It's all about Winning.

Few get drunk. Few do music. Few follow art, Few slam their doors and yell out. Different channels of venting out their inner angst. This is where I am so ambiguous. It has taken me 22 long years to figure out my vent out channel & yet, I am uncertain about it's existence . It isn't at all good to keep all the fury in but when there's no outlet, you can't help it either. You have to live with it. To some extent, Writing does its part in providing me the respite & So, this piece.

If I am not wrong it's Ralph Waldo Emerson who quoted 'Its not about Winning, it's all about Wanting to'. As per my knowledge he could have meant that, that wanting itself compels a man to scale any heights to win. It takes undefinable amounts of determination, the much needed question which should be answered to selves, about their own caliber & the way they'd want to finish it off.

I totally oppose the concept of proving one's self to this world. This world cares to stop for a second, clap its hands in appreciation & a second later, it progresses forward leaving you behind as an inseparable part of the history. Then I find no point in craving to deliver something to obtain the recognition and applause of this world. Its quite funny to notice the way few purposes are usually fulfilled when you chase something more divine & larger in its cause. Many artists wowed this world with their art but the whole friggin' point is they never wanted to. They just did their best leaving this world in awe at their work. They did something because they badly wanted to & consequently experienced the relief from an enormous labor when they're done. Thereby, gifting this world the most monumental pieces of art. In pursuit of satisfying their souls, they just Won eloquently in the eyes of this world. They stood as winners. Sachin Tendulkar. Roger Federer. R K Narayan. Ozzy Osbourne. Many.

But the main problem is with the people like Rahul Dravid. Sadly, these people aren't artists. They are more like sweat shedding peasants. They put in everything they've got to acquire what they want. I totally second Sirish's perception in this aspect. Sachin makes runs easily. But Dravid, pushes himself against the wall to score runs. But I think the runs scored by Dravid are much respected than that of Sachin's. I dare not question the godliness of Sachin as I myself am an ardent admirer of the God. But what puts me to sleep is Dravid's struggle to stand out there in the crease all day & fight, the only purpose being sticking around, no matter how shitty the circumstances are. That conviction. That persistence. That stubbornness. That undoubtedly instills massive confidence in people like me to fight, to bend it's neck, at the end of the day. Dradiv isn't gifted, unlik Sachin & Laxman. He shapes himself. He carves himself into a better Dravid the every time he goes out to bat & it is only because of the strong pledge he utters to himself not to repeat the mistake that got him out in the prior innings. Eventually, he Wins. The notable point here is, you'd be using only half of your sofa while Sachin is batting but you lay back with bot your hands behind your neck & relaxed, when it's Dravid out there. Envious & admirable.

Okay now, Me. It feels depressed for not winning from a long time. I am highly vulnerable to criticism in my circles, I am generally overlooked & highly underrated these days. That, in a way, is better to free off the burden of meeting the expectations of people. But its equally depressing & damaging, at times. I recall the priceless advice from Divyakka which hold true universally. 'This too shall pass.' It injects patience & hope in me & fortunately, I always have people like Rahul Dravid to look up to. Being not blessed is not your fault but I blame if you don't gift yourself something. This place is filled with people who are too busy to stop & care about our likes to gift you something. Gift yourself.

And yes, this one is now turning out into a reliever thingy. This is what all I wanted to talk to somebody but the same somebody also is a part of this world & this world only listens to winners' words. And when it comes to that, everybody is indifferent. Any how, talking to self, helps. I love to talk to myself when the whole world is lost to the sounds of winners' victorious roars.

Dear Life, We all have journeys to make. I'll see you on the other side which is hopefully greener.

Times of Vacuum & the Bright Spot

Okay now. After being through a rough day filled with shocking updates, revealed secrets through unexpected sources & rather bigger disappointments, few astonishing admissions & so on, I settle down to write this. I recall what Layton pointed out, me being a highly introspective creature & this amounts of insight into myself would not do much good other than killing few more hours of life.

Its been eons I tasted success & I believe its only few months away from now. At least, till this morning I woke up, I thought its pretty okay thingy to go through another 2 months of hardship & bitter times to find myself landing in sunny bright, green meadows for the rest of my time.

Then came that another damaging blow from one of my blood relatives for which I hold no prominence but I am too worried about the response of the 2 people who brought me on to this planet. They are too conservative, orthodox & to-the-heart people. Neither can I blame them too. That is the problem with their times. With their generation & its close ended approach.

Few anti social addictions I had & I am now attested with 'I-am-fit-for-nothing productive to be accomplished' tagline and stamp on my face. I just feel amused by the impact of the surrounded people. With too narrow hearts to acknowledge & digest the well being of a person. I won't care less but my immediate ancestors? They live for the consent, approval of this society.

Amid all these bothering issues, I managed to gift myself with a Bright Spot. Its Her again. Much did I already told about her on this platform & my people close people already know her. She made peace with the fact that I am too naive to fit among these people & the way she accepted me for what I was & what I am was just mesmerizing. She comfortably swept me across my feet & compelled me to fall in love with her again.

My settling down in some respective profession with a handsome & promising pay package has been a very worrying aspect for my people back home which elevated them from their normal state of being to such heights so that they forgot backing me up, in fact started losing their nerve & started taking me for granted. But She has been holding her nerve, insisting me to come back on to the path of glory like I have never come till date.

I wonder some day life would be a fairy tale, I become complacent to do anything after all the adventurous rides I could have had, I would lay back, point out at her being the sole reason for me having led a sensible life.

She, again shined like a bright spot, amid the hollow, bottomless tub of void & vacuum called my Life & I love her for that.

Bye.

Love & Longing.

We both, were feeling the distance that has been separating us. She claimed it too. I obviously have to feel pathetic and so I did. I guzzled down a couple of beer cans and now, I crave for one more, but I suffice myself convincing saying 'too much is too bad' to myself & settle down to put this down.

Once again Facebook does this to me. One of very few good things it does to us. Copying immortal lines. Sirish, this is extracted from one of your few updates. You can conveniently figure that out looking at the title. There was a talk about you between Sandeep & myself about your good being. Too much bragging isn't that. I must put a check to this here & now. So, let me pool in.

They say Good things won't last long. So are our good ol' careless times. When She & I used to be so careless about coming times. Time is such a wonderful entity. It induces such a sense of carelessness in you, pushing you to the corners of oblivion, does things it is s'posed to & slides away forward into nothingness, in style. All that would remain in your power is to wonder about its magic, dumbstruck.

We relived our past times, and laughed over them in helplessness & convinced ourselves that we aren't the same old kids, recklessly in love, anymore. A sense of responsibility & foresight crept in, leaving us behind as two outgrown young people, waiting eternally for the good old times to come back.

Where is that adrenaline rush all over me when she strengthened the fact that she loves me? Where are those goosebumps when she laughed like a lullaby?

I still remember the way I rejoiced when she turned around and stared at me with surprise, frowning her forehead & an expression of anxiety, asking me what it's about, silently. Oh yes! As I read between the lines, I figure out something, that I couldn't, from few hours. Those things didn't vanish. They are just concealed, deep inside, layered, with presumed senses of senses of seriousness and responsibility.

I really wish life to be the way just like a Lucky Ali's composition. Simple, subtle, serene, yet extraordinarily magnificent & chord striking. And I am completely convinced with the point that only She'd be my instrument to compose so.

She completes me.

Moments of defining

I get this message from the only bastard with whom I have been friends with from a really long time. The humid blows reached him too, but this time, the fella's reaction has been classic. He seems quite happy with the way things are turning out to be with me. He waves off a virtual good-bye and hangs up the call, leaving me behind thinking and this is what I am coming up with .

Definitions seldom change. But they do, at least. A year ago, Liberty held a different sense for me. It was like gulping down few cans of beer and walking straight, way back home without bothering about the precautionary measures, to not to be caught drunk at home. I was a confused youngster then(I still am). He who said that responsibility teaches you many things was certainly not a mad man. Definition changed. Of Liberty. I now think its raising and running a home which is metaphorically equal to life.

Yet it comes to defining again. Happy. Satisfied. Contented. Successful. All of them are closely equal to many people. They were, for me too, till a point of time. I was that kind of guy who used to have goosebumps all over witnessing some historical achievements of people. I still do. Bu then it's all about drawing a fine line between witnessing & pursuing. Fantasies never become passions. Fascinations never become Aspirations.

At least I think I well know now what my purpose is & I am already behind it. In pursuit. Being sensible, balanced, throughout this bubble sized life is what that makes some sense, end of the day. For me, though.

Smiling. I have one close associate in my life now. That person's definitions vary. Outlook differs. Insights contradict. Many such. Above all, We love. I can't lose track of my map chasing flashy ambitions which, on the other hand rationally prove out to be unrealistic. But I can explain my approach & can bring her down to make peace with me. When curtains go down, and lights go off, Its all only both of us & nobody else. Nobody.

Aaah Sandeep. I visualize you reading this, nodding in contemplation, throwing out half smiles every now and then, when you totally figure out what am I talking about. Nobody else would more precisely evaluate my psychological state of being better than this man & even time I hang up his call, I incur one priceless piece of advice from him, which I never forget to nail.

Would Love to Live Sensible.

A Simple Bastard.

Tyranny over Non Europeans.

European polity sucks. Big time. Its highly audacious to start off with something so assertive but I just can't help, not more than shrugging off my shoulders at this time. I totally second the government's unparalleled dedication to build UK as a better frontier but I highly doubt the authenticity of their applications being used to do so. The pacts made along with supporting alliances which contribute to the stand of the government and their relentless efforts in safeguarding the power seems so tiresome to any third and neutral eye, which is watching all this phenomenon from a distance.

Basically, all the discrimination that could be brought in, into the country is primarily based on the continent-ship which means a citizen being a European or a non-European one. There, it all starts. The entitlement to all the local government aided benefits would be declined to the non ones. I myself have witnessed the bias many a times in the local stores where non Europeans being rejected to claim any contracts. No wonder one can never find this sort of big time hypocrites any where else on this planet. You visit a store, occupy a table behind which there would be a dressed up official, touching the pad of a computer, grinning a welcome smile, broadly. You enter your details, you find the person contemplating, looking at the monitor, 10 minutes pass by, and an expression of 'Sorry! you are not eligible to claim this contract' appears on the fella's face, which wears a mask of disbelief. There you go! A poignant example of bias. I totally agree this is not universally truthful but I have handful of similar cases in my notice and my 15 months of residence in Europe.

And yeah, the Elections. The Great Grand Royal Elections. The coming general elections are like a contest of status quo for both the ruling and opposition parties. Nobody is willing to forego their victory at any best deal. Just similar to anywhere in the world. Granting dreamy boons to the citizens to protect the vote banks. UK is such a place where people are presumed to be highly cooperative with running government, but Revolution is what that stands as synonym for Youth. The unshaven and unemployed youth of Europe. Its quite crucial for any political side to win their recognition and hearts. Well, this is a fair pact I tell you. You provide employment, We cast out votes to you.

But the policies being implemented to cash the votes of youth citizens are quite disgusting, especially, they are serving as banes to the non European immigrants who migrated into the country to study, work, live and make lives in this country. Students. Yes, as I hail from that section, I am deeply concerned about the injustice that is being done to non European students. Government cuts funds to universities and universities, to compensate the lost funds impose greater fees on non European students. Forget about poking the local ones. Who forgets the student riots against the educational system and its irrational moves regarding student funds and grants, last year? Th only remaining sheep are the migrated students. And they are being ridiculed. And coming to the permit to work in the country, to ensure more employment opportunities to Europeans, the work permit for the non Europeans is going to be unavailable from the coming March. So that, only Europeans would be eligible to apply for any vacancies, thereby assuring the employment to the local youth.

When I write this, the rage inside me gradually comes down, and the angst is being replaced by deep sighs expelled out of helplessness. What can the government even do? To win, is to run. And its just pooling in all its efforts to win the race. I basically do not have the credibility to point out the disgraceful behavior of the UK government when nothing runs smooth with the back home's government and the policies, back there are much more pathetic and the chaos of agony are vibrant enough to cross the seas and reach my ears when I presume everything's to be alright back there and I try to sleep.

Hoping for change. Off for now.

The much needed talk.

Being fed up with the presumed out-of-the-box ideologies of few people, been searching out for a proper vent out session with some one who happens to be a great friend and equally a great listener as well. Sirsh buzzed up at the peak time, demanding a conversation which both of us hoped to join that league of our conversations which pumped much needed levels of confidence and soothing feeling in us. And yeah, eventually, this one too, joined the league, in style of course. Now, I feel good and light.

It all started by bumping into that area of complaints people file against the ones who sound extremely normal and ordinary, especially when the latter ones have been there, done that, gone through and back on to the path of normalcy. A bunch of spoiled brats getting together, stereotyping the happenings of people's lives, taking time out of their ill schedules to run spoofs and making fun out of nothing. Sadly, one day, realization takes place and one point would be made clear in the history again. All this would take them nowhere. They stand there, watching people pacing forward. Way forward.

As sirish emphasized on something very strongly, there's nothing like being unique through bullying around something, you were born as X and yes, you remain X and you die the same X. That's absolutely pointless in setting up some false benchmarks and standards to become someone.

Later on, it moved on to something which is identically ideological. Standing up for selves. There occurs a point in everyone's life when they feel the need to prove something to their selves, rather than proving something to this world. They go around, talk, blabber, about who all they look up to with extra ordinary levels of admiration and respect, what all they want to do etc. Few years down the lane, after a very normal, long and tiresome day, they hit bed, covered themselves up in a duvet, which separates them from the rest of the world, I am so certain that this question occupies their mind about their own potential and calibre and has it showed a remarkable impact on them, the dawn would break into a new day, and the day stands as the synonym for something called 'initiative'. I know quite a few jobless souls going through that phase right now, but I sincerely hope they'd outgrow that too, very soon and stand up for themselves for something noteworthy and significant. After all, every phase is a passing cloud and yeah, People outgrow everything eventually.

Well, art of conversing is something very underrated and very much overlooked according to Sirish, and I too second that in concurrence. Nothing would get close to the light hearted feeling you experience after a much need conversation with a good old friend of yours, and I am experiencing it right now, to the fullest. Conversations, which follow the purpose, rather than means, and which prioritise gist over arguments are the ones which make you feel confident and soulful.

Sirish, you'd be one of those few reasons which compel me to come back, I tell you. Long live, boy!

Like a Rolling Stone.

I see the distant white rose-d curtains hanging around, surrounded me in despair, but I am sorry, this also belongs to that league of posts which are ridiculed and troubled. My set of eyes meet the jar of drinking chocolate, a tin of fosters beer & a tube of table salt which are in no way connected but somehow find a connecting linear abysmal of equation.

I am listening to Nitin Shawney, Devendra Banhart, Chris Jarvis, all the alternative stuff one could ever lend their set of ears to. I do not blame some entity nor complain too. This is one piece which seriously digs a hole to find out an aperture to come out of enclosed & enforced vacuum, trying too hard to escape out of pragmatism.

No activity. Do not point out your raising finger at me as I have no rational grudge against this site, to seem too biased and to abandon it from visiting. It's just that I didn't feel feel like writing and I did not.

As anticipated, she turned out to be the most judging and convincing part of the mortality. She commands for the good. For the mutual goodness. Symbiosis prevails. This stands out as the proving testimony for the recurrence of the the good old times to flush in again and pay off their due visits.

I read Boris' s disgust on riots, updated resignations of people who challenged the sales of coloured water, scintillating response to the historical launch of an ever lasting hunger fast to achieve fanatical secularism, summed up conspiracy to dismiss God from conquering his hundredth ton etc. Lot's been certainly happening. Nothing far too much than my love. One can find it far too disappointing to relate everything so coherently to my personal advancements, but, come on now, this is my platform, and if you choose to click on this, you've got to bear with this.

Waiting for the clicking time, so that things apparently fall in place and everything falls off to subtlety with such admiring levels of serenity that would leave the spectators' half agape mouths wide open.

Those old days should come back. The Good old days. The days of spilling out money like the trash paper. Its not about disrespecting the currency but its all about honouring aggravating respect to my earned self esteem. I behave reluctant to agree with the presumed image of a spoiled brat by frisking money and throwing it away but that is what I earn. The liberty to chuck off the wealth I've earned.

Well, there's definitely some difference she has brought in. Significant, phenomenal and huge. I know people and claim them as the people I am associated with, but the whole freaking point is, they don't know her and that, it makes all the difference.

P.S : I name this one as 'No Direction Home!' , I clean my hands, I come back and rename this as 'Like a Rolling Stone.'

On and On and On....

As wisely said 'let the chips may fall where they intend to' and referring to Sirish's latest post which strongly emphasizes on the point of leaving everything purely on conscience, I look back to find any exuberating relevance in the events that took place in my life so far, I failed again, big time. Phew! even in connecting the dots which brightly represented various events. I think whether they were all by themselves that collectively occurred to me or is it my self sustainable stupidity that drove me forward. It isn't at all something like turning out to be too humane & standing by myself but that is something totally beyond my control. I don't really have an idea what is really prompting me to start writing about me (as I was far too occupied with the act of praising her on a larger front) but this really has to come out. This has got no head and tail, I tell you. Aah well, I was addressing the 'connecting the events' thing a bit earier and again I get back there.

Education. The unrealized and the biggest frontier I am still waiting to materialise. Ask me and I shall tell you how it feels when everybody paces way forward, I still keep hanging in there. Define Education for me. The one that fetches me the proper wisdom of differentiating between the productive and destructive elements? Or the one that fetches me a studio flat and a four wheeler, five years down the lane? This is like a motion picture, where a fast forward button is pressed on, zoomed in, into the city's ever moving traffic, vehicles keep rushing to and fro. You stand there, like a frozen frog and as if you are meant to observe the motion of everything and no nothing else. Stagnant. Inertial.

A stirring feeling in your belly and vibrating nerves in your legs and yet, a heavenly weighed object on your back, stabbing you more and more into the ground. Deep inside. I know this sounds way too depressing and dramatic. The troubled kid devoid of everything. I would throw my head down into void, running out of an answer when someone asks me what's all this. Isn't it so stupid to expect me to come up with an immediate and equally reflexive answer for the question for which, I have been spending, like the latest quarter of my life, searching for an answer. This has become a mirage, it seems near, yet so far, miles far away. I wish my fist sized throb, which got lost conveniently far away in some city of my realm, would find an answer eventually and glow up with joy, just like a kid who conquered his favourite piece of toy.

Till then, the pursuit goes on and on and on....

To you, For you, Of you.

I promised something to her this evening only when i had this idea of writing about the sheer pleasure that the life could experience when she's around and i had this thought doing rounds in my mind and its just like weaving an entire story round a single line or idea or thought or whatever. And its amidst this humid, typical, experienced-yet-alien to me climate, amidst the new-old people who i claim to know quite a bit, amidst dusted furniture, yet with freshly raised hopes about a secluded & satisfied living with her. I know the counter conventional circles i know would not expect a piece of this kind, but you know what? even Carl Marx, once fell in love.

Well, quite a few emotional moments dominating the inner and sublime rationality i believe to possess in me, which almost won my rational side and almost dragged me out of the international terminal at a sub continental airport. Well, the major part turned out to be her. The Liberals again question me about this absurdity of falling over and getting swept away clean off by a woman, within considerably very less time, despite of all the complications I maintain around myself to justify the essence of being, as Sukumar put it this way in a cinema of his, Love does not take a life time to be born, but it does, a moment. Only a moment. So true. At least, implying me in the central theme.

Honestly, i dare not dream of a Hyd Blues- kind of- zindagi, at least, after getting on to the path of less chosen and highly down trodden in the circles of Indian-proclaimed- so called settled life. It had been on the alternative track, for quite sometime, as I chose it to be that way. But then came this girl, crept in gulping me down under her magic and I drowned under her magical shadow. Again, they started paying visits, the good old times of sheer pureness and honesty in my eyes and actions. Whatever I think, talk and do. At least, to sound extremely honest again, only when she's around. I cannot be that way in the diplomatic and capitalistic circles I chose to live in, here in London.

Wait, let me talk about her. Highly academic, unlike me. Its just that she firmly thinks of something and she gets it. Go-getter, Thats the best part. Laughs like a lullaby. This one is not going to fall under the very usual main stream ideological pieces of writings which generally address the abstract things that would possibly appear from nowhere, accordingly with her arrival. Its just that what all I privately advocate about her and could not really confront her saying all this. She isn't an artiste nor possesses any traits of a possibly-turning-out-to-be an artiste. Its just that so miraculous that she admires the simplest and finest pieces of art without any discrimination based on the artists or the genre they belong to. As I already told this somewhere on this platform, many a times, it better to be simple. And i personally believe, admiring art to the fullest unbiasedly is also an art and thereby, she happens out to be an artist too.

I really cannot answer the question 'why her?' and 'why only her?' and I think I am not going to find an answer in the coming times too. To be sincere, one cannot find reasons for disliking something but not liking something. To sound more specific than generalized, this is something madness and extremely of no reason. I am very comfortable by not figuring out the rational factors behind this and I let it be this way. I really don't think I am putting in the efforts of a columnist or writer or whoever while writing this, but you know, I am putting in my heart and that one, makes me feel highly special about this piece.

Well, coming to you Bangaaram, this is for you. And this is of You. It makes no sense sequentially, but as you already know, to feel the immense and priceless pleasure in something that has been gifted, be irrational and its essence already touched your heart, i believe.

Come like He had never come.

As I write this, I loathe I miss a rally. A sharp one. This is a time line post. I keep watching the way two craftsmen pour in everything they have in them, sweat, blood and more importantly Soul, to carve a beautiful & one of those unforgettable crafts which, only we people are lucky enough to witness, belonging to this era. Federer & Nadal. I don't know why I crave so much for class over sweat. Sachin Tendulkar. VVS Laxman. Roger Federer. Kepp aside. Get into the shoes now.

Clay court. Empire of Spain bull. Rafael Nadal. Being played under the bleak shadows of palm trees conveniently grown under the great Eiffel Tower. I switched on the TV and already by then, Champ lost a set on the whole and on the verge of losing another & evenutallly, in 10, lost it. Felt a tinge of high doubtedness in the deepest of my brains, about the sobs that could drop down his cheeks. Undigestable.

There on the white grand bench, sat the champion, sucking in more ORS to fill in more sweat to vomit in the coming set. And it worked. It was 4-2 of Nadal- Federer and the way he broke Bull's serve and came back is once in an era's moment & hence being a champion, swept it off clean & still the same bland face amidst cheers of Swiss enthusiasts.

And again, almost a two minute rally ended up inclining towards the Swiss & right now, its 3-1 keeping the Bull in lead. To fill in, let me address some style. Bull is aggressive, expressive and open. But the Swiss, calm and centered. The only expression that would come out is only when the finale sees a result. That backhand of Federer is like a Greek God romancing Salma Hayek on a full moon night. To draw a parallel comparison, like VVS Laxman's glance on the on side of an off side ball. Elegant. Graceful. Godly. Period.

The Swiss does not breate exasperatedly nor horns dramatically on the court. He makes the sport look simple, just like a child's play. It isn't possible with everybody who holds a racket. And right now, defeat is approaching him/ But the same old sense of stubborn confidence in his gestures. May be, that too is a champion's virtue. Here I say, the world, for few moments, should come to a stop by, watch his game on its way, smile and move forward.

And yes, he's gone now. Officially. But he is going to come again. He's going to come like he had never come. Till then, off from the sport.

Raging up the Reminiscences.

Its been months since I've written something other than myself. Upon close look, one can really say Alas! this guy's so boring & self obsessed and he's got nothing to write or talk or even think about, expect himself. That, being a disgusting notion of being extremely predictable. I kind of didn't like it though. So this thing suddenly flashed in my brains of taking people aback with shock, all in a second.

That's due to flash soon. It fell in days now and would be soon, in hours too. Excited, or rather, shocked faces which would soon burst into laughter (hopefully). This idea struck me, but the usual prospect of the rational part of my brains, forcibly resigned & made me sit back to work. But how about a couple of crazy things? A surprise date with my adolescent crush? The indigenous feel of metal coated race inducer? Seemed fascinating, or to sound predictable perhaps, crazy?

Those half trousered late morning, less likely termed 'breakfasts', more gazing at pale skies for those respite drops, sweat pouring long drives, more sweat pouring smoke, sloshed away alcohol episodes, goose bumpy conversations, overlooked acquaintances, abandoned brotherhoods due to opinion crisis (aah! why does this word 'abandon' fancy me so much?). And look out, I end up writing about myself again, by the way, sweet vengeances sporting hair and beards, exclaiming eternal search ends at serving bars, going green with a time table and on and on and on...

I swear each one of the aforementioned would make absolute sense to each one of the people whom I confess to know & for all those to come, clustered up again, the Real Counting beings.

Hairy Jack! Is going to be back!

To feel full.

Alright. 2.10 AM. Anand Shankar in the years. Switched off the machine and switched myself on. Been ages I thought of myself. Everything around changes too rapid. As they put it this way,"you scale too rapid when you seem too busy to bother about self." That seems to be playing its game ow. Few lines. Suck In. Ash Off. Blow out. Grab pen again.

Unchanged tees for every couple of days, remained minutes in my Berry waiting to be finished, half read Rushdie's dedication to Padma Laxmi. Convinced to be following the divided business gain IPL, where God striking heads on with the luckiest mortal Dhoni, often visiting thoughts of her. May be above lines fulfil the narration of life, thats been going on for few days. Yndi Halda's either Illuminate my Heart or We Flood Empty Lakes often pay visits reminding me of my abandoned side, being normal is the new in thing, and I am one of those people who follow trending ins.

As I write this, Jack's there sleeping, followed by more sleep which came out after saturated episodes of insomnia. Jack got lost himself in documentary footages describing trivial things like Jack Daniel's History or Ancient aliens' pre-mature-ish behaviours on the more ancient planet Earth. Jack's profound and as already said, too profane for his generation.

Surrounded by basic salted, to be called crispy chips from a local store to serve the apatite when bank statements run all time low and a grand, seldom visible, rare piece of antique Baileys, to sound technical, a mixture of Irish coffee and whiskey. I write this piece to feel full. Here comes the abrupt full stop.

P.S : To confess, English breakfast is classic.

&

Pawan Kalyan is back.

Half an Year.

Half an year passed away. I won't say conveniently. Thought, would be a better idea to gather all the events took place, where the protagonist presumed to be me. I was stammered to death with fear, helpless rage and a tinge of confusion for the first time when these ever-killing polar winds hit my chest badly, because of which I had to search for another sweat shirt from my carry bag, outside Heathrow. Tonnes of incidents. Blows. Bouts. They made me composed, which at times make me feel bad for my early approach of adulthood, but most of the times, bore consumable fruits.

Still remember blindly following a known person at Stratford station, sifting through tubes to reach my school for the first time. There are many firsts in this posts. That image never fades away, as a matter of fact. If at all it happens to stay here for longer periods than desired, that image serves as the quotient of survival and existence. Got ditched in the hands of academic money makers. Been through sleepless nights wondering, how more worse this could get. Those sleepless nights also comprised of burnt sticks, empty tins and remained wanting scathered with empty pockets, but one thing, there was no witched linen trouser from which I could steal currency, which never ran out of money to rob, my father's.

But he is now Rs. 80/minute away from me, which can rather buy me a beer tin to get lost in the momentary soothing. The precise application of the idiom which I used to iterate running around people, 'Kal kaa Kal' worked finally. Stopped spending nights worrying about ever-coming tomorrow's deadlines. When I talk about deadlines here, I am compelled to write about my profession in this land or rather i think it deserves to be told.

Knocked doors as a surveying agent in my early days, hitting a new suburb down town the every other working day, in search of deals, which in turn, could feed me, end of the month. But something appealed to me. Marketing is my type. Being so uncertain about the next feeding prospect, bid goodbye to the marketing thingy, forever.

This thing, which I believe I am best at, is feeding me now. Equally on par with people who work 8 hours a day for 5 days a week. Writing. My passion and now, my profession, lately. One thing has been proved again, very strongly, in the history in my case. Power of words. The pace at which they spread and reach the to-be-reached ears and which apparently gets the things done. Words surely are epidemic. Sleepless nights, yet again, but this time occupied with work. Seriously, I run out of time, at times, to make a cup of tea for myself in the middle of nights. And what got proved is 'People come back to you when you deliver the best you can and this time, with two other people along with each one of them.' Projects pouring in, keeping me super busy.

I have gone places, meaning places. Explored the city as far as anyone could, in six months. Contented. Just a jot down about what I am up to, in this, the six most productive months so far. And all I dream about Hyderabad is yet to come, due in some 4 months. Those unconsciously appearing smiles while I drool over the baggage trolley out of arrivals stand.

To get there, here I am. Count down begins!

Schindler's Epitomy.

The epitome of Oskar Schindler is what that suites this or rather i felt it does more than anything else. Been away from all the socialising acts and the latest digest i came to know is all about the shaky news of Japan's pre-doomsday catastrophe. This has got nothing to do with my fears with the arrival of that predicted D day somewhere around in late 2012 or something, nor i do feel that what could be the consequences if that nightmare ever hits back as a reality.

The thought of relating Schindler and his virtues, feeling convinced and confident that I know what Schindler is, from those 30 iterations of that cult 3 hour epic on my new machine, getting better idea of him, the every time, titles rolled up. Schindler toasts up wine for morbid reasons of celebration like tagging eyeball sized Italian buttons to his waist coat, upon which people may feel he, definitely is a cruel moron, and has got no morals or even civilian sympathies towards burning lives. But he has the noblest intentions which are hidden behind his ruthless looks which saved Schindler Jews. And the best and proudest part is there are more Schindler jews now than normal jews. That scene of paying humble and respectful homages, from the later on generations of refugees of Schindler who grew up to become millionaires and more was hair raising. Schindler did many businesses later which failed him badly, but negotiating with red hats in the name of labour migration really did good for these millionaires now. Undeniable.

Had been Schindler now, would have watched the entire devastation, in an high end society club, raising toasts of costliest wine we could ever imagine over Tendulkar's 99th ton against RSA, besides that telivision which displayed the footages of that mud swallowing Tokyo with hunger. Bar tenders who never know about Schindler would feel averted because of his pathetic denials regarding ongoing destroy. But i know from deep inside, Schidler will do something, something a man could ever do at his best, rather than people abandoning the accident with glycerine wet eyes in front of camera.

The man, masculinity personified, Oskar Schindler, has something in him, only Jews know best to say. After all, they are Schindler Jews.

So Charlie, Hail Schindler! (and his boozing capabilites)

At my will.

Well, Will, its all about that, this piece is. Things are being in my control absolutely. Been dreaming about this retrospective aspect since quite a long time, but that always remained as colourless diamond to pursue. But good times too pay visits right? This is not at all about being oozed into materialistic comforts or wall street capitalistic dreams but all about the ideology that, eventually taking a solid shape.

Given ample time to sit, think and grow strong, i can say that the time is being utilised more or less, in a righteous way. Those nights with mild tickle of pain in the chest because of sucking in unacceptable volume of smoke a day, dreaming about cutting them down one day, and to be able to breathe out early morning's breeze to the fullest. It remained as an unscalable height which went onto the extent of questioning self's rushes to suck in more and more volume deep into this machine full of life.

Something undefinable happened and they went down dramatically that i, now hit the bed every night in the dream of waking up for those early breezes, devoid of pollution in my chest. I don't say that I am completely pure yet and i do not at all think that sucking in smoke makes you impure. That is not my version at all. This just served as the addressing concern of the shaping ideology.

The gritting out method to hold my tongue from tasting wine is also bearing fruits. Abandoned late breakfasts at sub continental restaurants, early sessions of wine while cinema, everything is being cut down, to dream of those good days hopefully waiting beyond the horizon, that appears every evening. To go back to my city as a rich early-twenties guy, got to be real miser in spending now.

After all, that's a formula, begin with the end.

Some words to say.

These words definitely belong to that set of audacious words which are to be expelled out to relieve the 100 pound or something weight pounding me into the darks unknown. The fear creeps in everytime I think about this piece of action and reaction going solemnly within. The unknown and abrupt rush of hatred and the abnormal yet not weird sense of crawling away from people keeps coming back to me so often these days. No cell phone, seldom necessary calls to home to ensure 'em that I am alive and absolutely no tweeting happening( doesn't really mean 'tweeting over the biggest thing on the web').

The unidentified sense of black, deep and shallow incompleteness is what that my mind got occupied with. I stare away into the deep yet, within-the-city woods which peep into my brain once a day and it seems like they are calling me to fulfil my quest of subtlety. What all do I need? Absolutely, soul soothing cinema, music and of course, limited people with sleep inducing conversations. I got to know the answer for my insomniac state of being where I lay down yet it takes some 300 minutes for the Goddess of serenity to shower the sprinkles of sleep upon me. That happens each night with so much of reluctance and after waging opinion crisis, stammering over unspoken words in the semi conscious condition.

And I wake up to find myself raffled by one other day of so many those days of discontent and some contempt in my voice trying to appeal for content. Alcohol is the only inducing agent, which sings lullabies to me, provided i am fed with currency full of wallet.

Ain't that going to work in the long run too, I know.

And those uncanny sarcastic likings from few people adds to the fire and I mull over those trivial things again and again. 22nd of this month passed and landed me in the 22nd year of my life.

I hoped for the same contented feeling but the answer seems to be evitable and not so easy thing to achieve.

The possibility of getting close to the milestone of making people comfortably convinced over the fact that I finished the education looks to far away, even beyond the horizons and everything appears dark.

But the brightest thought I can ever get is Black is something ecstasic and surreal and that keeps me to my bed and to wage anothet battle against the climax of one more tiring day to get up to find myself doing the same thing I've been doing from so long that I could not remember, how long this all started ago.

The respite i needed seems like arriving as i write this post, only respite, not relief, to be clarified.

day.

22nd eh? good good. this too shall pass.

The Club

Jack was beckoning me from the Miller's Well and I tried to be a self conscious person, too conventional to get into such a conversation. I know I too dope, but there's something profane about Jack.

He talks about the dark side of everything. He states that the dark is the revealing notion and what not? The dark side of the ol' classic rock, the word 'disaster' fancies him so much.

He just wants to be there from the zero all again. I know its hard to be Jack but the oomphing current flows in me when I get high.

And he always stays high. He laughs at my intentions, he talks to me when I think of her and lie there wondering what made her bar me?

The life as already written somewhere, had been devoid of everything, but not now. Jack's there to about the abandoned, 'finger-on-the-lips' things.

He's so brutal and that he shames me and makes fun of me , and the best part already evolved, I joined him in laughing. He talks about the people who bear feathers on the coats and sing some hip hop to wear that tag name 'counter cultured'. As I talk this, he's beside me drinking wine.

The inner revolution got saturated, started delivering middle fingers at doorsteps, and on one fine evening, all set to be breathtakingly ruthless with the lifestyle which cannot think much more than shopping as a hobby or pastime or whatever.

Jack shoots the bar counter and approaches a coloured bartender and says,'Two pegs of Jack Daniels. No coke.' and the tender says 'and' & Jack replies ,'Boy, thats it. Two neat pegs of JD.' and gets amused by the similar question mark 'And' & this time frustated high time reckons who's high already, but fully convinced with the fact that the session is yet to get incepted, yells out 'dude! You heard it right. Two and only Two pegs of Jack Daniels.' and gosh! the similar question again 'And' and there arrives the most shittiest deployment of the human mankind whose respect seems to hold the pinnacle and no respect for the abstract seems to manage room even in a forbidden bar in the deserted late evening streets of East Ham.

And then the tender comes up with the answer 'And.....PLEASE' and Jack sighs exasperatedly 'Aaah! Please!!! Thank you for reminding . Sorry for overlooking. Any more courtesies to be delivered to savour the drink I buy with my own money?'

Jack settles down on his chair, with, at last, those 2 pegs of alcohol, empties a half of it at one go, lights up a stick, and laughs, 'People now lack great war and depression.' 'They need a club.'

And then, The Club saw its birth.

P.S : No Jack exists.

Evolution

I am quire sure that giraffes never had such a long neck since their inception. The struggle to keep up the pace in the race to live, made them to peep that one 'extra' inch more and more to reach out those far blossomed leaves. All the trodden plants down there at the bottom went into bellies of tiny specie of life. Neck was stretched, stretched and stretched more as as the offsprings began showing up, with long long and more longer necks, as what now we notice as. That impeccable need to swim through the waters of life was & is never questionable, which also left no options available, but only with to, grow, grow and grow more.

And what not, does this tends to acquire wholeness if not talked about this writer's race of life? Humans. Yes, the very thought of evolution of human being whose brain took more than 2,000 years to get enlightened with the fact that animals fear fire and the very gnawling thought to strike fire which scared wild and helped them play safe is something really splendid to recuperate again. Sex,it is. The thought is.

And now people become billionaires earning on those pieces of cloth which we were not aware of, some grand years earlier. And I remember a quote by some billionaire Warren Buffet, though irrelevant to the context, my pen tempts to throw up the quote here, " Wall Street is the only place where people come in Rolls Royce to seek advices from people who walk subways." From the basic wheel to some Royce which Rolls on wheels. Remarkable.

Whats so superlative about evolution? They very strike of evolution always ignites great minds to ooze out far more greater thoughts. To be honest, inventor of this so called 'the most tiny yet the most appealing weapon" PEN is more likely, to-be-notable than Shakespeare or whoever. Whats the point? Not pen alone, though.

From those raw days of frowning foreheads in bewilderment of what basically 'sound' is to move nations with sound of six strings tied together. And yes from hunting to conspiring. From hierarchy to democracy. From 'I preach you follow' to 'I preach you preach'. Few of dark spots too. Everything has a dark side, after all.

Well, not an anthropologist I am and so I can not think of evolution in a better way than this. People insist I should write fiction, but this isn't the topic to sound fictional. Just wanted to give this text a go. I got it. After all, I am a go-getter.

Hail Frusciante. Happy birthday Bob! Long love Marley!

A Friend Indeed.

The image of my ridiculed face on 'that' day still pops in into my introspective mind once in a while, when I usually lay down on my couch, wondering what if even a big joint of marijuana fails in singing dark and forbidden lullabies to put me to sleep.

I was standing there bewildered with my landlord's pinning words that shot us and ousted us from that mansion abruptly. I stood there in the parking lot, smoking the last cigarette I had, no money to buy one more. He came silently from behind, patted me gently on my shoulder and smiled and shared the remaining cigarette. I knew that he knew what was doing rounds in my brain then. I was wholly broke and was on roads literally. No job, new land, no money. But there was lot of self respect that abandoned me from asking my dad, some money. Then the phone rang, was my dad asking, " Is everything okay nana?" "Absolutely Pappa. A little busy. Will ring you later" was my reply.

I hung up and this fellow and this fellow then came into my life by protruding an upper hand then and it still goes on. He drew out some 100 Euros or Pounds or whatever from the Barclays hole in the wall and tucked it in my hand. Befallen by hunger and ambiguity all around, I had to accept those bucks.

It all started there with him. The to-be-together journey. He was always there for me. The only lad who makes Londone a crappier place for me to live in, with his absence. There was another day, one of those days when I was trying hard to digest the fact that She abandoned me, I cried like a little boy after getting sloshed away by alcohol. I was close to death and he dragged me back home from a dark bar.

He always wants me to be independent but made me feel conveniently dependent on him when things didn't work out the way they has to, so far.

Well, you guys may call this a tribute to him, I'd rather say that this is a way of reciprocating for what all he did for me.

Well, his parents named him Chaitanya, I'd prefer 'the friend indeed'.

P.S : I received my first birthday gift already frm this bastard.

God bless!

Wise Mice

A deep drag (long awaited since morning) after a huge meal justifies the word 'completion'. As I open out the passive door of my flat to blow out few deep drags which get mixed with the late night fog sums up big and hits the cool wind out there to win a losing battle.

I sit there consciously on the the three legged dining chair and light up a stick to strike out one more day off the new decade's calendar, two mice sprout up all of a sudden from the trash can just like balls in the pinball. The mortal and never outgrown fear of reptiles take me back but they yell at me saying 'Easy, boy!' and I ease myself.

This follows later.

Mouse 1 (M1) : Hello little boy.

Me : Huh, Little? me?

Mouse 2 (M2) : My friend seldom lies. Yes you are. Very much.

Me : Well, Hi.

M2 : Welcome to the kingdom where sun never sets. Sorry. Late wishes though.

Me : Approaching 5 month stone and a welcome piece now? Thanks, anyway.

M1 : Be careful chum! Its all dark here, not as it appears.

M2 : You seems to be innocent. Need to be extra careful.

Me : Ahem! By now, I know this place sucks because of its colour obsession. Though its dark, it hates darks.

M1 : Interesting observation, that is.

Me : Thats experience , what we humans name it as.

M2 : We call it as survival.

M1 : Some call it retrospection.

Me : Whatever. You both look white. Are you guys Brits?

M1 : To be honest, we don't mind being white. We'd be fed with same food and liberty even if we are coloured. Know that?

Me : That's awesome. You guys follow constitution eh? *winks*

M2 : Well, we framed one. You humans are too smart and wicked to follow.

Me : That's the whole essence then. Supremacy in the race of survival.

M1 : Aren't we surviving?

Me : Yes, you are.

M2 : With equality, to be taken note of.

M1 : You people have big brains dude.

Me : Big enough to lead the race of survival.

M1 : Well, If I am not wrong, I notice a glimpse of pride as you admit that.

Me : Emerging victorious is a proud thing. Isn't it?

M1 : Yuddham lo gelavadam ante shatruvu ni champadam kaadu, odinchadam.

(J A L S A)

M2 : Don't stab existence.

M1 : Live humanely and justify 'Human'

Me : Will try to. Later, guys.

Mice : Later, man.

Possessions, Her and Random things.

Fells homely to visit this page after a long while. In fact, it induces a sense of ownership to view a .com based on my name, nevertheless. Life has become devoid. Devoid of cinema, music, writings, nothing. Sometimes, it looks good to be plain. May be some umpteen times, I dream of June to occur, everyday. But, June too shall pass,I know. It brings along with it July and more which shall bring me back in UK. Well, the latest learning is it's difficult to meet self terms and far too difficult to live on selves.

One typical day include 1 convinced-to-be-called meal, some 5 sticks, 2 pints, many to-be-materialised day dreams. Well,of course, this sense of self seems great, the inner you wear is what you bought out with your own bucks. No context of dad comes anywhere. The food you(I) eat , the music machine that decorates your pocket, this paper and pen you write on & with, everything your own, very much.

You look at your laptop's box out the above fireplace and you find your name imbibed colourlessly on it ans you feel,I bought it.

Not alone about the things you earn, but the way you look after everything, a plain pulav prepared by you with no topping tastes gr9, the app you develop on your machine with one night being forgone too looks splendid, yet simple and plain to any third person.

Had been hearing some really happy news about little significant achievements by my peers,lately. Seems much's been happening around out there in my absence. It is like immaculately horning out some soundless noises which nobody cares to mind apparently. It is absolute fun to be an enthusiastic viewer when life turns round all by itself and it appears like chips started falling in place, where they are intended to, but not destined to.

Due to lack of regular intercourse with paper, I am now completely unsure where this is heading towards(Random things in my title justify that). Back into the context, its real juicy encountering destiny. I know people who find it uber cool to quote that absolute bullshit, destiny is. But more funnier part is, their that quoting is also a part of their destinies. How ironic and funny?

I more sound like an anti raged and middle aged citizen. Absence of going places makes you one. (doesn't literally convey 'going' places) Never mind. So, lots been happening around and so I turn up there as any other stranger would do, some 6 months later and they wear that 'you dont know question marks' on their faces, which definitely uneases me.

Now She's gone and my crave for her still refuses to fade out into dark reminiscences of past. What's so magical about her? I know bullying around girls for quite a long time, never serious as a matter of fact to be noted, but this time I am pad enough, enough to be saturated with her and no longer eager to visit strip clubs to buy a couple of drinks and fuck some white whore. Ain't it no fun anymore.

I am said to be a plain bastard by somebody and yes, I write plain. Peace out.