What women say and what they actually mean.
“I don’t know…”
No.
“I think…”
No.
“… No”
No.
“Not really.”
No.
“I have never thought about you in that way”
Buzz off.
“It’s great.”
You can do better than that. Actually… much better than that.
“He’s cute.”
Not good looking.
“I have a headache.”
She has a headache.
“Coffee? … Will call you… for sure.”
I have a life.
“Do I look fat in this?” (With a smile)
You are dead both ways.
“Do I look fat in this?” (Seriously)
Come on… you can say yes and pay for my gym.
“I love you”
I love you.
“I love SRK”
Live with this one.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007
I am thankful to blinking
I am thankful to blinking.
It really blocks out a lot of misery.
We are so caught up with our self… our family… our world.
Everyone around you keeps judging you… on the basis of what you do… what you don’t… whom you love, whom you don’t…
Are we judging our self?
Do we love unconditionally?
Do we live up to our expectations?
Its simple I guess. Just do the right thing. It’s always right.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Practical memory
Today, the hair lying on the left side of the toilet seat had moved a centimeter towards right. It stayed there. It survived the massive flow of water throughout the day. He thought it was happy.
He was sleepy; his eyes were still a bloodshot red. He knew he was awake.
Because, he knew that the little brown piece of dirt still lay where it had lain 2 days ago. Because he knew that the hand wash gel had gone down by 47mm (approx). His mind was working. He knew he was awake.
The flush tank was getting refilled, the running water from the washbasin tap made the naphthalene ball lying in it; oscillate in a similar, oft-repeated fashion. His eyes captured every moment of the movement. The atmosphere sounds also managed to escape from the windowpanes.
He came out of the toilet, wiping his face with a towel and reached for his mobile phone. He knew he had a text message. He had heard the soft beep of the mobile phone when he was in the toilet.
He read the text. It was a forward from someone who was trying to find humor in nothing.
He wanted to erase all the recordings from his brain. Instead, the new ones kept occupying his mind. Every time he went to a different room, his brain automatically started associating it with the silly details that it had already recorded.
The shape of the cobweb in the left corner of the wall in the hall, the change in the position of the furniture, the way the charger wire was folded at a particular place, the shadows, the way the newspapers were folded… everything. It all recorded in his virtual memory. No reason why.
He had never thought these silly things could bother him, ever. Till one-day, his brain required an external hard disk, to store the practical memory.
He knew practical memory was practically impossible to live with.
Well then that’s him. The man with practical memory. Keep reading.
Mistakes make me
It’s always easy to find faults. When you are trying to find faults, in a way, you are being selfish. If that’s a strong word then lets me say self-centered.
We always judge people by the mistakes they make. In a way it’s not wrong to say that mistakes make a person. Meaning, a person makes mistakes, those eventually make him. Are we contrived?
I have lost faith in my words. I don’t trust them anymore. I think my thoughts, my words; my sentences are all contrived, forced… artificial. Seems like someone else is making them happen to me.
I thought I had conquered ‘expectation’. But now, I am questioning my faith and belief in myself.
See… I can’t write. It was all an illusion. A myth. Make-believe. I think I am cheating. On myself.
I think I am full of myself. Full of me. But who isn’t? Oh… justification! What am I trying to justify? To whom? To myself?
I know I have made mistakes and hung on to them. Today… they make me.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Have you tried marriage?
If not then you must. Well it’s obvious that you must have heard so many stories about the grand ceremony, either from your friends or the other victims.
The reason for mentioning the oft repeated topic is also very oft repeated. How does it change you, needless to mention that I am sick and tired of answering this particular question.
There is no much change except for one.
People around you give you a feeling that you are mature and responsible, all of a sudden.
They make you feel mature by doing measly things like this. They understand that you understand everything, suddenly. It’s okay if there is lingerie lying in the room, even if it’s lying, without any reason, at some place where it was not supposed to be. Then they apply the same level of understanding when they suddenly find out some sanitary napkins in some compromising positions and locations.
Even if there is just about a day’s difference between the bachelorhood and marriagehood, these accidents happen. Oh marriagehood is not a word? Well make it then!
To know more about the latest marriagehood trends, keep reading!
The reason for mentioning the oft repeated topic is also very oft repeated. How does it change you, needless to mention that I am sick and tired of answering this particular question.
There is no much change except for one.
People around you give you a feeling that you are mature and responsible, all of a sudden.
They make you feel mature by doing measly things like this. They understand that you understand everything, suddenly. It’s okay if there is lingerie lying in the room, even if it’s lying, without any reason, at some place where it was not supposed to be. Then they apply the same level of understanding when they suddenly find out some sanitary napkins in some compromising positions and locations.
Even if there is just about a day’s difference between the bachelorhood and marriagehood, these accidents happen. Oh marriagehood is not a word? Well make it then!
To know more about the latest marriagehood trends, keep reading!
Sunday, July 29, 2007
L.O.U.E
What am I made up of?
Some atoms, molecules, nuclei… ??? What?
If, as a human being, I am just a balanced chemical combination of these chemical elements then why am I different from any other similar human being?
Why doesn’t everyone think like me? Why can’t I be simple… or complex? Why can’t I understand everybody? Why can’t everyone understand me?
The doctors/scientists seem to have reasoned everything… every emotion, every feeling… every molecule. Then why does the same molecule react differently in everyone? Why do different people feel differently?
There should be a law of universal emotion. The law of universal emotion should define, justify and apply to every living being. LOUE.
In case you thought that I am going to state that law, right away in this new paragraph, then sadly you are wrong.
In case you are still interested… KEEP WAITING. The LOUE shall soon arrive.
Some atoms, molecules, nuclei… ??? What?
If, as a human being, I am just a balanced chemical combination of these chemical elements then why am I different from any other similar human being?
Why doesn’t everyone think like me? Why can’t I be simple… or complex? Why can’t I understand everybody? Why can’t everyone understand me?
The doctors/scientists seem to have reasoned everything… every emotion, every feeling… every molecule. Then why does the same molecule react differently in everyone? Why do different people feel differently?
There should be a law of universal emotion. The law of universal emotion should define, justify and apply to every living being. LOUE.
In case you thought that I am going to state that law, right away in this new paragraph, then sadly you are wrong.
In case you are still interested… KEEP WAITING. The LOUE shall soon arrive.
Sunday, July 8, 2007
A simple life
Last night’s hangover ran faster than the blood in her veins.
The dizziness made her think clearly… at least as of now. She remembered each and every thing that happened. She knew the clarity in her thought was directly proportional to the disparity she felt. She could see herself smiling.
With more than half a dozen books left midway, countless emotions wasted down the drain, some powerless strings attached to a couple of ‘no strings attached’ relationships, innumerable expressions waiting to be expressed, millions of feelings waiting to be felt and a relationship yet to be named, she had lived. She had lived life like no one else.
The sunlight began to feel her body up. Starting lazily with her toes, moving seductively towards the back of her knee, it decided to settle down and take some well deserved rest on her smooth back. The warmth was slowly seeping in, relaxing the pace at which the hangover moved.
When her mind drifted from the sunlight, she realized she was still smiling. So many men in her life had made her feel special. But last night was something else. It was a momentary feeling that would stay with her for a lifetime.
She wanted to wake up next to him…feeling his fingers carelessly sleeping on her naked body… his eyes, closed, but close to hers. She wanted to feel the warmth of his body making love to her warmth, his breath seducing hers.
She knew she was alone… on the bed. But, she had a feeling the door would soon open and he would walk in, smiling and blushing like a teenager. She knew he would stay… all her life… for a lifetime.
She had a simple life.
Cribbed for a better doll as a kid, smiled at the chocolate offers… cried for her father’s attention, craved for her first boyfriend’s jealousy…. Complained about the lack of time and money to her fiancé, cared about his perennially wet clothes in the rains… bothered about her bothered maid, loathed the excellent makeover of a colleague… fought for the relationship and then the marriage etc…
The routine was very normal too. Self-made bed tea followed by self-made breakfast. She always wanted a normal life, with no hassles and challenges. She had it now.
A series of incomplete relationships lined with complete emotions, formed the main gist of her life. But, she had lived.
She heard footsteps. She waited for them to become louder and closer… then waited for the door knob to turn and the door to open. She knew, the door would open and he will come towards her. She knew she would be swept away by his smile. She knew that even his thought made her blush.
Slowly, the expectation changed into curiosity. Slowly, she opened her eyes and stared at the door knob. The moment lasted an eternity. But the wait, lasted even longer.
The door knob did not move. But, she had lived.
A simple life.
The dizziness made her think clearly… at least as of now. She remembered each and every thing that happened. She knew the clarity in her thought was directly proportional to the disparity she felt. She could see herself smiling.
With more than half a dozen books left midway, countless emotions wasted down the drain, some powerless strings attached to a couple of ‘no strings attached’ relationships, innumerable expressions waiting to be expressed, millions of feelings waiting to be felt and a relationship yet to be named, she had lived. She had lived life like no one else.
The sunlight began to feel her body up. Starting lazily with her toes, moving seductively towards the back of her knee, it decided to settle down and take some well deserved rest on her smooth back. The warmth was slowly seeping in, relaxing the pace at which the hangover moved.
When her mind drifted from the sunlight, she realized she was still smiling. So many men in her life had made her feel special. But last night was something else. It was a momentary feeling that would stay with her for a lifetime.
She wanted to wake up next to him…feeling his fingers carelessly sleeping on her naked body… his eyes, closed, but close to hers. She wanted to feel the warmth of his body making love to her warmth, his breath seducing hers.
She knew she was alone… on the bed. But, she had a feeling the door would soon open and he would walk in, smiling and blushing like a teenager. She knew he would stay… all her life… for a lifetime.
She had a simple life.
Cribbed for a better doll as a kid, smiled at the chocolate offers… cried for her father’s attention, craved for her first boyfriend’s jealousy…. Complained about the lack of time and money to her fiancé, cared about his perennially wet clothes in the rains… bothered about her bothered maid, loathed the excellent makeover of a colleague… fought for the relationship and then the marriage etc…
The routine was very normal too. Self-made bed tea followed by self-made breakfast. She always wanted a normal life, with no hassles and challenges. She had it now.
A series of incomplete relationships lined with complete emotions, formed the main gist of her life. But, she had lived.
She heard footsteps. She waited for them to become louder and closer… then waited for the door knob to turn and the door to open. She knew, the door would open and he will come towards her. She knew she would be swept away by his smile. She knew that even his thought made her blush.
Slowly, the expectation changed into curiosity. Slowly, she opened her eyes and stared at the door knob. The moment lasted an eternity. But the wait, lasted even longer.
The door knob did not move. But, she had lived.
A simple life.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Wrong
She knew what she was doing. Enslaving time. Enslaving emotions.
She knew it was wrong… but for a change that gave her the strength.
For ages we have been told not to do the wrong thing. But one day, suddenly, when you have to pick and choose between right and wrong, you pick wrong. Why? Because, you want to see what’s wrong with the ‘wrong’… because, you are tired of doing the ‘right’… because, you want to be wrong.
When you confess that you did the wrong thing, your acceptance is reciprocated with sympathy first, anger and destruction threats later. In relationships people do things which, according to the ethics of the world, are wrong. The wrongness of the thing gives them the strength to do it.
The moment she saw him, her eyes filled with tears. She didn’t want to explain anything to him, she didn’t want accept anything, she didn’t want to accept her fault. They had been together for over 3 years. She wanted to go. She was being consumed with guilt. She didn’t want to face that either.
She knew what she was doing was wrong. He shouted, cried, pleaded, threatened, cribbed, lied… slowly the realization dawned on him.
He let her go. Simply. Mildly. He knew it was wrong. She knew it was wrong. She knew she wanted to go. He knew, she won’t.
Because, he knew, it was wrong for her to let go of him. He knew she wanted to do the wrong thing. Because, she wanted to see what’s wrong with the ‘wrong’… because, she was tired of doing the ‘right’… because, she wanted to be wrong.
This time wrong was right.
She knew it was wrong… but for a change that gave her the strength.
For ages we have been told not to do the wrong thing. But one day, suddenly, when you have to pick and choose between right and wrong, you pick wrong. Why? Because, you want to see what’s wrong with the ‘wrong’… because, you are tired of doing the ‘right’… because, you want to be wrong.
When you confess that you did the wrong thing, your acceptance is reciprocated with sympathy first, anger and destruction threats later. In relationships people do things which, according to the ethics of the world, are wrong. The wrongness of the thing gives them the strength to do it.
The moment she saw him, her eyes filled with tears. She didn’t want to explain anything to him, she didn’t want accept anything, she didn’t want to accept her fault. They had been together for over 3 years. She wanted to go. She was being consumed with guilt. She didn’t want to face that either.
She knew what she was doing was wrong. He shouted, cried, pleaded, threatened, cribbed, lied… slowly the realization dawned on him.
He let her go. Simply. Mildly. He knew it was wrong. She knew it was wrong. She knew she wanted to go. He knew, she won’t.
Because, he knew, it was wrong for her to let go of him. He knew she wanted to do the wrong thing. Because, she wanted to see what’s wrong with the ‘wrong’… because, she was tired of doing the ‘right’… because, she wanted to be wrong.
This time wrong was right.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
The station mall
As the rains flood Mumbai, the local train stations are flooded with something else altogether.
They are flooded with whatever you want. In monsoon, it turns into a supermall, loaded with everything you need to be safe during the rains. From raincoats to waterproof caps and from waterproof mobile phone covers to colorful umbrellas… everything.
The advantages:
Point of sale: The place is bang on. For all the colorful umbrellas, the water-proof caps, the flashy raincoats, the floaters etc. the station is bang on. The vendors get the right attention from its target group.
Bargain: If it rains. The prices are fixed as the buy then would be need-driven.
Choice: Very wide
Quality: It’s worth the money.
Location: The location is very prime and very footfall friendly.
24/7: Well almost.
In the fast paced life of mumbai, the local train stations have managed to keep the mall culture alive.
I think everyone planning to enter into the ‘mall business’ should take a lesson or two from the local train stations.
They are flooded with whatever you want. In monsoon, it turns into a supermall, loaded with everything you need to be safe during the rains. From raincoats to waterproof caps and from waterproof mobile phone covers to colorful umbrellas… everything.
The advantages:
Point of sale: The place is bang on. For all the colorful umbrellas, the water-proof caps, the flashy raincoats, the floaters etc. the station is bang on. The vendors get the right attention from its target group.
Bargain: If it rains. The prices are fixed as the buy then would be need-driven.
Choice: Very wide
Quality: It’s worth the money.
Location: The location is very prime and very footfall friendly.
24/7: Well almost.
In the fast paced life of mumbai, the local train stations have managed to keep the mall culture alive.
I think everyone planning to enter into the ‘mall business’ should take a lesson or two from the local train stations.
Sleep-awake
For the past 20 days I have been ‘sleep-awake’.
I am sleeping but I am not asleep. It doesn’t make sense but it’s true. I can see things that happened to me, things that never happened to me, things that don’t bother me, happening right in front of me, when I am ‘asleep’.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know if it’s wrong. All I know is that it is happening to me. For the past 20-25 nights I haven’t slept for more than 3 hours each night. During the day also I don’t feel drowsy or lazy. It feels as if I am on adrenalin. But why?
I don’t know. Things keep coming to my mind. All the wrong things I did for the right people. All the right things I did for the wrong people. I don’t think about my past. I never see things from my past when I am ‘sleep-awake’.
Why do I feel like this? Why am I ‘sleep-awake’?
I want to sleep. Like a baby.
I am sleeping but I am not asleep. It doesn’t make sense but it’s true. I can see things that happened to me, things that never happened to me, things that don’t bother me, happening right in front of me, when I am ‘asleep’.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know if it’s wrong. All I know is that it is happening to me. For the past 20-25 nights I haven’t slept for more than 3 hours each night. During the day also I don’t feel drowsy or lazy. It feels as if I am on adrenalin. But why?
I don’t know. Things keep coming to my mind. All the wrong things I did for the right people. All the right things I did for the wrong people. I don’t think about my past. I never see things from my past when I am ‘sleep-awake’.
Why do I feel like this? Why am I ‘sleep-awake’?
I want to sleep. Like a baby.
I am done
I think I am done.
I don’t have to prove anyone wrong anymore. I think I have lived. I am content. I am happy.
I don’t expect. Anything. I have felt pain, I have felt happiness and I have seen circumstances which result in them. I have felt loved. I have felt hated.
I have done something that I couldn’t do.
My English grammar is all over the place. The words don’t make sense, grammatically. The sentences are meaningless. Initially I was very conscious about my writing. Now, I am content with it (if not happy). It was a challenge.
I don’t think or believe that no one can write like me. But I am happy that I can write like myself.
I don’t make sense to myself. I just feel like running away from myself. I want to rediscover myself. I want to reinvent myself. I want to rebuild my beliefs, my faiths… my life. I want to rebuild myself.
I don’t have to prove anyone wrong anymore. I think I have lived. I am content. I am happy.
I don’t expect. Anything. I have felt pain, I have felt happiness and I have seen circumstances which result in them. I have felt loved. I have felt hated.
I have done something that I couldn’t do.
My English grammar is all over the place. The words don’t make sense, grammatically. The sentences are meaningless. Initially I was very conscious about my writing. Now, I am content with it (if not happy). It was a challenge.
I don’t think or believe that no one can write like me. But I am happy that I can write like myself.
I don’t make sense to myself. I just feel like running away from myself. I want to rediscover myself. I want to reinvent myself. I want to rebuild my beliefs, my faiths… my life. I want to rebuild myself.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
What women want
Studies. Surveys. Reports.
For centuries now, this has been the most intriguing matter for the mankind. What women mean when they say this or that.
Movies made, songs written, surveys done and what not.
I decided to write on the most intriguing and the most controversial subject because my fiancé thinks I understand women. (Phew!!)
Like they say, Ignorance is bliss. I think all men believe in that. If you continue to be stupid, you become one. And if you are stupid, there are no expectations.
Don’t all men know that diamonds are forever and the best friends women can have? Don’t all men know that shopping can be a stress-buster? Don’t all men know that a ‘yes’ means yes and a ‘no’ means no (I don’t know also means no). Don’t all men know that coffee means ‘coffee’, not sex? And so on.
Men are materialistic. But they expect their women to be sacrificing, emotional and blah blah but materialistic.
Recently, I heard a radio ad which goes…
Man: If she says we need to talk… she means she wants to break up. If she says it’s nobody’s fault… she means it’s all ‘your’ fault.
Then another male voice says, because men don’t know what women want blah blah…
Well I am sure this ad is written by a man. Who claims to know what ‘she’ actually means. So doesn’t he understand women?
I think men like the tagline attached to them which says ‘He is stupid, but sweet’. Because, like I said stupid means no expectations.
Some handy tips for ‘stupid’ men:
Women love surprises, and of course diamonds.
Shopping is a stress-buster.
Yes means yes. No means no.
‘I hate you’ means I love you. (Remember this corollary doesn’t apply everywhere)
You don’t understand means ‘You don’t understand’.
Coffee means coffee. (not sex)
Don’t argue. Don’t offer solutions. Just listen. (Tell me honestly, don’t all men want the same thing when they are feeling low)
She is stronger (emotionally)
She can also be attracted to someone else.
Tears always don’t mean sorrow.
Holding hands is better than a kiss. (Even a hug is better than a kiss)
She is special. (Isn’t she?)
Learn cooking.
Say sorry. Even if it’s not your mistake (Remember ‘male ego’ is more famous than ‘female ego’)
She’s equally or more intelligent.
Say ‘I love you’ more often.
Don’t lie. Especially with ‘I love you’
So many more can be followed. But, what’s the point. Men don’t listen.
Understanding women starts once you stop analyzing them. I don’t think I understand them any better than anyone else. But I have stopped analyzing them. So I would like to think, the process has begun.
Till then I am plain ‘stupid’!
For centuries now, this has been the most intriguing matter for the mankind. What women mean when they say this or that.
Movies made, songs written, surveys done and what not.
I decided to write on the most intriguing and the most controversial subject because my fiancé thinks I understand women. (Phew!!)
Like they say, Ignorance is bliss. I think all men believe in that. If you continue to be stupid, you become one. And if you are stupid, there are no expectations.
Don’t all men know that diamonds are forever and the best friends women can have? Don’t all men know that shopping can be a stress-buster? Don’t all men know that a ‘yes’ means yes and a ‘no’ means no (I don’t know also means no). Don’t all men know that coffee means ‘coffee’, not sex? And so on.
Men are materialistic. But they expect their women to be sacrificing, emotional and blah blah but materialistic.
Recently, I heard a radio ad which goes…
Man: If she says we need to talk… she means she wants to break up. If she says it’s nobody’s fault… she means it’s all ‘your’ fault.
Then another male voice says, because men don’t know what women want blah blah…
Well I am sure this ad is written by a man. Who claims to know what ‘she’ actually means. So doesn’t he understand women?
I think men like the tagline attached to them which says ‘He is stupid, but sweet’. Because, like I said stupid means no expectations.
Some handy tips for ‘stupid’ men:
Women love surprises, and of course diamonds.
Shopping is a stress-buster.
Yes means yes. No means no.
‘I hate you’ means I love you. (Remember this corollary doesn’t apply everywhere)
You don’t understand means ‘You don’t understand’.
Coffee means coffee. (not sex)
Don’t argue. Don’t offer solutions. Just listen. (Tell me honestly, don’t all men want the same thing when they are feeling low)
She is stronger (emotionally)
She can also be attracted to someone else.
Tears always don’t mean sorrow.
Holding hands is better than a kiss. (Even a hug is better than a kiss)
She is special. (Isn’t she?)
Learn cooking.
Say sorry. Even if it’s not your mistake (Remember ‘male ego’ is more famous than ‘female ego’)
She’s equally or more intelligent.
Say ‘I love you’ more often.
Don’t lie. Especially with ‘I love you’
So many more can be followed. But, what’s the point. Men don’t listen.
Understanding women starts once you stop analyzing them. I don’t think I understand them any better than anyone else. But I have stopped analyzing them. So I would like to think, the process has begun.
Till then I am plain ‘stupid’!
Monday, June 18, 2007
ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!!
Fighter????
When you cant move... you become a fighter.
You don't have a choice. Neither did I.
When you cant move... you become a fighter.
You don't have a choice. Neither did I.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
The Past
I was talking to someone about something that happened to me. She said I am ‘filmi’. I thought about it. A couple of people had told me that before. May be I am.
So I thought I would write something on my blog that’s filmi. Like me. About me.
I never felt like writing about something that’s very personal to me. I keep things to myself. Because, I think everyone in this world has problems. No one is interested in someone else’s.
Today, for the first time, I felt like writing that’s personal to me.
In December 1998, when I was in Hyderabad (enjoying my semester end recess from the engineering college), I was supposed to join my college back on the 11th of December.
I was supposed to board the bus on 10th. But, the morning of 10th December changed everything.
I met with an accident, and broke my left leg (below the knee joint) very badly. Maybe because I was too young, I could take the sight of my leg turned completely around, very easily. The car that hit me, took me to the hospital, and I was given first aid immediately.
Well I was operated on the next day. Okay the worst part now! On the 11th, I slipped into a coma (yes a coma), due to a long bone fracture complication (called thrombo-embolism). Well then I was in that comatose for 4 days.
Cut to one year later, the steel rod in my lag had turned into a beautifully bent bow, which had to be taken out and another one put.
Cut to one more year later, my leg had been operated 6 times (each surgery more painful and recovery slower than the last one). It had marks of a total of 65 stitches altogether. Both my thighs were deprived of the top most layer of skin (for plastic surgery), and a small piece of the pelvic bone was also grafted to avoid any shortening disability or a handicap.
All in all, hospitalization of over 2 years and a bed-ridden period of about 2 years, made me a different person altogether.
I used to wallow in self pity. People used to come to see me and show pity and when I used to complain about any pain, my doctor used only one word… Tolerate. I did.
Side-effects:
• Due to the fact that I was bed-ridden for so long, I had bed sores all over my back. (trust me they are far more painful than even a fracture)
• The left foot (the ankle), in spite of a lot of physiotherapy, lost its movement. I can’t say permanently, coz I’m still alive and there’s still hope.
• After those 2 years, I was addicted to sedatives (sleeping pills), for over one year.
• It really affected my engineering
The good part:
• I developed an interest in reading. Couldn’t do much more, lying on the bed.
• I became more patient. Had no choice.
• I always knew parents were selfless and their love, unconditional. In those 2 years, I experienced both the facts.
• Of course the girls. Where? The pretty nurses. From the warm sponge baths to even warmer get well wishes with roses, they did everything to make me feel better. (Some of them were really pretty. They used to come ‘off duty’, decently dressed in jeans and all, with flowers). Won’t tell you any further.
Well there’s so much more filmi stuff that actually happened, like when I was being shifted to another hospital (in a coma), there was no oxygen left in the cylinder etc etc… but I decided to cut that out. So I am really sorry if you don’t get the 70mm experience. 35mm is guaranteed.
The doctor said there will be a permanent handicap and that I will never be able to walk properly, all my life.
Today, I run… to leave my past behind. (ohh is that filmi…??? Will change it wait)
Today I run… to catch the train! (really)
So I thought I would write something on my blog that’s filmi. Like me. About me.
I never felt like writing about something that’s very personal to me. I keep things to myself. Because, I think everyone in this world has problems. No one is interested in someone else’s.
Today, for the first time, I felt like writing that’s personal to me.
In December 1998, when I was in Hyderabad (enjoying my semester end recess from the engineering college), I was supposed to join my college back on the 11th of December.
I was supposed to board the bus on 10th. But, the morning of 10th December changed everything.
I met with an accident, and broke my left leg (below the knee joint) very badly. Maybe because I was too young, I could take the sight of my leg turned completely around, very easily. The car that hit me, took me to the hospital, and I was given first aid immediately.
Well I was operated on the next day. Okay the worst part now! On the 11th, I slipped into a coma (yes a coma), due to a long bone fracture complication (called thrombo-embolism). Well then I was in that comatose for 4 days.
Cut to one year later, the steel rod in my lag had turned into a beautifully bent bow, which had to be taken out and another one put.
Cut to one more year later, my leg had been operated 6 times (each surgery more painful and recovery slower than the last one). It had marks of a total of 65 stitches altogether. Both my thighs were deprived of the top most layer of skin (for plastic surgery), and a small piece of the pelvic bone was also grafted to avoid any shortening disability or a handicap.
All in all, hospitalization of over 2 years and a bed-ridden period of about 2 years, made me a different person altogether.
I used to wallow in self pity. People used to come to see me and show pity and when I used to complain about any pain, my doctor used only one word… Tolerate. I did.
Side-effects:
• Due to the fact that I was bed-ridden for so long, I had bed sores all over my back. (trust me they are far more painful than even a fracture)
• The left foot (the ankle), in spite of a lot of physiotherapy, lost its movement. I can’t say permanently, coz I’m still alive and there’s still hope.
• After those 2 years, I was addicted to sedatives (sleeping pills), for over one year.
• It really affected my engineering
The good part:
• I developed an interest in reading. Couldn’t do much more, lying on the bed.
• I became more patient. Had no choice.
• I always knew parents were selfless and their love, unconditional. In those 2 years, I experienced both the facts.
• Of course the girls. Where? The pretty nurses. From the warm sponge baths to even warmer get well wishes with roses, they did everything to make me feel better. (Some of them were really pretty. They used to come ‘off duty’, decently dressed in jeans and all, with flowers). Won’t tell you any further.
Well there’s so much more filmi stuff that actually happened, like when I was being shifted to another hospital (in a coma), there was no oxygen left in the cylinder etc etc… but I decided to cut that out. So I am really sorry if you don’t get the 70mm experience. 35mm is guaranteed.
The doctor said there will be a permanent handicap and that I will never be able to walk properly, all my life.
Today, I run… to leave my past behind. (ohh is that filmi…??? Will change it wait)
Today I run… to catch the train! (really)
Friday, April 6, 2007
The Final Solution
I have an OCD. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
I bug people to read my blog. Each and every one.
It’s a problem. It’s a disorder.
And problems have to be solved. Disorders need to be sorted out.
Here is the solution. It’s over.
This is my last post. No writing. No disorders.
I bug people to read my blog. Each and every one.
It’s a problem. It’s a disorder.
And problems have to be solved. Disorders need to be sorted out.
Here is the solution. It’s over.
This is my last post. No writing. No disorders.
Silence
Silence. Silence. Silence. Silence. Silence. Silence. Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
His point of view
The marriage was over. It was a beginning.
They stood in the stark naked room, looking at each other, for eternity. Neither of them was crying. She looked at him, with calm, pale eyes. Her mind was at peace. She knew he had sensed it.
He looked at her, eyes questioning her, searching for love, in her eyes. They explored her face, her hands, and her body, for even the faintest of signs, of love, of longing. He knew, she knew, that he had sensed it.
Several minutes passed, neither uttered a word. They didn’t need to.
He wanted to keep looking at her. In her eyes, he wanted to look for his face, in her hands, his name in the fate lines, himself, in her warmth.
He wanted to feel her fingers on his face, tracing his eyelids, his skin, his lips… he wanted to feel her lips, close to his… her warmth against his body, he wanted his fingers to trace her body, her spine… he wanted her to close her eyes with pleasure… he wanted to kiss her.
They were still standing there, looking at each other. Asking for explanations, for answers, for reasons.
No I should not go. Who will take care of you?
This sentence always brought tears to his eyes. This time also. Standing just steps away from her, he cried like a baby, he fell on his knees, which resulted in a another bout of stark pain in his already injured leg, and cried.
She didn’t come to him, to soothe him, to love him, to make him smile, to kiss him. She stood there and a stray tear rolled down her cheek.
He managed to stand, tears in his eyes, he felt lonely. Totally alone. He had to leave her and go. He had taken a decision. He had to stand by it.
She never stopped him from going. She never said a word apart from, ‘Who will take care of you?’
He stood at the door and fought with the desire to turn back and look at her. He heard the silence for a few seconds.
Just when he was closing the door behind him, he heard, almost like a whisper, ‘Don’t go. I love you.’
After 10 years of marriage, it was all over.
The marriage was over. It was a beginning.
They stood in the stark naked room, looking at each other, for eternity. Neither of them was crying. She looked at him, with calm, pale eyes. Her mind was at peace. She knew he had sensed it.
He looked at her, eyes questioning her, searching for love, in her eyes. They explored her face, her hands, and her body, for even the faintest of signs, of love, of longing. He knew, she knew, that he had sensed it.
Several minutes passed, neither uttered a word. They didn’t need to.
He wanted to keep looking at her. In her eyes, he wanted to look for his face, in her hands, his name in the fate lines, himself, in her warmth.
He wanted to feel her fingers on his face, tracing his eyelids, his skin, his lips… he wanted to feel her lips, close to his… her warmth against his body, he wanted his fingers to trace her body, her spine… he wanted her to close her eyes with pleasure… he wanted to kiss her.
They were still standing there, looking at each other. Asking for explanations, for answers, for reasons.
No I should not go. Who will take care of you?
This sentence always brought tears to his eyes. This time also. Standing just steps away from her, he cried like a baby, he fell on his knees, which resulted in a another bout of stark pain in his already injured leg, and cried.
She didn’t come to him, to soothe him, to love him, to make him smile, to kiss him. She stood there and a stray tear rolled down her cheek.
He managed to stand, tears in his eyes, he felt lonely. Totally alone. He had to leave her and go. He had taken a decision. He had to stand by it.
She never stopped him from going. She never said a word apart from, ‘Who will take care of you?’
He stood at the door and fought with the desire to turn back and look at her. He heard the silence for a few seconds.
Just when he was closing the door behind him, he heard, almost like a whisper, ‘Don’t go. I love you.’
After 10 years of marriage, it was all over.
The marriage was over. It was a beginning.
The twin particle
She stood there, words floating around her.
I love you, I care for you, I live for you, I can die for you…
Everything around her was moving at such a fast pace that she could hardly see anything. Everything was so random that it made sense.
The early morning sunlight was falling on his face. He was fast asleep and that made him look at peace. She loved him, the way she had never ever loved a man before.
She could literally see her emotions. Watch her feelings, twisting and turning, taking birth and coming to life, smiling and swirling inside her.
There… she could see the ‘love feeling’. But unlike the ‘free-born love particle’, she could see something strange attached to it. She could easily tell that the other feeling attached to it looked almost like its twin. How can something be attached to ‘the love-feeling particle’? How can it look exactly like it?
That’s when she saw another new ‘feeling particle’ taking birth. She was a genius at recognizing each and every one of them. She knew it was the ‘memory-feeling particle’.
She went into a daze as the ‘memory-feeling particle’ started making its presence felt. She didn’t want to think of the past. She immediately sent a message to her mind. Her mind reacted quickly, and soon she could see the ‘memory-feeling particle’ disappear. Now she could again concentrate on the ‘love-feeling particle’ and the one attached to it that looked like its twin.
She felt weird and defeated.
How come I never noticed the identical twin? She thought.
She was only watching the twin now. They both shared the same body and seemed comfortable with it too. She was surprised how the twin had existed but was never been noticed or felt by her.
The sunlight was bothering him now. She didn’t feel like getting up from the bed, to draw the curtains. But, she had to because he couldn’t. She drew the curtains, and went back to watching and reading the ‘twin particle’.
The sight surprised her. This time the twin was moving ahead. The last time when she was watching it, the love particle was leading the way for its twin. But this time it was the strange twin which led the way. That’s when she understood.
The reality shook her soul. That identical twin was the ‘sympathy particle’. Everything began to fall into place.
That’s why it looked like a twin… That’s why they share the same body… that’s why I care for him so much… that’s why I love him… what???
This time it was not the ‘strange twin’ that bothered her. She felt complete. She felt happy at the thought that the ‘sympathy particle’ was not alone. It shared the same body with the ‘love-feeling particle’. She cared for him. She loved him. That made her happy.
She saw the ‘happy-feeling particle’ germinating and soon grow bigger and bigger. She closed her eyes and smiled.
I love you, I care for you, I live for you, I can die for you…
Everything around her was moving at such a fast pace that she could hardly see anything. Everything was so random that it made sense.
The early morning sunlight was falling on his face. He was fast asleep and that made him look at peace. She loved him, the way she had never ever loved a man before.
She could literally see her emotions. Watch her feelings, twisting and turning, taking birth and coming to life, smiling and swirling inside her.
There… she could see the ‘love feeling’. But unlike the ‘free-born love particle’, she could see something strange attached to it. She could easily tell that the other feeling attached to it looked almost like its twin. How can something be attached to ‘the love-feeling particle’? How can it look exactly like it?
That’s when she saw another new ‘feeling particle’ taking birth. She was a genius at recognizing each and every one of them. She knew it was the ‘memory-feeling particle’.
She went into a daze as the ‘memory-feeling particle’ started making its presence felt. She didn’t want to think of the past. She immediately sent a message to her mind. Her mind reacted quickly, and soon she could see the ‘memory-feeling particle’ disappear. Now she could again concentrate on the ‘love-feeling particle’ and the one attached to it that looked like its twin.
She felt weird and defeated.
How come I never noticed the identical twin? She thought.
She was only watching the twin now. They both shared the same body and seemed comfortable with it too. She was surprised how the twin had existed but was never been noticed or felt by her.
The sunlight was bothering him now. She didn’t feel like getting up from the bed, to draw the curtains. But, she had to because he couldn’t. She drew the curtains, and went back to watching and reading the ‘twin particle’.
The sight surprised her. This time the twin was moving ahead. The last time when she was watching it, the love particle was leading the way for its twin. But this time it was the strange twin which led the way. That’s when she understood.
The reality shook her soul. That identical twin was the ‘sympathy particle’. Everything began to fall into place.
That’s why it looked like a twin… That’s why they share the same body… that’s why I care for him so much… that’s why I love him… what???
This time it was not the ‘strange twin’ that bothered her. She felt complete. She felt happy at the thought that the ‘sympathy particle’ was not alone. It shared the same body with the ‘love-feeling particle’. She cared for him. She loved him. That made her happy.
She saw the ‘happy-feeling particle’ germinating and soon grow bigger and bigger. She closed her eyes and smiled.
Fate lines
For a long time, with a sharp blade in his right hand, Arun wanted to change his fate.
His past was an uninvited guest, in his sleep, every night. He hadn’t slept for the last three nights. His eyes refused to stay closed. They wanted to stare into space, looking for a solution to everything. He could see the shadows of his memories looming over him.
He knew what the solution was. He just had to use the sharp edge of the silvery blade, against the softness of his skin. It was easy, and relief was just centimeters away. Without giving it a second thought, he used the blade mercilessly against his palm.
He didn’t want to die. He knew his destiny was in his hands, so he used the blade to make his palms smooth, free of any ‘fate-lines’. He took the pain as a blessing, because he knew, at the end of suffering, there was relief. He managed to scrape off the upper layer of the hard skin on his palm. With blood, all over, he smiled. He knew he had achieved it. He had changed his fate.
But, as usual, the reality was something else. He was holding the blade I his right hand, and suddenly he remembered that a man’s fate-lines are on his right hand. Without any further repentance, he took the blade in his blood-stained left hand and repeated the same act on his right hand.
Now, he was happy. Now, he knew that everything in his life will happen according to his plans, his hard work and his deeds. He will prove everyone in this world, wrong.
Fate, he muttered to himself. The immediate gesture that came to his mind was – his own hand tracing the forehead. Some people say your fate lies on your forehead, in its wrinkles and in the incomplete lines formed over it, by time.
Arun was not in the mood to take any chances. He immediately took the blade and this time it was his forehead. 10 minutes later, Arun managed to get on his feet and walk. He felt free, unburdened… he knew; now everything was really in his hands. He had managed to control his destiny. His decisions were final.
He felt like God.
His past was an uninvited guest, in his sleep, every night. He hadn’t slept for the last three nights. His eyes refused to stay closed. They wanted to stare into space, looking for a solution to everything. He could see the shadows of his memories looming over him.
He knew what the solution was. He just had to use the sharp edge of the silvery blade, against the softness of his skin. It was easy, and relief was just centimeters away. Without giving it a second thought, he used the blade mercilessly against his palm.
He didn’t want to die. He knew his destiny was in his hands, so he used the blade to make his palms smooth, free of any ‘fate-lines’. He took the pain as a blessing, because he knew, at the end of suffering, there was relief. He managed to scrape off the upper layer of the hard skin on his palm. With blood, all over, he smiled. He knew he had achieved it. He had changed his fate.
But, as usual, the reality was something else. He was holding the blade I his right hand, and suddenly he remembered that a man’s fate-lines are on his right hand. Without any further repentance, he took the blade in his blood-stained left hand and repeated the same act on his right hand.
Now, he was happy. Now, he knew that everything in his life will happen according to his plans, his hard work and his deeds. He will prove everyone in this world, wrong.
Fate, he muttered to himself. The immediate gesture that came to his mind was – his own hand tracing the forehead. Some people say your fate lies on your forehead, in its wrinkles and in the incomplete lines formed over it, by time.
Arun was not in the mood to take any chances. He immediately took the blade and this time it was his forehead. 10 minutes later, Arun managed to get on his feet and walk. He felt free, unburdened… he knew; now everything was really in his hands. He had managed to control his destiny. His decisions were final.
He felt like God.
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