Living in the Now

So easy it is, to think life is too long. As seconds tick by, minutes fly away, hours flow, weeks pass, months disappear, and years are left behind, we look forward in a foolish pretext that we'll live forever. So would our loved ones. But they won't. And so won't we. Because if you look up at the skies, you see a silent moon look back at you with it's perfect constant emptiness. You see stars and that darkness in which they swim, exactly the same as they were when you looked at them as a child in your mother's lap.

But now you've grown up, scars drawn down your face like footsteps of time mercilessly etched multiple times. We harden as beaten steel cast in strong pillars, foundations immovable with their might, to support a life built like castles of sand, guarded by principles and emotional and wisdom and shields of true pretext. And then as we stand amazed looking at that strange face in the mirror, who looks back equally amazed at how amazed you are. That lie strikes back too hard. A lie we innocently accept and absorb in its evil silence.

The Incomplete - A Tower of Memories

You spun threads of dreams like you were God. Now in the darkness you stare with eyes bloodshot.

The PJ
The Pact
The Song
The E-mail
The Lap hug
The Apology
The Question
The Toe Fight
The Bike Ride
The Digital Kiss
The Belly Dance
The Arm Wrestle
The First Chicken
The Butterfly Kiss
The Dharamsankat
The Balcony Climb
The Breakup Stories
The I'm Watching ya
The Hill-station drive
The Dating Like a Pro
The Entangled Fingers
The Hugs from behind
The First Song For Her
The Tour to the village
The Warm Winter hugs
The Good Night Selfies
The Smiley World Wars
The Leftie Birthday note
The Online-Typing Loop
The Salsa Dance Classes
The Ass Smiley Proposals
The Morning Dhaba Drive
The Resonance of Madness
The Chocolate Ecstacy Kiss
The Cooking For Each Other
The Midnight Horror Movies
The Whispering from Behind
The Metropolitan Exploration
The DSLR Friendzone warning
The Playing with Her Long Hair
The Sleeping Wrapped Up Baby
The Perfect Duck-Face Challenge
The WhatsApp Deactivation target
The Designer Valentine's day Cards
The Getting Lost After Dropping Ya
The Date Planning and Management
The WhatsApp Rhyming message Wars
The Birthday Night Automatic Response
The Huge Building Terrace Midnight View
The Thinking Of Thinking What I'm Thinking

Let their empty hollow corpses rot every inch of what you were to give, never to be given; what you were to receive and never to be received...

A Forgotten Diminished Past - 1

The days did move, but moved bit slow. Klarke kept looking forward to eventful adventures, but none could excite him to the core. That day too, not so differently, was ordinarily interesting. As he entered the Ceremony Hall for Inauguration with his colleagues, everything around him seemed amusing, yet too moderately so. The sanguine walls striving hard to live up to the young enthusiasm of Program participants. The sound bleakly escaping through fissures amidst the Auditorium door flooding a barren Hall with tentative promise of activity. The floor which bore harsh marks of age stamped by feet of men with a vision who walked looking at the sky. A stall with colorful exhibits decorated with posters to proclaim a struggle for transformation of but many lives, and a young lady by the stall with a delicate unemotionally touching smile. Curious faces standing close examined colorfully crafted artifacts being sold - a setup that did not exist at equilibrium with the gnawing sadness of those walls.

It was then when Klarke moved an inch closer to this strange feminine face, glimpsing through the angles of her lens to find a definitive purpose to this setup - A story. She smiled modestly, her words bridging the logical gap between how these items were manufactured, and how Klarke himself could be a source of motivation for the women behind the activity. Livelihood, as he understood, culminated itself from a vertical to be studied as part of this program, to such beautifully crafted wallets, bags, bookmarks - small items which spoke of an untold story. A story of this a new beginning of a few women who woke up with a vision to create a change. Of little children with unborn dreams in their eyes, watching aliens from cities transported to their lands to talk about migration, sustainability, education, prototyping, marketing, and everything else that made them fly higher into fantasies of unknown terrains - a world beyond the borders of wet mud, mooing cows and the essence of fresh village air.

All this would come back to Klarke as days progressed, and certain people would become so special that years later when he'd recall moments which defined his life, a blurry image of this young lady with a delicate unemotionally touching smile would flash for an instant a bit too long. But that moment it was the distraction of a child-like curiosity that made him smile back thanking her for enlightening him with this piece of knowledge. Soon after he would turn back to the Hall where but a few faces rose with this strangely familiar streak of passion and curiosity. Sans the seat belt, this session was an official roller-coaster introduction to an experience that Klarke would later define as life-changing. For the first time, he took a vow which penetrated deep in his consciousness and promised itself to transform the person he'd be to not just exist for himself, but live for happiness.

Dinner soon after arrived, and he found his food packet on his lap, comfortably sandwiched on the stairs between a lady and a gentleman - both with forgiving, yet sparkling faces. They talked a lot, and as words escaped and were absorbed, there was an unabridged flow of resonating emotions which were to convert in life-long bonds to be. What was to follow was a bus ride to an intermediate stoppage on their journey - a small school by the village. Years after the extinction of his physical childhood, he slept under the stars. He dreamt with eyes open, and breathed existential freedom under open skies. His new dinnertime buddy joined him for this quest, and the last words they shared before dreams consumed both of them was 'Unbelivable'. It was a few hours into the darkness of a rotating night sky when he felt drops of water on his eyes. The first monsoon rains. They came and blessed both of them with a love that was unknown to this kind of city dwelling species. A few raindrops slid past Klarke's lips and he knew what elixir of immortality would taste like. He could have jumped all night like a little child who's found his most prized toy, but the logic in his left hemisphere reminded of a pending schedule, and so he followed his friend to sleep on the classroom floor inside, stealing a space close to a window from where the melody of tiny droplets eloping with the Earth below was the most beautiful lullaby.

Shane Koyczan: Remember How We Forgot

Remember how we forgot?

Remember how no one ever really died in the wars we fought?

Because each gunshot came from our finger tips

And we never really kept them loaded just in case

Because each enemy was a friend and none of it was about oil, religion, or land

It was all just pretend

Remember how we used to bend reality 

Like we were circus strong men

Like our imaginations were in shape then

Like we were all ninjas trained in the deadly art of "did not". 

Like "I totally got you"

"Did not"

Remember how we forgot?

Remember how our parents told us never to look directly into the sun

And how we were their suns [pun on "sons"]

And so we never looked directly into the mirror, in fear that we would go blind

Remember how we used to find any old reason just to call someone we were crushing on

Like we would just pawn off our sense of embarrassment

Buy a chunk of courage that would last just long enough to have us asking them about math and stuff

And how stuff was just stuff

Like I heard you were getting braces, and how braces somehow were and still are kinda hot

Remember how we forgot?

Remember how we all caught mono and out folks would go, "oh the kissing disease"

And our first steps into gangstahood had us saying “mother please.”

Even though we’ve never really kissed anyone

Even though we never did half the things we said we’d done

We just spun yarn like Rumpelstiltskin spun gold.

We told ghost stories never realizing we would one day ourselves become ghosts

Haunting the hallways of schools

Poltergeist, breaking all the rules of silence in the library

But we had no chains to rattle

No voice to battle the fact that we had no vocal chords 

We had only finger nails on chalk boards

We had to scream, shout, and yell trying to tell ourselves what experience can teach is what no teacher taught

Remember how we forgot?

Once upon a time, we were young.

Our dreams hung like apples 

Waiting to be picked and peeled

And hope was something that needed to be reeled-in

So we can fill the always empty big fish bin with the one that got away

And proudly say that "this time, impossible is not an option"

Because success is so akin to effort and opportunity that it could be related

So we took chances 

We figureskated on thin ice

Belief that each slice of live was served with something sweet on the side

And failure was never nearly as important as the fact that we tried

That in the war against frailty and limitation 

We supplied the determination it takes to make ideas and goals the parents of possibility

And we believe ourselves to be members of this family

Not just one branch on one tree 

But a forest whose roots make up a dynasty

So when I call you sis or bro

It’s not lightly

And when I ask you to remember

It’s because the future isn't what it used to be.

So remember now 

Pay tribute to every sacrifice laid upon the altar of somehow

For all the times

Somehow we overcame

Somehow we pushed on

Somehow we’ve gone the distance

And in going there we’ve possessed the freedom to map the uncharted lands of any and everywhere

We are unbound

Six feet above the underground where we will all one day rest

So until then 

Test the limits 

Test the boundaries and borders 

Of the headquarters of potential lay just beyond the world's edge

Let the belief that hope belongs to us all 

Be the pledge you take to make the unachievable as inconceivable as the false fact that we were never here

We were here

And our memories are as dear to us as every slow motion moment or held breath

So remember every instance before death

Every first kiss, first dance, near miss, last chance, yes, no, maybe so 

Let us go the distance once more

Let us remember all the moments that were and were not

Like the point is something we can get and what we can get is what we got

Because all we have is the time between the moments we connect each dot so

Live and remember

Burn like an ember capable of starting fires

Like each moment inspires the next 

Like memories are the context we put ourselves in

So that life becomes the next of kin we need to notify in case of a big bang or extinction level event

Let now be our advent

Let us live like we meant it

Let us burn like we mean it

Because this world doesn't give a shit if we end in a train wreck or a car crash

If our story ends with a dot or dash 

If we were dust or ash

Because all we were is all we’ll be

And all we are is the in-between of so far, so good

So forget every would, could, or should not

Forget remembering how we forgot

Live like a plot twist exist now and in memory

Because we burn bright

Our lights leave scars on the sun

Let no one say we'll be undone by time's passing

The memories we are amassing will stand as testament

That somehow we bend minds around the concept

that we see others within ourselves. 

That self-knowledge can be found on bookshelves

So who we are has no bearing on how we appear

Look directly into every mirror 

Realize our reflection is the first sentence to a story

And our story starts:

"We were here."

Confession : A CRIME I committed

What was it that I could not control that day. That I could see it working, and there seemed nothing I could do about it than let it flow. It was not a reflex action, but what made me strongly feel that it is?

Looking in his eyes, I felt the demon that silently lay within. The demon of selfishness. But the demon was not his, it was mine. His eyes seemed to be a mere reflection of what lay within me, and this observation, devoid of all logic and reasoning, stood there in it's bare rawness confessing a strange truth.

"Yes I bribed him, who the fuck cares?" protested logic. Selfishness? It's not bad. All humans are inherently selfish, and it doesn't matter if I was too.

The gnawing reality lay like a dead body hovering upon me, much aware of the crime, much aware of it's implications - none in quantity, but as a irreparable stroke on the purest element of one's existence - Integrity.

Integrity - the source. Foundations of existence since unrecorded history, relying on a single boulder of symbolic strength. The bribe was not just a forced transaction, it was a scar on my integrity. A moment of lifelessness trapped me into the transition between the conscious and the sub-conscious. I stayed there looking at myself, as if leaving my body and watching me walk away into nothingness.

I still look back and wish it was different. Wish that the moment wouldn't have existed, or else I would have not let it haunt myself so long by just being simple honest. Honest to myself. That is what I shall be. After all, every cloud has a silver lining...

Elishia

Elishia looks at you innocently and smiles, and suddenly life glows bright as the sparkle in her eyes infects you deep inside, and you’re too moved in that instant to absorb the intensity of her vibrations all at once, so you smile back a silly smile and you know how impossible it is to look away. But then she looks away herself, and the painful pleasure that dawns upon you makes you realize the fallacy of conceptual beauty you’ve known till that point of time. That how a delicate smile could disillusion age-old concepts of love and compassion established by the wise and the old, and establish forth a new meaning behind the youthfulness of the beauty in those eyes, thus imparting a beautiful meaning to beauty itself.

She looks back at you, and amidst deep silence you say so much of the unspoken love, of how badly you could give up anything just for her to keep looking in your eyes like that. But just in that moment, she would look away, close her eyes and smile, and you ask yourself if your thoughts were too loud, for the redness of her lips and the pink of her cheeks say much more than the richest of literature could ever even dream to convey. You want to believe that she feels you, that she loves the way you hold her hand and tell her how beautifully carved her fingers are, and how every entity of His creation could envy the softness of her skin, and much more, of the softness within.

And while you’re sitting down looking at her, wishing you could freeze that moment and make it stay like that forever and maybe even more, the hard unemotional reality strikes you painfully and you know she would have to leave you now, leave you alone on those steps where every moment would make you look up at Him and wish you lived that lifetime again and again just to be with her for that one single moment. And so you’d promise yourself to live every remaining quantum of time with her to the fullest, to softly caress her, to envelop her in your love compassionate and intense. But she would suddenly feel it and run so away far, hiding her spectacular aura behind the frame of her colourful spectacles, unintentionally softening more against you, in a way touching you strongly inside in a strangely painful manner which makes you smile on the outside but burn deep down. The lips would bid goodbye, but impossible it would be for the spirit to detach. But just then, a realization dawns upon you as you embrace her for the last time - a part of your stays with her and a part of her stays with you. Forever.

29-03-2013

HE
Living that moment of purest contradiction, she stood there looking deep into my eyes. Her soft hair traced the untouched curve of her face, her smile revealed the tempting softness of her lips. Impossible it is to stay away, to not look at her, to lock that temptation, which makes me wish I could touch those lips, feel her as she was my sketch - a part of me.

SHE
There he stood in front of me as we mounted the skies and beheld the serene the enamoring stillness of the spectacle that welcomed us.
The breeze playing with my disheveled hair as I stared in the depth of his eyes and felt the rhythm of life that filled his entire being with a subtle touch...In that moment the absolute seemed close!

The Child Inside Me

Growing up is tough. But then who has a choice?
I still remember how excited I used to be as a kid, watching young men all suited up, returning from their jobs, meanwhile I fantasized about the day when I would have my own job, and could buy my own Video games, chocolates and Watch movies without bugging Mum and Papa.
Guess what. The time has come!

But something is wrong. Yes, I don't want to buy Video games, chocolates or movie tickets. I'm concerned about GPA, about Recommendations, about 10, 15, 20 LPA jobs, about the dreaded Office coffee, the Boss' grim expressions, and blah blah...but that's not what this blog is about.

This blog is about keeping the kid inside you alive. Learning to be crazy, carefree, silly and idiotic at times! Yes, it won't hurt at all! Follow your instinct, maybe help someone in need, fall in love, fall out of love, and do that over and over again till you know the real meaning of being loved - just like you learnt how to ride a cycle after multiple cycles of 'drive-then-fall-then-drive-then-fall'.

I know I loved being a kid. Being pampered by Mum and Papa. And then beaten up too :D
And I know I cannot bring those times back. But at times, I can travel non-existent wormholes and shed those layers and layers of sophistication and maturity. I can keep myself alive :)

It's lovely being a kid. To discover the little Superman, or the Barbie doll inside you. And to keep it alive. Forever.

Photographs - With my little cousin in Bareilly - 2011 :)

- K

Voice of the Naga

'UNBELIEVABLE' was what came to my mind when I met these two babas on Shivala ghat today while watching the famous 'sun rise by the river'.



It all began when an old man started asking me about how much time would it take if he goes to Sarnath. I quickly judged from his hindi, that he was not a local, as he sounded very similar to how people back in my hometown speak.
He then talked for a while in English, and I was surprised because it was difficult to expect a baba to be so fluent. We talked a little while and I asked him about his life.
He was born in Kashmir, and has been roaming all around India since his childhood. He knows so many languages, it baffled me when he started speaking Bengali as fluently as any Bengali. He talked about how dramatic some babas by the ghats would be...smoking weed, talking like they were some spiritual geniuses. He said it was just a part of their lifestyle....the actual learning is internal and absolute. It was impossible to externally portray it, and being naked, white ash all over the body, smoking weed was just a way of life for them.
He told me his name was Pagal Baba (Mad baba), because he always remained cheerful. And others would say that only a mad man can always stay happy! He would find a reason to laugh in anything I would say, and I myself could not stop marveling at this Superhuman standing before me.....with the Superpower to stay happy!
Just then joined another baba who looked like he was relatively new in the trade. He asked me what I was doing, and when I told him about my University and the job I was going to do, he smiled and told me that he was a B.Tech. himself. Electronics and Communication. Had worked in IBM Bangalore before becoming a baba. That was 12 years back.
The Pagal baba would take rounds around the B.Tech. baba, and I figured out it was to give him a curse! For fun of course. :D They are humans too, very obviously. And humans need 'work-and-play' to NOT be a 'dull boy'. :-)
He told me how fortunate I was to get an opportunity to study in a city like Varanasi - the way to the ultimate knowledge was a fusion of Spirituality and Science. And we were the lucky gems who were gifted with the opportunity to study engineering in the Religious capital of India.
He talked about how people misinterpret religion as something they have to follow. We should always look for meaning behind what we pursue. One can read in the news about Kumbh mela being the largest gathering in the world, but how many people who go to Kumbh really know its significance?
It's an opportunity to wash off all sins and negativity, and be gifted with a new beginning.
He also explained the significance about the enormous fore-head wide tilak that they apply. The central point of the forehead is considered to be where God resides. And as we keep temples very clean and decorated, it is essential that we decorate the forehead too. As a way of showing respect to the Almighty.
He also emphasized on not being artificial with God, and being comfortable with Spirituality. One should be the best one can, and in that he would always be at peace with God. No regrets, no guilt.
As my Russian guests arrived, I made them both meet the baba, and suddenly realised how well groomed they were with flirting. :D Yeah, trust me on this!
I was surprised at how sensible all of what I heard sounded, and a sudden realization struck that all the engineering we have learned so far has no meaning without knowing the meaning behind those underlying layers - a necessary fusion of Science and Spirituality - non-existent without each other.
Think about it :-)

K