overall, everything was discussed, which perhaps fall in the gambit of word ‘friendship.’

Back to his room. The electricity had just announced it arrival. It was the tube light first, which tried to out beat others but it was the fan who announced it with a creaking sound. He switched on the television. There was a rain song being aired. The actresses wet saree was clinging to her skin. But this was the nth time the same song was being played. He had no clues what they were singing but he knew their next step. He looked at his phone, it was sleeping. The first rays of sun were trying to beat the streetligths. It was time to sleep. Just that he do not want to rise up. Not again. Never. But as his eyes closed he knew, the silent phone will turn into an alarm in another 5 hours and then once gain the monotonous routine will start. The fight is not for survival and there is no ending to it....

P.S - Trishanku is a mythical charachter. Please follow this link for more info - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trishanku . Also, this is the first part which, I intend to conclude in another two but there is no timeline.

The journey....

Like all nights I didn't sleep yesterday as well. I have no reason to stay awake. Still, I can't help myself. I think this has now became a habit and to blame anyone for this would be a mistake. Anyhow, today I am in no mood to blame anyone.

Summers are here. I don't hate summers. The city becomes interesting in this month. I am sure Delhi doesn't hate summers. Why? I don't have any justification for this. I have stopped reasoning. I think I am done with that. My sleepless nights are now more boring. Reasoning was my only companion. Now I've deserted her. But somehow Delhi still lingers all around me, in the bookshelf, in some old torn pages, in the glow of the cigarette burning on my lips, and in the smoke that vanishes nowhere in the room....

But, I know I have to live with all this. Just like I've now started to learn - How not to panic when electricity is not there. So, I ignore her presence. I don't want her sympathy. But I still have to write the last post. And, I have to visit Red Fort for that. I plan to do it soon. Once I'm done with Red Fort, I'll close the Delhi Chapter once and for all.

Another interesting thing is happening to my phone, it has started receiving calls from some new numbers. For me they are still numbers and I'm sure my phone doesn't like to ring at night. Whenever it rings, it disturbs the three of us....Me, my loneliness and Delhi. So, after playing as a good samaritan for few days, I've stopped taking those calls. Call it my 'unsucessfullness', coz I don't think I can justify any role now.

Lot has been happening this week. N is going to get married. This makes me really feel old. Even before my b'day. I mean the life till now seems like a movie. Anyhow, as usual poor N was confused...we had this chat on G-talk, which I'll post below.....But for sure one thing becomes crystal clear......I'm still waiting for the morning. And some mornings only come after a period of mourning. And for Delhi, well.....

There is now in this town a famine of the grief of love, Asad
We've agreed that we would remain in Delhi-- what will we eat?
Ghalib

Here is my conversation with one of my best friends, who is going to get married...I guess, the diellma is there from centuries...

D: hi yaar
how are you
so good to cu online
N: i wished u were online
i want to talk to u abt something very serious
r u freee
D: yes
wht hpnd?
N: it will take 15 min
D: bol na
fuck the time
if its serious bol
N: i am abt to get married
D: lol
thts kewl
N: i have seen the girl this sun
D: yeah baby
how she looks?
N: now the thing is tht she is ok
but i dont know if i should marry that girl or not
i am confussed
D: see boss...two things
a. look if she matches your mindset
I mean whts the use if u marry a beauty and then she creates hassles
so...first and foremost check that
b. I mean if you don't like her then don't marry her.....i mean whts the use of rueing it later
N: thts the point now the girl is frank
although she is not a perfect match since requirements in army a little different from civil as
D: I understand....frank bole toh?
Kaku jaise
in frankness
where is she from?
and what she has done?
N: in army she has to be very outspoken and she has to be infront of crowd every day dealing with mens wives
she is from gonda
D: every girl manages that
she will acuustom
so don't look for the just perfect thing
N: she has done ba and she is doing ma(english)
D: she shld knw how to speak english thats it
don't go for very frank girl
nahi to kal ko woh tera officers ke biwi ke ssath patte khelti rahegi
N: i know tht but the thing is i cannot say anything as my mom and dad are so happy with the family of the girl tht they have blindly given there consent
D: but all of a sudden....I'm surprised
wtf
is this ur marriage or ur parents?
N: no no thts not wht i meant by frankness
mine but the point is tht they have almost said yes even before me
D: so?
N: now the thing is i have said yes
a go ahead for the marriage and ur the first person to know this
D: why u said Yes?
and u can always tell them its not that
I mean its ur life
N: i had no option and the thing is i had no reason to say no
strong reason
D: u can always say u don't like her
i mean isn't this a strong enuf reason?
N: the thing is tht mom and dad told me tht they are happy with the girl
D: and on top of that u can later tell ur bhabi or bjhaiyya to convey this to ur parents
SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO?
fuck this is ur life dude
i mean yeah they are v. imp
but still
N: the whole thing is very complicated
i will explain this in simple terms
my bhabhi has a cousin sister and she wants me to marry her with which my parents will never agree
D: ok
but still there are not only two girls in this world
i mean u can still tell ur parents to wait
N: its only my elder brother who understands the whole thing
D: and what he says?
Go for it?
like he did?
wtf
N: now he cannot say anyhing to dad and mom becoz they would think he is lobbying for the girl habhi wants me to marry
D: ok
so.....let them be out of picture
U stand for urself
tell Suraj
he can say at leats
I mean no use of gettin married to sm 1 u don't find attractive at all
ok.....do u find her attractive?
N: now if i stand for myself the whole thing is like a script which has been written just for me
D: fuck them yaar
u tell me...u find her attractive?
YEs or NO
N: she is ok i will send a snap of hers to u and asshole keep it for urself only
D: boss
see
N: she is not the most beutiful girl but she is ok
D: U like her
i mean u comfortable with the idea of spending ur life with her?
Did u had a converstaion with her?
u have a phone wid u?
can I call u?
N: the thing is i m just not sure look she is the first girl
D: then wait na
dekh boss
tell ur parents frankly
or ask suraj to tell
was he there?
N: i have met i have seen her photo but i dont know if i could find another girl or not
D: what
dude
listen
This is India
and ur an army officer
any girl would happily marry to you
aise toh I shld nt even think of getting married ever
N: i have said yes tht i am going to marry tht girl becoz i felt i was not having any other option
D: FUCK YOU
now listen..would u like me to call ur parents
and expalin them
or can Suraj do that better
N: no not at all
suraj has lost it on this
i will tell u suraj is getting hopeless day by day
D: then tell ur parents wht u feel
at least tell ur mom
I'll still say - IF YOU DON'T FIND HER ATTRACTIVE DON'T GO FOR IT
ur just 24.....people marry till 27-30

N: and u dont know wht to say
D: what?
abe sun
load mat le
abhi kaun sa tune shaadi kar hi li
N: r u there
D: yes
I am
haan
tommorow i am going to allahabad
D: I'll call u tonite
arrey maine to pucha hi nahi
Bhahbi ka naam kya hai?
whats her name?
salle.....coz u I feel old :-(
N: priyanka\
D: kya baat hai
Priyannkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkaaaaaaaaa
chal take care
Will call you..

B'day

I have nothing to write. There are a lot of issues. Not with me but with others. I have stopped thinking about others and so the issues.

Come April and I get scared every year. I don't like to think about this month anymore. In fact a few years (or should I say centuries) ago I was all pepped up, when April started. Reason - I was born in this month, some…..come on…I don't want to do all that maths.

Anyhow, now that I've stopped thinking on those lines, let me give you a brief that how the first two weeks of April use to pass and what's the state now. But before I continue, let me tell you that I've never celebrated my b'day in school. Somehow it was always a holiday.

There are some memories of how my classmates use to celebrate their birthdays in school that I rue being not able to do -

1. The b'day boy/girl can wear fancy clothes other than the school dress. That was how we use to recognize the b'day boy or girl. I never had this chance.

2. The b'day boy/girl use to distribute toffees and the rich ones distributed chocolates. They made sure that their best friend gets two. This was essential so as to proclaim your best friend and clear any doubts. I never had a best friend till college so I always got one.

3. Most essential the class teacher gets to choose, how many she can take. For rest it was one. But I remember my friends had their favourite teachers so they also get a larger share. My favourite teacher thought I was the dumbest student.

Anyhow, this was about school. Now lets see, how my anticipation levels were -

Some 20 years ago -

I was very excited. I use to tell my parents in advance what I want. I know we were not rich, so my demands were very justified. But I never understood the concept of getting new clothes. Anyhow in the first week, my dad made sure that we go to the tailor and get me stitched a new shirt and pant. After effects - I still prefer wearing stitched shirts.

The first half of second week was all about inviting friends. Making a list whom to invite and who not to. One always makes sure to invite those people who are closest to your parents as you know they'll bring the best gifts. Dad comes come with the stitched clothes. Try them on and send them back if for any altercations.

The D-day: Mom use to wake up early. Prepare delicacies. Dad orders the cake. Everyone at home as it is a holiday. Relatives who live nearby come till afternoon. After mom insisting for the nth time, finally taking a bath.

In those times there were no CD players, so dad putting up H'bdy song cassette in the tape recorder. Finally other children arrive. More interested in the sizes of the packets they bring than what they wearing.

Unwrapping the gift with parents. Parents making a mental note of what one brought so as to replicate. NO RETURN GIFTS as we were poor.


A decade ago -

No more parties. Sister giving you the B'day card, first thing in the morning, which is also signed by parents. You hoping that the girl you had a crush and to whom you've left enough indications calls you and wishes you. Wait till afternoon. Only relatives call, that too a few. No friends remember. In the evening, you've a better dinner than usual days.

Some 5 years ago -

You away from parents in a distant city. Only two of your friends know that its ur B'day. Mom, dad and sis calls and wishes you. The girl you want most to remember completely forgets only to give you a pleasant surprise in afternoon. Unfortunately, this is when your two friends realise that today is your birthday. You bring some beers at night and of course dope. Stoned.

Now -

You don't want anyone to remember and you want some to remember. Your parents and your sister will call you. Of course your two friends will. You will be in office working. And least expecting surprises. At this old age…you don't want any more surprises.

Whatever.... I'll be lying if I say I'm not anticipating things to happen. Honestly, I don't want to anticipate. But like always I'm unsuccessful and the day will remind me more of that………

Dead Letters

Dear Sister,

I don’t know if I’ll be alive when you’ll be reading this letter. This may bring tears to your eyes but the need of the hour is to stay strong. Things may have not gone my way but we all know that I was justified in doing what I did.

I feel no remorse whatsoever even in my last moments. These few minutes that I’m spending right now in writing this letter will always be the most cherished moments of my life. I’m ashamed of myself that I cannot be there with you forever.

Sister, I miss your company the most. I know if you had been with me, you could have at least calmed my falling nerves and be a source of strength. I would like to remind you that after me you’d be burdened with greater responsibility. So you should tread the path with utmost care.

If I would have an option to live, I would love to go back to the mountains and spend my time reading. After all this, I question myself why I am doing this? But when I close my eyes I see that beautiful picture, which I always dreamt, wished, longed and even strived for. Perhaps, this is an eternal war, which may go on for some more time, may be till I breathe.

Sometimes in my dreams, I see the future that as a family we all longed for. But some dreams never get fulfilled. They cloud our eyes and only go when the salt mixed water pours them out of our heart and brain.

As I’m closing this letter, tears run down my cheeks. I still remember playing as kids, where we all use to fight false battles. I know you always sided with us in those battles. Even today, after I’m gone, I know your heart and prayers will be with us and for us. But this is my request that whatever comes, you’ll not act emotionally and take care of yourself and all those who matters.

Yours Unsuccessful brother
D


P.S. – A letter by Dara Shikoh to his sister, Jahanara Begum. A few days after he wrote this letter Aurangzeb’s army captured him. It is said that he was beheaded and his severed head was taken to his father (Shah Jahan) and sister, who were imprisoned near Taj Mahal.

Futility....

My world is full of highly unsuccessful people. And sometimes I think they are in a way more unsuccessful than me. Believe me that doesn’t give me any sense of satisfaction but irritates me more. I find parasites all around me, may be even I’m one of them. Who knows?
But for sure I’m disappointed of people. At least I’m happy being unsuccessful but these wicked creatures always try to creep out of that hole, only to slip further down. Their downfall irks me more. I mean if I would have been god (if he is there) I would have condemned them to death, immediately and take pleasure from the fact that I’ve ended their eternal sufferings.
But then I look at some other weird creatures, hanging around. And when I am unable to understand why they behave in such a manner, I feel dismayed. I don’t know what nirvana is and nor I am interested in. Guess like its my fault, I expect. And perhaps expectation is the root cause of all my grievances. When people don’t match up your expectations, you start falling apart.

Need Theory

Now when I postulate this, I get more irate. It’s like we all have empty spaces within us. And we try to fill that empty space through someone else. This empty space is both physical and emotional. There are thousands of us, who are waiting so that their empty spaces get filled. And when we find someone else who also has an empty space, which can be filled by us and ours by them, we come together. We give it the name of a relationship. So a simple transaction process gets coined as love, friendship and etc.
The moment that empty space is filled, we divert to other areas and try to fill them. Nothing wrong. But when one party has that space filled and it thinks that its no more of an empty space, it tries to break the agreement. Now if both the parties feel the same it becomes a mutual understanding and the ties are snapped of easily. However, if any of the party doesn’t get its due share, either it tries to cling on or start looking for an another person desperately.
Overall the net result is that it rarely happens that two people can stick together cause of any emotions. Either the emotions should move on to a next level or there should be other bindings. And when this plain truth of transaction dawns upon me it makes me cynical to everyone around.

So what we do?

I don’t have an answer for this. But I think there are two ways. The first one is that one should be clinical about that need. It’s like you become a parasite. The other is you try to fulfill your needs by yourself, now that asks for a lot.

What I am doing about it?

I am going through a realisation process. It is exactly the same which I went through some years ago. The only problem is that its very easy to get out of this process but extremely tough to go through it. But its like self cleansing.

Do we all need someone?

Yes, we need friends because we want to be happy, we want partners to satiate our desires. We need parents and so we need kids. Similarly for pets and so on.

But at the end of the day, one needs to remember that we all will be unsuccessful. In some way or the other. You’ve two choices. Either to accept it, like I’ve done or call it life and keep moving.....unsuccessfully.

Alcoholism

This for someone with whom I cannot give my relationship a name. It
involves all, animosity, friendship, admiration, love and respect.
There is only one thing I know....without this guy things will not be
that easy and I just like it to be that way ----

Start---

His sun-sign was not Taurus. But he was no less than a bull. The epitome of masculinity stretched across his chest, which made girls drool over him. Believer, non-believer, sadist, masochist,hero-worshipper, self-made man, loser and a winner...all these traits were equally dispersed across his 5ft 8 inches body frame.

A typical day in his life would start with a beedi (khakis) and as it progresses, other brands would kiss his lips and ease down his lungs as smoothly as the earlier one. So was the case with the girls, to whom he never attached. Just that they tried to hold on to him often in vain.

He worshipped his profession, he loved it as well and at times treated it as his whore. Squeezing the most out of it and giving his best. Words were his compatriots, analogies his friends, assumptions his ideas and the copy was all about the first paragraph.

To understand him you need to go through his work. His first paragraph was just like his first impression. It will bedazzle you. You'll find him the most erudite person on any topic. Comprehensive yet strong views. Move to the second paragraph and you'll feel the rough edges but still not able to pin-point them. The charm would be so overwhelming that it will make you sail till the last.

The ending...well that will come at the end of this story. So as you may guessed, this guy was....what? Well everyone around him comes with a different opinion. Intriguing, Explosive, Fake, Dramatic were some of the most overused words.

He was standing at his balcony. A burning sensation made him realised that the cig in his hands embraced death. Smoking at the balcony was almost a pleasure. The tree in front was a juxtaposition. Juxtaposition....with what? May be life. A nomad who was transfixed, still trying to reach to the skies, branching out wherever it can.

His cell blinked and a familiar name announced his virtual presence. Connecting people..huh! Sometimes breaking connections is more easier than maintaining them.

Hi
Hi

Missing me?

Well, I generally do (not totally a lie)

Liar, then why did not't you call?

I don't have balance

Why you always run out of balance, whom do you call so much?

I don't know, I don't bother to check

You should know, why don't you save some money

---By now his hands were fumbling to light another cig and the idea of banging the cell on the wall ahead was raising its hood-----

Well, you're right. Perhaps I need to learn to manage many things

No. You need to do it now and what other things you talking about?

Nothing

Tell me, na. Don't act like this. I hate it. I know you don't love me.

---- Love, Hate....easy words though they encompasses many emotions---

Accha, I will call you back. (and he disconnected the phone)



He raised himself with much pain. A spinning head is not an easy thing to handle. Last night, like many earlier he was drunk. Alcohol was not a necessity with him, it was just a mean to be what he wants to be.

As he flipped through the daily crap that gets printed in white, pink and now orange he wondered where is everyone heading to? Aspiring for things beyond their reach and losing on what they have. A game where losing is reality and wins are never counted.

He too had responsibilities. Some deserving most unwanted. He don't want to think about them. This way or the other he will fulfill them for what needs to be, needs to be done.

The trip to the office wasn't the best one. Bloody autorickshawas they charge a ransom. As soon as he entered his colleague walked up to him. Last night wasn't a nice experience for this guy as well.

Why he drinks? (he laughed at the thought)

--- Boss, we're going to be fucked

Relax man, I'm there (he replied with an ease)

But still, at least we need to start

Yeah, yeah, let's go for a smoke first then we'll decide. Let's go.

What the fuck?

Chill. I'm there.

He walked up to his computer and keyed in the password. Connected...to the globe through world wide web. Checked his mails, Orkut and then his blog. His diary, his world where he writes what he feels.

The day was longed by futile discussions, incoherent colleagues,stupid passers-by and a nonchalant atmosphere. The four walls were a cage. He wished for a bomb to explode. Finding himself nearing death among the mutilated bodies.

As the night dawned, he walked out of the office. A sense of uneasiness overtook him. True identities of people started revealing,game plans unveiled, love, hate, friendship out of necessity saddened him. And the futility of existence mauled his free soul.

His legs took him to the nearest bar. Perhaps the daughter of grapes will make him believe, what does not exist. But this is not the ending. because his endings were never abrupt, they mean something,trying to prove a pint though unjustified. And all this leaves some mortals confused and make others fall in love with him.

But one question that haunts him and many alike. Is this what is called as alcoholism or just being successfully unsuccessful?

Addiction

I have made another attempt to quit smoking. Though being unsuccessful is my destiny but this time I have raised the stakes. I don't know what to ask for. Quitting one gives me life and leaving another brings me a painful death. But one thing is sure…both bring me freedom. I always try to be a complete non-believer and I know for sure that I'm not a loser. I'm just Unsuccessful………

Battlefield

She was frustrated, bored, angry, confused and waiting for the best to happen. She always knew that she deserves the best and this made her more convinced to pen down her thoughts. Today centuries after she wrote this, things haven't changed. The dilemma still remains…….

P.S - We here means I.

We are a little apprehensive. This battle is heading nowhere. Though every night we make him understand how important this is but he's more interested in finding the secret between our legs. Sometimes we don't understand his love. Is it for what will go eventually or something, which goes beyond human comprehension?

There is no start or end of our story. We were not born rich but had a legacy to support our whims and fancies. After all we were the descendants of the court poet. As we grew up, we didn't require that legacy anymore. There was more to us than to our past.

We will not count our admirers here. The list is long. But we've been faithful to each one of them. We never promised them what we can't deliver. They got their share and they should've been contented. But as the great learned people say - " Desires are never fulfilled." We'll not say that we are beyond it but we know how much to give and when to stop. After all like any other girl, we liked the thought that there is someone who'll do anything for us. And that too when we made clear we cannot go beyond a certain limit. We had nothing to lose and we were justified doing that.

We swear on the merciful Allah that we never used our charms unjustly. We never asked someone to do something for us. (Some months ago, we were accused of that the King made a boat full of people sink coz we wanted to see. We did not asked for that. We just said how would it look!). There have been stories that make us feel like a goddess. We say, how unjust they can be? We're a peck of dust in front of the lord above. How a goddess can be small?

We never aspired to be a queen. We always knew we would be one. The bountiful above knows that we never played games. Our heart is as clear as the streams in jannat. People came to us. They said they wanted us. We told them, we're not here to fulfil their desires. We shall also be contented. Mind you we used the word 'contented.' And they made us the queen.

His Highness is another name on the list. But let me tell you this. We always cared for our admirers. We send them messages asking for their well being. We even call them to our house if they are not doing well. We've even nursed one. Now will you call us a cheat? We don't think so. We don't love his highness but he is always in our thoughts. Say if tomorrow he leaves us, will we feel bad? Yes certainly will. But we will not show it to him. Nor we will look for someone else. For we know that there is a list of people who are dying to have our company.

We will choose the one who has biceps of steel and a heart that beats for us. He will show a careless attitude, which will irritate us and when we nag him, he will crush us in his mighty arms. He will not meet us for months and then drench us all of a sudden like a dark cloud. He will speak to all, which will make us jealous but then comeback and make us feel wanted. When we want to speak to him, he will not be around but when we're lonely he will make us his queen. He will be there and yet not present. Aloof, distant yet mine.

This is what we want. We don't want the titles. We hope once this war ends we'll get one like this. At this end of the line or that it doesn't matter. His Highness is always there but our eyes search for the one who isn't. How Unsuccessful!!!

- A diary entry by Lal Kunwar, whose romance with Jahandar Shah (1712-13), the grandson of Aurangzeb was indeed the most colourful. She was descendent of Tansen, the great musical genius and one of the gems of the court of Akbar. She was made empress and dignified with the title of Imtiyaz Mahal (chosen of the palace). A poet wrote in her praise -

Ba Khubi Lal Kunwar nam-i-u-bud
Shakkarguftar, sin-andam-i-u-bud
(Lal Kunwar, her very name is most befitting. Sweet in speech, her body was white as silver)

Page- 1

Last night it was TATA’s everywhere. They won the Corus deal but analysis and then over analysis continued till morning. Not only the pinkies but the dailies as well wrote about the Tata legacy, Indian Global foray and so on. (Here I’m in no mood to put links, but the masthead of Economic Times was the most interesting one).
Anyhow, the reason I’m writing about this is that once again I was awake the whole night. Why? Well, one of the reason was that I had to catch the newspaper vendor. To cut a long story short. Since the time I have shifted here, I wasn’t getting a single paper.
Now it has been centuries since I’ve ventured out early mornings. But, to my surprise nothing has changed. The school children can be still seen waiting for their school bus, while their mothers stuffing paranthas(a kind of chappati) in their mouths. A few oldies strolling the nearby park. Men coming home with milk packets and asking their neighbours to hurry up, otherwise the stock will get over. And the unlucky ones, who don’t have their private toilets, lining up impatiently at the public lavatory. Funny! Something’s never change.

So after a undergoing a few rounds of my locality, I found the paperwallah (newspaper vendor). My conversation with him was short, perhaps a few words. If you are a sensible person, you’ll never argue, explain or ask for a favour from a newspaperwallah in the morning. I bet he is more busy then the PM of India. So, I just gave him my address and asked him to come after he his done with the distribution. He showed up at my door after an hour. At that time I was watching CNBC Business and ruing the fact that why wasn’t I born in the family of Tata’s, Amabnis’, Mittal’s (any 1) or even Ruia’s or Biyani’s. God (if there is any) has been unjust to me. After all if I don’t deserve success on my own he could have made me a glorified unsuccessful example.

Well, the newspaperwallah was in no mood to hear my woes. He meant business. So, I immediately told him that I need three newspapers. 2 Pinks and 1 daily. The condition of my room is inversely proportional to the job which I’m in. Though my salary isn’t anything to boast about. But still, when you’re living for free at your relative's place ( my uncle’s house who is in MEA and have been posted in Sudan) you’re expected to maintain some decent living. Anyhow, before he can ask me, whether I was sure, what I need is what I asked for, I showed my subscription card for one of the pinkies.

The one that I asked for is launched today — HT Mint. It’s a business newspaper from one of the oldest publication houses of India. And unlike other business papers it’s not a broadsheet nor pink in colour. The paperwallah suddenly got nostalgic, when he came to know that I’ve subscribed for Mint. By no signs he was any old of age. But he insisted on explaining me how the size and state of newspapers have changed. All this do makes him a fierce competitor for the editor’s post. He knew that papers world over have been adapting the new format. But he was wondering at the ever-growing pages. His trouble was that people have started living in the sky. And mind me, to be a good newspaperwallah, you need to have a good arm. Much better than that of Sachin. Not only that, a good aim saves the precious time. I must say our cricket guru Mr. Chappel can ask these guys to help our men-in-blue. After all when our dabbawallahs can teach someting to Prince Charles, our newspaperswallah can be of help on throwing, aiming and so on.

Now since he had only copy left and that too MINT, I was kind of lucky. Reason, I wouldn’t have liked that I lose even one day of my subscription after all you can’t cut it from the money you’ll give to him at the end of month. I devoured the whole paper in half an hour and developed my views. In the afternoon, when I reached office everybody was writing off MINT. I wondered if I had made the right choice by subscribing to it. Don’t know, may be in a few days I’ll have a better understanding. And besides that newspapers serves various purpose for me — Like when I eat on my bed, I can put my food on them. If water spills on the floor instead of mopping, a day’s old newspaper comes handy. And, of course at the end of each month they become a reason to fight with kabadiwallah.

Finally I slept at 9 in the morning only to be woken up by a call after a few hours. A call. Sometimes it becomes a reason not to sleep and sometimes that wakes you up. The night was unsuccessful, the morning nostalgic, the afternoon confused, the evening a bit hazy and now I am wondering, will the cycle repeat? I guess it will, being unsuccessful is a part of me. But this time....I will embrace it. And if it takes away my sleep, let it be so. After all, there would be something to read tomorrow.

Snakes and Ladders

This is the excerpt of the conversation; I had with a colleague of mine. I was trying to boost her morale. I gave her examples, which people give me on and off. After the conversation I just realised one thing, its like playing Snakes and Ladders. I don't know, whether I am at 99 or 0. But one thing I know…I don't have a dice anymore…..

D: Hey met AK from your ofc today
A: oh....k
D: so how are you?
7:51 PM
busy like always
A: no man
is he still in office
D: i met him an hour ago
A: ok ya
7:52 PM
D: can check out if you want me 2
A: hez 1 of my closest pals here
na na
D: yup he is a cool man
A: have 2 speak 2 him anyway
ya
that he is
7:53 PM
D: so wassup? Howz the weather down there?
A: awesome
u tel me
D: I'm plannin to go to drink at my pals place
A: hwz delhi
D: cold and chilly
A: i think i need 2 visit delhi its been a while
thats cool
D: though now the temp is up by a few degrees
7:54 PM
A: yea AK was tellin me
ha!
D: of course you should
A: hmm
D: yeah....then I can take you out for a drink..lol
7:55 PM
A: well, i dont drink
D: oh...then you can go for a coffee in a bar
it's good, I can get drunk and you'll drop me home..lol
7:56 PM
A: ha!
nway hw're things with u hwz work treating u?
D: to be honest....besides Sports I don't have much to do
7:57 PM
like this week I'm doin only one
nehw as I told you...later on I'll like to branch out but keepin my head down and lookin where i can kind of fit in
wht abt u?
7:58 PM
A: do u see my stories?
i mean my bylines?
D: honestly....only smtimes
A: ya so u can fig it out
honestly
7:59 PM
D: cheer up boss...
I'm sure you'll get cracking soon
8:00 PM
A: what makes u think that
its all crap!!!
D: see...I don't say this to every1...I don't care
But I've seen your work
from both sides...I mean real work and the manipulation part
8:01 PM
I'm sure that what makes a good journo.....so bid for your time
also....I knw 1 thing when it comes to survival even an ant gives i's best shot
AND this is not global gyaan
:-)
8:02 PM
A: i'm sure it isnt
but i surely have my doubts now
8:03 PM
D: its good, in fact you shld re asses
A: nway lets c
D: yeah
A: huh??
i mean i doubt myself now
i dont know ya
chuck it...
8:04 PM
D: come on....chuck it but with style
A: chuck what?
D: chuck ur doubts
A: all this sounds gr8 but th efact remains either ur the best or u not there
i dont know
D: correct
8:05 PM
I agree to that statement
But this is what my grandpa told me
and I always rem it whenever I'm low
he said
Today what you've done may not come through
8:06 PM
but the next second everything changes, what not clicks right now will click a sec after that
so keep tryin
chal 4gt it
A: thnx 4 the encouragement
D: this iss bgettin heavy
8:07 PM
A: no thats nice of u but i dunno seriously
D: do whatever you've to do....baki dekh lena yaar...maut to nahi aayegi na
bas phir kya darna...bahut kuch hai karne ke liye
A: maut will be bettre i think!!
D: Hey A.....come on ddude
8:08 PM
A: u've caught me in a very bad mood
ya ya chill its all cool
D: you're depressed for no good reason....haven't you faced this kind of stuff ever...may be in school, or college or general life
where you're kind of doomed
trhink
A: so u think i'm doomed??
8:09 PM
D: so?
you're depressed for no good reason....haven't you faced this kind of stuff ever...may be in school, or college or general life
where you're kind of doomed
trhink
and then smtimes ur sucsful and smtime not
tht doesnt mean u'll stop trying
or feel its over
8:10 PM
A: i asked u do u think i'm doomed like bura waqt chal raha hai
D: NO
bura waqt kitne din chalega
saala kabhi to khatam hoga na
phir?
A: abhi chal raha hai kya?
D: I don't think so
8:11 PM
A: ok
D: but mein koi jyotishi nahi houn
this is the same like what I was goin thru a few weeks back
and who knows phir aise hi hoga
but kaam to karna padega na
8:12 PM
A: ya ure right
thanks ya:-)
D: come on
8:13 PM
realx and do whatever you've to
A: but ya only kaam nahi karna
have to do top class kaam
D: matlab?
haan haan woh to hai bhai
A: acha tell me what do u mean by manipulation and othe story
8:14 PM
D: I only mean that smtimes...you've to make a story where there is none
thts manipulation
and smtimes there is a genuine story
8:15 PM
which is waiting for a journo to come and bear her
A: ha!
o do u feel i'm a good manipulator or a good genuine journo?
D: a good journo is 1 who is both
8:16 PM
and i think you can do well with both kind of stuff
8:17 PM
A: dude u made my day
now watch out 4 some real cool stories
D: kewl
8:18 PM
so then give them some punk
and of course HARD ROCK
lol
A: yes sir
now u making the competition harder 4 urself
haha
D: lol
8:19 PM
I don't have any competition
my competition is with myself
I'm the KING
A: thats a gr8 SoM
way to go but my competition is with all
nway gtg
D: ok
8:20 PM
bbye
and have some fun
A: u tv and thanks
yes will have fun

Suicide Note

Believe me. I’ve done nothing wrong. If you would’ve been at my place you would’ve done the same. Call it an error in judgment or my weakness but still I’ll say — I was not wrong, I was simply not wrong. I can still see the events unfolding in front of my eyes. It was another day and yet for centuries to come, I’ll be known for this day only. Sometimes I ask the great lord above that this was why I was born? I look for solace but can’t find it anywhere. Not even in the skies. In the dark when I walk through the streets the dogs do not bark at me, they think I can’t do anymore harm. Nobody questions me but in their eyes I can see the hatred. It swells up like a balloon filled with gas and then it erupts. And when it erupts, streams of tears flow. Now even that have stopped. Their cheeks look like barren lands. And I am the culprit. They say it. I’m the culprit. Their silence screams.

I cannot sleep at night. I hear voices. Shrieks, screams and whispers. People accusing me! For what I ask? For what? And then they become more silent. My head seems to be exploding and I weep. But there are no tears. I curse them, even I hurled stones at them but they stood their ground. Not a single soul moved. And they remained silent, as if testing my patience.

A few months back, everything was all right. I will not say that I was loved. But still there was this false feeling. The air was cool. The sunrise were warm. Those who now hate me felt for me. Or was it a farce? Night after night, I ponder over it, Think where did I went wrong. But as I said that was not my fault. They themselves are responsible for their plight. I cannot eat food anymore. Yesterday, I did not touched the chicken gravy. I used to relish it like anything. But now, it appeared human flesh with red blood. I was aghast. I think they plotted it. They want to kill me. I’ll not die. For I’m not wrong.

Today before writing this I’ve decided to confess. Someone told me that confessing makes your heart lighter. But what should I confess for I have nothing to hide. I set free all my pigeons, they came back. As if they’re also labeled like me. The sky is theirs but the freedom is snatched. In the afternoon, I sat down for my prayers. I cannot hear the muezzin call. Nor the once irritant temple bells gong. They all seem to have gone silent.

I’ll end my life. There is no reason to survive. I’m a loner in this world full of people. This is it. I call it a day. I know no one will weep. They will say, the traitor has died. But tell me, who I have betrayed. One can only betray if their is love, friendship or an agreement to honor. I never had one. I am not a traitor. Don’t believe me, ask Delhi.

— A suicide note by Illah Baksh, known as the traitor of Delhi, 1857 Mutiny.

Delhi- IV

I don't know but I've finally decided to call it a day. Reason, I have no clues. Perhaps somewhere I don't want to do it and in a way I'm forcing myself but I have to. As a loser I don't stand a chance and for what and why? This is extremely boring and this makes me feel sad. I guess I'm slowly dying. But the problem is I've felt so a thousand times before and still I'm very much alive. Perhaps when you ask for it you don't get it and when it comes you try to resist it. How unsuccessful!

Some days ago, I went to Jama Masjid. It was Eid. I don't like to believe in god. But the place reminds me of him. The tall minarets, the vast courtyard and the simplicity within this grandeur. This makes me feel both small and big. I look for Delhi. I yearn for her. But I couldn't find her anymore and her smell is also missing. I become lonely in the crowd. Like a lost kid….

Inside Jama Masjid, there is a small pond, where people wash their feet before saying prayers. I think the process is called ablution. The water washes away your sins before you ask for oneness with god. And before you enter the main hall, there is a beautifully carved marble gate. You have to go beneath it so as to enter the main hall. It is so designed that an adult has to bend while passing through it. Smart attempt I must say. Even in those times the king had to shed his supremacy before entering. The moment the king bends, the supremacy of god is accepted.
The whole idea makes me laugh. I mean we humans make a building which compete with the skies, only to realise we cannot defeat god and then we make sure that we itself say that. Perhaps the same is with Delhi and me. I try to compete with her only to realise that I can't win and then I accept my defeat. If it is to be so then let it be that way. Neither she can take anything away from me nor I can give her anything. But then in all honesty, if this is so then it is true love. And Delhi, she does not believe in love she encourage admirers. She is a candle who attract moths and the fate of moths…..unsuccessfulness?

From Jama Masjid, my newfound friend and me traversed to Chawri bazzar. It is said that this was where the lust of Delhi once lived. Lust of Delhi? I wonder. Delhi does not lust she lures. And whenever Delhi lusted it turned out to be a blunder. There are various examples. Be it before mutiny or after independence, whenever Delhi felt for his ruler, they vanquished and Delhi she was devastated at this loss. Now that she has learnt her lessons, she plays and Oh! She plays it well. Anyhow Chawri Bazzar has changed over centuries. I cannot visualize those lovely ladies standing in the balconies trying to lure passers-by. I tried hard but of no avail. I tried to see Delhi again but she wasn't anywhere. Somewhere I wanted to blame it on my newfound friend but then I realised I have lost it. Chawri Bazzar looked like a market filled of shops and rickshaws. A reality that I hate to see, hear and admit.

This self incised wound refuses to heal up. Delhi is lost and it now lives in the book of history. I don't know but back there in Jama Masjid, a Sikh man who brought her daughter was telling her little one that there is nothing great about here. His daughter may have read about Jama Masjid in some history book and insisted to see the place. Holding the little girl's arm he said, "See it is just a vast open space. There is nothing here to see." Little he saw the fascinated look at his daughter's face. She was fascinated by what I am in love with. And her father, he will not understand it, nor will others.

And then from nowhere, I saw Delhi, at the other end, just below the moon. She was looking mesmerising. I tried to call her but my voice was choked. I turned and looked at the little girls face; she was also looking there, as if trying to memorize this grandeur. A kid and a lover, both lost for one thing. Who's unsuccessful? Me, the kid or Delhi? Whatever be the answer one thing is sure that Delhi continues to live, if not with me then with others…..successfully I wish.

Middle-Earth

Alcohol and memories are definitely not a good combination. It isn't a revelation for me. I always knew it and so avoid mixing both. But last weekend I was helpless. N was back after a long time and Z also dropped. Personally I've a very strong feeling that was the last get-together for the three of us. I don't know why but this was a sort of culmination of our 05 year-old friendship.

Let me give reasons, N, an army officer is on his way to his post in Arunachal. In the past 05 years, he hasn't changed a bit. He is still a scrooge, continues to insist on explaining everything, and still believes that girls are only good in bed. But, army has instilled some pride in him and like any other olive-green bearer, his conversations somehow unknowingly make me feel a 'bloody civilian.'

Z, is all set to join the Ambani group coming summers. He also hasn't changed a bit. Still remains jolly, much of an squanderer like me and thinks girls are made to love and forget. But being in a business school has made him talk big. Sensex has taken precedence over sex. And Bulls and bears over bollywood. So his conversations somehow unknowingly make me visualize my future - We both in his villa, sitting at his bar. He pouring me a premium scotch, vintage 1700 and smoking a Havana. And me, with my lean figure, with a half-burnt cigarette between my fingers, sitting on the bar stool and listening to his business adventures.

So I believe that yes it was the culmination of our friendship in some way. The best part was that we all knew it and just avoided it. Anyhow, I was fighting with these thoughts when Z raised the topic that I fear the most. Discussing love lives. I can talk on history for hours, discuss politics as if I am the next PM and can be a good listener on the stuff that I don't know. But Love life….except unsuccessfulness I've nothing to add. And when you're drunk you remember those who left you or vice-versa.

Anyhow N's insistence on the curves and sizes and the debate fuelled by Z over describing girls each state wise, gave me time to be in my own world. I don't know but then I remembered a quote and laughed. That thought made me pick up the phone and call. In the morning, when all were dead drunk and snoring and I had somehow helped myself without vomiting, I rued that call. I don't know why.

There are so many why's - why people are living, why we try to make a career, why we study hard, why we get involved in office politics, why we make friends, why we love and why we lose it all.

I don't have an answer for any of those why. But I still remember so many people, starting from that sparrow - my first pet, that lame girl in school whom I then thought I should love coz no one did, my cat, that old guy whom I bought a quilt and similarly so many people who did some stuff for me when I never expected. WHY?

So in that chilly morning, I came out in the open. Asking the fog to engulf me and somehow that quote flashed in my mind once again, I smiled to myself, came back inside, hugged both of them hard and then closed my eyes. May be that is what my destiny is. For, Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost. And, I know that I'm not lost, I'm just unsuccessful.

Ana 'l haqq

I'm actually very tired. For the first time in so many days, I'm really feeling tired. This gives me some happiness and also makes me question myself. Of course, I'm not tiring. For I cannot spare time even to tire. I feel like an athlete competing in a relay race. I know the line is much far and I've to cross it. As of now I even don't know what line is that and what will happen once I cross it. For I cannot be successful and that is my fate!

Somebody told me, I have become closed. I laugh upon that thought. Closed? Huh…of what. All my experiences have helped me deriving one thing – We all lie to our self. Why we do that? We want to make us feel happy but the real tragedy is that a lie always remains a lie and when it crashes against the walls of reality, we feel sorry. I want to be in such a state where all these things do not matter. Time and again I falter but instead of ruing and clinging, I prefer them to be remembered as checks and balances. But the only worry is, I don't want to be there, thinking about them. Last winter I was in a similar state and this makes me laugh. There is something wrong with winters. The fog of unsuccessfulness is dense and I'm lost.

I look at people around and feel depressed. They all seem worthless. All of them! They are so engaged in their petty things. My dislike for them is growing by leaps and bounds. I think I'm a joker among those, trying to be friendly, nice, and in some cases much to my disliking thinking about them. I don't want to do any of these. Besides my family, there are only some people (in spite of thinking hard, I cannot raise the count above 4) whom I really want. But do they deserve to be with me? I'm getting unsure about it each coming day. Somehow now I want them to falter so I have a reason to say – You don't deserve it and move out. Unsuccessful with this also, they act well and so do I. Why we fake things? May be to stay happy and if this is happiness, I don't want it. I prefer to stay unsuccessful.

J gifted me 'The Last Mughal,' after a long-long time I got a present. Made me real happy but then I tried to do a post-mortem. I hate to accept that. Anyhow, the book is engrossing, makes me feel as if Delhi is calling, should be thankful to J. He gave me what I never expected from him – a smile, a genuine smile. I think I should also gift people. Even if they do post-mortem, how does it affect me, for I have nothing to lose and their smiles they would certainly be precious.

Last but not the least, I want to be a sufi now. This is what I think I'll end up as, longing for love and belongingness, which i'll never find in this fake world. But I have some obligations and I'm sure once I'm through with these obligations – I'll be a Sufi and this is a promise and I try my best to keep up with the promises I make....

Awakened by your love,
I flicker like a candle's light
tryin to hold on in the dark.
Yet, you spare me no blows
and keep asking,
"Why do you complain?"

- By RUMI

P.S - ana 'l haqq means, I am the Truth.

If I was not to be a Cartoon!

Loyal but incredibly unsuccessful, D has to defend his unsuccessfullness. This threat itself arises from his unsuccessfullness and threatens his existence. D is doomed to spend his life on pins and needles, terrified and suspicious of anything that is ordinary. When success rears it's hideous head, D exhibits enough fearless ingenuity only to be unsuccessful.

Spirits...

In spite of my sincere attempts, I have never been able to develop a liking for alcohol. Why? I don't have reasons. Somehow my pale figure and the yellow, brown or colourless liquid do not gel. Now, if I have it in less amount, I feel disgruntled that I have spend money but still not got the full value out of it and if I overdo, then I regret, why I did so. Hence, whenever someone calls me to his place with alcohol as bait, I generally give any reason that comes to mind so as to avoid this socialising or entertainment. Let me clarify, that I have nothing against those who have a good relationship with the daughter of the grapes, irrespective of, whether they like their drink to get over in some light years or those who finish it in a wink, as if someone was to steal it. Ok,by the way, why I am writing this?


Well, Z called me up as expected. Since it was more than a week that we were avoiding calling each other, this was very much on the cards. Another common factor was N. I'll speak about him a bit later. So Z, as he always does after such incidents, asked me to come over to his place for the 'season of Rum' has started. Of course! Why not was my first reaction. But soon realisation bottled my spirits. So, unlike some past years Z and Me were not able to celebrate the onset of 'season of Rum.' He tried to cheer me up and I responded with hollow, verbose and philosophical statements. Interestingly, I've noticed this that if one of us go philosophical the other tries to sound materialistic. May be one of these days, I'll ask him to ponder upon this and then like all times we will say - "Yeh baat, aaj ham pehli baar kar rahein hai na."(We are talking about this stuff for the first time). Though, we both know that somewhere we must have talked about it nth no. of times.



Since Z is back with A, so most of the times his phone is busy. Also he told me that he is speaking on the same phone that he had once broken in anger. It again made me think, whether it's as easy to repair a relationship, like repairing a mobile and if so then I disdain the idea. Not to forget, the scar always remains and no amount of repairing can do justice to it.

Coming back to N. Well this was what that basically made Z ring me up. N is going to Arunachal, insurgency area. We're discussing about it, it has been long since we three have met, who knows how many such chances we will get. I'm sure none of us thinks about it but the desire is there. Anyhow, we discussed N, not discussing in fact debating - is N's misery better or we squanderers score a brownie. Also, Z then told that how he could not control his tears after getting that professional break. I wondered have I ever cried coz stuff like this? No, I guess. May be even I deserve to weep, of course for good reasons. It has been ages, may be the last time was when my grandpa died, some six years ago.


So I asked Z, "Will you cry, if N dies in an insurgency operation?" He said, "I don't know that but one thing I'm sure, I'll be the proudest friend that day." Bang! Z you won my heart, once again.

So that was one of the longest call that I attended in the past few weeks. I like it. My mobile silence narrates a thousand tales. Hey! Does each mobile has a tale of it's own? How interesting it would be read a book, which is written by mobiles. Describing their owners joys, happiness, plight…..nah may be I'm watching too much of cartoons. But I hate to tell that I classify cartoons as unsuccessful….why? Because we leave them as we grow up but you know what, they are there, the same, waiting for us, with their tales…. though unsuccessfully.



P.S - I have left enough indications to Z & N that I'm dying to get Dalrymple's latest book, lets see who takes the clue. Also check out my favourite cartoon of this week, Mr. SpongeBob.

Shadow

A series dedicated to all whom I know and how I interpret them, though unsuccessfully.....

We will not give her a name. Because whenever someone asks her, what she prefers being called as, she chooses any name according to her fancy. So you can call her, address her or refer to her by any name, it won't matter. In fact most of the times, it doesn't matter what she do or is trying to do.

Except now and then, she has never-ever played a major role in anyone's life. This is what that always troubled her. Come on…it will bother anyone. Most of the times she was taken for granted. In spite of her countless efforts to win hearts, to be hated and to be admired, she never got any recognition. Roll no. 32, with a nameplate on her shirt, which was pinned on her sweaters in winters, she cannot escape out of it long after school. She was just another student, another worker, another friend and another colleague.

I firmly believe that if she dies tomorrow, it will not make any major difference to anyone. (Of course except her family) Now this includes me as well and I somehow hate to admit that.

It was insane from the start. Her so-called friends were mean, they called her only when it was required - "Hey what's the class tomorrow? Do you have those notes? You know, this guy proposed me!!! I don't know what to do with my mom.".. and so on. And poor she, she was always there. Sometimes as a punching bag, most of the times as a pillow to sob on. What was she trying to find? Perhaps some good company. And more than that, this made her fool herself that she was one among them.

Being the youngest at home, she was a pampered lot but not a spoiled one. The great Indian middle class always leave something to be desired for and that what happened in her case as well. She had everything but what always pinched was she could not have everything that she wants. Perhaps this subdued her desires. And after sometime, the desires, they weaned away.

She always hooked on to the most admired, different people in her circle. Most of the times it so happens that such different people either don't have anyone or they want someone to rally around them and our dear character suited this profile. So most of the times, she was visible with such characters and lost her identity in an attempt to be identified.

About her expeditions with the male species, there is not much to be talked about. Though every girl becomes a fantasy of someone. She had real bad luck. For, she was never able to sustain that. Why? Beyond the physical structure, there were a lot of reasons behind it.

Yet she is hopeful. Whenever I look at her, I pity her and wonder why she knows only Ctrl C, Ctrl X and Ctrl V. There is a new world, where she can be herself but the only problem is - She needs to discover herself, as to be discovered. Till then, like me, she has to live up with unsuccessfulness. The difference, she tries to fight it and I love to be with it.

Candle

Last night there was no electricity. I don’t know but for me darkness means introspection. I hate to do it but I cannot escape. Resigning to my fate, I started speaking to the lonely candle and then slowly but surely, unsuccessfulness dawns -


How come darkness in the room
when a candle burning bright,
Between my heart and mind
this is an ongoing philosophical fight;

Have I become like wires
the nerves suddenly lost their current,
There! A little glow in the dark
at the expense of wax being burnt;

It trickles down her body
and she can feel the pain,
But a strange smile on her face
just watch the glowing flame;

She knows the end is near
as the clock hands dance,
Her bosom swells with tears
as liquefaction enhance;

Orange, blue and yellow
that is all what she posses,
Don’t look at her with pity
there is warmth near those curves;

She starts becoming shorter
and I am petrified,
Don’t leave me, I beg
without you, how will I survive?

Finally I bring her close
try to hold on the last sight,
It seems that she also efforts a fake smile
perhaps an attempt, to sparkle my dark night;

Some moments of glory
or another battle lost?
For the darkness again engulfs me
but she illuminates my thought;

That’s why, my mind and heart
debate over it all night,
How come darkness in the room
when a candle burning bright?
when a candle burning bright…..

Bubble

What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?


Life is moving at its snail pace, just that I need to pay for the fuel now. Things have certainly changed yet I feel that I am in a time warp. As if I'm living in a bubble, which revolves. I can see the outside world that appears different every time. Some how I forget that I can only see it, I cannot feel it. And when this realisation struck - I feel both sad and happy. Is it hard to define? I think so.



Anyhow, these days I'm watching a lot of movies. The kind of stuff, otherwise I would have never thought about viewing. Don't ask me the names because I watch 2-3 movies simultaneously. I mean I keep flipping between channels. These are some of the movies that I watched
1. Don't remember the name - starring Amish, Esha and Aftab.
2. Don't remember the name - starring Winona Ryder and Adam Sandler
3. Gangster
4. Pelican Brief
5. Chocolate (Hollywood)
6. Tahalka
7. Mere Papa the Great
8. Some old movie, when Dev Anand was really young
9. Mumbai Se Aaya Mera Dost

10. A few movies, where some youngsters realised their dream for once.
11. A movie starring Govinda, Mahima & Raveena (an I thought Mahima never acted with Govinda…huh!
12. Janeesheen


Now one thing I've realised that movies are a lot similar like the bubble I'm in. Come on, how many times, this have happened to you, that the girl you love is your foe's sister, daughter etc. Or the town you live in has some secret that except you everyone knows, or for that matter, your dad always pretends that he is capable of doing everything, or circumstances so become that you marry twice…. I guess, all will agree to the fact that this may not happen normally but is very much possible. You can see it, may be experience it in some form but can't live it.




The other thing I've realised is why momentarily we fall in love with these cine artists (in my case actresses.) Now when I se a pretty face like Winona Ryder weeping or Miss Lohan sulking, my heart goes out for them. And you know what, you start longing for these kind off girls; I mean not necessarily the face but a heart like them.


Also, one movie where I came literally to tears was 'Mein Madhuri Dixit Banna Chahti Hoon'…. I loved the character that Rajpal Yadav played. I found it interesting that the character was totally devoted to that girl and completely hide his identity. Even in the last, once again, he killed his dreams for her or to put it in better words he started living her dream. The place where I felt bad was when that guy, who promised 'Chutki' (played by Antra) to make her a movie star ridiculed Rajpal in front of her and she joined him in doing that.



Last but not the least, I finally visited a doctor and like always my fear come true. Now I'll have to visit him again and may be again. I hate this breed, they talk so comfortingly and with so ease that sometimes you forget that you're sick or suffering with this or that.

But one thing I noticed in the movies, in my bubble and people around, there is one theme common and that brings changes and that is being unsuccessful, perhaps my time is yet to begin till then I have to live with it, either by choice or by force.

For none of us lives to himself alone and none of us dies to himself alone.