....

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Cheating.betrayal. Back-stab.

Never mind these words.

Its just that people choose the best option for them at the moment.

::

Mild Storm in the desert.

::

I tried to listen.

I still cannot hear the drum beats.

I should feel them

Before I turn deaf.

::

Coloured little bird.

::

Wake up in the night

While falling down from sky

Sweat shines on your forehead

You stare at the moonlight

Close down the windows

So you may not see the moonshine

Shut your ears to the whispers

So you can not hear your bird sing

Open up your sleepy eyes

So you may not see the faded face

Hold on to your own hands

So you may not miss the soft fingers

Wipe down your memories

So you may not dream again

The dark fainted blank face

Of a once sweet little thing.

Wipe down your memories

So you may not feel again

The already fainted warmth

Of a four year old wait.

Wipe up this white board

These pictures in black and white

Take your canvas outside

Paint the forthcoming storm.

Let the coloured shiny bird

Spread its wings and stare at you

Let you give it life

Let it fly through the storm.

::

Insanity. Plugged into holy spirit. Well. Bubbly spirit.

::

No bubbly spirit can lift me like this. I need to pee. I need to band the portion of my body above my neck. I need to have my vision obscured. I need more volume on the speakers. I need to sleep in the floor. Let the floor be full of snakes. Let the snakes move on through my body. I can hear blue oyster cult singing on the back ground. Well, i cant understand the lyrics. I can hear them saying stairway to the stars. Its good to be intoxicated once in a while. Its better to be intoxicated everyday. Best, every hour. I am not flying. But i would like to think I am flying. I like this feeling. I do not have to worry about what I write. I dont care if someone says gross. I love it when I can be intoxicated and still can type without a typo. I can see I am awake. I can feel the smell. I need to pee. I can go on typing as long as my bladder bursts. I can keep on drinking till it is time to sleep. I can sleep till it is time to wake up. I can live till it is time to die. I cannot die till it is time to live. That is what I hate about death. May be what I love about death. I can move my fingers. Good. I dont feel like having sex. better. My mind is a free bird. But birds die. No. My mind is just free. Well. I might die. so it is better i call it a free bird. But birds do pee. So do I. Perfect fit. Free bird. But birds have wings. And they fly. I cant. Whats being a bird who cannot fly. I dont want to be a bird. I just want to fall in love with myself. Even if you call me gay for that. But then every man is gay. They masturbate. That doesnt make them gay. does it. Having sex with oneself.

Well.

enough. I need to pee.

::

The Big Purpose.

::

The Saint says every piece of grass has a purpose. In the world, In life. I always used to wonder how he would have communicated this simple piece of information in the stone age.

Scientifically, the grass gives food to the deer, the deer to the tiger, this and that. The ocean gives water to the clouds and then the rain. The sun gives light. Yes, everything seems to have a purpose.

But again, what the $%^& was the purpose if the sun is to swallow the whole of earth? What purpose is the life saving drug if the guy died in a road accident a day after his discharge from the hospital?

What purpose is birth, if we are born to die?

What purpose is pride?

What purpose is money when your loved one say that you are hated??

What purpose is a career and countries and a set of rules when Bill gates, Idi Ameen, the beggar on the side of the road, Bin laden, The starving in Somalia, the beautiful girl next door, the child molester, Neil armstrong, and all the people of the world meets the same fate??

And I do wonder what purpose it is, that I am writing this.

Never mind. No one knows. Not even the saint and the Godman, who themselves created that thing called God.

And If I am fried in the pan in Hell for writing this, may be, thats the purpose. :P:P

::

Socially un-connected.

::

Thats right, I am socially un-connected. I do not have a facebook or orkut or other 'connected' accounts. Yet, I am very much alive, and I do not think I am missing something.

I have started to hate this decade. About 13 years back, i had this unique phonebook. Thin, slim. I had to hand write the numbers as Laser printer or even an inkjet printer was no where to be seen. Well, infact, The color monitor was not in the market. I loved handwriting. I liked writing in paper. I liked hand crafted cards and I used to make them. I loved decorating greeting cards. I liked coloured pens. And pencils. I remembered my friends birthdays. I remembered almost all phone numbers. In fact, even after not calling my old friends for about 10 years, I still remember their old land phone numbers. I remember walking home after school. I remember fun. I remember rain. I remember Inland letter card. I remember how much a post card costs. I remember waiting for the postman.

Things have changed. Yes, I am a techie, and I am supposed to know the latest stuff. In computers. I am supposed to be 'connected' and updated.

And when I clicked on 'delete my orkut account' about a month ago, I was a happy man. Before, I was pathetic. I had to log in to remember who my friends are. I had to log in to know what they are doing. At the moment.

Not that I used to know what the other person is doing at every point of time, about 10 years back. I neednt know. No one bothered to know. Every one had a space. Big space. You neednt tell anyone when i am going to the loo, what song you listened to at 8:30 or the current state of mind every five minutes.

I didnt have to farm in computer.

I am getting back to the old simple life. Earlier, no one used to call to any home after 7 or eight. Now I have students calling me at 11 or 12. Not that I pick up the phone. but whatever happened to private space?

I have now realized I am a person who need a lot of private space. I feel very much relieved socially unconnected. I have removed one element of distress from my daily routine. I have gone back to less computer and less phone. I have started to enjoy feeling the rain. I have started to enjoy remembering the phone numbers. The land phone.

On the downside, I cannot make an excuse that my mobile battery was dead and thats why I couldn't make a particular call because I couldn't browse the phone book. I have to cut down a lot of excuses that I used to find. I will have to lie less and have to be sincere with whatever relationship i have. People may find it difficult to access me, and that could be an excuse for not keeping in touch with me.

But I am feeling better. And I attribute that for my disconnection with social networking.

I believe addiction to alcohol is better than addiction to a mobile phone or addiction to get connected.

Well, for the record, contrary to the popular belief, i aint an alcohol addict either.

::

Sleeping finger.

::

Whats with my middle finger??

::

::

I seriously dont want to change the world.

All I need is the monsoon to come fast.

::

These days.

::

>> I have started to hate cricket. I cannot stand any commercial with a cricketer in it.

>> I am known for my short temper, but I have not shouted at anyone more than five times this year.

>> I am really missing a person.

>> I am not lying at all these days. Alright, a little bit here and there is fine.

>> My health seems to be getting better except for the chest congestion.

>> I have lost about 6 Kg... :):)

>> I am not seeing dreams as vivid as I used to see them.

>> I have become more and more lazy.

>> I am real bankrupt. ( ps: alright, i'll mail you my bank account number :P )

>> I am feeling foolish.

>> After drinking almost everyday for more than a month, i realised I am NOT addicted to alcohol.

>> I met an old classmate at the airport. We had a nice chat and I felt good.

>> I am not 'socially networked" anymore, and I think i have started to hate the concept too.

>> I need a long drive. As soon as the monsoon comes in. Alone.

>> I have started showing up signs of cracking up to an extent that even i can feel it.

>> If you ask me at 11 in the morning, I sometimes cannot remember if i had breakfast that day.

>> I refuse to believe that I am 30.

>> I refuse to believe that its better if i have a companion.

>> I am blogging **** as usual.

::