Blah, blah

I didn't thought I would be off from my blog for such a long time.
I am back, with a bang? Not so sure but back in the battle field. 

The Unknown I(Self)

Knowing yourself needs a little help from others; in any kind, by variety of means and forms unknown. 
You and I. He and I. She and I. They and I. We and I.

Some loners in Pokhara

Don't fit together

I knew better. But suddenly, I feel like I am a big time idiot.

Imagination and reality just don't fit together. When you imagine things, you love it because it is yours and it cost nothing. But when reality comes knocking at the door of imagination, it starts breaking apart. It will fall into pieces. The biggest fear stays in you, you'll give up on imagining thereafter because you'll always have that feeling that it will get weaker and break down sooner or later. 

ESHAL and PRANEETH

Q. What is love?

A.  Eshal and Praneeth. 

Normal

What is normal?

Is normal associated with forgetting things, hurting others and making mistakes? 

Have you?

Truth to tell, I prefer letters to emails but hey, the joy in reading an email is no less. I like sending and receiving emails alike. This post will be very personal and important to me, its more like sharing/circulating a part of my journal. There is a reason too that if known and understood is better. 

This email exchange is between two very good friends. More importantly, its like their way of getting connected. Two people living in different places, seeing the time in clock differently but the way life has been for them and the perception they have of things strikes at the thinnest line of similarity. Both are standing at a point of life where they are confused, amazed and seeking answers. At this point of their lives nothing really matters as everything seems senseless.

Emails are personal and I am well acquainted with the fact. This email send for "me" anyhow, has put an urge to share. So, I bet in this case "you" are!


Buttercup,

Have you ever walked the road and felt you are the lowest( in terms of almost everything), ugliest and less blessed among the crowd?
When you see your own reflection, have you ever feel tired of the image and never want to see it again? Have you ever feel discouraged just by looking at yourself, top to bottom? Or when you are watching people? Or randomly? 
All these sort of feeling, have you ever want to change due to it. But then realize how difficult that will be too, because it takes lots and lots of patience, month, year, another year. Because you are prone to laziness. Doing nothing is the easiest thing, you are better at it then nothing else.
Have you?

-Bubbles



Dearest Bubbles,

With all sincerity and total confirmation, I agree to all the questions you've put forward. Yes, I feel it every other day. 

When you go out to breathe some fresh air, there comes all the oddities, you don't wish for. For instance those people walking around you. Looking those who are prettier, slimmer and so much better than you in every other ways, you think, 'Oh no, she is pretty!' 'Look at her figure!' 'Hey, I tried that top but it didn't fit me, now there she is all too beautiful with it!' 
Then comes all those promises to myself.
'From tomorrow, I will be more concerned with my health and body.'

But no, things just don't happen like that. You need some change so does change needs time. Time means hell lot of patience and I am like the least patience bearer. So, yes that is how it feels like.

"you need change,change needs time and you lose patience. The final result, you will be the same."

Buttercup

P.S. : I hope I didn't confuse you. People say I confuse them a lot. Sometimes, I feel like even with all the questions you ask, I am the one who tends to be asking more. You, however answer my answers which are your questions seeking answer to your questions. 

Dear Buttercup

A friend of mine emailed me this. I just loved it!

Warm touch

Hands are numb and cold
doubted if I am getting old
no, said my subconscious bold
I was told, it wasn't sold

Oh, here comes the road curvy
spread out all, it is topsy-turvy
seeing people safe in cars, I got envy
with traffic so heavy


I have to get across
nothing much was in option to toss
it was unpleasant, it was gross
it came uninvited like a pleasant gloss

It came,so it came upon
triggered inside me, a warmth, got me on
the gentle pull have me drawn
that tight grip had me withdrawn

The touch full of warmth and care
two fingers jingled unaware
a minute long it was and it was unfair
it lasted a day I swear!

Lame blame

Oh yeah, thats the blame
I see it lame
I know its a game
and you do it only for name

You say things, that aren't good
irritates me to my nerves and you're rude
you suck and fling my mood
you are no good, you're screwed

Tell me again, if I am wrong
'cause this time I know I am strong
You jerk! you knew it all along
nowhere you belonged, you'll ever belong

Fallen low or deep down

Sing to me, a love song
That make me love you all along
Write to me, a lovely poem
So as I can live in your dream

I wonder how I can know 
if I have fallen low
or deep down, down, down
to make sure my heart I own, own, own

Dance with me, to my heart beat
With the rhythm and melody, so much in heat
Listen to what I have to say
I promise I won't stray

I wonder how I can know 
if I have fallen low
or deep down, down, down
to make sure my heart I own, own, own

Maybe love is just an attraction
I may have taken as an emotion
or rather just a feeling small and temporary
not so necessary, necessary, necessary

The grass is greener on which side?

How much? What kind? Which one?

There are many questions to limited answers. So I'll just skip questionings. 

I have learned something today. Normally, I learn everyday alike. It has occurred to me that I learn it better when I am sad (as if I don't feel it every day). I don't know if my mind becomes awakened or its just my hormones that overflows with sadness. Either way, my emotion is my biggest inspiration to write posts and my arch enemy too; triggering a melodramatic queen in me.

There are set of shoes on display, wide variety of shoes but the ones that I like don't fit. The ones that is pretty turns out smaller in size. The ones that is attractive from far looks horrible seeing them closer. The torn, used ones and the ugliest in one way or the other is the perfect Cinderella fit. 

Shoes are just shoes after all. You will have at least few left to cherish you. Unlike shoes, people aren't in abundant. 

Yes, I agree to the fact that the world is overpopulated but anyhow I feel that they are not enough in my life. There are certain people that make me happy, feel special and help motivating me time by time. Again, there is another group that makes me sad, stir and mess with my feelings. However good or bad people are to me, if there are distinctions between good or bad, they are incomplete in their own way. They are no shoes. They can't be replaced like shoes. The realization somehow draws a line between reality and fiction and leaves a huge hole in my heart. 

May be I am too important. May be you are important to you.

May be I am getting unwanted things bother me. May be you see me as a crazy being. 

May be I am yet to find my identity. May be you see me for who I am and respect me. 

May be I am never to find happiness. May be you are lucky to feel happiness in small things.

May be I am nuts. May be you are too.

"Truth about the truth is that it hurts. So we prefer to lie instead."

you..you..

1Q84 - really?

For the last couple of days, I have been reading through three different books.

One of which is 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami. I am somewhere in middle of reading. The book is simply hypnotizing. You know like the ones that is giant yet so much to tell. One thing I liked so much of it is that how love can be, I know I talk lot on it, but seriously I never consider in the existence of true love.

Aomame is going to turn thirty soon and she has no one she had loved since Tengo from the age of ten. She hold his hand, never talking thereafter. Even at this age, she has never loved a man other than Tengo. Will that happen to me? I questioned myself. Things in life is different from what is in books and movies. They are after all fiction, not real. Can I continue loving the same guy I am in love with now? 

THE FIRST ENCOUNTER

It was fine Saturday morning as I remember. Trees were shedding leaves as I was walked through town. Ron Pope was singing I was praying that you and me might end up together… on my phone. After ten minutes of walking I stopped at a book store to look at some books. I picked up a title by Murakami from the bulky stack of books sitting on different shelves, arranged systemically. I was skimming the book’s blurb when a scent drew my attention and distracted me from my reading. The smell diffused and lingered as it drifted down my throat, making me gulp down an ounce of saliva. It tasted manly. I found myself thinking. As I turned, hoping to find the right person, I saw a man approaching from my right side.

Oh god, he is coming my way.

He was tall. His physical build was hardly the kind to attract people but something about him hooked me, like an energy flow. I felt connected to him and looked in his eyes. They were almond shaped, as mysterious as the depths of ocean. They glimmered and glowed. A shiver shot down my spine.

‘Umm….can you spare some time? Could you help me out a little? I need some help. No one seems available. I felt like asking you in particular’, he said much like a soft whisper.

I looked around me, knowing very few people were in the back of the store.  That early on a Saturday morning most people would rather be warm in their beds, sleeping in, than wandering around a bookshop. I tried to look normal and betray the nervousness I was feeling deep down.

‘Su…sure, why not?’ I said, and trembled as I felt my voice breaking.

‘Are you from around here? I mean, I am new in town, only here for a short time and don’t have enough time to go through all the books. This store is huge, and I, I need a book… Could you please show me to the fiction section?’

Fiction? Fiction and guys are like winter and ice-cream. I can’t imagine both at a time. He must be a big reader.

I walked him towards the fiction section. Our walk was short. He walked gently with large steps. Mine were comparatively smaller and fast. His breathing was silent and slow, but quickly came to match my faster breaths, in a common rhythm that seemed to form a sweet tune -  ‘thak-thik, thak-thik’.

‘This is what you asked for…fiction. The entire world is here.’

 ‘Thanks…thank you…You like Murakami?’ he said looking at the book I was holding.

‘No, I don’t like him - I am in lu-uve with his works.’

Silence fell between us, except for my heart that is, which was beating so loud that I was almost sure he could hear it thumping in my chest. I could count the beats with ease, a stethoscope would have been wasted. One, two and maybe five. The moment was not one of those awkward-what-to-do-moments. Rather, we were there, but lost together in another time and space.

‘Any particular reason? I mean, why do you love him? ’

‘Why….hmm...He is different and I feel connected. We live in different parts of the world yet I feel he knows me, knows me somehow and writes about me. Like you know, he has been there in my life. Like he’s seen through what I’ve done and where I’ve been. Sometimes it touches me, in such an intense way. Well, he sort of messes with my mind and…..gets me to think and think more. I have read many authors but it feels like no one has successfully left the impact he has.

‘Yeah, I feel that way too...but not as much as you.’

‘Really? You do? Have you read him? I mean, you like fiction, but I didn’t see it coming.’

‘Four books in a row. I liked him too. The way he writes makes me feel, umm….how to put it…..yeah, that’s it! Empty and shallow. Partly because of the characters he has created.’ He smiled sideways.

There he knows how to smile.

One, two, three.  In just three seconds, a moment, a click in time and something like a flash of lightning passed, a thunder bolt hit right at my fist-sized heart. A nice well targeted shot it was. My blood rushed up, down and throughout. My heart rate soared, beating faster and faster. Actually, it skipped some beats, I think. More than words; something that words are not enough to express and explain. It was huge and vast. If as they say, it was love at first sight, then I would go back in time so I could feel it again, all over again.

He looked up and down for books; so good his focus was.

‘Dreams…Do you believe in dreams turning into reality? Tell me about your dreams. I don’t know but I feel like it’s the right thing to ask. Don’t get me wrong, I swear you are in safe hands. It’s okay if you don’t answer.’ He said all of a sudden, looking upright.

‘No, its fine…My dreams…mine..? Okay, but it needs to be fair, so tell me yours too in return.’

‘Good god…’ he said, mocking me.

It took me a while. I began, ‘There are lots of dreams. But, I have this one dream, from a long time back. I dreamt of becoming a writer, probably in ten to twenty years. I am dying to write something like Murakami’s, you know somewhat inspirational, motivational or something that connects people that makes them feel special. That sums it up pretty much.’

How did it come up? How? I don’t know. I just blurted it out, like my lips and mind were in sync. Something my girlfriends don’t know which I shared with an hour-long stranger who came out of the blue. That dream was beyond me and my imagination yet it was me in bits. Part. Me. Such is my dream that even after a year it is unknown to others but not to him.

‘Whoa…..that is a bi-ig dream. I am sure you’ll make good on it’

 ‘Thank you. Now, you…What’s yours?’ I asked.

‘Dream, hmm, I never seriously considered… I asked you because you look like someone determined and capable of doing something’, he said tossing the book in his hands back and forth.

‘So you are telling me you don’t have one? That’s unfair!’

‘No. Let’s make it fair then. I am a talented day dreamer and an even better night dreamer. I am dreamless when I am literally awake. That doesn’t mean I am hopeless. I have this bizarre dream of settling in a countryside doing farm work. This is what I have dreamt. There you go, I shared.’

We were so into our talk that we lost all sense of time. And did we talk. He said he had never had our kind of talk, or shared that way with anyone. He didn’t realize time could pass by easily. A step closer to confession and several other steps were made as he walked to the door bidding me good-bye. He turned back and smiled. That was the last picture I had of him, the last I saw of him. I close my eyes now to capture him, try to picture him. Blank. Blank. I can’t put together how he looked. We didn’t introduce ourselves. We skipped giving names. The first thing two strangers would do. But we didn't.

I hope we meet again, soon he said then. It took a year. Now, he is here standing right beside me, looking and smiling his precious smile, wearing the same scent that I adored so much. Some people talk about love at first sight but I guess for us it was love at first scent.

this is it...

COFFEE DRIVE!!!

I realized it yesterday: how much I need to keep myself intact and composed.

I did everything in my account to keep myself in place. I tried it all. Books, cakes, chocolates, movies, singing and dancing. Finally, it came to COFFEE!
This just isn't about being how you make it and drink it. It is more on how good it makes you feel afterwards. It could just be mere drift towards change that everyone of us desire for. Anyhow, I realize now that it is lot more than just some satisfaction I get. I felt it defines me just like writing and reading defines. I love it! 

my illusion, i am doubtful and miserable me

Truth be told, I am very happy in the initial stages of my blogging. I feel like I own to blog. Literally, blogging for whatever reasons makes me to blog, is pleasant. 

Even today, right now I am happy because it is just you, no one is involved. You aren't force to do it. You did it, blog it for yourself; left alone how many people are reading your articles or are commenting. It is just my guilty pleasure but taking out the guilty.

I have it all, seeing my writings in monsoon, summer and winter, throughout the year. It is like your writing has grown partly, matured and aged with time flow. I would be wrong to say, I have gotten better. Just that I feel some changes when I read through my previous writings. Again, it is nothing close to improvements because I lack good skills a writer or a blogger needs. Setting aside my weaknesses in writing, I feel writing is me; making mistakes, slipping over and feeling bad for being so limited. 

Where was I?

I have 'To kill a mockingbird' carrying with me for a month. I still have it in my bag, bookmarked and still some places to carry it with me. 

Waking up in the morning. Mornings are for walking and jogging. Days at work. Evening with prostrations. Sleeping time. Many little thoughts come and go, some escaping through the cracks of my mind. I had some free time where I can give it to reading. But I get so tired with all the schedules and thinking that I hardly have time to read books. *time to warm up a little* I said to myself. Now, I promise myself that I definitely would finish it by Friday. Otherwise, I would still be lost in the schedule and my thoughts. 

holding back

holding back was not easy
when i dream of holding your hands
imagining you in odds
dreaming you sitting by my side

my fragile heart is too young
the feelings so strong and deep
to have it in me
my heart is weak but i don't mind

when i look at you i become sad
all over again because i won't confess
maybe never, that is how it'll be
maybe not, when you tell me you like me

again, both of us are just i feel is
never meant to be
we were strangers when we met
we became friends and will remain as friends