Travelling

More than often i have strangled a cringe to write down my thoughts altogether when they should have been out there on a piece of paper or with someone who could have paid a bit of attention; i failed miserably at both, finding a piece of paper and that person. Different people are built differently, thats a no brainer but why i am saying all this? I felt an extreme urge to express myself out of my own skin that i just crumbled under my own thoughts and chaos around me. I often feel angry at myself not having done enough to express myself with people i care about- its just to say i dont think they would have understood if i tried more desperately than i already have. The outcome is most likely to be the same even on another try. We just never give up the hope, do we? It seems the hope is the most effective felt looking to mend something broken from the past. Hopeless yet a strange feeling arising from the need to be understood perhaps?

A faint recollection of the past, yet a strong shadow on the present; we painfully absorb some of the arbitrary bitterness that we are thrown causing some spills as we go on. I grow impatient if i couldnt express what i have inside me but its a long shot. As with everything else, the feelings and thoughts in order to be understood needs to be out there with someone worthy of reciprocating with a humane gesture otherwise you are just talking to a log of wood!

The ruin from the past can be used to build on our present and the future; with the dust and labor of the past we can almost accurately picture the future there is.

So far

A moment to let mind wander, as i sat in front of glaring computer screens with my mind telling me to focus on the task at hand. I figured in the past two years, life and rightly with it, my outlook has changed.
Anxiousness what future holds has taken the place of what used to be my nature of exploring and contemplation. The wide awake mind at 1 AM tells me i am not satisfied with how things have shaped in last few years although forever grateful for what  have and achieved.

It is true when a degree of happiness is related to work we do everyday. When that work becomes rather demanding and stressful, the satisfaction and content you get at the end of the day is even more important than on a normal day. It sounds like a cliche but my dreams changed and kept pace with reality somehow as if following a defined path plotted time v relations. i had my dreams in control and told myself not to dream so high that i might just on face not to get up ever again. No one ever told me to do that, perhaps a risk averse nature was inherited from my early childhood.

I always felt that i had innate desire get ahead and be successful at anything i chose to do. For simplicity, anything would have been wonderful to start sketching on an empty canvas but then came along what others think success is. And t kept changing the face and definition. From being in a bigger city to becoming an Engineer to IT to going abroad became benchmarks of the success i was shown around.

I became more focused on how to secure that position of success and whats the best way, not the quickest but the most sustainable and resolute. I decided i want to be in Energy business in future considering the crazy hype it had around me and partly to my interest in fluids. But destiny had some other plans for me taking me to Scotland rather than Canada.
 
The path i am on is filled with surprises and a strange emptiness which pushes me to do more than myself but i feel i had been too cautious along the way and i am sick of it. Being cautious and playing safe. As i learned for good reasons, there is nothing to lose and money as mean to survive should never be a sticking point in your decision making. I want to ride the wave and take risks i have so far resisted. 

The only constant in life..

I realized its not change that's only constant, we view change from outside that is external to our existence and environment. It is everywhere, inherent in people, in our surroundings.

Confusion on the other side, is a constant in almost all feelings known and unknown. Too subtle and discreet to come out in open, it takes a significant lot from our general feelings. 

Once in our lifetime there comes that one person which you believe holds the key to your dreams and beyond. Not in anyway submissive but more in compassionate and unselfish way. 

She may give you a feeling of calm in chaos. Her soft hands when running through your hair makes sure they feel better at the end of a hard day. You just love being yourself with her and she loves it? Not really then there is a problem

right or true?..

Doesn't the whole idea of what "right" and "true" comes to mean and what they are implied sound flawed? The  abstract idea behind right has no doubt stemmed from true. The polarity in meaning of these two words is shockingly high though. Its remarkably astonishing to note the subtleties in their usage in our common exhchanges. Often right is probed as acceptable interpretation of true, it seeks acceptance from ourselves and others. Acceptance is perhaps our own shortsighted approach to the sublime truth. According to Oxford dictionary right means: That which is morally correct, just, or honorable and true comes to:truly: "he spoke truer than he knew". As there is actual rift between the meanings of true and right there is in perception and practise.

On the way up

Thanks to Enya, i have a phenomenal piece of music to look upto and take refuge into. As much as her music is to look upto, the motion picture of which its a part of is inspiration in itself. More than music, a piece of contemporary art.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ce6ZNMeZOmA

Sleepless in cold Scotland

Its been more than 5 days that i have literally lost track of days counting back only when challenged, of course as a part of the little sane conversations i am left with. The wind has piled on misery out here and when we thought it wouldn't be as bad snow this time, it turned out to be dampness and crazy wind. The joys of living around here. Having, that said the sleep disorder i am faced with tends to have no solution as to even going to bed doesn't even help without me finding myself indulged in some extravagance. It is said that the disturbing sleep patterns among people are generally related to stress and pain which is predecessor of chronic problems such as psychiatric disorders and life related problems..poor health, unemployment etc. However, the absolute science on the sleeping brain cant be dismissed as merely as mentioning the psychiatric category of the problem especially focusing too much on the depression part. The picture is not complete without the complete understanding of the psychology and life that has turned so mechanical and detached. The factors most worrying to sleep problem is lack of quantitative aspect of cause which of course would regress the attention to cure it.

The weather is depressing and the ever worrying economic conditions in this part of the world has somewhat the leading effect on the way i conduct myself daily from time i wake up to the time i cant sleep and the cycle never breaks. Stress is slowly building up in the process of making things better and realizing the time we all have is but limited. The capricious melody of ocean beneath kindly leads my mind away from consciousness, the bolder and mellower it is the better it gets.

With every possible bad thing comes a ray of good which tells me that if this condition is just not that bad as it could be and i am still doing better out of it. Being alive at 5AM is the hardest when world is sleeping and this is why silence knows all my secrets. I have always thought people who could just lay and sleep like that have a mind clean as a sheet without much further dwelling i was told of being over thinking and this of course has something to do with the way i think about those people. The chaos capable of raising anything in the way couldn't always sleep like the numb darts which are doubtful of striking the point.

Another night

Somewhere in Scotland, i sit by my window open at 3AM, just now thought where i am going at this moment. My friend is sleeping over at the moment and my life is not that exciting, vulnerable to some human being, i must say. As much i like to believe i should go on with what i have started a strange feeling pulling me back saying i should rather not instead, it should be evil. The distance is apparently a big factor or i am just dreaming, what is not to be worked out is not supposed to be pursued. This all sorted, hoping to be present at some other place where i don't belong is just too much to think about, some other time. Friendship and love gives me a headache to an extent where i cant be myself shutting down whats not good for me at the moment. I think this life is good enough to be yourself, to make a good example out of your own. Love wont wont work, it just makes you worse, it would come to a full circle someday.

Missing

Today after a long period in time the weight of experience is exceeded by my own overdue passiveness. It has been a sort of experience living in Scotland for around less than a year now, which is away from the easily accepted and perceived romanticism of this country. No doubt the landscapes are beautiful, the countryside so comforting but their is no going away from the rush inside. Pile of words which have kept me glued to myself are floating away from books into a dark corner. The marginal field is looking for more investors. Without blaming the weather. The smile is missing.

Darkness

The eventual release from my pen
in tearing relentless seperation
from those in habbit loved
can come so slowly
it seems there will never be a day
of final peace and tranquility
who promoted me that if i
did gaze upon reality
accept it embrace it!
befriend it
i would never suffer again
befriend it
i would never suffer again
but no matter how many times

I leave the doorways of my soul
to let the chill light in
the darkness grows
silently
to hide me in the break of the day.

Lonesome in Bombay

So much for one thing. The pier of dangerously commuters throws itself off at Victoria terminus (err..CST). I jump off at a distance close to another local making its way into the harbor. This is usual; I then navigate my way across this hopelessly growing crowd into subways towards the conjoined streets, dangling on the end of the land. I like the bylanes that stands on the causeway juxtaposed to some makeshift shops on the pavements selling ancient mariners compasses to gross bangles to abstract handicrafts. You’ll find it all here under the same place. Stone by stone, laid out in exquisite kiln, arched windows and gates, Victorian church, oriental gardens to bring the light back into any building. The streets never fail to enchant me all over again, lamps rusting in glory, old birds flocking on fountainheads, fluttering in endless sea.

After a long and comfortable tip toeing around streets I got to main Colaba where the fun begins with café Mondegar open on all days serving snacks and drinks, The inside of this café is divided into classes a close chamber for a comfort friendly crowd and the one open for major fraternity, vastly foreign, I sipped in Irish coffee and moved on. Not much for a coffee its all the same. One cant fail to notice the starry eyed hawkers on bylanes selling you almost anything priced three fold the regular ones. Never mind I’ll still have one. I picked on my lenses to shoot some of the remains of the place. Moving ahead there are lumps of bookstalls, eateries and loads of ethnic stuff. Streets are bustling with a Czech, Indian and an Estonian or maybe English, this is one thing that sets this place apart from rest of Bombay, exchanging odors and brushing shoulders like an exodus, the idea of Bombay an idea of its soul.

Besides the culture here there is shopping, an indulgence here. Food is in abundance and so are the drinks. Just a distance from café mondegar there is one unanimous name Leopold café, it stands to witness the massacre on the causeway last year. It server great drinks and food not to mention the endless guests it welcomes all following different styles of sipping on coffee to drinks to eating pasta. There is fun to be there, there are too many languages I notice I found India written on guides for information to tourists. The crowd never fails to discourage you to come here but it what sells on this Colaba memoir. Café is synonymous with a sentimental appeal to enchant the coffee lovers and beer guzzlers thrown in with a mild chit chats to. It appreciates that hard earned drink you have. Bullets in wall are still there for the reckoning and the grief it stands for.

Moving across the land’s end, causeway a mix of Indian culture ornate on an imperialistic British architecture is overwhelming. Parsi buildings, Muslim traders, Hindu vendors, Christian cathedrals, Universal streets all crosses into one big heart of this city of hopes and dream. There is assaying “survive Bombay, survive world”. It is true to the test.

With all the fond memories of Bombay of five years back minus the camera, i see no change to what I saw to this place. But there is another Bombay wounded on heart stained by righteous terror strike. The signs of omission are not here to stay. They will find the winds on harbor, dissolving it to seas.

The cynical BJP

Ever heard someone getting sacked for honest and earnest research that materialised into a book. News channel today ran this news all over the dashboard, who is getting sacked? Jasvant singh of BJP. He is a man who has been with this party for over 30 years and seen it through its thicks and thins. This is case yet another desperate attempt by this party to jerk itself off some bitter truths. As they say, "we will never let the cause of hindutava diminish and fade away, we will fight unto last drop for the Temple to be build at Ayodhya", but they never really asked who wants the same. Not that all of our nation is biased, but then they take issues selectively that penetrates into clouds of unawareness and anarchy, creating an explosive balance, the peace then swiftly shifts.

Under the projection of the Moon

In the wake of a dead nervous system, things getting chaotic to the sorts of being ugly. Resorting to the anarchaic shot of herbs was never so stimulating ever before. Food pipe thinning against jarring smell of misleading smoke. Suddenly swarming smoke that hang in ground above my nostrils revolting yet captivating in neurotic appeal that lifts me up from the ground, a surface of reality to hook me upon relinquishing silence where my fan is fiercly whirling to fracture and phone tip toeing, barely 8 inches away from my tip toeing pen. the only savious i am left with. Differential letter and shapes i seem to scribble and keep on scriblling.
Moon never seemed so closer and everything seems utterely chaotic.such is the fear of being chaotic as if its not right thing to be and being forthright is not pretending. I wish i never stop but that blinking notorious phone takes my mind away from it.
Right i am back at it again, screw it, where am i. okay, got it i am at my desk, wondering if i ever left.wondering at what my hands are being subjected to, go on write more.

No way its not.

I win back.

Still..frozen, my hands stammering mildly at nods to acknowledge the situation. While moon pops on blankspot on my my eyes.Suddenly shinig out of visible happiness. but i guess its not, i doubt if it has ever been like that. No wonder i see it smiling on my face, simple smile. Whaoo its such an obstrusive kistch.I am taking it a bit closer and it seems to make faces at me.
Still all alone wrapped in apolythiene of solitude. I see it clear a kind of a sharp rancour traps me for being it competitor on somedays. Certailnly one of the closest. Such as distrust and parody of my eternal melody that reigns supreme. I keep on forgetting my song. My flight seems all to take off far into promising vacuum- Just as it zips me across noise. Suddenly discordant noise and peace seperates from me and primary element takes over clustered into parcelain sheets all sliced into whites.Strange i dont see any pain, yet chaotic all over.

Peace out!

Eyes are staring hard at my letters on shapes and sizes it forms as if judging them. They are open and rested from moving, just as everything else is shouting at me verily to distract.
The views inside me shutting out rather too quickly as in hurry.Complaining of mild whirlpool my stomach shoots pain rather liberating, through eyes.

"ts so fucking a description about my body or something else..."I ask myself.

My thoughts are swaying outwards, freezing zero. What a terrible idea of winning hearts, if it helps, damn it be. I am sitting for a good 30 minutes and still i am glued to. What happened to me????
At this point all i care about is some misguided feeling trapped inside through thickness of my blood. Firmness of muscles suddenly made me realise i am sitting on ground beneath the wall shack into the wreck of my hostel roof and with me is breeze that is looking on me with love and watch me rise with it swaying on prnciples of harmonics.
Its only sometimes when i feel so strangely happy, non plussed by awkwardness of this word with myself. Whats on the outside of such feeling is that it is short lived, that we cant enjoy it for long, too much of this maks no sense. Instead being something in moderation makes one look on both the aspects with a sideway gaze to gauge it without contempt for any of these.

I have think for myself conciously, i want to be like this, everything seems to lose its meaning, my apologetic eyes sees me going through the heaps of uncultivated lies a manifestation of which is this weight of the heavy world.Starry-eyed dreams of unwaranted reality.

Before my eyes , lay a white sheet of ocean blanketed by surreality so thick it gets my vision no where.everything is bleak. That is slightly thinned by our struggle, throughout the history.

Sometimes i feel like being left alone inside a room locked , so i cant see other people not for the sake of some evasion but for the matter of shielding myself of screaming apathy around myself. I am unmoved.
I have no right to write all this that concerns no one for i am too fragile inside to be offended, save for some exceptions.

Poem for the unknown

The day sheds its warmth , unfolds into the dark

not long ago i thought, 

i cant no longer see the shining sun

and the beauty so free.

The echoes of the engine and moaning of the wild,

distant outbursts and phoney causes

laying down cold and waking up the same

with turn of dates i realised its too late 

too waste for all of my pain

i feared the part when we were together

missed you more when i knew i couldnt get you anymore

somehow it was fine to let go

the old musing went on

missing wreck was all i 

stumbling in the con of dark 

days went on like scorn

browsing novels, litting sensations

muttering fags, nothingness all i felt

forlorn musing continued on.....

I am a missing letter before battered eyes

struglling to find a vision

the sunshine sees through me the day

i held it with me right awake 

some distance before the miles melt

i walk through my dreams

all coming at once,as in warfront

ah!! it was bad.

i see morning smiling before me and i see you 

your eyes makes a jolly out of my life

i want to see that face forever again 

and i would never want it that way again,

if its not you.

Landscape of soul

The changing seasons so much reminds me of the change creeping inside me. The change I am looking at for some time now to rejuvenate my nascent existence. A rightful season stay long enough to make it attached to our being and to feel nostalgic about. Yet seasons come and go and come back to repeat a pattern simplifying moulds of our conscience. I can see the winter in my face and it is just another season of hope that promises cold with warmth, sun shone upon my face that kills monotony of night when I wake up to stare out of the window blankly.
Life is not based on the rule not any not few but the lessons learnt. It is cosmic chain of events and I believe it’s equally hard to predict one event and its timing. Here I am sitting on roof of my home all remote into me looking to break the monotony of the evening, watching the sun go down. I remember back in school when I never stayed home in the evening always out with friends its and that but it’s all different now. They are all left behind.
A matter of being stuck in a situation where no one wants to be unless left to his own will. It has been an utterly desperate setting something like a conspiracy around me which keeps on impersonating my actions.
I certainly believe in power of oneself there can’t be no existence if there were no unreasonable men and for that matter egotism paves the way for altruism. In cruel times, the situation I felt so miss-fit in, I felt like I was chosen to dig my own grave. Through the times say for 4-5 years I challenged myself to take up something that can bury my guilt of not getting being able to do justice with myself. I rarely had the opportunity to break free from demonic possession of middle-working-class mindset, though I was miles away into my hood I cared for the safe road but somewhere the fear is deep rooted inside my bones, like the air I breathe.
Speaking of the middle class values my upbringing have been a sort of domain I believe could have been more of progressive and typically political. As for progressives are concerned in a general manner they kind of breaks free from middle class attaching themselves to the new world order. The order that need not be classified as rebellious but essentially revolutionized to bring across the change in politics and roots connected to the same, a qualitative argument between socialism and communism. I want to be one. The past has been a farce, still blazing echoes on inside. No one is to be blamed for it but the typically asking circumstances did it in.
Over and over again the ghost that was lost in time comes back to me to scorn me to drag me out of my bed threatening to unravel what is left to of me of my conscious efforts. I love this ghost because of its honesty in keeping me in tune with myself. Least, for its features. Valiant mourning’s aren’t any good to counter them instead I have chosen to get going steadily.
Back when I entered college as a fresher my anger used to be utterly devastating for me, it shattered everything in that moment of a fit, depriving me of some conclusive experiences.
To this day, I believe I am in search of what is mine, not necessarily looking for it but trying to discover in the process and if that comes good I embrace it and if it don’t- equally good, I learn. A small pie from the divine cake. It’s these small pieces put together form life. We are all surrounded by opportunities to make it big in our life only thing remains to be maneuvered is how to take it and when to. First step is always the most difficult, rest you can tip toe. One fine Sunday afternoon I was walking in a mango orchard, there was a serene silence, the one of within. My thoughts go inward and outwards both for the same matter; this is how I give myself something to rejoice on. Too much.
It’s some tenacity of a mystical sort that fringes me inside to do more and generalize my emptiness with my actions or in other way the emptiness reminds me of what I have to do, to sit myself up on the very outset of perennial ocean of feeling that open up horizons studded with stars and sometime blank sky. And I keep on staring into the blankness not knowing what lies beneath it, still something is so fascinating about it. This hunger will set me free from my cravings, someday. On that fine day I’ll know what it was to crave for something and not to have it; it will be very different from what I would have in that moment.
The morgue is more alive when it comes to really feeling good factor and I just pass it up as a regular parade. Well, someday it was up to me to make believe myself of my actions and accept them, and forgo the brunt’s of past to heal the future and I suppose that is it.
There are hopes and there is a need of action that have to be taken right away to accentuate these fluidic beliefs that I am garnering against my set of breeding, so watery that they melt every time.
I do deserve this & I don’t deserve this- goes the conflict in my mind. I choose to close it to ensure the intensity deserved for the moment. There are lots of things that are to be done and normally they come to my mind randomly. Like rain leaving some part of the body unwashed and others too wet to feel it. The whole body goes numb. Mostly it reminds me of my present state.
Insane feeling of rot, guilt they all hook up with me. Its mote tormenting then it used to be.
Like when I look at pictures of some old lost friends, I know what is wrong and what needs to be done. But it rarely materializes. As I know, too, I don’t have to. I am guilty of having lost they due lack of communication or out of my words, but I am not in the wrong.
There is nothing more complicated than a human relation. Indirectly it asks for honesty in a way or some. Working behind the scenes I am learning. Talking about the predilections, there is no attachment I projected for me that I could have not lived without as they say. There is just no one like that, I admit, I don’t know what it’s like to be that, I am learning……………………………………………………………

Taxi driver

                                              ..

Ride # 2

I had a bad day not because I feel like being strung out but because I had this paper in the afternoon which I had to write and write and keep on writing, seemed like centuries long. I passed up walking out of that morgue where I all I could see was crowd.

Here I am sitting in my room. After I hit high I have been coming to terms with I and myself because I feel me and myself are alike they want same things and I seems more of my prerogative. Our favorite joint hostel porch, I am with Amit, I passed up this time high on smoke in its whirling glory. I had this back when I puffed on second one and I felt myself getting lighter like when something breaks free and the rush you feel out of yourself, this is damn right. I duck for support and by the time I walked in here I was in vertigo. I see my things coming to me one at one time and then rushing in. Just same as I felt my heart swinging medley to me like I am going to bid goodbye to myself.

I am feeling little shaky and week, my songs are changing too frequently because I m feeling a little uneasy .Just then my phone beeps “oh it’s some text”. I think I cannot figure out what I want right now. Sometime, like this time, myself think it want her as something I didn’t have. Not as far as I can remember. But at the same time I don’t want her extravagantly or as something is due on me. I want her freely as this wind. Myself is in altercation with I and I see it winning.

My soul and body are at floating levels alien to one other to feel it all now.

There is a force when you think you are up for this game that will never leave you free it’s heady. I don’t want to see you like this” said I to myself. How can I love you when you left no time for yourself to love me? You think I do this and that for us. But I don’t want to do things. I think it’s absolutely waste to make someone understand so much to the point you never told you so, no point left.

Welcome to my life.

I don’t want to take any shit not anymore not that I want it but because not from you for you don’t know what it’s like. I have said much I have tried to hold on much and much more I cannot go on more insensitive this. My dreams are coming true when I see you not there in them I see you remote and into yourself. Now I would like to hate you a little. I resist it but can’t help it. I give it up I cannot balance my anger towards her insensitivity. How can someone be so blind? Well I have no idea of this.

I look inside to gather what I miss and I see nothing that I can recollect and I let it trip. Such was the rush of the blood and sudden surge of throwing up.

The deceptive thing about feelings are that once they are strong you generally know what to do but when you let them slip sideways it’s a real tough task to get off the hook of the vicious circle.

The smoke seems to feel my lungs and take me on a ride with winds so silent, I feel weak as weak as the smoke and yet there is something that is liberating about it, smoke rises above us thereafter.

BY  Zaki Hasan

CAUTION: (This article may seem broken ,disturbing, bizarre).

Always something

besides an empty road i saw glance of u in a single breath
i could not but hold on to the breeze
blowing yet silent leaving me cold
thought i care not for a single moment
and then i wondered up the skies
all seems blue as blue as me
no one cared to know enough
still remains to be discovered!
i look for answers of my own concience
and find them blowing in the wind
catch up with one or two
and close my eyes to rest few
i want to hurry up easing this unnamed feeling
inside me i just wanna know i am complete
like raindrops on my smothered eyes
blinding the despair inside.

Untitiled

Sunset at hostel

Exams started well on the scheduled date with first paper through I am waiting for the second to come over so that third maybe mugged up well like others. And so on.

The winters are on full swing since some 15 days and it is a chilling pleasure to sit in your room and watch those winds blow past the window pane. Outdoors are calm, soothing like an isolated plain stretch of desert which once used to witness rush. College campus blooms in winters with hardly anyone to witness the cold. The corridors once swarmed with students now stay mooted waiting to boot as soon as the semester begins. As a hosteller I am lucky to live close by the college which is 2 minute walk away. Exams came way too heavy on the winters with no time to enjoy the weather. All we do is sit and sleep and if time allows mugging is there to the rescue. No studies. The great engineers to be.

The semester are like fall, the season only blooms at the end when there are escape. We resort to text or cheaper versions. Tests are sometimes pissing. The span of these events always sends alarm signals ringing. They never been a burden to me but there timing has of-course been a bone of contention between no. of agreements and things that I need to do on time. For the record sake I have been through almost seven odd semesters in this college and like every time else my next move has not unraveled onto me. I sit back and lament on what I would have been doing if I were not here. Deeply annoying. But that’s the way it has been for over 3 years.

With all the perplexing delight to write this piece I am thrilled to think of the exams when they are over. There are lots of plans in place once exams get over. In the meantime New Year arrived too.

Past month (December/08) saw me accepting many changes .There has been sort of romance about everything giving way to my exasperations. In the turn of events stumbling onto different indulgences writing from reading, photography from movies, pure physics from magazines (not from textbooks mind you) mathematics is in the synchronous pipeline .Blogging from writing, someway interconnected. Time to take a leap, mates.

Someday I am suffering from chronic a headache instigated by the ugly textbooks that lay all around my room .My room is now a corner to abandon all the trash coming out of studies. My bed, desk stands and laptop are all book stands now. The place where I sit is an electrical hazard with all kind of wires you can imagine running freely anis tropically. There shall be no wonder if I get shocked out of this mess.

Time to inhale some fresh air.

Love

2008: A photo essay

Electric hazard or running anarchy?
(Almora ,December)


Travellers
(Nainital, December)
A trip to remeber.


Shy guy from Himalayas
(Almora, December)



Tree unioun


My window



The ghats of Benaras : May
there is so much to this place than just being a ghat
something to remember for a long time.



My longest ride: September 2008

Goodbye 2008: Myriad musing

At the break of the year 2009 everyone was too busy on phone greeting each other blankly or gladly.The greetings were either forced or they were light hearted , letter one makes some sense.Out on streets chasing darkness with booze and high pitched sound systems the mantra is to lose control.There is too much done to celebrate new year.
The shine comes into play well ahead of a new year eve when we start to roll out the plans for that big day .....ooops night to correct it.

Everyone starts dreaming about the things they will do in new year and how they can make use of it in the best possible way.Its all good but people still dont get over the silly notion of "they will keep on doing the same thing they did on the first day of the year" good or bad -it sucks.

I was with some friends at the new year do in my hostel room , i called it do becuase for others it really was the same and i cant take the fun away from them just for the sake of being clear.some friends gathered with booze (that is the only thing you cant miss at such a party- and you cant say no), the only ceremonius concoction.I sat there with them in my room with no music, non-sense all over the place.It felt like we were given a lifetime chance to celebrate this momentous day and it will be our last day on this planet. Part started and everyone got into gear, especially my friend Akhilesh known for his stupid laughs at every point of the conversation no matter what it is. you'll see him chuckling and trying to expect the same from others. Well there we were with him Rohit and Seemant(meaning- one who never talks sense)

I was a little out of everything ,though i made a cool company but i was thinking of something else that was running my mind and i could'nt get it out.

Back again , hostel drama again.

"i know ,you know who is the mole " said one friend expecting a gaffe from me.
I nodded in affirmation .
"you have to be part of the crowd where some shitheads lead you to shit in your own home"he continued .There was lot of doubt clearing as the clock struck past 00:00 everone then greeted almost everyone.My body still aches because of the pain.

"I dont give a shit now(to all that happened and will happen) as i m out of this"said I.

There was a mild trans fusion music runnig in the backdrop of bonfire that was lit in the middle of the stretch in campus.I sat around there bidding goodbye to the times taht passed and trying to figure out what it is that really makes me happy.Conclusive of all the musing i did there is perserving effort in all my plans abot my future and present.

My new year resolution - "carry on the work where i left it , get clear of the clutters in the backyard"

Taxi Driver

Ride # 1

The eyes glowing so like a bulb, I feel weak and the body a little numb. I say this at the brink of my heart pounding out of my fucking mouth. I make sense of myself, being in place of others makes more sense than a little while guilt and pride strikes you all along.

I now walk in the brazen, cold wind, what if I wasn’t there too often.That would be right, but was enough to drive the pleasure out of it for while. It was a way out of the blank

I sat there with 3 more- Amit, Shubham and Rohit – the partners in drive joined by out Treasurer Mr. Guard, passing up the grass. I waited there on the edge of chair for the trip to start the rip. I lit it on a point of a light. The trip started with me in the driving seat. The taxi is a test of to hold on the ecstasy of trip while it move a full circle, then you can pass up the urgency of lungs to breath. You puff on and on wanting more than before, pulling up the hunches. The smoke passes up though the nerves liberating the tied soul .In a moment a myriad of curiosity passed before my eyes.

The rush of blood to my head shoots a bit.

That’s what I was craving for long to loosen my buttons. That was awesome. We had this going for a rough 30minutes and then took a break. Shubham laughed his wits out even out seemingly straight stuff. We all let it go a bit more .Someone pulled the last one and let it drop.

Lights out!