The final lap

Nobody ever makes it to the final lap. Knowing it all, I still run. Ran into an old friend today. Doing her bachelor’s degree in Visual Communication, she had her course of living. Facebook naturally lets you take a look. And what I saw leaves me awestruck! Instantly, I grew jealous of her. All those things, that she now does, were my passion once. Or may be, they still are. And I had no clue what would actually take me to my destiny, which truly would be mine, and make me happy at the same time. And now when I look at it through these camera lenses, I assume strange dimensions and weird hues to my imaginations.

Its too late for the right move. To the right thing. To the right position. To the right decision. To the person. I dont decide anymore. My decisions have started failing me. Leaving things to their course of happenings. Uneasiness is settling around everywhere. Fear gripping me tighter.

She does This!

The Fear

If there’s one thing that completely occupies me other than a book, it always will be a journey. Travelling around has been something that I always loved. Unknown roads, uncertain destinations. That’d be how I love it. But yeah, considering my limited resources for such an expedition, I tend to be more than happy with a planned itinerary through the ever same roads. Being alone, having time for yourself, talking to oneself. They are the best parts of a travel. The plugged in headset and the book in hand ruin the tranquility a journey offers. But now if you see me travel, I always have either one of them or mostly both of them with me. They spoil the fun. But they are indispensable to me now. Having time, talking to myself. They are all tiring me. I just dont need time alone. I’d have chosen to write. But now, I dont write that liberally. My writing is limited to my stipulated time slots. So I read. I dont sing. And I dont want to talk. So I listen.

Fear is something that never crept into my journeys. I dont know how could it be possible that I’m actually afraid of something relating to travel? Afraid of bus travel? What phobia is that? Whatever that is, that’s what I’m suffering from. My most dreadful six hours were today! The ones that I’d not forget a life time. The darkness rushing into you, the chill running down your spine. Shivering in the cold outside, and fear inside. Crying and consoling yourself. Acting normal to avoid the stares, dying within to shut down everything around you. It was a wreck. A mishap. Never again happening. Never alone. The fear is abysmal. As much as the darkness. The journey is eerie. As much as the memories that gush out.

Talking aloud your fear calms down, is the crap that I always hear. I have no such stupid notions. My fears go with me to the grave. It gave me a good blog post. That’s all the idea behind ‘screaming’ out your fear! So, all those who read. Dont come and advocate me how pointless is my fear and convince me to get rid off it. Thanks. 🙂

The Economy class!

Makes you think of the flight class? Well, its not. The single time travel in an aeroplane leaves me with less or no voice to write about ‘Economy class’ travel! I was kid stupefied by the luxury of the inside of a flight. It gave me no room to think of different ‘classes’ of luxury, back then. May be someday, I might actually write on it though! 😛

For now, its about my “economics” lectures at college. More about the lecturer than the lecture itself! One word. Awesome! That’s what she is. But if you ask the college, no one would agree to me. Or may be some crazy streaks like me would agree! She’s not an excellent teacher. She doesn’t teach you a thing, to be frank. She comes. She talks. Rather advises. And somewhere between all the ramblings, there’d be something you’d like to note down as lecture note to push some actual ‘economics’ into your head! Trust me its damn difficult to distinguish them from her ramblings! Her biggest theory, (actually suggested by some Economist I didnt bother to take notice), is something like this. “If one is better, the other is worse.” The theory as such sounds economically normal, doesn’t it? The abnormality strikes when you listen to her switch topics, like you switch browser tabs. No conversation or lecture is ever completed. She talks about the indiscipline in class. And then she says, how one is worse when the other is better! Still confused as in about what’s actually worse!

The other day, a guy walked in by the end of the hour, planning to attend the next hour. And oh my god! This lady invites him and advises him how important attendance is. Eventually, the guy got attendance for that hour and all the previous absences coz of his ‘illness’! (With other teachers, ten min delay => no attendance until you lick her foot! :P)

She knows a lot of things. About Economics, Accountancy, current affairs, University procedures and a lot more. But she still doesn’t know enough! Who would be surprised in a college that teacher is addressed by name? Lol. She will be. Annoyingly surprised and terribly shocked!

With her mannerisms and looks that resemble my much cherished aunt, she makes me glued to her every word and movement. With awe! Her miserable ‘playboy’ mishap, mutually opposing view points, her eccentric poetic recitals, and the brimming genuinness! I’d call her awesome. Miserably awesome! More as a person, than as a teacher.

The Big Bang!

I thought it was a bomb blast. Even hallucinated limbs flying and blood splashing all over. Thought all my life’s pain and joy ends there. But it wasn’t. Nothing happened. It was just a crackers show for a marriage reception. Crackers? Marriage? Seriously! Well, it should be normal. Except for the extravaganza, what’s wrong in it? The guests were impressed! Oh my fucking god! You call that a marriage reception buffet? It was like you stepped into some food festival! From North to South of India. From panipuri to kappayum ulli chathachathum! People were gobbling up. Disgustingly. So did I. Ate in silence. Self humiliated by the crowd’s gluttony and the splendour of money in every object around me.

The hatred wasn’t instant. It brewed in me, ever since I started looking around and observing these marriage dramas around me. In the first place, I wouldn’t have gone at all except for the pressure from my caretakers now. With my parents, I know what would have I done. A stern ‘no’ and I’m not going for any drama. But today, I had no choice. Posing for a group photo with people you meet for the first time in my life? NO WAY! But what did I do? I went along. Not like me. Never like me. But luckily, the camera didn’t care enough to click! Had I opposed, would it have been bossing them? Or just genuinely my right to voice my choice? I was worried. So I acted as instructed. As expected. The ideal me.

Its ridiculous. I didn’t do it with total unwillingness. Some part of me said its okay to attempt the change. I attempted. That’s it. No more of it. Done with changes. Life is perfect for me the way it is.

Random thought!

Most that I write are random things. Everytime, though, I manage to channelise what I write so that it fits under some category and title. But today, I dont feel like hiding the randomness. Its just too huge to be hidden. I’m in love. With my letters. My words. My phrases. My clichs. My accent. My writing. My language. So with yours. So with theirs. So with everybody else’s. Does that sound vaguely insane? Practically, yeah. Its kinda absurd that someone likes all that they say and read and re-read them . Its like licking your own ****. Lol. Or is it? I dont care however it is. I’m just all in love with what I write. They make me happy. When I read them again and again, they give me a tickle in my stomach. I take pride. 🙂

But now, is pride wrong? Vanity is. But pride isn’t. It makes a person. How can it be wrong then! But what you take pride in, is also important.
Words are precious to me. I’m proud coz I still have words for myself. May be not eloquent. May be not elegant. May be not appropriate. May be not even linguistically correct or socially accepted. May not be worth a read at all! But they are still mine. Having them as mine, and mine forever, with no one to claim over, I’m proud. I take pride in myself. Regain it for me.

Pongalo pongal!

The tamil new year. Pongal was today. Guess new years have a problem with me this year! Lol. Didn’t get a single message or wish from anybody. Why does that feel bad now? I was never that kinda person. In the end, may be I was. Having them always, I could notice their worth only when absent. 🙂

Gifts did find their way to me though, if not wishes. Surprising unexpected gifts. I’m glad. One such gift was an awesome thought that struck me today. A wonderful idea that I thought over for hour and hours today. But to hell with the new year unluck charm on me! I totally have no memory of the thought expect for how awesome it was and how I was craving to put it down here in my blog. Bad bad bad memory!

So where was I? Yeah, the Tamil New Year. Hope it has something good in store for everyone. Should be writing more about Tamil, if not IN Tamil. Its sweet, elegant and majestic. Tamizh vaazhka!

A friend

I dont know to define one. Have many of them though. But now, I wonder how many of them were treated right? Was I good to them? Did I meet their expectations? I know the obvious answers. Friendship is not about treating good or meeting expectations. Blah Blah! I’ve heard them all. But that’s not the point. There’s commitment to people. An unwritten one. And that’s what I’m unsure of. I’m worried if I’m failing that responsibility. That’s the last thing in my mind. I dont want to fail them. Not a single one of them. For they have been so important to me, not even knowing the impact themselves.

I’m not talking about a particular he or she. But if he or she reads this, know this is about you. I’ve been the wise kid. All my life. Always taking the right decision, judging and evaluating, advising and consoling. Have never wanted anybody else to do all those with me. But then. Once in a while. A call. A text. You people dont realise the worth I assume to them. All I have to say is, what you have been to me, nobody else will be. But as life has it, I’ll be there too. I’m learning. To stick to my commitments and responsibilities. I’ve a lot of them. Dont I? 🙂

Just another day!

Just another day. Just another morning. Just another night. Just another feeling. Just another joy. Just another tear. Just another laugh. Just another pass. Just another being. Just another day that I survived. I survived. Just another life. Just another for another?

A morning with you!

So what do you get of the title? That I had a wonderful awesome date with some ‘you’? Or just a pleasant calm day with somebody special? Lol. Its none. Its just a morning with ‘u’. Or simply, mourning! What am I mourning though? I dont know. Do you actually need a reason? Well, I do. I should have reasons. For anything and everything. Coz I’m rational beyond any rationale! Irrational rationalist! Sounds cool? Or weird? Or disgusting? I dont know. But I know how it feels. Just slightly better than crap and that’s it.

Why the heck am I still holding on to something that makes me feel like crap? Coz somebody occasionally compliments me. About how bold I am to have the guts to face things as they are? How reasons and parameters dont frighten me? No way! The compliment doesn’t complement the shit feel. Despite them, my reasons and rational thoughts, by themselves be the reason for my existence. At a moment like this, feeling like the entire world is closing upon me, if I can still write, I owe something to my rational brain.

Nonchalance. No way near solace. But yet, it gives me a feel of triumph. Victory over myself. The feel of having the reins back again in your hands. I’m beginning to savour this moment. Of nonchalance. Of peace. Of solitude.

Got a set of three books last month. Voraciously read and finished the last book today. Its strange. Just so strange that I’m like this. Finding meaning to everything and symbolising everything to something. But trust me this was different. I wasn’t merely symbolising with the book. I could relate. Perfectly. To every single line of it. I thought I’d write a biography before I die. Atleast a personal diary which will be let public after my death. But not anymore. After this book, I just dont have anything more to write. Its all said. Straight and precise.

If there’s one thing you’d like to do for me, please dont read the book. (if at all if you get to know the book title by ANY chance.) Dont ever. But I really want someone to read the author’s note. Or do I? May be not. 🙂