Tuesday, September 25, 2007

(Nice Dream)

What exactly has not been a misnomer thus far? 11 exams drain out the best out of everyone and its not because of the amount of study I have done, which has been done with keeping history in mind. Its the whole effort of having to go through it done. Bombay is as dirty as it would ever get every year. Its certainly overcrowded, with an over rated festival and overly enthusiastic people. The whole blemish, someone runs right, another does riot. Too much colour and poverty further making everyone further reluctant to admit it has been a good day. I am okay.

And there will always be so much to keep in mind for the rest of my life. India won a world cup, actually they played cricket (or something similar to it) for a total of 24 days (yes, one day) over the past one week or two and made around four million in total with another five looming up next year with the Stanford deal. WTF!! Ajit Agarkar and Joginder Sharma will die believing they are 'world cup winning' material. Honestly, WTF!!

Reconcile. So much has occurred since the last post that let alone being unable to mention it anywhere, its been unimaginably 'better off'.



Thats right outside college walking with Sahil and getting a "local newspaper waala" moment and he being coerced into clicking it, courtesy. It was odd, it didn't make sense, they did not wake up, we got away, I am now putting it up here, and writing weird and random stuff, and really not in the mood for it. Waking Life.

Next Week.

Monday, September 10, 2007

Painted Room, Something Wrong.

After rain, through unfolding glow, the unbridled essence
Of sidled clouds, streets meet rational incoherence
This obtrusive glance, what may not be, hence
Green evenings make larger arcs into the fence.

Forlorn looks breaking down the erudite,
Rallying between the rhetoric and prescribed,
This cession of knowledge, all we bequeath
Ricochet, this tarmac of becoming grief.

Grim eyes chastening the already been,
Sans the sentences that create a scene;
Vignettes spread o'er shades of malevolence,
New autumn nears with a naissant spell.

Let little pieces reign over those toys,
In voices that barely resemble their echo;
Stifle through the week with little hope,
A city whose nadir is that it does not snow

Contrasting shadows that slip into coldness,
Heavy and gathered around this parallel abyss;
Rue the ruins that built the spark which charred,
One foot small, a few more, a little too far.

Contained in the laughter the pervades,
Humor regaining consciousness o'er regard,
Melting stares which rue rain with fixation,
Literature is poetry without connotations.

Declining, resigned still to the inflictor within,
Movement spells reveal, why should thy complain;
Hast you ever , you might have been the known,
Reign o'er memories that speak archaic in vain.

Gently caressing through gloss, encroaching dew,
The ability to become aught, ignorance speaks true;
Blankets left by the wayside, linen still unwashed,
A visible aureole, no intrusion shalt be marred.

Starched in structures, spanning all momentary disdain,
Eclectic themes rummaging peculiar, favorably prosaic;
Anguish makes favor, brackets nixed what we proclaim,
Life support, hands cut twice, this cynical display.

A paper plane from the dustbin, an idea lost,
Lapses in memory; bickering over thoughtless talks.

One stops, assuming the other needs to speak,
This is how it has been, week after week after...

Just.

This shall be better.

The semester approaches an end, three months of mostly downs. An unnecassarily hectic life, over the top expectations, FYI talk, dilated pupils, and everything you may wish to summarize as etc.

Exams. Not the dreaded term as they held ages back. Average. It comes, happens, leaves. 11 in 13 days does not entice scare, the whole 'still left' material does not deter arbitrary happenings. It just happens.

I barely recall what has occurred since the last post. RGV Ki Aag, which was a disgrace to Indian cinema. I don't even feel like a mention of it right now, this could be humor but I shall skip till..!!

Then I Rock. Two days of bad and average music rubbing my eyes, hemp wasted, tight sleep and etc. People come to gigs just to mosh. That is Bombay. Not that the capital was much cooler but then again, at least it was.

Brilliant stoner game. Once at a level, start. It just invents on its own as you discover new forms of laughter. Name a band and a song by them and the next person takes one word out of the whole "band - song" deal and names a new "band - song" with the same. e.g. - X says "Chemical Brothers - We Are The Night" and Y says "Pearl Jam - Who You Are" and thus forth. It just becomes. Nobody can feel left out and that is the primary motive.

Now, a week to go and then a two week count till I can afford a smile to say the least. She does not talk to me anymore. We don't communicate anymore. What is etched cannot be erased.

This could have been better.