hold applause till end

Illuminating friend who has changed much about life and perception often points out the redundancy of, and even harm in, too much and too easily-given approbation.

True, approval is a beautiful and affirming thing - who's above wanting a pat on the overworked back? - but perhaps the recognition is only incidental to the work done to deserve it.

The need to achieve is perhaps not so much a necessity because a source of pride and joy of friends, siblings, parents, lovers, pets, self - but because in it lies the key to our less-small selves. We are made more by what we do because for a moment there is revealed in us the propensity to act instead of not, to take the less lazy route. And every such step is but a step that the flood of feelgood feedback might sometimes cause to overlook.

While thoughts as this might be sponsored by show of extravagant congratulations on news feeds - which in themselves are worthy of apathy - the lesson is not unimportant for ravenous little heart such as that belongs to this writer.

The idea is to turn that twinge of jealousy into something more useful. To not find corner to sulk in and wish to be the centre of such unbridled showers of blessing oneself, but to rein in such futile and destructive longing. To remember never to make desire for recognition the end in itself. For one is unfortunately wont to do so. =)

Timely reminder that must move on not in the hope of that Hollywood Ending where everyone with tears in eyes is all apology, exuding hearty, hearty love - but because this is what we must do, all that we must do, whether or not there is a participation certificate at the end.

This itchy skin
Time to turn in

unavoidable.

Never rebel (no, please) - but must one not shrink, shrivel when everything is Superliked? Never misanthrope (peripheral babble is almost endearing) - but before bed, must one not ask, Where to now? Bile in mouth not so much because you don't see - but because (to think) I once thought you would. When you're your biggest disappointment, how to get erasure? When you're throwing up chillies and what were cashew nuts (mostly through nose), how to stop from hitting floor? The abiding thought - that seesaw of oneness (your breath smells of mine, I smile) versus that ache in bones, weighing every step down, muttering like a dammed sea of voices, O My People - is only biding time.

Someone's counting down somewhere, but meanwhile?, one could (with groan and creak and lumberjack pant) turn to resurrecting the premature dead and burying, and burying those who just won't. Worth a shot, the gun's gone cold after the world got- Yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaye to kya hai? Question is kya rooh pyaasi hi reh jayegi?

O People.

fixing a hole

That my superpowers included healing, I always knew. Resurrection is where I must draw the line. No more kitty party necromancy.

Even so. First step to erasure down, three million to go.

Teach us to care and not to care. Teach us to sit still.

because twenty must be rung out, wrung dry

A celebrate myself, and sing myself kind of day; as sincerely executed as conceived.

Whatever is out there loves me much. The ride-to had it drizzling right through the sun. While the return had heavier, real rain - but so calm you'd want to sing just to bestir.

Water over Coke, guava over Cheetos, yellow over pink rose.
And so armed, and so assured, a nap beside the pond on singular spikes of wet grass.

Where it needs eyeglass in addition to contacts to realise

that the kingfisher is of the white-throated sort;

who likes to dip into the same ripple and perch back on the same branch to rouse itself.

That the black blots on the lotus leaves are actually moving,

(I'm not insane) and are snails. Ranging from Excess to Excel.

That the sky is virulent but quiet and indigo run dry
that will pounce on you if you can squint out the trees.

That I have just found my new afternoon delight.

And plenty of walking fro and to and not entirely without company because I gave in, because that doesn't matter any more. Commerce too, a little, as new clothes had to be changed (for once for being) - too small. And who can resist chicken and capsicum?

Tried to crave a cigarette, but it's like I pronounced - a smoke can never replace a coke - and so it was settled. What resolutions, what? When?

Back home, all quiet on every front. Pasta and Coke and I settle down, with the sun, for what began as Dr. Strangelove but soon was Meet the Fockers - of which about 30 seconds was funny; exactly what I needed except there was just one thing missing which quietly crept up and made camp on heart.

Pasta, Coke, Movie, Pillow.

And, cat.

Webcam leftovers. Glasses, see.

And lest we forget: cameos by
Ben Harper, Cat Stevens and several versions of Across the Universe -
one of the few that has stayed the same since age six and
twenty certainly won't change my world. =)

There's lots and there's nothing left
but to curl up in the secret place on floor 6 + 1, tonight,

tonight that Cassiopeia, Orion have joined Sirius.

It's past midnight. Aranyer Din Rattir has finished playing. It reminds me again of that stifling beauty of a Ray film. But more importantly, there will be cake soon.

Rewind, oh delirious days, oh lonely years - and stay, stay with me.

Had planned on spending day under the bed but there's a Bharat Bandh so pretty close.
Unlikeliest of people remembered to wish. Fuzzy feeling that won't let me be misanthrope.

So. It's been an hour each of everything desired and I think I am finally ready.
Holyshit, holyshit I'm twenty. =D

when you're not feeling holy

A belief that we are collectively fed - as appetisers to the boiled apples and pulped spinach - is that love sent out is love received. Like the begat begat begat of the NT - except here the blanks are Love - and this principle did not hold true.

Perhaps it was the alternating between indulgence and passive aggression - Let's agree to disagree - whichever the final straw, the world and I have ceased to get along; except, at best, casually. I've tried pretending this away but it's still there, sure as a stump.

One could take this opportunity to burst into tears and curse all humanity and stamp on centipedes at bus-stands. 

Or.
One could take deep breaths out the window, take oneself out to lunch, ending it with a chocolate tart in slowest possible motion; and be grateful in general for the adequacy of being.

For although the heart has been very foolish in its choices, and much too proud to cry, and much too constant to forget, there are reasons to rejoice still. The mind is a more reliable friend, seeking only to absorb, dissect or revel in itself. Indulge this instead.

It's hard to keep clasped that atom of conviction against the world's body of dissent 

- you're not really all that special, just strange. And untimely - 

but it can be done.

If you would only let the lonely pass from being a punishment.

If you could stop to think, instead of squeezing head between indignant hands and running from one distraction to the other; if you can begin to forgive.

I love the world, and it's alright if it doesn't feel the same way. And no, I will no longer wait for it to change its mind.

You can't always git what you want - Thank god for that.

PS: This is not to suggest that status quo is above question and that sociopath is necessarily also genius - only that it's quite all right. =)

Wheels > Toes

Driving is an alienating experience. The car is not me, and yet I am it. Perhaps it slowly becomes us; like our heels or our lashes. Like every irrational foreign protuberance we learn to control, learn to accept gratefully as our indispensable, shiny, supple limbs.

We (in time) learn to part our hair, smile whenever the occasion needs us to. And although we still blink, sneeze, we no longer cry out in alarm. We accept our eructations and flatulence and usually let them pass without much comment.

Perhaps I too shall one day accept my swerves, near schoolgirl road kill, that one too-wide turn. Till then, let me draw the utmost satisfaction from the steady steer, gentle over-riding of speed breakers, umbrella insurance for dogs. It has only been four lessons, after all.

Evolution

Look at it this way, if a month later you're still alive, you can run - nay, skip - through the same gauntlet as many times as you like. I'm on this side, I'm on the other side; I'm on fist side, I'm on nother side. How's that for boss battle victory? And no one to divide spoils with. Torture ftw!

Roots

The axioms of our universe of discourse.

The only things we can cling to.

Strange, that locating them should always be a retrospective exercise.

We cannot know who we are till we know who we are:

Does that qualify as a Paradox?

burying body; birthing brain

Embracing/Defacing Greatness:

Defined by those sudden, condensed, singularly disembowelling moments, where you must discern between - Friends and Equals.

Defined by the hitherto unknown, palpable absence of vagrancy, confusion, dithering of any kind - except that borne out of this very state of unusual resoluteness.

Defined - sadly - by the rising degrees of tedium that mark every passing act of Kindness. As opposed to acts allegiant to the Intellect. How will the yielding heart and the precision-drill mind reconcile?

Ach. Growing pains. I need Father Bhaer.

The agonies of compulsive efficiency. 

The inevitable tragedy of being hardwired far too skilfully to concede time to rust over 

these matters that with ourselves we too much discuss, too much explain. 

The absolute fatality of being the Sensible one, 

of blowing one’s nose and distress into (nothing but) 

a clean handkerchief and 

walking on in sober black pumps: 

none but the brisk tight-lipped ones know.