Fantasies of twisted mind

Will you die for that woman who gave you birth?
Or will you embrace death for a woman you are married for thirty years?

Do you really mean when you convince your damsel in distress that you'll die for her?
Or do you really mean business when you threaten to kill her, seeing her in arms of someone you despise?

Will you pick peace when god is offering you riches?
Or will you buy peace instead?

Are you willing to die?
Or are you living to die?

Will you remember that school-teacher who taught you values, when he's on his deathbed?
Or will you let him die in solitude?

Will you accept that burning cigarette passed by your colleague when you are damaged beyond repair?
Or will your hand stop short as your conscience has already begun eating you for your act of weakness?

Are you real?
Or are you really imaginary?

A Free-fall
Or rather a base-jump?

Angels fall baby. Angels fall.

Spiraling

The question still looms large and unanswered. What is the meaning of life? Do I know myself? Or do I know what I seek?
Here's a disadvantage of being a clown. You have to smile even when you are broken from inside. You gotta maintain your rep of being happy and carefree. You can't be glum even if your brain is dead or heart is tossed six miles high. Whatever the case you gotta put up a brave face and smile through the teeth. So, where should a clown go when he's sad or down for their glum is always taken as a part of their act and no one really knows how they are feeling from inside? When you cry, they clap for your portrayal of sadness is immaculate. And then you wonder, is there anyone who'd see the glint of pain through all this façade of fake happiness.
Heck. Too much on my plate to eat right now. But I won't eat. How can I eat?
Sigh...  Someday for sure.. Till then, with the moon I run, far from the carnage of fiery sun, as it's coming closer.

Carnival of rust

I warned myself not to blog today. Sunday the 24th of April. A week after my birthday, I got an expected  sucker punch all down to blogging and opening the door to lesser known realms of my twisted mind. Again I stand mourning over a loss with which I'll have to deal single handedly.
 Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!
God damn it. I am ambitious. Perhaps I should do MBA after MS. Mediocrity is what ordinary people are blessed with. Rising above ashes is the game of people who are above ordinary.
I am one of them.

Thank you god. For a sucker punch that woke me up off my lethargy, banality and obscurity.
I am more than this.

Круг

You are born. You open your eyes and see your mother's watery eyes and a proud father looking at you over her shoulders. You start to walk, you start to listen, you start to understand. Then you open your mouth and blabber shit that amuses your parents and they feel out of this world for their child can now speak.

You start running. Then they put you into a school. Teachers then teach you values, teach you to add numbers and how to speak effectively with the help of 26 lettered alphabet. They ask you "What would you become when you grow up?" You spit out words like Engineer, Doctor, Teacher(they look at you proudly), politician(they look at you with disgust), scientist(they look at you what-the-fuckish proudly). In reality you wonder what these words actually mean. You grow and start wearing full-pants in school. Start noticing girls and hating your teachers, schools and everything that deals with education. You fuck up your 10th exam and end up in a mediocre college with people more mediocre than an illegal Bangladeshi immigrant. They smoke, you smoke. They drink, you drink, they play snooker, counter-strike by bunking classes, you follow the suit. Soon your parents discover about your hobbies. Your father slaps you, mother cries and curses god for putting you in her womb. You feel ashamed for a month. But you fuck up your 12th anyway with a hope that you'll excel in engineering entrance exam. 

You fuck that up too. Then your father burning his heels, search for a place in college by bribing officials. You enter a college run by fucked up people and attended by students just as fucked up as you are. You notice a beautiful girl and fall for her. You attend college just to get a glimpse of her. Then you try to talk with her. She being beautiful and a girl, toys with your emotion and by the time you realized how deep your pockets are filled with lovely shit, you pass out of college. As you are not a grade A evil, you start looking for a job to relieve the pressure off your old man. You get one menial job where you are ill-paid. You curse your life. You wish you'd have studied. Then you are offered a girl to complete you as a man. You, being desperate and going bald faster than you thought, giver her your name. She pays you for it. You proudly sit on that horse and with a few banal bollywood songs blaring behind, you feel like you own the world. You go for your honeymoon in Simla or a place which is cooler than the place where you live. You return home and nine months after feel proud, for you are now father of a son.

And then he opens his eyes.

Mother of all Questions

What is the meaning of your life?
The day I will find answer to this question, I'll become truly different. And I am delving deeper into the depths of my heart, marauding the realms of my ideology, peeping into spirituality and pit of my whims to seek what is, for now, out of my reach. I am only 22.

Meaning of Life

You don't turn 22 every day, do you? It was nice, the whole celebration. People, existence of whom was completely oblivious to you a few months ago, gathered to celebrate your existence is a cool thing. It's a reminder that you are not that bad after all. I was glad I didn't dwell on the past and mourn the absence of family, friends and pets back in India. A screwdriver, and two Liquid Cocaine shots makes you forget that and leaves you with a pill to swallow of which every granule makes you a sage who knows the meaning of life. Head-banging to some high-note music after late late night dash at the pub? The size of the pill grows even bigger. And of all crazy things, I thought of god when I was high. Nice.
Visiting temple after eight-nine months was as enlightening as it was an uplifting experience. You can be arrogant but you just have to bow down to the playmaker and yes, you don't mind. Sometimes it's better to tear that shirt with I-am-awesome written on it and bow down to the one wearing Hey-I'm-more-awesome-than-you. Then a dash to an Indian Restaurant reminded me what I was missing. Good old Indian cuisine. Paani-Puri, Paneer, Rass-malai. I now knew what spoilt for choice mean. I was reminded that how grateful I was to have this food everywhere back in India. And how I now despise my teenage attitude of I-am-lovin'-it and why McChicken falls in the category of Junk food.
A funny realization however came out of nowhere. I was, as usual, observing people around me. Half of them were above sixty, spending a quiet respite of a Sunday with their kids and those who followed them in the family hierarchy. Then I saw a bald man with a too-good-for-him wife which just proved why girls are difficult to predict. But he being an NRI and seemingly wealthy, I smiled for myself. And this is where the realization came. I thought, Hey, I am living my dream, doing what I wanted to do since childhood. I have suffered a lot to be at the spot and am I going to just be like one of them? Those who'll earn money, buy a trophy wife, settle in this country where you have automatic doors even at the restroom? Then your kids will have a funny accent and will be called American Born Confused Desis. They'll called football, Soccer. Shit!! More than that life is about finding yourself and I am a firm believer of the philosophy that the one who has found himself never lives in similarity and dies in Obscurity. Funny this, but we don't even know what the meaning of life is. Is it love? Nahh. Not in these days. People whom you love or those who love you expect a lot from you. And you being human can hurt them by not living up to their expectations a few times. Had those expectations been different than buying something flashy for the anniversary or somewhat similar, I'd have believed love exists. Fuck this write up. I have exam tomorrow.

P.S. - I don't know the meaning of life yet. Next time, I swear..