A Sucky Day Smiles

Morning 6:30 AM, the alarm clock screams into his ears. With a jerk, he was pulled unwillingly from the wonderful dream that he was enjoying. It starred his darling angel after all, and he had the front row seats to it – but sadly, life had something else in store for him.

A sucky day awaited him.

The after sleep grogginess accompanied him as he got out of the bed, and that's when he got the first taste of the sucky day that was waiting for him. No water in the early morning, his whiny dog whining, while he was in the loo trying to make do with the little water that he had, and a little cockroach in his breakfast. All in all, by the time he was getting out of the house, he wasn't really in the best of his moods.

The Day chuckled gently.

Reaching college, he found that the first class was that of his least favourite teacher. It's said that teachers are fair, but he was sure that his professor hated him, for some reason. Thus, it wasn't a surprise that he had to endure a ten minute diatribe about time management, all because he was ten minutes late. He was so irritated that he couldn't even spot the subtle irony of the situation.

The Day kept smirking at him.

Wading through one boring class after another, he almost fell asleep in the class. The sleep in the class however, is never as comfortable or as desirable as the one he knew he could have enjoyed had he stayed at home. He fought valiantly to keep his eyes open, but his mind just wouldn't listen to him. Finally, mind won over body, and his head slid on the desk. Before he knew it, he was sleeping, right in the middle of the class. As luck would have it – since it was a sucky day for him – the professor noticed. The professor, already on a short temper, having shouted at him for being late, was quick to throw him out of the class.

"Don't come to my classes for the next four days now!" he screamed, as he slouched away, thinking who he had offended to deserve all this.

And a little laugh escaped from the Day's mouth, but he was quick to stifle it. He didn't want him to hear it after all.

After the grueling day, it was finally the time to go back home. It was at this time that his Darling Angel called up, and she seemed quite bugged about something too. She was mad at him, for not having called him up the whole day. He tried to tell her how his day had gone by, but she wasn't ready to listen to his excuses. They fought, and by the time he hung up, he was quite pissed off with life. His troubles were far from over, when he found that because of the pointless argument, he had missed the bus, which meant that he would have to wait for twenty minutes for the next bus to come along.

The Day couldn't help but laugh out loud when it saw the irritation in his eyes, especially as he wondered what happened to him all through the day. The Day was somewhat satisfied to see that he still couldn't figure it out.

Finally, he reached home, and threw his bag into the far corner as always. Accompanied by that strong cup of coffee that he needed in order to sort out his messed up nerves, he ventured out into the virtual world. As he did so, he paused for a moment, steeling himself for the adversities that he felt sure he would feel there as well.

The Day smiled at him, and this time, it was quite a genuine smile.

As he logged on to his blog, he saw the wonderful comments that his readers had left for him. Readers from all over the country, and some even from across the borders. Readers who all told him a common thing – "thank you for bringing us into the wonderful world that you weave, all with just a few words."

And so, he was finally able to smile along with the Day.

~~~~~

Bloggers Unite hosts the Blog Reader Appreciation Day today, and in keeping with that event, this post was my way to say Thank You to the many readers I've acquired over the last few months. I've never been a serious blogger, but when I saw the wonderful appreciation that has come my way, all thanks to you guys, it's made me stick to the blog a lot more than I used to in the past.

Thanks to all of you J.

Just another point, this post is somewhat a mix between truth and fiction. Which is what, however, is not really important… yet.

Cheers to all of you!

***

Image Courtesy roy²

A “Real” Blog Post

Maybe a Blog, in some ways, should reflect the kind of stuff that I'm thinking at the moment.

Maybe a Blog should, sometimes, be a little more about me, rather than made-up stuff. Things have changed manifold; I never thought three years ago was such a helluva long time.

This post was inspired by two things that happened almost simultaneously. First, I wanted to write a story (as always), and had the perfect idea for it too – but somehow I couldn't put the story in words. Frustrated, I went online, and that's when a friend suggested that I write something about myself for a change, and in her words, something for myself. On my part, I think it's quite a boring topic to be writing about – honestly, I'm quite a normal guy, living a very normal life.

Second, while online, I stumbled across the blog that I used to write on about three years back. I had completely forgotten the existence of that blog, but the sight of that page jogged a lot of memories. Hence, this post.

A little while back, I said something about a blog being composed of things more than what is made-up. There was a time when I used to write only the non-made-up things, which is something that I can't really relate to right now. I mean, forget writing things about myself in the blog; I don't think I've written anything but fiction in my diary also for a really long time now, more than three years to be precise. However, in the viewpoint of the 2006 me, "I don't want to write about people I make up, and about the problems these made up people face, day after day, in their own fictitious world…"

This is probably what our FHRM lecturer meant when she was talking about change. Tonight, I found out that change somehow does creep up quietly from behind you, and alters your world, so gradually, that you hardly notice that change sometimes.

One line still holds totally true from that old blog of mine.

I still want to be a writer.

***
Two links I'd like to post here, the first one being something my friend Isha wrote about Change. The other, for the ultra curious folks out there, my old blog on yahoo360. I don't visit that blog, nor do I operate that one, and I'd like to keep it that way. Any comments posted there would most probably not be replied to. There are some weird things about me after all.

The Unshakeable

It was a story about a couple. They were lovers, but couldn't show their love. They were married, but spent little time together. They had a child who had been taken away from them. They were together, but they were more alone with each other than they were by themselves.

It was not a true story. Yet in some ways, the words on paper seem truer than the stories we have heard from people for so many days.

It was a story of secrets that should have remained untold. It was a story of small incidents that should have stayed insignificant, but they didn't.

It was a lament. They cried, but I didn't.

I am a rock.

No, really.

The First Flight

Poised at the edge of the balcony, in the backdrop of the inky sky lit up by the floodlights of a nearby factory, he waited. Like a little child waiting to blow out the candles, and leave the inky sky jet black; devoid of the amber light.

He paused for a moment, waiting. The right breeze, that would carry him on. That would carry him over the floodlights that looked like birthday cake candles.

He watched for a moment, spotting things untrained human eyes tend to miss out. The panorama being his guide, he readied himself.

He ruffled his feathers one last time. Moments before he took to the endless skies.

That night, he flew.

“A Crush on Delhi”

The title for this post comes not from my head. Coined by Kshitij Sharma (classmate, friend, fellow passionate-photographer), I do however share the feelings that simple line brings out. The city I grew up in, it's been my home for the last twenty years. I've seen this city breathe, live, and grow. One of the earliest memories I have about the city is the existence of the Double Decker buses of DTC. They were quickly replaced by the boring buses, and the longing to ride one of them remained but a longing. The city kept on growing though, and so did I.

It had been a long time since I had captured a moment of time within a little box… more than a year to be precise. Thus, when the opportunity presented itself, I did not hesitate (not even to bunk the Marketing Strategy class!) to get out of Greater Noida to come back to Delhi, the home housing my home. The one lesson I learnt that day was that City is full of surprises, some brand new while others ancient…

As always, when coming anywhere near Delhi, it was Connaught Place that beckoned us. Almost naturally, we drove down the roads that led us to the beating Heart of the city. However, the first surprise came in the form of a little detour near CP, that led us to a place called Bawli (correct that if I'm wrong there please) a water tank that was used during the Mughal era. Another interesting claim that I heard that day about that place was that it was a tunnel that led all the way to Agra. I don't know whether to believe that claim or not, but still it was quite an intriguing claim.

The most fascinating aspect of this monument was the sheer depth of the tank. Since there was no water there, we could see how far down the steps went, and from where we stood it was quite clear that the tank had been filled up. Another claim I heard there was that it was an 11 storey deep tank. This could be true, but the first question that jumped up in my head was the obvious… how did they build that tank? It goes without saying that a tank of that size would certainly not have been built first and filled up later, but the intricacies of the architecture certainly posed a difficult-to-answer question: how did they build the tank? Even the guard from the ASI did not have an answer to the question, but then again, that's quite okay. A few unsolved mysteries in life certainly spice up life itself.

I could have spent at least another few hours out there, but the main purpose of our visit to the beloved city was to go to Chandni Chowk. It was one place that has drawn me towards itself, like a moth to a flame, ever since the beginning of last year. I really cannot count the number of hours I've spent roaming around in the narrow pathways of Chandni Chowk, always finding myself at a new place, always presented by a new surprise in a different ancient looking shop. Interestingly, there was a door in Chandni Chowk that I had been looking for last year, but somehow I never managed to find it. Of course, last year I visited that place on my own, so almost every time I ended up getting mysteriously lost in the narrow winding lanes of the ever crowded market. This time however, by some sheer luck, I found that door. Nothing too elaborate, it was a plain old door… it was the memories attached to that door that I was chasing, and being presented suddenly and quite unprepared-ly by the one thing I was hunting for so long last year, it was a bit of a bittersweet moment for me. Just thought I'd mention that here, no real purpose of saying it as such…

The view down the lane towards Red Fort was as mesmerizing as always. The main road of Chandni Chowk, the hubbub of traffic all around us, the shopkeepers screaming their "dishcount rates", the constant flow of people, a crowd that has a life of its own, the food stalls on the footpath meant for people walking, the wafting smell of the delicious tikkis being fried on one of the largest frying pans, the old paanwaala who made the paans while I took a zillion photos of him… even that old man with the most magnificent white beard, who wouldn't let us photograph him… it all reminded me of a time that I miss a lot right now, a time when I wouldn't care about where my feet were taking me, as long as there was a camera in my hand, and the Life of Delhi to capture in its frame…

Hindsight-seeing

For a long time now, I've written things that are - for the search of a better word - made up. To make it sound better, I termed it all as fiction, but then again fiction is based on reality. The base for my stories however, were never the life that has been mine. Where they come from, that's another story though, belonging to a different time and place.

The purpose for writing this "collection of words" - again looking for a better term there - is something that I'm not really sure of. It's just that I was reading the old entries on the blog. The thirst to read those old entries was something someone said to me today, that jogged the memories back a few years. And, just like Music makes you relive the past vividly, the trip back to my past - in my head of course, there's no such thing as a Time Machine... yet - was the most vivid of all memories I've had in a while. It's true that out here, with college and a million things going on at the hostel, it's almost impossible to have those times. So all in all, I was really happy for that overdose of retrospect.

Yesterday was something of an eye opener for me, something of a weird eye opener actually. While I was lying down on the bed waiting for the IV medicines to kick in (that's intravenous meds... yes, I had to get a shot to stop the vomiting yesterday! Again, another very thrilling story, but won't really fit in here), it suddenly dawned on me how much of an overtime my guardian angel has to do all the time. I mean, of all the parties that I've been to, of all the times that I've been sloshed, I've never once thrown up as violently and continually, as the night before... and it was the one time that I had the good fortune to have 2 qualified doctors present in the party, and neither of them as badly drunk as I was!

But I'm not here to write about my drunken escapades. That would come later sometime... we'll see when. The memories make for a much interesting topic to write about, so I'll be sticking to that for the time being. Weird and unconnected memories, for example, of coming back home from the Maths Tuitions at 1 in the night, a cold December night in Delhi, on my bicycle. Stopping in front of the little hut of the colony guards, warming up in front of that fire they had before rushing back home, and to a warm and strong cup of Black Coffee... one of the most essential ingredients in staying up at night to study.

Fast forwarding to the time when I started writing the things that are there on this blog, brings me to the second year of college. The summer vacation during that time, also brought about the first real "job" that I did. I remember being psyched about going to "office" the first few days. Didn't take me all that long tp figure out that I was doing almost nothing compared to the actual work scene, but still it was one helluva experience.

Coming back home in the evening, going out in the evening with friends. A couple of espresso shots at the nearby Barista, a few hours of "literary" conversations; these are the ones that inspired me into writing those early, and stupid, poems that are present in the blog as well. I wonder what it was that made me write those weird and dark poems, and what the heck it was that made me publish the same poems... that too, oh so proudly!

Life somehow always ends up as one helluva ride, and whenever you look back at the times that were most trying, you always sit back and wonder... did I really go through all of that, or was it just my imagination? I guess that's what makes these overdoses of retrospect so much fun... in a sick, not at all fun way!!

The Gravity Well

Imagine floating.

Imagine your hair loose, flying in the soft breeze.

Imagine you dancing in the wind. Imagine chasing the butterflies. The dragonflies. The cotton balls as they float idly in the summer sun.

Imagine being at the center of the earth, where Gravity cannot reach you. Imagine going round and round in circles, and actually enjoying that for a change.

Imagine the floor disappearing from under your feet. Imagine yourself rising slowly, steadily. Imagine reaching out for the inky black sky, the twinkling stars studded in the heavens above.

Imagine being at the centre of a bubble, which carries you over the world as you know it.

Imagine flying higher and higher. Imagine toucing the red hot sun, with the mittens so it doesn't burn your skin. Imagine the warmth, the promise of life.

Imagine blowing over an apple tree in full bloom. Imagine an apple racing towards the earth, too ripe for the tree. Imagine the sweet crunchiness as your teeth bite into the apple.

Imagine...

A Collage.

I had a dream.

A few steps back into my life. A million steps away from reality.

The first day of school, my first school. Being escorted (read: carried) to school by someone. It’s impossible to recognize who that person is, with my teary eyes as I bawl away to glory.

The lonely walks through the large school grounds. Falling asleep under the cool shade of a seemingly huge tree.

The fights and the bickering. The games and the controversies. The memories, the nightmares. The punishments. The unfinished food in the tiffin boxes.

Growing up, to bigger classrooms. More space. More people. More conversations. Less space.

Unit tests giving way to examinations. Still the growing up doesn’t stop. Sneaking in to the computer labs and playing games. Sometimes, we forget to grow up.

College days. Even bigger classrooms, more frequent bunking sessions. Low attendance. More dates than classes.

The first ride on the Metro. With a purpose. The first date with her. An unforgettable Metro ride.

Disconnected images of the time spent with her. All those dates.

Staying late in office, working hard. For a future. A promised future.

The future becomes a lie. The dream fades away. The screen in front of my eyes flicker. The End. I wake up to reality.

It can never happen again. Any of it. Ever.

Nostalgia never hurt so much before.

The Things I Want...

"The things I want", by Arnab Majumdar

A Smoke.

A Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of Rum.

The Sun to shine once again. For me.

The Stars to twinkle once again. For her.

The hope that She can make sense of it all. For Us.

Us.

A Red Pet Dragon.

Fifteen cars. Maybe that's too much.

Okay, Fourteen cars.

Free Fall. Once.

Space Walk. Twice.

A Smile. Like Hers. Forever.

A Time Machine.

Caffeine. A lot of it. Some things never change.

Extra Cheese Pizzas.

No, strike that out. Some things do change.

Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. For some reasons.

Is it all too much?