For Want Of A Better World

For some reason, I feel extremely reminiscent today. What with my recent decision to always think in the narrative made on a trip to Vaishno Devi, I guess this post had to come sooner or later (given the number of buses I travel in every day), although the topic that I write about today came as a surprise even to myself. It’s been about two years since I collected my passing certificate from My Schoo l , and in those two years, I have visited that most hallowed of places only once. It wasn’t so much that I didn’t want to visit it, but there always was something that kept me from going back. If I have to put a name to it, I would say it’s an insecurity that I’ve had ever since I passed out. School always, and especially in my last two years, was a place where I went to have fun, meet my friends, roam about aimlessly in the middle of Chemistry or English class with one classmate or several. It was a time when I was both an extreme recluse and part of the most active friend circles at t...

It all started with a gust of cold wind and the rain. The rain was a sign. It was a true sign of things that had been and things as they would be; soon. The rain had barely ceased when a series of spikes starting running the length of the land, over and over again; as if Atlas himself was trying to find a soft spot in order to impale the very globe he had been carrying for years now. All this time the Berber was circling the area, searching for the right spot to begin his evil operation. An unknowing descendant of the North African tribe, this man was more a ZooZoo than a Zizou. Finding the spot in the rear, he started with a cursory inspection, gauging the length of the stalk. It is time I mention where he was. The story is set in a lush field somewhere far, far away. In the field lie millions of tall plants. Make no mistake, these aren’t any redwoods, but they’re longer than your average sapling. This land of beautiful, black fauna was meticulously grown by the Farmer, who spent day ...

I'm back. Blogger's way better than wordpress.

My Blog has been shifted to: http://longsentences.wordpress.com/ this includes the last post, so please leave any comments there :) till then, farewell blogspot!

There were just the two of us there that night, singing us songs of love and loneliness, songs we had never sung before, songs that probably no one had heard either. We didn’t know, it was all just there in the air, somewhere. Maybe between the sullen bartender and the glass of pink champagne, which looked more golden than pink. Maybe it was because her hair kept brushing past its surface, or maybe it was my face, I really couldn’t tell. All I could think to myself was that she was here today and that I had another blunt in my raincoat, right where I kept my wallet. And then they kicked us out, and the blunt was gone, and the wallet was gone, and it started raining and I found out that they had taken my raincoat. I remember I was cursing them and trying to break down their door and that was when I heard her laughing. I think she was also shouting something about us being on the other street but then why would I go and try to break down a door I didn’t want to break down and so I went t...

It’s a desert out here. Nothing but dust, cigarette butts and smoking ruins. As I sit here on the mountaintop of a grey, fast dwindling existence, I try to remember how it was that I ended up here, like this. Growing up, there always used to be this one motto: “Sticks and Stones won’t break My Bones; My Mom says I’m Quite Healthy” You could do whatever you wanted to; go wherever you wished, as long as mom said you were allowed to wish so. Running around the neighbourhood as a young, obedient little tyke, it wasn’t long before I realised that there really was no reason why mom should tell YOU to stay within the 4-street block and go out herself every single day, especially when those little ragamuffin friends of yours were so quick and so consistent in pointing this out. I took my first step outside the block into the alley way one day and it was the first time I got pummelled by street toughs. So, mother was right; but this had to be a one-off thing. Why would she scream at me then, if...

After a long sojourn, I sense a feeling of satisfaction in me when I state that I’ve finally regained a measure of my old self. Socially Deceased perhaps being the always unattainable idyllic phrase, perhaps Socially Withdrawn is something more akin to what I’ve achieved. It took some time because I have allowed myself to distance myself from people by associating with them more professionally than personally, and such a shift comes with its associated penalty. I do not think any better of my life, but I do feel a sense of emancipation when I sense prison bars being lifted from the confines of my mind and turning into an absolute, impermeable cage a fourteenth of an inch from my skin. I shall not pretend to fully understand why, after all this, I’m posting again; but such as it is, I believe an explanation was required to the few who read the last one. This shall not be the last post here; in fact, there shall be many more in the time to come. I shall endeavour, however, to limit the o...