Pin Drop Silence

I had this teacher in my previous school who was probably the nicest teacher in the world. She used to make learning fun y'know. Very few teachers can actually do that.

She was quite tall, at least 5'7", she loved teaching and loved kids even more! She  had a slightly small voice, and found t rather hard to teach when all of us were making noise. She used to carry a hair pin to class and when she need us to quiten down, she'd pick the pen of her desk, mentally count to ten, and drop the pin. We'd all listen really close, and if we were quiet enough, we'd be able to hear the pin fall. The sound was quite amazing. It's stuck in my head, just like so mant others.

I still remember this little snippet as my life in the third grade, especially in noisy places.

Of Little Children and Railway Stations

I was on my way back home from school this evening, and if you have travelled by the 'Mumbai Loocall' yet, you'd know that you get these ticket coupons, which a machine validates, so you skip the queue.

I saw this kid who looked rather distraught and a little frightened. He looked eight years old, stood abut four and a half feet tall, wearing what looked like a government school uniform and had a slightly pointed but very... umm... cute? no probably innocuous face. So I asked him what was wrong and he told me that he had forgotten his pass somewhere. I asked him where he wanted to go, and he said he needed to go to his home in Andheri. I punched in a four rupee coupon, handed it to him and said, "Here, take this and go home."

He took it, gave me a grin from ear to ear, said thank you, and walked down the platform. I saw him get on and that was it. I didn't see him anymore. I still remember the smile he gave me. It really looked like :D. I'm happy now, for some weird reason. I think making other people happy is the nicest thing you can do to yourself.

This.Is.Shenanigans

Things get unnecessarily confusing more often than you think. Especially when you're in school. I hate going to school :(

Everything about school is pretty darned awesome, except for the students, which kinda is the entire school no? Aside, let me tell you why. I was at school, in literature class, when I thought something was really ironic, and made me laugh. When I said it, only my teacher laughed. I just thought " EVERYONE ELSE! Y U NO FIND FUNNY?"

Turns out, no one is school cares a bit about anything thats intelligent, or interesting. Everything is 'By Hearted', and nothing else really counts. Nobody really cares about moving beyond the obvious, and learning about the mysteries of the world. I just feel really sad when nobody cares.

Sometimes I wish I was back in my old school, back with the people whom I talk to on a regular basis, and back to a space I know appreciates.... Being a little beyond. 

DIS NOT FAE!

Memory

The last post I wrote was somewhat impulsive. I was thinking about someone, and decided to post some lyrics from a song called 'On Every Street', by the 'Dire Straits'. I just thought the person I was thinking about might, somehow intuitively know,  that I'm talking to them. There's so many people who come and go, for a variety of reasons. Choices, thoughts, words, expression. There's more to that list. I'd just say you should really value the people you have, because once they are gone, you miss them really bad.

I moved schools, five years ago, and in the process, lost more than a uniform. I lost a part of me.

Most days, I regret the decision. I wish I could go back. To what I had. To what I lost.

I'm going to leave you with a line from 'Stereo Hearts' by 'Gym Class Heroes'.

"Appreciate every mixtape your friends make,
You never know they come and go like they are on the interstate"

On Every Street

There's gotta be a record of you some place 
You gotta be on somebody's books 
The lowdown - a picture of your face 
Your injured looks 
The sacred and profane 
The pleasure and the pain 
Somewhere your fingerprints remain concrete 
And it's your face I'm looking for on every street 


A three-chord symphony crashes into space 
The moon is hanging upside down 
I don't know why it is I'm still on the case 
It's a ravenous town 
And you still refuse to be traced 
Seems to me such a waste 
And every victory has a taste that's bittersweet 
And it's your face I'm looking for on every street

At Peace

I've been talking to the person in me. The other guy. We all have one. That unbelievably perfect, profound... That somebody who we aren't, but we are at the same time.

We've come to terms about certain things. He wont invade my head, and make me feel like a Schizophrenic, and I will always consult that part of my head when I'm willing to take the risk. It's like the System from the Batman Comics. When it takes over it makes you do some pretty crazy things.

I'm happy I wrote the last post, even if it cost me all my readers. I think it's essential you know who's writing what you read, so you don't go equally mad, or misunderstand something.

Sometimes I feel like a combination of the Joker from Batman, and the Sandman from Spiderman. A half-psychotic reluctant villain. I... Understand the feeling weather I like or dislike it, and I am willing to accept as part of being me.

Weather or not you read this blog, I will continue to write. It's become more of a ritual for me. I use this blog as a way of letting go, and coming to terms with myself.  

May The Force Be With You.

What If I Told You...

I think I've become a paranoid schizophrenic. I'm afraid of thinking... Sometimes the things or thoughts that form in my head scare me. I know for a fact, that even thinking a thought can change a person, and also that persons thought processes. I'm scared of thinking thanks to this.

I was really mad at my sister at home one day. Like ultrasuperuberMAD (trying hard not to add an expletive there). I was just looking around the room, and I identified ten objects that I can easily use to... Incapacitate her. I just thought whoa! What the fuck is happening to my brain all of a sudden!

I don't play these kinds of games, watch violent movies, or anything! My head just... Created it for me.
I'm scared.

I don't want to talk to anyone anymore.

I want to slide contently into senility, with the security of isolation.

Can you help me?

Problematic Conversation

I talk. A lot. Like you didn't know...

The problem really is, I don't know how to talk to people anymore. I feel like saying lots and talking to people and telling them they DON'T have an ugly nose and all... But... I think I've either really shy, or I don't want to overextend a relationship that just came to be. After a long time of being under cryostatis. 

I wish life would be just a tad easier. I wish you could say what you wanted, and people would understand it exactly the easy you wanted them to. Well I guess that's the fun of it. Life that is. Hard as hell to get what you want across, in the right manner and comprehension. 

I don't know if I can say this

I don't know if I should,

Whatever you say about 

You and your face,

You look really good!

God?

Yes I'm alive. No I didn't post for a very long time. Yes I'm really sorry.
I wanted to share a conversation I had with a friend of mine.

Me: Dude, do you believe in God?
Friend: Yeah
Me: So can I ask you a few questions?
Friend: Bash on regardless! (PG Wodehouse buff) 
Me: Can God do anything?
Friend: Yeah.
Me: Can he make anything?
Friend: Definitely.
Me: So can he make a rock?
Friend: Yes.
Me: Can he make a really big rock?
Friend: Obviously.
Me: Can he make a rock larger than he can carry?

I think you got the point. He started laughing after I'd asked the last question. People I tell you. This is called using logic like a badass!

Mosaics

I went to a place for lunch today. It was called Candies. It was really beautiful, with a whole lot of interesting mosaics. I took some pictures of them, and I'd like to share them with you. There were 28 mosaics and pictures in all, but I took pictures of only five of them. (Maybe I'm trying to tell you more about me. Hint hint!)

The Speed of Sound

Why? Questions that I need an answer for, I never seem to get. I'm sitting here on my dining table with my iPad at 11:30 at night and I'm sort of wondering what I'm doing here. In the broader scheme of things. What makes me want to blog at this time of the night? Everyone else at home is asleep. Do I want to talk to you? Do I want to say something? Is it a subconscious desire of mine, that compels me to write about the ethereal? My human sense of curiosity that makes me want to discover what's beyond? Could it be the Coldplay in my ears? The very music that drives my being? A tear rolls down my cheek. I ponder upon its existence. Why am I crying? It is not because I'm sad. I'm just wondering about everything. I begin to understand. I see the larger picture. My emotions roll over each other, creating a jumbled mess of mind, body and soul. All sense of meaning eludes me. I start to see pictures of people and places. I begin to hear sound. Laughter, happiness, a strange beat that seems to originate from within my chest. I begin to wonder about my existence. I wonder about that beat from my chest. Is it really there? Or is ir a figment of my imagination that wants me to believe I am alive. Is it maybe driven by the hope that someone, somewhere wants me to exist. It is pitch black. The only light is the glare from my screen. I feel a warm embrace, but there is not a soul around me. Maybe it is the wind. A warm shiver runs through my body. It reassures me of my existence. I am alive.

Writing Pictures

Before you get mad and me and tell me "you can write a picture dummy", I plan to do so right now. I'm no good at doing this, but I'm like ok lets try, and probably fail at this big time. Black. Pitch black. Suddenly out of the corners fothe eye you see tiny white dots emerging, but when you try to focus on them, the just vanish. Streaks of deep purple emerge, with a strange iridescence, almost neon, but not as loud. A shower of red light in what seems to be a random assortment of shades. Yellows, oranges, a hint of saffron, and an assortment of blues emerge. There is still a dark centre to it all. Something that vaguely resembles a horse's head. The azure surrounds it. Giving it a defined shape and structure. It forms a mane of deep purple, with an aura of gold, red and saffron around it. The creature emerges from the canvas, and to life. Standing eight feet tall, muscular, powerful. You can feel its aura enveloping you, leaving you awe struck. You wonder what's more to this mystical being. Then the wings burst out of its sides. One pure white, radiant, luminous, beautiful. It reminds you of all you happy memories. That's when you a distracted for a moment. You see the other wing. This one is the skeleton of a pterodactyl's wing. A single lone arc of bone, with another bone, this one vertical, protruding every ten inches. They grow smaller as they reach the end of the arc. Thats the skeleton of the other wing, you think. Awed as you are, this wing scares you. It is a reminder of your mortality. That unavoidable truth that some day, you will die. You will cease to exist. The creature stands tall and magnificent, it's eight long legs tense, and it shoots off into the night sky. You stand there watching it vanish. You wonder what you have created. You realise the beast tithe product of your emotion. You sadness, contempt, anger, greed, happiness, regret, and your love.

Now I'm Really Living

I unfortunately haven't lived a life as eventfull and interesting as some of you have. *Insert Big Sad Face* So whenever something happens, I write abou it. Sadly that don't happen every day. Therefore  there is one helluva time between between posts.
So what I'm going to do with this post is, write about a song.

 It's called 'Hey Man! (Now You're Really Living), by Eels. It's about someone surfacing from the dark waters of depression and sadness. I can sort of relate to it. 

The first verse says:
 Do you know what it's like to fall on the floor
And cry your guts out till you got no more
Hey man now you're really living

 I've done that myself, and you get a sort of chronic indigestion after that. I.Kid.You.Not. It's really hard to deal with when everything goes really wrong. It sort of makes you mad about everything, and mad at everyone. It's not fun. That much is for sure.
The second verse says:
Have you ever made love to a beautiful girl
Made you feel like it's not such a bad world
Hey man now you're really living

 I haven't made love to anyone, but I have definitely met someone who has been stuck with me the whole time. It feels really good to know that someone cares, and you can depend on that someone for a lot of emotional support.

 The third verse:
Now you're really giving everything
And you're really getting all you gave
Now you're really living what
This life is all about

That what it's all about. It's how the world demonstrates full circles. You get what you give. It may not be right now, but over time, everything sorts itself out. That's what really matters. (:

 Now I'm feeling really emotional. I'm going to start crying if I write any more of this. I'm at a public space, so I don't really thing that's a great idea.

Women Writers

I follow two blogs, one is called 'Riding a Whale' and the author has named herself 'Rubber Duck'. She writes one of the best blogs I have read, full of life and emotion. I don't even know her, but she tells a story really well, and it all becomes very personal. It's like you are actually standing there, and witnessing what is happening. It's beautiful. (: . The other blog I real is called 'Spanish Rage', and the author has named herself 'TeeHee', which I think is brilliant. Her blog is probably the best I've read so far. The way she writes is... Well I'm falling short of words to describe writing (weird eh?). It seems to make me connect with the author, even though I haven't met her for a very long time. She is the sort of person who would tell you something, without actually saying what she really means. Subtle brilliance. Is more than just telling a story. It's giving you an insight on something philosophical without meaning to. Reading between the lines. These two writers have helped me see the world in a whole new way and I am heavily indebted to them. I think that in the grander scheme of things, women have made me a better person. Better than who I was before I met them.

Voices

Every person I know has a voice of his/her own. Beautifully different from each other, yet somehow similar. Those voices embody their writing as well. Harry Potter always sounds like Daniel Radcliffe. Katniss Everdeen sounds like Jeniffer Lawrence. You get the point.

Strangely, sometimes when I haven't met someone for a long time, that someones voice is created to suit who I remember them to be. I've been reading someones writing a lot lately. I only remember how she used to laugh (: . The voice I hear when I read her writing is sort of rendered using the laugh. Her voice  is cheerful, happy, and calm. It fills every nook and cranny of my empty head with a wonderful warm felling. I enjoy listening to it. I guess you can call me a hopeless romantic of sound, but hey, thats kind of who I am. A guy who is hopelessly in love with sounds. Especially voices.

To become the dew that quenches the land

To spare the sand, the seas, the sky

I offer thee this silent sacrifice