born to be wilde

"Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one’s head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace."

— Oscar Wilde, Delight

still alive...

“Don't know about lofty life-like love, Sam. Once knew and I am grateful it died. Love is not for idealising. If we can't live it, all we can do is just grit the teeth, heave a sigh or shrug and go on. Tough call, but that's life.” So says S, dearest of all my friend(s ??), my brother. Can't help but wish I could feel the same. I do, to some extent at least. Well, at the very least I do see the logic and the rationality, and the deep seated pain (one that has taken hold)- although this last one might very well be a pure imposition of my own psychological predicament- behind what the man must have meant by those brutally honest, painfully selfless, and forgiving words.

But, brother, how do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on? When deep in your heart you begin to understand, that you can't. There are some wounds that time can't heal, some that run too deep, that have taken hold. Time goes on. But it never fully heals. And perhaps I am to blame for that too. Perhaps, in a way, I don't really want it to heal. Why, did you ask? What is to be gained from this eternal lamentation?

I know you are concerned. And it troubles me to see you, another who cares, disturbed because of the turmoil in my mind. There is so much I have lost, brother. The things I gave up, when I was too young to know their worth. And there is so much more that I have ignored, consumed by the guilt of the earlier loss, and pre-occupied with grovelling self-pity and regrets. So busy I had become mourning the first pit I fell into, I forgot to look out for the ones ahead! And now I have strayed into this field, full of pits. And with each passing day I walk deeper inside. While the ones who care, stand helpless and watch my staggering footsteps carry me closer and closer to the edge. I want to cry out for help, reach out for the helping hand to guide me out of these snares of insanity, doubt and fear. But I'm too far in. May be not far enough, yet too far. Going back is not impossible. The beacons of hope are still lit. Every once in a while a voice carries through. Yet following it out of this abyss is so difficult. Giving in is much the easier. Why? Am I so lost? Am I the only one? People have lost before- love, friendship, trust, faith- bigger, stronger and better people. And I know I am not the last. Why then do I find it so difficult? Yes, it is difficult. But there is really no other way, as you, my brother, have pointed out so many times. I will have to take the same way out that brought me in. There is no short cut home. And help will always be there, in the forms of the ones who cared enough to care. Yet, some blackened pride still burns inside. The ego, that wants so desperately to claim that dark throne of blood and tears, reserved by the ancient Greeks for the tragic hero.

Is that it, then? Is it really about my own mistake, about my failure to hold on to what I wanted most? Am I just using the memory of one who is gone to dress up my own incompetence? I loved her. Yes, I did. And she did too. But, why then do I find it so difficult to acknowledge that I don't have to stop loving her, or deny my feelings or memories, to accept that she is gone. And where she is, I can't go.

There wouldn't be any ambivalence, if I could put my right hand over my heart and claim, without blinking, that this is all I want to be, a tragic hero. Lord knows, I can't, and I don't want to. There in lies the concern of the loved ones. And I guess that's what S meant; that we cannot always be torn in two. We have to be one, and whole... for the days to come, for the road yet to be travelled, the things left to be seen, the songs yet to be heard, the laughters yet to be laughed, the tears yet to be tasted... the life I still have to live.


"I have changed
I have changed
Just like you
Just like you

For how long
For how long
Must I wait
I know there's something wrong

Your concrete heart isn't beating
And I've tried to
Make it come alive

No shadows
Just red lights
Now I'm here to rescue you oh

Oh I'm still alive
I'm still alive
But can not apologize, no

Oh I'm still alive
I'm still alive
But can not apologize, no

So silent
No violence
But inside my head
So loud and clear

You're screaming
You're screaming



Covered up with a smile I've learned to fear

Just sunshine
And blue sky
Is this all we get
For living here

Come fire
Come fire
Let it burn and love come racing through

Oh I'm still alive
I'm still alive
But can not apologize, no

Oh I'm still alive
I'm still alive
But can not apologize, no

I've learn to lose
I've learn to win
I've turned my face against the wind

I will move fast
I will move slow
Take me where I have to go

Oh I'm still alive
I'm still alive
But can not apologize, no... "

[ disclaimer: The lyrics of this wonderful song is by Lisa Miskovsky. I am just quoting her because I feel it suits the mood of what I have been trying to get at in the paragraphs above. Only the prose is mine. I HAVE NO CLAIMS, CREATIVE, ARTISTIC, OR OTHERWISE AS FAR AS THE LYRICS OF THE SONG QUOTED AT THE END ARE CONCERNED. If the owner has any copyright infringement issues I will immidiately remove any part(s) or the whole of the song.]

confessions before the Old Monk

"He would fade into something impalpable under her eyes and then in a moment, he would be transfigured. Weakness and timidity and inexperience would fall from him in that magic moment.

...

He closed his eyes, surrendering himself to her, body and mind, conscious of nothing in the world but the dark pressure of her softly parting lips. They pressed upon his brain as upon his lips as though they were the vehicle of vague speech; and between them he felt an unknown and timid pressure, darker than the swoon of sin, softer than sound or odor.
...
I do not fear to be alone or to be spurned for another or to leave whatever I have to leave. And I am not afraid to make a mistake, even a great mistake, a lifelong mistake and perhaps as long as eternity too.
...
Old father, old artificer, stand me now and ever in good stead."
== A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, James Joyce==


Is this why I can’t ever go back to you? I've too many words to tell you how much you meant to me, but they will be just words. It's been so long, and all my actions have only proved the opposite. I will forever be searching for a love to replace the one you placed in me. I was cruel. I admit that. I promised you love, and yet took it away! I had to take away something beautiful because, I was selfish and cared too much about myself.

You Know I Cannot Forget You !!

Cannot Forget Our First Kiss ..
Cannot Forget Your Smile ...
Cannot Forget How You Made Love ..
And Talked About My Eyes ..

You Know I Cannot Forget You !!

Cannot Forget That Night ..
Cannot Forget That Ride With You ..
Cannot Forget That You used to feel jealous
whenever you saw someone Else In My Eyes..


And then... just For A Mistake,
You went Away ..
And Want me To forget you ??

Is This What Happens In Love ..
Are All Those Memories FAKE ??

I can't erase you from my past, ever. I can't delete you from my mind. All I can do is to say goodbye. I can't pretend you were never here, right in this room, where I am sitting right now. Every corner of my room smacks of your aroma, every picture in my old album is reminder of your time with me, every cassette is a witness of how you loved to listen to your favorite tunes, right here in this room, after school. I can't fake like it didn't hurt when you disappeared. I refuse to use a fake old grin, but then again I’ll never win. I can't pretend that I don’t care. I can't pretend that you are near. So I guess I'll just pretend to say goodbye.

You were always there for me
Always... by my side.
I guess I couldn't see
Without you I just can't abide.

Those times I loved the most,
Just talking to you...
who would've known...
now I'm all alone
and all I can do is think of you!

I loved it when you held me;
all safe and warm.
I felt no harm could touch me,
in your loving and protective arms

But then I messed up.
I really don't know why
I broke up...
And now I am sorry... eternally I fear.

Realized your Importance,
After I Lost you.
Understood my Feelings,
When you went Away...
Something I want to Request Today...

All I want, is a second chance.
I understand that's not easy to do...
even if you won't give me a glance,
I want you to know,
I'll always love you...

a look back in novacaine

I have a confession to make. About I how I feel right now, about the last six years. Now, that the novacaine is wearing off. So here I go...

I had a huge crush on this classmate, and I dare say I was not the only one :P ... from the 9th grade onwards.... didn't have the guts to tell her for a long time! But fortunately things worked out and we started going out in our 11th!! Man!those were the craziest, wildest and happiest days of my life...2003-2005... the two final years of school leading up to the ISC! I had a blast: in a phrase, the vacation and celebration that started at the end of the ICSE continued for two whole years, and before we knew we were taking the ISC! Well I did screw up a bit, coming out with a mere 61%... also the relationship not working out.We sort of just fell apart. People talking, pointing fingers, all that gossip, and in between, two kids just out of school... guess I should have had more guts...will I ever know what really went wrong? Keep asking myself that. And everytime, the details just get more confusing. But I don't resent that; the memory hurts, but the pain also reminds me that at one point it was all true, and I had things exactly the way I wanted!(thanx bro) At the moment when things started going downhill, after we left school, friends for thirteen years went separate ways, all promises seemed fake; the world was literally changing, and everything seemed to fall apart! But now looking back, past EFLU, and the Phonology classes, the interview that I screwed up, the second list I was placed in, and trying to look into the not so distant future, into another list, when I shall claim what is rightfuly mine, I hear a voice inside, whisper, "Hell, I did alright". All these years those memories have kept me going; things that worked out, and things that didn't,friends whom I found and the ones I lost... the laughter and the tears... went into making me who(ever) I am today. May be things could have been done better,but looking back now, I don't think I will change those moments at all! I don't regret anything, and that's all that matters!And in any case, I will,at least, have a great great story to tell... or at least to recollect to myself! When I'm done, when the time comes for me to hang the gloves on the wall, the day I say"That's it! I'm done.", the day I retire, at least I won't get bored. I will have all the materials to pen the next great pulp-fiction!! :P

hoooooooooo- haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

p.s. the novacaine's gone, but I guess some of the booze is still left inside... lol!!

a man against the world

A righteous man before me stands
A hero in these filthy lands
Let me ask if you do,
In your heart, see him too?
A brother in arms;
In heart are you?
I was really hoping,
You'll get it too.

of walks

A very close friend of mine talks about a walk he had. Wonderful words, adorned with so much of love and longing, smacking of that sweetest fragrance, nostalgia. I am not much of a walker. But those lines take me back to an august summer night. The night I had that walk. A walk... yeah I had one too... must have been at least half a decade back. The moon was high and the sky was clear, the summer wind was comfortably cool, and the lake was still as the night. I had a walk that night. Sandwiched between the woman I loved and my best friend ( or so I had thought)... one slow, soft, calm, relaxed, unwinding walk, down that path, round the lake. I wonder what could we have been thinking, what must have been going through our minds then? It feels like another lifetime. but then, what else could we have thought, what else could we have wished for, than hope that the night would never end! Looking back now, I know what went wrong. I understand better why things have come to this point. And I am not angry anymore. Because I understand it now; we don't have to judge each other for falling apart... we just have to forgive ourselves for growing up

Of Traps and Tribulations

So I read the R Trap. Nicely done! "More often than not, we are likely to find ourselves in a labyrinth where the factor that proved to be the foundation of one relationship turned out to be the undoing of another." Indeed...how very true. But I can't help thinking that possessiveness, and the urge to deny that you are with , well for lack of a better word,someone "used" is at the bottom of it all. If only we accepted that all yesterdays come from some tomorrow things could be better. What keeps surprising me is for just how large a majority of us, 'faithfulness' is such a hyperbolic and super-inflated concept. And in strange ways too! Every single one seem to have his/her own definition of faithfulness, and moreover a mere disagreement over the definitions is enough to have you tagged as a person both undeserving and incapable of faith, 'the unfaithful'. You can most certainly avoid being tagged but at what cost? How do you prove your faith? Being faithful to one person, at least by this definition of 'faithful', will essentially mean being 'unfaithful' to a large number of others. Being faithful to you present will essentially entail a complete rift from your past, that necessary portion of history which makes you what you are.
"...the months and weeks that have spanned these two years have found me doing a variety of two things, which I have realized, people (especially men) who are out of a relationship do - returning to places which bring back memories, re-reading the couple of emails or text messages left, trying to remember sweet words of yore over a couple of drinks or three and so forth."

Being faithful to one aspect of your life, say your 'relationship', will demand marginalizing all the other aspects of it. For under this strict and uncompromisable definition of 'faith', the object of 'faith' must come second to none and nothing, irrespective of the circumstances. Thus your old friend might have had to witness a parental break-up, but you are not supposed to talk to her, because the object of your 'faith' demands that you contemplate the beauty of the moon, and make plans about children to come in approximately a decades time(if they at all do). You might have a test to take next morning and yet you are supposed to stay up the whole night, or not resent being woken every half an hour, discussing the quintessential features of a successful relationship. All for 'faith'. For if we don't have 'faith', how are we different from the animals, right?

I have walked through darkness and uncertainty, pain and doubts for six long years. And I have never once resented that. Never asked "why me". Every time I came close to something that nearly broke me, and yet didn't, as if to leave me for some sport for next time,I emerged stronger, clearer. Each time it answered some more of the questions that crowded my mind. But in the end, it doesn't even matter. No one gives a damn what you've been through. They only expect you to be strong, to go through it, to use it as a learning experience. And then, once it has been learned, you are supposed to pretend it never happened. When you emerge stronger, you are not supposed to use the strength to pursue anything. Pursuit of Happiness is just some idea of Benjamin Franklin, to make movies about, to weep when you see Will Smith at it, but never to follow. The moment you pursue, you are not being 'faithful'. 'Faithfulness', essentially, is something static, something stagnant. Like the surface of the still lake, you are not supposed to send ripples through it. It's like a big, happy house, you get in and close the door on the world. Lest some of the happiness slips out. You throw out all the old clothes, divide up all the pictures, cut the old people out, sell your muscle car, lock up the old stamp book, and pretend that there never was any 'yesterday'. All for faith. Else you're a 'fallen'.


Angels are bright still
Though the brightest fell
But how do you know,
He lost any of his brightness in falling?

===D.H. Lawrence===