so my girlfriend's gone out to dinner.. i have come after a back breaking as well as spirit breaking one and a half hour of badminton.. (still trying to find that elusive shot called backhand! :( )
dinner at the mess was bad and so am crashing at my girl's place and cooking maggi for myself..
since i was feeling a little lonely.. i thought i should give this well ignored blog a small breather.. come see it for once!
there are so many things funny about this semester.. it is so much like the first.. so many times i get this sense of a broad deja vu.. the fact that i am feeling a little distanced from my friends is one of those things that are repeating themselves.. (@ anushka, i hope you are reading this and sorry for not replying to that mail!) and that can't be good.. at least not when they call up and tell me that i am the classic case of "ladki mili to dost ko bhool gaya!" i guess much like my parents, even my friends don't just understand that i am incorrigible, i like being lonely and well to admit the truth a bad friend.. i just hope they won't tell me that too.
last night i was reading this book called the mathematician's mind.. quite good.. not really profound as i had expected something with that title to be.. but quite refreshing.. brought me closer once again to that serene feeling of knowing mathematics (stop raising those eyebrows.. i don't care if you guys think i am a nerd!!!). so even though you do so much mathematics in economics.. it is just not the same.. and may be other mathematicians doing economics will understand what i am saying.. as long as maths is not the end in itself.. it will never satisfy a mathematician.. not that i do not enjoy economics.. rather i do a lot.. it is a brilliant route to reconcile the mathematician's creativity with the real world.. i have wondered many a times.. of what i would want to do my phd in.. well anyway.. (@ aditya: dude, stop worrying that you have lost your sheen as a mathematician.. i am sure when you learn about the twentieth century mathematicians you will learn that Cambridge PhDs are not the only ones that count.. i am sure you are gonna do more than you think you are capable of! Cheers!)
also, deepali has been writing amazing poetry in the last few days! i think i understand where all of that is coming from! i am envious of you girl! really envious. i wanted to tell you that i feel really happy for the way things you have turned things around after the last one year and also that i apologize for being so useless.. well i know i have been.. but i think.. or at least i would like to think that i was absent from the scene for a purpose hoping that it will help you.. wish that you will understand.. but an unconditional apology holds.
anyway..
been missing anu really.. i hope he will stumble upon this page somehow and read this.. i don't know what is wrong with me.. why i am like this.. when i am like this. i miss so many people.. but i will never call them up and tell them that.. (and that goes for anuj and vicky too!) may be some one who reads this can help explain my behavior to me in this regard! may be it is the same with this blog too.. so many times i thought of writing up something but did not.. may be i am just one of those people who are bad at following things through.. :D now am i?
anyway.. well there is so much on my mind.. also that the maggi is ready and it will get cold if i don't wrap this one up soon.. i mean in the last one year.. i have become so competitive.. obviously in the only way that i have always been.. i.e. pitting myself against me.. it is almost like i am in this ravenous phase of self mutilation and reconstruction.. (almost like i physically prove the Banach-Tarski paradox) (Bah! SHOW OFF! :D )
I guess somewhere that it is guilt.. i think i want to make up for the two lost years.. i am sure adi knows what i mean.. i am sure he wants the same!
anyway.. there is so much to write.. and the maggi is getting cold.
so Cheers!
So long!!
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Picking up threads...
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
A failed attempt..
Was in mood to write poetry.. but after like half an hour or so (enough time to lose the inspiration that started it in the first place).. gave up with this half baked piece.. even though I am not going to publish it on PoemHunter.. I thought why not put it on the blog! so here it goes.
----------
Come Love,
Let’s take a walk
To my home.
Let me in my city,
Show you the
Nightly whores
I visit
Often
When I miss you.
Show you the
Shroud-less demons
I feast with
While they devour
Juicy shards
Of my soul.
The temple
Where gilded
Are the skulls
Of God
And Myself.
Dead deities.
You ask my love,
Trembling
Why must I dwell here -
This unseemly planet?
But you know the answer well.
As well as I.
It is harbored in the little ports
The cracks of your skin
Straining to ooze out.
In the color of your palate
When you laugh
Like soot of burnt age.
Freedom -
Morbid,
Immoral,
Void.
Unlimited
And passionless.
Leia Mais…Saturday, June 20, 2009
On the road..
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
My futile brooding self
It has been a few days now.. I have been thinking about it.
I am bored of wearing my shirt without a vest. Bored of the smell of my sweat too. I yearn to stink as that man who stood next to me in the bus in the morning. Look at people feel nauseated standing near me. Feel unwanted.
I hate of having to brush my hair. All those old men in my office with bald pates... I want to enter one of those bald brains and part my hair from as low as my ear and feel embarrassed when a young man swaggers about reveling hairily.
Why have I never wanted to steal, rape or murder? What about being lecherous? That should be fun!
It has been so long.. all my life and literally.. that all I have been is me.
I log into my machine and listen to the same songs that I like. Hard Rock has never captured me. I would have loved it I think.
No poetry! Or art! I don't even understand them anyway. And I have grown weary of pretending that I do.
Make me that urban beggar who drinks his nights away in the shadows of those diseased breasts and cusses in happiness and talks only of his village and his dead daughter. Dead of hunger. Still gnawing at her sodden death.
Burn my tongue, should I? And never taste again? Or would it be more involving to poke out my own eyes just to see not seeing. Oh how brilliant is this world and yet how so the same as the night before the night it was made. And how it seems that I have always lived here. Though I have lived more in a tiny pink squiggly blob I carry with me everywhere. If I live in it, and it lives in me, then where does the world live? And do I live in the world at all?
That night I went to the highest place here. Or so they told me it was. It was brilliant. I went and sat with them just to have something to think that I had not thought before. To loan a slice of their lives, however unfit for my consumption.
There must be some joy in annihilation. To desert, nay! detest oneself, just so you could transform to something even more detested.
And but there in lies the paradox. There is no alienating myself. No deserting, detesting, alienating or even as little as observing oneself for in each act there is a precursor. Self. The self that wants and feels and relishes.
The only one that knows the secret. The biggest of them. The one that feeds off it till the doomed knowledge that there is nothing before and nothing beyond. That God is a Joke. He is Superman. Like my friends' brother told her when she was little.
And they are one. It is all the same. It is all one. This is all my world is and this is all I am doomed to be. Eternally. Inescapably.
My futile brooding self.
