It is going to be a long, lonely Christmas

A head resting on my forearm as we watch a movie..
A prop for a pillow, or target-practice for pillow fights..
Being beaten incessantly, most times for no reason!
Impromptu dance sessions, two pairs of left feet..
Slender fingers calming the most petulant of rages..
Warm hugs, a tender kiss..

...And as I say your name slowly, my hands instinctively trace the curve of your smile, the lone dimple right above your left cheek that gives your face the slightly lopsided look. The almond shaped cheekbones bordering a dainty nose that slopes to a pair of sensual lips. The chin is sharp and screams "stubborn" and the large teardrop shaped eyes seem always full of mischief. Silky brown hair, quick wit and a crooked smile, a smile that tells you a million things..

Stay here, with me. Just because I’ll miss you horribly if you leave.

An Old Toy is discarded by children, as they grow up. And sometimes, an Old Toy isn't there to come back to. Just isn't. Maybe it found another child, maybe it found a home in the dumpster, out in the backyard. Threadbare, missing an eye/ear/limb and a sizeable chunk of dignity and self-respect, the Old Toy doesn't stop caring. Does stop showing it sometimes though.

You gave me smiles I'll cherish
I'll miss you terribly and I'll try my best never to show it

My blue pillow still has the sweet fragrance of your hair.. My sheets still have the warmth of your arms.. My bed is still eerie without you.. My forehead can still feel the softness of your lips.. My ears still hear your resounding heartbeat.. My mind is still haunted by the ghosts of the road not taken.. I still cry myself to sleep.. Through stolen hugs, hidden touch-es, ruffled hair, smiling eyes, cupped faces, long-drawn kisses, cold noses rubbed together, hands held firm, entwined fingers, tight lonely all-encompassing hugs..

It's raining.. Relentlessly.. Merciless, thick, pelting fat drops.. Sounds of my own retching.. A cold that has nothing to do with the cold.. A numbness starting from my fingertips, up my arm, down my spine, to leaden feet.. Blinded, exhausted, wounded, I'm crawling through the rain, clawing at myself..
My life is the biggest performance of my life..

You may not have broken my trust.. But trust is a fragile thing.. And you have shaken it beyond repair.. And you know that if our places were switched, you would have never forgiven me.. And that is common to both of us.
And I know I'm guilty of that which I gave you a hard time for.. And I'm not making excuses for it..
But I beseech you, and I pray that, you find it in yourself to forgive.. Not me, not the rest of the world, but yourself..

I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.. But more than that, much more than that, I care..about you.. And I want that which is right for you.. And that is not me and I can live with it..

Yes, it had to end someday..
But not here.. Not now.. Not this way.. Not with me..

It cannot end like this.. Please God.. It cannot end like this..

Charred Letters

I miss you. There are few people I want around me. Few people I've grown to love and trust and respect. I want them all around me. Near me. Ready to hug me when I want to be hugged. Ready to hold my hand through the night in the middle of nowhere. In my selfish little world, I want just these people in my life.

There was that time when we were talking so much, there was this pathetic part of me that would have fallen hook, line and sinker for you. At the risk of sounding like a Fascist, I want that shameless no-strings attached flirting back..

I've learnt that...there are times when you want someone to hear all that you have to say, to hear you cry..
And there are times when you want to curl up alone and just stay like that..
You were the only person I knew how to tell things to..

I don't claim to understand any part of what you've been through or are going through.. I don't claim to be your best friend who can just make everything else seem irrelevant with one little hug.. But I have 28 years of experience in turning away people who genuinely like me and care about me, and running after people who don't give a flying rat's ass about whether I live or die..
Things happen, people change, that I know.. I just don't want anything changing for the worse..

I do not want to hate. There is no part of me that wants that. Believe me. All hate does is maybe make you a good soldier. Makes you want to put every bullet smack in the middle of the other person's forehead! I do not want to hate.

..And there are smiles that do not reach the eyes

Memories streaking down the cheeks

Charred Letters waiting to be found

Closer than you know, nowhere around

Harsh as this may sound, let's get some things straight..
I'm not asking you to be "the friend I want".. Right now, or ever..
I'm not asking you to open up and/or talk to me..
Let's face it.. I'm bad at all that.. I can't set anything right, I cannot give advice, I cannot turn back time.. I'm not God.. I'm pretty much yet another average-Joe flawed human being.. 

I just want you to be okay.. It's been too long..way too long..
And you've been missed..

 

Insurmountable Distances

I have broken through to people before.. Because I wanted to.. Because I tried.. And they did not resent me trying.. And it's the same with whoever else..

If I care, I'll try, I'll try every goddamn bit that I can try.. But if you keep shutting out people, you cannot expect them to always hang around and keep knocking on the doors you've slammed on their face.. Perseverance only lasts for so long.. Hope is a good thing and no good thing ever dies, yes.. It does fade out though..

Have you ever felt unwelcome? Like when you are with one of your closest friends and you feel a shift in a faraway place and a tide of unstoppable fate crashing into you, taking you away from this person?

Like when you talk to someone after ages and you realise that nothing has changed and yet nothing stayed the same? Like when you start feeling that the sarcasm you were used to for ages, now, for some reason, has an added level of scornful malevolence to it?

I'm tired of calling up, I'm tired of mailing, I'm tired of being the one keeping in touch.. I'm tired of being the fool, I'm tired of being the spare tyre, I'm sure-as-heaven tired of being a doormat..

I'm tired of being the phone call that's not answered..

I'm tired of being the message that is not replied to..

I'm tired of being out-of-sight-out-of-mind..

It doesn't make sense when we have had very few moments together and you remove those from memory, you know. And so I removed mine as well. It might not matter to you; it did matter to me. Still does. How do I forget about you? This whole writing spree is meant to help me come to terms with who I am. Honest, candid, rude, and most times, direct. That’s how I want to keep it here. Though there are times I’d rather wear a mask.

Am I meant just for amusement? Is that what you consider me, a jester? Someone whom you can talk to when there’s no one else, and then leave all of a sudden when you’ve got better people to spend your time with? Is that all???

The ache inside doesn't go away, the eyes don't stop burning, however much you cover it up with people, places, things.. You don't care, and I want to stop, I SO want to stop caring too.. But I can't. Simply because I'm not effing wired that way! There's the one voice that comes from the joke of an organ within my chest, the heart, that simply cries with every beat "WHYMEWHYTHIS". Then there's the brain that's much better, that makes a lot more sense, telling me to move on. Stupid brain is just not as loud as the heart.. The heart that feels like Christmas morning every time it thinks of you..

I don't want to be hard on anyone.. As much as I do profess it, I do not enjoy being mean or sarcastic.. If you love someone, you need to show it.. not by words, not even by action.. Just by being there.. By being around..

I don't have to say anything, I don't have to do something.. I just want to be the hand, you can slip your hand into, as we walk along, just for reassurance, just to keep warm, just to be your anchor..

I do need people.. I sorely miss not being with you.. I'm just really good at hiding it.. Maybe..

Missing you is the hardest thing I've ever had to do.. And I'm still doing it.. Convincing myself I don't like you and that I don't need you is next..

I miss you

I do

But are we meant to be together?

I so wish I knew

I pray..

for the courage to endure times of testing..

for the faith to keep anticipating, keep hoping, keep believing..

for the spirit to walk and not feel faint..

for the strength to run and not be weary..

for the patience to be patient.

Tchah!

For all the hoopla and the ensuing panic I associated with flying, it turned out to be a complete non-event! And a back-breaking one, thanks to the seats that do not recline more than a degree!!

The only takeoffs I remember were from Hyderabad at night, when the city looked like a carpet of shimmering lights and then from Chicago to Fayetteville. Although, when we were due to land in Chicago, when the plane broke cloud cover, the sight was fabulous. It was like the world you build from a Lego set, except with even more colours!! Tiny houses, straight roads, little people and vehicles that were actually moving! The landing at Chicago could've been better though. There was a moment, I felt like I was definitely going to crash.

I do not want to feel like this. I do not want anyone capable of making me feel like I'm missing something in my life. I do not want to be incapable of keeping away. I want a fucking lobotomy, I do, I do.

I want to be someone who can genuinely feel happy for people without the least bit of resentment. I want to be able to give and give selflessly, without the slightest hint of expectation. I want to be like that family I met in that wayside church on Easter yesterday. They were playing basketball together and they invited me in to share their Easter lunch of homemade hamburgers. There was something about that warmth that repelled all the bleakness of the Bentonville climate.

I thank you, God.. For the little moments of joy like that.. Everyday.. It makes me want to smile at life..

Panic -> Laid Bare

I'll be honest. I've never been inside a tube made of tons of steel, that is supposed to do something it wasn't meant to do in its natural state. Fly.

I'm scared. I'm shit-scared. I'm crapping-in-my-pants-with-every-step-that-I-take scared.

I know what you're thinking. 28 years old, working in IT, never flown, how come.. Yeah I get that reaction. It's not like I cannot afford it either. It's just that there never was a need. Every trip that I took, the journey has always been more fascinating than the destination. Which is why trains, buses and bikes have always been a more preferred "modus transporandi"! Be it a vacation, or simply dropping home someone you really really like! Which is why sometimes I insist on doing the latter (hint hint)!!

It's not like I'm headed to war-ravaged Bosnia. It's not like I'm going to any place where they are going to use me for target practice. It's an onsite assignment for a client I worked for 4 years ago. And I have friends and acquaintances there as well.

It isn't like I have not faced the unknown before. There was a time when I did not dance. My first dance in school was just for 30 seconds, to the Mumbhai track, where I had to come in as a chai-waala, do some steps and run back out! From there I got better.

The first time I choreographed was when I came to college. And that was a small step too, which grew over the years. My first full-scale choreography was just last year Parichay2010! And since then I have choreographed other dances where I wasn't even dancing. And (I think) I got pretty good at it!

Same was the case with writing. I'm not saying I'm the Pulitzer of writers, but (again I think) I'm pretty good! Read extensively, started writing poems in college, progressed to blog posts and eventually reached here.

Dance, writing, everything has had its modest beginnings. And that's the keyword - modest! "Modest" does not entail doing something for the first time and doing it on a scale that turns everything below my knees into pillars of jelly.

And if it wasn't bad enough already, the three other people from other DCs, who were supposed to fly to the same location this weekend, aren't flying. So 25th April 2011 is going to be me, facing a new place, a new client, new tasks, without so much as an abdomen guard..

Flying! Onsite! Tranquilizers please!!

Older, Wiser, and Not-So-Much

Dear Lord,

Help me become whoever YOU created me to become. Help me so that I have nothing to do with the people around me, their culture, their upbringing, their (questionable) standards, their hypocrisy, their knack of taking credit for somebody else's efforts. Help me so that I grow up to be nothing at like them. I want to be known for YOU shining through me. Thank you for making me, ME. I wouldn't change a thing. :)

Alright, maybe I would change a few things.. Alright, maybe more than a few.. Maybe a LOT more than a few!

A small part of me thought this blog would end soon. I even had a post, that I thought I'd post some day, as a fitting epitaph. I have abandoned this blog so many times, let it drift and lie fallow, like my workouts, my dance, my love life; damn thing just doesn't let go...

Now since this blog is a shrine to my narcissism, here are a few things people really really ought to know

1) I hate unasked-for advice. Career, Love, Career, Social Life, Career, Colour-running-from-my-jeans, Career, everything and anything else. I hate gyaan, when I have not asked for it, simply because that means you assume you are better than me and THAT assumption simply makes you an obnoxious pompous little bleep in my eyes. Do not be surprised if I stop picking up your calls. I've done it to quite a few people without actually being nasty to them and I'm getting quite good at it!

2) I hate out-of-context humour. Humour that is so wannabe it makes me wonder why the one who possesses it does not puke on (him/her)self. For eg, I'm in a super-depressed mood, and I write a couple of lines and put it up as my FB status. If you put comments, that are supposed to be slapstick hilarious, like "Drunk? Passed out already?" or "Yeh kis kitaab se chhaapa hai bey", I WILL delete them. My profile, my status, pretty much my fiefdom!

3) I'm not a loner, like everyone thinks. I like to spend time alone, yes, I do hate social networking, like being online on gmail or facebook, yes, but I'm not averse to gatherings. I just don't talk much and I'm socially retarded, and because of that, I often get conscious if the other person doesn't talk. It gives me the impression that I'm a major bore. Not a good feeling when you're not exactly overflowing with self-confidence. I am (I think!) a good listener.

4) I love compliments. Face it, who doesn't! I don't want people fawning over me, no (unless 'people' means buxom blondes maybe :P), but compliments, getting credit for something you managed to accomplish, always a good thing!

5) I am the happiest staying away from home! I never get homesick, never ever.

6) Imagine you call a good friend. Imagine the person at the other end says they're in the middle of something and that they will call you back. Imagine they don't. Imagine that to have happened a month ago and still counting. Imagine the sheer ire and humiliation coursing through your veins. And now imagine me in your place. Enough said. Maybe I'm being a baby, then again maybe I'm not. Maybe I'm one of those that garnered a mention in #1. I think I'll go back to being an insensitive clod.

7) I'm a homophobe. Of the highest order. I really don't like it when guys try to hold my hand (not even my family) while walking. I do not like it if guys swat me on the shoulder playfully, the way girls would, at some witty remark. Makes me want to throw myself into disinfectant.

8) I could go on, but if you've managed to read this litany till here, I like you already, so I'll spare you, not because I'm magnanimous, but because I have run out of things to say. Later, maybe.

I'm drained. Like I've reached the dead-end of a cul-de-sac and I haven't the energy or the inclination to take a U-turn. And yet, I continue to claw at the wall, knowing I may not break through, and trying when I know I can't. Goals are not always meant to be reached, they often serve simply as something to aim at.

And in the midst of the despair, your voice keeps coming back. The sound of hope to me.. the most beautiful and welcome thing I had ever heard in my life.. As if the song were inside me, instead of around me.. A sound connected to longing, unwavering trust, unbreakable promises, baby voices.. Like a whisper of love in my ear..

I owe you an explanation.. An explanation of my mistakes. For I see now what I’ve done, and what I’ve not done, with regard to you, bear all the hallmarks of the failings of integrity.. Moral integrity.. Perhaps I cannot know how you think and feel.. But I am guilty if I forget what it is to be you.. And I seem to have forgotten lately.. In distancing myself from you, I was trying, and failing, to protect you..

Breaks your heart doesn't it..? Seeing the one you see, look at someone else with a certain vulnerability, and wishing, desperately inside, that they looked at you the same way.. Rips you apart inside...It’s as if something large and scaly erupted into life in my stomach, clawing at my insides.. Blood flooding into my head, extinguishing all conscious thought, replaced by the urge to simply pound something into jelly.. Disoriented, dizzy, like maybe how you would feel if you were struck by a lightning bolt.. And everytime you touch me.. we touch.. the monster inside my chest purrs, there’s a swooping sensation in my stomach that’s got nothing to do with falling, goosebumps that have nothing to do with cold..

When I laugh at something you say, I'm glad just to have an innocent reason to look at you some more.. I cannot help myself talking to you, laughing with you, walking with you... However much my conscience aches, I keep catching myself wondering..

New Year Nuggets (of Wisdom?)

I'm no saint.. Truth be told, I wouldn't qualify for the back benches of a canonization classroom.. And this has been the case starting from the age of three when I threw my brother's toy jeep into the sewer outside to fifteen minutes ago when I filched a ten-rupee coin from a blind beggar's bowl (in my defence, it wasn't the money, I just have a magpie-like affinity for shiny objects).

My performance is abysmally dismal when it comes to handling (sob) stories involving love, tears and estranged relationships. And this is very thing that makes it unsuitable for my "handling". You see , 'Louwww' stories are for people who look good, exchange romantic text messages and have a colorful agenda on February the 14th (not to be confused with Friday the 13th). A guy like me, whose total duration of exposure to romance is just about equal to the time Rakhi Sawant spent in how-not-to-make-a-wanton-fool-of-oneself training, just can't relate to too much of love.

I mean, if Harrison Ford is made to sit through a screening of "Daaku Haseena" (Starring Banno Rani in a never-seen-before , and never-seen-after dynamite role) , or vice versa, if Sushma Swaraj is made to sit in the front row for a show of Forrest Gump, how can they relate to something they don't understand?

Since my phone's camera has gone bust, I've been thinking of getting myself a digital camera. Though an owner of a very unphotogenic personality myself (I have been advised to cover my face with a piece of cloth whenever I go out unless I want to scare kids), I think a camera is always a good investment . It helps build memories and prove to your grandkids that you were not born with wrinkles and a bent spine. Not that I intend to have grandkids, but still ;) Like Dummy says, we could always adopt :D

In the 28 years of my life, after having experienced whatever I have, from the pain of having managed to cut myself 8 times during a single shave session to the high of making it through a dance without tripping over my own feet, from the excitement of having given someone a blank call to the terror of her dad finding out my number and calling me back, I have realised a thing.. Life moves on.. Sometimes before we do.. That I'm traversing through the years, bungling my way through life, having set out with nothing and one day, ending it with nothing.. You do well, the echo of the deafening applause eventually dies down. Venomous comments lose their sting in a while. Pretty faces very often reveal an (f)ugly soul. Broken promises are more often the loftiness of our own expectations than someone else's failure.

Reality...the Bitch.. Note the capital B.. With all the gracefulness and subtlety of a wrecking ball, it slams into the walls of your head, leaving the things you once believed in, lying in smithereens around your feet. The high impenetrable walls you had built around your heart had their foundations in a swamp. Everything that you had convinced yourself against had confronted you. And the truth is that maybe you let it happen. That maybe you wanted it to happen.

Although we have a lot in common, good fences still make good neighbours.

Alright, I admit.This entire post is a series of non-sequiturs.

What kind of a justification is that? I don't know!! Before you tell me to buzz off, faster than Superman AND the speeding bullet, I'm gone!