Hey beautiful!

Dear Maini,I didn’t go to school the other day. I was too sleepy and fed up with the never ending week that sucked me into a painful routine. I woke up and told my mother and Gaurav’s mother (so that he didn’t have to go too) that I’d be skipping school today. I dragged myself onto the bed again to plunge into a heartwarming sleep. I know you love that feeling. I remember how sleepy you were without being particularly lazy. In no time, I lost myself. And almost instantaneously I was in a dream. I was on your terrace. I don’t know how I even got there. I haven’t been thinking about you lately nor have you struck my mind (which you do). I mean, that’s how dreams work. They just appear out of nowhere to keep you hooked even after you’ve woke up. And if the dream turns out to be so impactful, you’ll remember it for days just like I remember it. I guess it will be on my mind for a vast period of time. 

Carrying on, I am sitting on a low stool while looking at you coming towards me. Maybe your parents were home, since you were scared somewhat. You trembled with fear and surprise upon seeing me. We both sat below the edge of the terrace so that nobody would see us. I don’t remember what we were talking about but I do have a vague idea about it. I was reprimanding like I always do. I wanted to make things the way they were before. I wanted to be all convincing and chivalrous just to make you feel good about me again. Then somebody called you, a guy named Richard who studies in our school. He came just to take you out on a date. I mean, this guy? Seriously? Why of all boys did he have to come? So I commanded you to turn him back. I came here, exclusively just to win you back. I wouldn’t let that weird dude come in my way. Then you turned him back and I said hello. Awestruck, he looked at me. I could guess how he was feeling, the girl he wanted to take out is being seized by her ex boyfriend. He sadly walked away. Then you sat ever so lavishly and with posie on my lap. I could almost feel how vulnerable you were. I could smell your mesmerizing cologne on my shirt. I talked my way into luring you. I wanted you so bad, I couldn’t just let the moment run past me. I’ve made a lot of mistakes already.

And then, out of thin air your grandmother pops out. Her cameo made you break free from my latch. She didn’t react much to our little reconciliation. Ironically, she smiled and acted as if nothing was wrong with the picture. She whispered something in your ear and left with a smile glanced towards me. You came towards me again and told me how unnecessary it was for us to part. We were something of a ‘forever’. I guess it’s only natural for my mind to take my side. The dream was like a fairy tale directed by me. I know that it was none but me to blame. I was the one who destroyed this almost perfect relationship. But the dream, oh I was so happy in there. I could live out my entire life on that terrace with you by my side. The thing you do with your nose, the way you twitch it made me weak in the knees. I can never seem to forget it and neither will my subconscious. The moment you did that , I leaned forward to put my lips on yours. Believe me when I say it, I felt like it was real. I mean, not even a strong memory holds much appeal. I was in there and I could control myself. We didn’t lock our lips right away. We teased each other until we completed exploring every area of our mouths. I eased in and so did you. Things went steamy right away. I kissed you hard and you rolled your tongue in. I wanted to put more detail but no more. Nobody kisses me like you do. I can come out and say that there is no girl I know who kisses better than you do. You’re amazing. I will say that I’ve kissed a handful of girls but you, you are exceptional. You make it sensual being awfully playful. I miss you so much that words never cease to bleed. I’m feeling good that I can write so well when you are the subject of my musing. The dream ends like a movie where the hero gets the heroine despite the struggle. 

See, I won’t say that I want you back. We’re too distant now even though your place is a 5 minute walk from mine. I still can’t visit or call you for I cannot seem to gather the guts. There is no way we’d think that we haven’t moved on. It’s been five months, five eventful months. Things change with so much time in between. It won’t be easy to pick up where we left off. I am not sure if I love you but I miss you, a lot. I sob when I can’t feel you. Your body still haunts me. I’ve been meaning to express how I feel about you and here it is. It’s hit or miss.

Is love so hurtful? I mean your departure is still creating storms in my head. If this ain’t true love, I don’t know what is. I must say that my emotional state has gone through drastic and dramatic changes. I am not the same. And I am not hoping that you haven’t changed either. Shit, I had so much to say to you. Nothing seems satisfyingly enough. I want to request just one thing from you. I want you to think about me, at times when you feel a little out of place. Think about how I made you smile through lame jokes and antics. Think about the way we kissed. Appreciate the good things that enveloped our short lived yet beautiful relationship. Stay safe.

Your greatest admirer and recovering lover,



Notes on pain and survival

I had begun to limp due to a life sized pimple which was full of pus. Oh God, the pain was excruciating. I couldn’t eat properly, neither could I sleep independently. I couldn’t sleep on thr left part of my body. At times, I wish I could just crumble up and die. When you are sick, people come up with countable remedies and interestingly nothing works. Bhavna insisted on how I should apply ‘ghee’ on the swollen area and I just went with it. There was no change. I gave up on everything. My uncle tried his best to force out the pus but failed miserably. It only worsened my condition. I missed school for a week. Those days, I couldn’t even think properly. Whenever I tried to do something, the pain would divert my attention. I ran a fever with severe headaches and what not. Then, it was a saturday night. My father finally took me to a doctor who lived in the neighborhood. The doctor was somwhat shocked to see the ugly looking abscess on my abdomen. Yes, it was something called abscess. It was worse than a pimple. I instantly shivered after knowing that I needed immediate medical care. So my father took me to the nearest hospital. I must say, hospitals are sad, miserable places. Nothing feels right in a hospital. The food tastes stale, the beds smell like diseases and the people have nothing but sad stories to tell. One could get sick just by looking into their distraught eyes. And since it’s India, we can say that nobody gives a fuck about hygiene. There was commotion in the casualty area. As my father filled a form, I saw a guy sobbing due to a dislocated ankle limping towards a bed. His friend was looking equally scared who supported the injured guy holding him by his arms. We heard that there was an explosion somewhere so we were expecting more patients in the coming hour. 

After ten minutes or so, I was moved onto a secluded area and was put on a bed. There was a guy resting on the opposite bed who was in a same condition as mine. He had an abscess on his left under arm. I thought about how effortlessly I’d rest like this after some minutes. A nurse came by and quickly anesthetized me. Three quick injections on my abdomen and butt; I was out. I couldn’t feel the middle part of my body. It was as if I had been cut down from the torso yet having life in my legs. Then she put some cotton on my abscess and applied some kind of acid (don’t remember which). The acid found it’s way to my back and it burned like hell. I screamed like a kid whose ice cream cone had just fallen onto the ground. I was calmed by my father. I found peace after some moments. Then, a man came with some instruments in his hands. All this time, I wasn’t able to look down. I just cast my eyes on to the ceiling. I felt something going inside my skin and in moments I heard my father. I have an idea about how the sight must have been for he was astonished. All the pus coming out along with the blood. I mustered minimal pain even though I was anesthetized. The man pressed on my abdomen and more crap came out. All this time, I grabbed my father’s hand like I had never before. He assured me that everything was fine now. The nurse came back and started sticking a bandage on the area for it to dry. The area wasn’t sewed though. They all went out of the room including my father. I looked down on my abdomen and cried. I’ve never cried like that before. I didn’t make any sounds. The tears just flowed out too easily. I couldn’t tell if I was relieved or just learning how blessed I was to feel all of this. I was letting go of all my agony and fears with the help of the rather emotional tears. I looked down on the dustbin to see the pus that was inside me just a few minutes ago. I never thought this could bring me so much pain. I wish my enemies don’t get absecesses ever. I could feel life tip toeing into me. I was unshackled even though I was dressed with a huge bandage. I walked out of the hospital like a convict who was released out of prison for good behavior. 

I went back home. Now that I could walk, eat and sleep properly I went back to school the next morning. Oh, How I slept that night!

Well, now I am still in pain. My body is aching for unknown reasons. I couldn’t go to school today. My bones are weak and so are my nerves. My head feels like a finger which got stuck in between a car door. See how we deal with sickness and diseases, maybe we don’t die due to these all the time. We die once and that’s all we get. As human beings, we learn to survive. Walter White survived cancer with much needed motivation from a hectic criminal life and family. It’s all about how you endure pain with a never say die attitude and miraculous energy. We could just believe in ourselves when everything seems wrong. Always know that pain brings out the best in people. It doesn’t make you weak. Sickness makes you ready for bigger tests in life. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Well, you knew that already.

Not related but you will get it.

As weird as teachers go

My psychology teacher believes that I am somewhat special, not a student who she’ll see each year. Maybe she didn’t say it but I can feel her sentiments toward me. To our class, she hates me for I ask silly questions and create a very disturbing atmosphere in an otherwise quaint classroom. For her, interaction means binary answers such as yes or no. She is not as interactive as she should’ve been. I ain’t complaining but a subject which is so vast and interesting must be taught in a more open way. As humans vary, the psychological analyses will vary too. You should see how silent the class gets when she makes a stand. She’ll enamor you with her precise theories and vivid observations of life. She isn’t frank or friendly. Her approach is formal; no nonsense. I remember being expelled out of the class for yawning. On my defence, I didn’t yawn in the first place. But she somehow saw me doing it. I’m not questioning her (which I do, very often) but as menacing as teachers go, she’s on top. She has that prime bird’s eye view which will make the most conscious of girls tremble with fear. Not one student dares to open his mouth. But I take my chances, be it rational or stupid. I remember Kasvi remarking on how I make the psychology period more entertaining than not. That compliment didn’t appeal to me at all. Since, I am the only one who has the guts to speak up and interrupt the mighty Gemini (that’s another story), I feel a lot more confident. It’s funny how she keeps on telling me how ‘unnecessary’ and ‘stupid’ my questions are. I always reply with a statement which implies that I’m curious about what she speaks about. On the other hand, whenever I’m absent she’d remark on how awfully quiet the class gets. It might make her feel a lot better for she could carry on about her teaching. But I sure as hell know that she ‘misses’ me. Believe it or not, I’m the only one who has the sole ability to keep the class warm. I have that feeling; she’ll remember me. I won’t be forgotten that easily.

Her persona is quite mystical. She is so calm and composed all the time. But whenever she feels bothered, she’ll rain down on you. She’ll make you wish you weren’t born. She wears these vibrant and weird looking sarees. It might make her look a bit ugly as the students put it, but I feel her clothes define her mystical persona. Last week, I kept my cool. Maybe five more minutes of taunting would’ve made me weep. I’ve seen people cry due to her. But ironically, she is as sweet as sweet can be. She’ll love you with all her soul. I guarantee that your day will get better after she replies you with a bright good morning. You’d feel light, there’d be imaginary flowers in your hair and you’d be happy. But wait until you get that earful. 

She always comes later than the other teachers since she lives very far from the school. I always see her slowly walking towards her common room when the second period is in running. She always has her earphones on. I do wanna know what she listens to. You know what she said when I asked her about her favorite author? “Why should I say?”, she replied with a weird smile. There are many things I want to know about her. I want to get high with her (even though she doesn’t) and listen to her speak about stars and horizons. 

My psychology teacher will always be proudly remembered. She’ll be etched onto my mind forever. But I have doubts over how much can she tolerate me. She’ll lose her cool sooner rather than later. I hope we don’t arrive at that point, for I don’t want to part on bad terms. She’s my last shot at an influential school teacher.

Where art thou captain?

You know how crying without making any sound feels like? Well, If you know then you’d understand how heartbreaking it is. Nothing’s so soul crushing. You wouldn’t believe if I told you that I was crying while writing this. I just came back from my parents’ room with eyes as glossy as an arctic lake. I came back running to my room. As soon as Neil gets undressed and wears his crown, I switched off the television and rushed back. I mean, I started sobbing ten minutes before Neil could shoot himself in his father’s study. The entire movie gets painfully emotional and rather slow from that point on. I didn’t want to see him kill himself or watch Mr. Keating cry or witness Todd run into the snow because he just couldn’t bear knowing that his best friend had died. It would’ve made me sick. This movie will always be close to my heart, more than any other film. It’s amazing how it was made 28 years back but it still hasn’t lost it’s shine. It’s would be the best coming of age movie of all time if Linklater wouldn’t have thought about Boyhood. Let me make myself clear on why I love Dead Poets Society so much. Every teenager should watch how Mr. Keating teaches a classroom full of boys to make them have a different, more ambitious outlook. The very first words he spoke were Carpe diem which is a latin phrase famously known as seize the day. Which teacher would dazzle the impressionable teens on his first day? All I got was a robotic, deadbeat math teacher who kept providing us with ‘guidelines’ on how to behave in his class. I would only remember three high school teachers who effected my life in great yet varying degrees. I wish the number was higher. If every student had one Mr. Keating during their time, they’d create wonders. The movie was set in a more disciplined and respected preparatory school whose students made their names in law, medicine the other ‘sought’ after pursuits. For the heavily trained students, a teacher who stood apart from the others felt exciting to them. He simply swum against the stream. He enamored the boys with his love for poetry and life. The principal of the school didn’t approve of his ‘unorthodox’ and ‘not related to the course’ methods. He did everything differently; it was all about sucking the marrow out of life without choking on it. 

Parents somewhat expect a lot from us. I mean why wouldn’t they? All they want to do is make their child’s future into a bright one. Ever since Mr. Keating came, the boys felt a lot freer. They weren’t forced to do a thing. Along the lines, they discovered themselves. Neil Perry found out that he was good at acting. Although his father wanted him to study hard and get him to be a doctor, he acted anyway. He was breathtaking in the play. God knows he could’ve done better in the future. 

I could only relate. Just like Neil, I can’t just up and confess to my parents about my dreams and ambitions. For a fact, they wouldn’t understand it. And secondly, all they want me to do is earn money and live a pretty normal life. I wouldn’t shoot myself, of course. That’d be plain dumb of me. 

Now, a question swivels in my head. Was Mr. Keating wrong? He planted many ideas in his pupils’ heads and somehow in the end, they were ruined. Almost broken. I think studying is as important as the work you put into your passion. Things turn to shit when you can’t manage the time to do what you love the most. It’s only fitting that good things might end in bad terms. Pre climax, the film got as depressing as it could be. But Todd showed some raw bit of confidence as he stood on his desk and bid farewell to Mr. Keating. And so did the others. Mr. Keating, finally got the applause and respect he blissfully deserved. I still remember his face glowing in pride. He put a warm smile on his face as he said, “Thank you boys.”

On a more personal note, I just want to say that wherever you (Robin Williams) are stay amazing. It’s kinda weird. You don’t even know me. All I do is worship you, all of you. You made the world empathise with you. I laughed and cried for you and I know nothing’s gone to waste. This is an ode to you. 

Rest in peace, captain!

Inside the little ones.

Babies are always dumbstruck. They have the mininum amount of understanding about what’s going. I was going home on the elevator where there was this woman with a child on her arms. The baby was about, um let’s say he doesn’t walk yet. I kept gesturing my hand indicating a hello at the baby but he could only stare at me. What is he thinking about? He saw two men each having the opposite complexion. His vision is somewhat blurry. He kept staring us with so much concentration that it was hard to break. He was intently and forcefully looking at us. I can’t tell if he’s scared or just curious of two men bigger and older than him. He doesn’t even know the concept of age. He knows how to eat and sleep and play with weird figurines. How much do you know about childhood? Not the one where you learned to ride a bike or watched animax. The one where you needed help. The one where one was just learning about the images in his head and the voices one hears. Most of us are pretty forgetful of what happened during that age. I have a cousin brother who is in primary school; he just can’t figure out how his father looked. My nisa (elder uncle) expired before his son could learn his ABC’s. Childhood deals with a lot of blurry and veiled memories. I remember how I stole unripe mangoes from an orchard near my house. They tasted warm and and had this raw taste. It felt good but didn’t taste any better. But now, I won’t be able to find my way back to orchard. That path in my mind is lost somewhere. Think about a child who has just learned to how to walk and now, he’s just frolicking about. He falls, picks himself up and walks ahead. How does it feel to walk on those two little legs? It’s scary because bigger objects can slow him down and he may fall. But on the other hand, he’s extremely happy to have achieved the gift of walking. He’s as curious as the audience watching a Christopher Nolan feature. Anything can happen and there is no going back. A child just grows like a weed learning things and experiencing situations. 

People reflect on their childhood and heavily use it as art. They feel a lot safer doing it. Everything’s a carefree game when you’re small. As you grow up, times get harder and just use your childhood to feel better. Teenage and adulthood are very crucial yet are crazy stages of life. Life depends on it, almost entirely. Remember, always “let the grown ups speak”. And I can’t carry the weight of how true this statement is. 

I saw a lot of kids today. One who was just learning how to walk and another one who didn’t hello me back. He was paranoid of how I looked. 

P.S. There are a lot of things going on in my head everyday. I always look forward to write whatever seems good. And this incident regarding babies went on top. Somehow, writing about childhood always seems better. It is haunting; but feels good.

Awesome Sex 101

Lately, I’ve been having these sexual awakenings where I long to spend some time and make love to someone. It is not necessarily desperation, I wouldn’t call it an outburst of hormones or something like that. My sex life is not that active, I rarely go out of my room nowadays. I have a special friend who satisfies my body but we haven’t met in a long time. She is somewhat out of touch these days. We both aren’t to be blamed really. Today, I visited a temple with my parents. Right before entering the shrine, I had this drive to hold her body against mine and kiss her luscious lips. What a time and a place to get ‘horny’! I guess it’s perfectly normal for a healthy teenager to get these drives. I mean, why not? We are all mature teenagers who want to feel spontaneous and excited during intercourse. It’s a taboo because sex is supposed to be done and talked about ‘behind closed doors”. Nobody really talks about it. Why would they? It is more civil to talk about your break up than the way he made you come thrice last December. Not everybody can gather the guts to open up about their sexual encounters. It’s only about those two individuals who make love and celebrate their relationship. There is no absolute need for an outsider to intervene. What people really talk about are bodies and how they vary. ‘We’ prefer enlarged assets on our partners. It’s funny how big breasts stand taller than beautiful almond shaped eyes. I can somehow understand how a man feels when he is told that he’s not that big. Doesn’t mean that I have a small penis. I mean, who’d prefer a small, limp dick? How else could you please your girl? Some like trimmed pubes while others like it shaved. We are petty human beings with complicated likes and desires. We can’t always be satisfied with what we get.

But things change when two individuals fall in love. As they make love, they’ll sensually kiss each other and keep moving at a slow yet erotic pace. Their sexual organs won’t matter now (as long as they have them, of course). Realistically, sex can be rather disappointing. It’s not porn. It’s the ugly and underachieving sister of porn. But as practice makes a man perfect, in the same way intercourse can only relished in it’s most vivid form with effort and spontaneity. You got to be ambitious when it comes to the pleasing of your partner. Good sex is a progressive process. No one becomes a Johnny Sins without experience, resistance and a ‘big dick’.

Surprise your partner every once in a while and stay safe (use a condom).

Relating to Paterson

The Japanese stranger stands up to leave. For a moment, he thinks to himself and eventually reaches into his slinging bag to take out a notebook. He hands it to Paterson calling it a gift. He says, “Sometimes empty pages present more than possibilities” and walks away. God knows where he went. Even though Paterson was feeling distraught ever since his dog chewed up his ‘secret’ notebook where he wrote all of his poems, he felt somewhat dazed after the Japanese stranger left. I guess life teaches us things we were supposed to, not because we want to. Destiny has it’s own supernatural path barely known to nimble human minds. I was feeling a little out of place ever since I got home, my favorite team lost and I couldn’t write at all. I posted a status on facebook saying I was dealing with a sizable writer’s block (which I am) and was bored to the point where I could go insane. But then I watched the beautiful movie ‘Paterson’, I picked up where I had left last night. I like think the words that came out of the Japanese stranger’s mouth meant something. I mean, artists cannot always keep creating. They need space, time and bits of inspiration every now and then. Paterson dealt with his shredded notebook in a very mature way which was impossible in my case. I would’ve cried my heart out. He was shaken yet couldn’t show. After he was gifted the notebook and those words, he was inspired enough to write something that naturally pleased him. Such is the highlight of my day. That Japanese stranger broke Paterson’s incubation period and so did mine. Hell, I am writing now. What could be more delightful than writing something that feels good? I can never put something before my writing. It’s what I live for and what I want to do. It might be the only thing I’m good at. Maybe Paterson felt the same as I did when I was dealing with this block.

On a more spiritual level, Paterson is real. He’s a living, breathing, walking and kissing human being. He is not a rock star or a multi billionaire. He’s a plain, blue collar citizen who has an ambitious girlfriend and a hungry dog. Nobody shall put this movie on the fiction shelf. Movies like these don’t come out very often. There is nothing extravagant or eventful about Paterson. He just wants to wake up to listen to a dream his girlfriend saw, eat cereal, write some ordinary piece of poetry based on what he sees everyday and drive the bus. The words he jots on paper are not mesmerizing or memorable; it’s observation disguised in detail and simple musings. He’d eat lunch on a bench looking at a scenic waterfall. Some things about Paterson feel so enchanting even though it’s so simple. I mean, for most people the movie is boring or not entertaining enough. There is a reason they are not artistic enough. They have no idea how to praise good, natural cinema.

A good cinematographer must know how to present normal, routine elements of life in the most beautiful way possible.”  Well, that’s quotable. Paterson is haunting. It’s so simple. A shoutout to the makers of this brilliant film, for they have created a world unto itself. And half the credit goes to Adam Driver to have acted so naturally complemented by a equally strong cast.

It is one of those rare movies that cast a magic spell on the patient and humble lovers of cinema. It has appealed to me in a way I didn’t think it could.


Bum me a cigarette?

How many minutes does it take to smoke one regular sized cigarette? I’m guessing 5-6 minutes when you’re alone. I mean it’s a whole different story when you smoke alone; all the things you did yesterday come floating aground to your awareness while you get dizzy by the drags. I like to think that people who tend to be busy work are chainsmokers. They drown a hard day’s work into several smoke breaks spread out during the course of the day. They do it to become docile, almost to the point where nothing can invade your consciousness. You get so calm when you smoke that even if you want to be violent at that moment, you can’t. Those five minutes are somewhat precious. Take my father for an instance, sometimes I feel that he carries too much on his shoulders than a person of his mettle should’ve.  He has so many problems regarding his brother, his son, his multiple jobs and an angry wife back home. He doesn’t want me to see him smoke but he does. I think he smokes a lot without being too cautious about it. He deserves those heavenly intakes. But what about me? I started smoking just to look cool. I can’t entirely smoke a large cigarette in one sitting, alone. I go on rampages only when my friends are around. I still think it’s cool to have a cigarette in between your lips burning lightly. You don’t know how cool Gaurav looks when he smokes with one hand pushed into his jeans’ pocket.

But smoking isn’t ‘cool’. It is not what you do for fun. It is probably the most harmful thing ever created. It has enough capabilities to tear your lungs apart until you form cancer or what not. That’s why most places restrict smoking. In the 70’s, smoking was even allowed in flights. Now it’s all just a matter of shame. People won’t miss the chance to give you an eye when they see you smoking. Our parents aren’t cool with it nor are our teachers. Cigarettes aren’t illegal, they are bought and sold openly and in large amounts. It’s one of the biggest industries in the world. But still, people are touchy with the matter of smoking. I smoke rather regularly but not much. I’ve seen people who I think have ace smimmers’ lungs. I’ve seen their eyes lit up when they come to know that this café’s got a smoking zone.

So where do we finally land on this subject? Is smoking bad? Well, I don’t think so. The smoking part doesn’t kill you so easily. But being obsessed about that smoke and the nicotine odor will definitely kill you. Anything can kill you. You smoke you die, if you don’t you still die. You must go by that age old statement,” too much of something is bad” which is delightfully true.  But in the end, nothing beats the feeling of sharing a cigarette with your best friend under the stars. Also, cigarettes can prove to be effective catalyst for a good conversation.