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.