Dear Internet,
Seems like another life here. I think now I would put even the sentimentalist in me to shame. Yeah fluxes…. they can fuck you.
Anyway. Movements…I think I have had my share of them to last me an entire life. Next time I tell you I am bored of a city you can flash this moment before my eyes. I may reconsider.
Verbal diarrohea is it again? I haven’t written something worthwhile in ages. This unproductivity is catching up with me. Damn! WHAT are you supposed to do? bubbling thoughts don’t really amount to much if they remain that. I am sick of great ideas…. visualising them and then, nothing. What exactly is the limit of langour and creative sloth, please tell me again.
Demons.. I took charge of one this week. More on that later.. I have a flight to catch now.
Peace
*After a while you learn the subtle difference betweem holding a hand and chaining a soul. You learn that kisses aren’t contracts and presents aren’t promises. You learn that loving doesn’t mean leaning and company doesn’t always mean security, and you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much. After a while you learn to build all your dreams on today because tomorrows ground is to uncertain for dreams, and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight. After a while you learn to accept your defeats with your head held with the grace of a woman and not the grief of a child. After a while you learn to plant your own garden and decorate your own soul instead of waiting for someone else to bring you flowers. And you learn that you really are strong, that you really do have self worth, and you can endure, and you learn and learn, with every “goodbye” you learn*
—-Internet
There is an excitement building up inside me. The kind that reveals itself bit by bit only after the decisions have been made and the proverbial last nail in the coffin hammered. Moving lives and I am still unfazed. What is it that has be so optimistic about the life I am rooting for? There is hope. Would that be taking the sting out of the changes? Hope? Nothing more magical? Just hope?
I am almost stepping in the whirlpool. And I could not have welcomed it more. An experience….. that is all that I am carrying away from here. Was it worth it? From the dark depths, a small voice says, ‘Yes’. Perhaps, the plans will come to light later and the meaning become less subtle. The yearning for one shall be replaced by another. A hope. That is all that I have hoarded for myself from here. And it feels like I got the better end of the bargain.
Of, course there is purpose. To put at ease a few aching shoulders. To laden them with a bit of heavier burden till things sort themselves out. The foundations of a happier life have to be laid soon. And it is not going to be easy. I am bound to run out of the courageous mortar and the the grit of cement. But love shall melt all the alloys into a tangible mass. What else is hope, if not this my friend?
Will the house of cards survive this move? Or will this bleed it to death? Don’t answer me. The world through the wool around my eyes is still pretty.
Some one who can write better than me and who had a point wrote an amazing piece on cricinfo. But well, things had to be cleared. Below is my reply to that. Why is it here? I had nothing better to post here.
Dear Imran,
Accept my sympathies for your country men not really making it to IPL season this time around. I am sure it hurt. Else there won’t be so much brouhaha over it.
I take it that you set out to write the article with a totally objective perspective but well, patriotism caught up with you. Or maybe not. you wanted to prove that not getting selected made no difference to your nation’s image or the bank balance of the players. You took it upon yourself to come across as this swashbuckling writer who would change the perspective of a nation which could be compared to a a typically paranoid person, jumping even when the car backfires. The swagger is so pretentious that it is funny. Perhaps we really should leave some things for the Brandos and the Pacinos. I must congratulate you, though. A mammoth mission you sent out on. But well, it seems you lost way and thus failed. Pure conjecture here, so don’t take it to heart. Brothers conversing here right?! WE are bound to have a difference of opinion. So what if we are at each other’s throat every now and then, bombing the living daylights out of each other. Right?
I digress. That is the problem with neighbours talking to each other and ‘about’ each other. One loses sight of what one wanted to say. Now, I hate to break your bubble but our younger bro is neither cool nor better than us. I mean, he can’t even keep peace in his own house. He is a spoilt child who covets what is not his. He demands more than it is his right or his ability to take care of it. He is basically a pain in the ass. Like with neighbours, you can’t really do much with siblings. So you try to talk it out with them, you try to ‘reason’ with them. With our bro, it just doesn’t work. What do we do?
We give him a sharp slap on his knuckles. Doesn’t work still. What do you do with meddlesome neighbours Imran? You ignore them. That is what precisely it appears have been done.
I wish we had not done things way. You can raise a hue and cry about how you are not responsible for the decisions your government takes. Isn’t that how everyone is Pakistan talks? We are not responsible. Let me ask you, “Who is?”
This was cricket. Shit happens. When it hits the roof, well, we all get dirty. You lost face. So did we. It is we who are doing the explaining. That is sad. But this was cricket. It was not a political decision. The politicians are too busy looting this country. Plus, they neither have the gumption nor the brains to come up with this trick. Blame Mr Modi if you want. It is his party. He influences who comes.
What I am trying to say here is that there are issues and they need to be resolved. It is about time that things be take for what they are. Cricket is poor context to pitch our battles on. After all, it is just a bat and ball.
There was a definite snub in the decision to not invite you guys to the party. Instead of crying murder, maybe things need to be put on track.
I have a better suggestion. Host your own party! The only problem, like you said, is that no one worthy, boring, loud, brash, lithe, inconsequential would turn up. Oh! villainous that the ENTIRE world is.
PS: Consider this as an example of how to not pretend that you are out to hit out.
PPS: Impromptu limbo dance is great! really?
* I would have loved to use another kind of language but well, we are all responsible citizens. And I would hate it if what I said started a war. It sounds far-fetched but with Pakistan, you never know.
Sometimes I feel may be I should pray for simpler things. I desperately want to talk to someone who is interesting. I am so bored of predictable conversations. C’mon someone shock me.
Dearest Twister,
How does it feel being 2? Dog years that would be 14 years… Wow!
So what gyan will I give you today? It’ll be nice if you stop wagging you tail so much and resting your fat ass against my arms… see I am writing to you only.
Cool. Now you have aligned yourself aerodynamically, so we can resume.
Let me tell you story about a dog today. And this is not just about you. Vain that you are, you’d think so. Hence, I am putting it on record.
There was a young girl who wasn’t really scared of dogs but didn’t know how to behave with them. They were creatures that you did not meddle with. You leave them alone and they would not chase you. Perhaps, her only memory of a dog was of a ferocious brute, with cream teeth, saliva dripping from his mouth as he was chasing one of her friends. For a 7 year old to witness this and to see her friend being chased a few meters before the brute’s teeth sunk into his flesh, it can be too much really.
So this young girl, she formed certain policies. She would not pet dogs, not come near them, not give them any reason to get pissed off & not run in front of them. And it was a safe path she had chosen. For years no dog troubled her.
Her father, though, happens to be fond of dogs. So he gifted her, on her 10th birthday, a small, cream coloured Lhasa Apso. Now they are generally peaceful creatures and are perfect for young kids, specially who are shit scared of dogs. After this girl got over her fascination for this automatic toy that breathed, thought, got happy & loved, she began to understand dogs better. The name of the Lhasa Apso was kinda weird but she loved it. It was Proudy.
6 years later Proudy died. She just passed away in her sleep. Those were the worst days of the girl’s life. She missed her little pet immensely and was heartbroken. She cried for many weeks but what can be done.
She tried convincing her parents to get another dog, after a few years but they remembered rather clearly the way this girl had mourned for her pet. And they were not convinced if it would be a wise decision, lest the girl suffers a similar heartbreak all over again. Clearly, they were being ridiculously over-protective. Soon the girl gave up and decided that when she begins to live on her own, she would get herself a dog.
She moved to a new city to study. One day, in her last semester of college, she was having coffee with and she got a call from a friend. He had found a stray pup whining away to glory near his house, totally abandoned. He was going to Hyderabad for a vacation that day and wanted this girl to take care of this furball till he returned.
She fell in love with this pup first day itself. And began coming up with devious plans to keep this young thing with herself. With help of a friend, she took care of this small kuku for a couple of weeks. When the friend returned from Hyderabad, he had decided to take back the pup. This pup was you, Twister.
The girl knew there is no way she could hold on to you. She grudgingly let you go away. She knew you’d come back, for two reasons. First, you had recognised her and her friend as parents. Second, you were just too naughty, even for a two week old pup. So she let you go.
And she was right. You were back home in 4 hours. Proud of you boy! You had whined so much and peed inside the house so much that this friend decided to let you be with me. You remember how you had bounced around when you had come home?
And then our story really began. You were toilet-trained. You were taught to sit, eat only when told to, put your head down. You understood the meaning of ‘have’, ‘no’, ‘come’, ‘chalo’. You began to recognise me with my name.
You remember how naughty you were? You have chewed up so much money; stolen so much food; eaten so much rubbish; raw eggs (that shocks me still, mind you). You remember the dy I had retured from work and you had chewed through your leash? You had ransacked the WHOLE GODDAMN HOUSE. All my shoes were chewed up, you had brought down most stuff from the kitchen shelf, you had broken ink bottles and spilled water and torn up so many papers. There was nowhere to walk on the floor. I have never seen such a sight. And how meekly you had sat in a corner while I was crying over my destroyed shoes. You even had the nerve to come and lick my tears!
You remember the house owner you bit coz he used to stand outside the window and piss you off with his retarded tricks. Hahahaa! He deserved it son! And even though we were thrown out the same evening of his house, I forgave you. It wasn’t really your fault. Some people have to be taught manners, you could say.
And then we moved to this house, and the first day, you ass, you dug up the hall room wall. I really can’t fathom what excavation expedition you were planning. But here, you have been a good boy generally. Unless I count out the chewed up furniture, a couple of chewed up tv remotes, a coffee machine that had to be rescued from you, the charges that could not be saved, broken bowls, a few pairs of destroyed footwear, a handful of ruined books, some litres of oil and ghee that you did bottoms up on, and ALL the plastic containers in the house. Yeah! You have been a good boy generally.
But now you are all grown up and stuff. I mean we understand each other so much better. I know what pisses you off and vice versa, and how cleverly we both ignore this. We still get each other’s goat most of the time. But come to think of it, we have a healthy relationship. You get pissed off, you growl. You trouble me, I growl back.
There is so much that I love about you. The way you follow me around the house every morning when I am getting ready, our morning walks, the way you snuggle close to me when I am crying and all upset and how you just keep licking off the tears till I laugh at your automatic programmed licking. I love the way you sigh when I tell you about the hard facts of life, how you fall asleep when I am telling you something vital, how you bulldoze me, every single time I return home from somewhere out, how you jump around the house when you sense I am happy, how you wake me up every morning with sloppy licks and paw nudges, how you have accepted the people whom I love, how you love me so unconditionally.
I love you Twisty wisty. We have to get you more brothers but for now you are a handful. Till you learn how to look out of the window and stare into space for a longer period of time. But I have to give to you, you have come a long way boy. You actually let me cuddle you till I want. That is such an achievement. And such a treat. Plus you can do high-five now! 
We have a lot of life to see together still. I have to write my book, get married, write more letters to you. You still have lots to eat (you have to try steaks), many more terraces to run on, play more tug-of-war, trouble me a bit more, give me a few more heart-attacks, chase some birds, travel in a car. We both have lots to experience yet.
So here I raise a toast to you, son! Know that those who love you do so with the core of their being and they have guts to do so. Those who don’t, well you bit them, so you can’t really blame them for not liking you. Know that no matter how much I threaten, I won’t throw you out of my house. We both know who wears the pants in the house. Know that I will not get you neutered for as long as I can avoid it. I want you to have some fun in life. *wink* Know that I will always be around to jack the bastards who ask me to keep you in subhuman conditions. Remember how we shouted at that son of a bitch! Don’t worry. I am there. And lastly, know that I love you like none other. You have your own place in my life. Proudy may have made me confortable with dogs, but Twister it is you, you my jaan, who has made me capable of loving every dog that comes my way.
Hugs.
Be glad I did not come up with one of those year-end/beginning posts. I wanted to ..so so so badly .. but the inner list-maker had to be suppressed. It required immense will power and great resolve. And no, I am not faltering now.
But there is much that is happening. 2010 is behaving well, I could say. There are a truckload of changes that are waiting to be accepted, if only I will. Some of them are uncomfortable. But then what is not in life? Ha! I can philosophise!
I am moving to Delhi. Phew! It is weird to say it aloud. Like I am making it more absolute every time I say that. Not that I am not looking forward to it. I think I am. A whole new city to explore. And that too a place like Delhi. Arrrgh…. what I am writing is not fitting to what I want to say. Maybe some other day, I shall tell you guys about why Delhi is the only city where I would not feel lost and not miss Bangalore as much.
Twister turns 2 day after. There is definitely going to be a list on that day, I promise you. Somehow, the dog can still get my goat even after two years. And yet, I love him. Human folly? Call it what you may.
Bogged down with the utter incompetence of being me, there is nothing else left me to do but to sop over the damp rag that is my life. I know I know, I am at it again. But I have issues. Alright? And with this I took a sip of scalding hot coffee. The rest of the write up may seem like gibberish. Pain has many outlets, you see.
What is it that I have done wrong? Bad karma? What!!!! That it is my destiny to be stuck in places that the devil would pass. What!! but me is me and so I have to bear the brunt of it. So when people get asked that ridiculously stupid question “Oh! What is it that you would change about yourself if given a chance?” and they answer with the smugness of a hopelessly talentless guitarist who is naive enough to not see that, “ Nothing”, I know the bastards are lying.
I mean who are happy with themselves!?! Or is it that I live in a different world. I would like to be fitter, healthier, smarter, richer, taller, happier, better-travelled, better-read, with better clothes and better hair and better brains and whatbloodlyelsenot. Hell! I would not be ‘ME’ if I were to choose.
But some battles are fought hard and not necessarily well. So here I am at war with me, trying to not accept myself with the benevolence and the tch-tching that we reserve for beggars.
Perhaps the only staple for every new year is the search for a kick-ass calendar that is so artistically supreme that the year seems a treat when looking at it.
That is too much to demand out of anything, let alone a new calendar. But I live in hope.
How should it be any different this year? And why so? Naah… the search for the super-cool calendar is still on. But I have made my peace with the random sweet ones that drop my way.
So the first week had me rummaging around the hopeless city shops for some art. None came my way. Or maybe I have higher expectations. Well whatever the reason be, it was only a while back that I found one that would suit my tastes, you could call. It had the prerequisites to make it to my desk. And moving away from the one-month-a-page format, it has a-date-a-page. Which means that I don’t have to wait for an entire month to flip the page; I do it every day. Ha! Yes that can be cathartic.
anyway, this one scored many brownie points for other things. It is small, not in-your-face-look-at-me-I-am-a-calendar type of a thing. Spiral-bound! It has blue splashed all over it and a bit if green thrown in for compliments sake. Those who don’t agree, well you don’t have a taste. ……… Spiral-bound!
There is a small glitch though… The date is not complimented with the day that it is. This leaves me with little choice. I am stuck. I think i will have to buy another calendar for that, eh?
While I was drinking pulpy orange (pulpy orange sounds gross though.. makes me sound like some psychopathic murderer)
Random fact: Colgate (the toothpaste company) in Spanish translates into the similar word, cuelgate, which is the command ‘go hang yourself’.
There are many more of these that are going around in my head. Pardon many more that could pepper this first piece of writing that I am doing after going through many such random, totally inconsequential facts. Blah.
The non-productive life has reached an all time high. The newer me (read calmer and saner) me is not worried. I mean so what if the damn posts are not regular and the short-stories are just hibernating in my head. Who cares? Not me! I am out to be at peace with whatever I do. And no this has nothing to do with one of those stupidly, over-rated phenomenon (read new-year resolutions). In case you missed it, sarcasm it was.
But let this not be another sob post. We can do better or am I assuming too much here.
On a totally different tangent. I could be moving to Delhi soon. That has be doing the cartwheels every time I think about it. A new city to live in. Aah! The little luxuries of life. And I shall soon be writing on my second lurve ‘food’ and get paid for it. Yahoo!
Keep the love flowing in. :p
Cheers!
PS: There are only four words in the English language which end in “dous”: tremendous, horrendous, stupendous, and hazardous.
