The palm of comfort

Long time no see.

Lot of things happen, mostly we come to acknowledge them and most times we don't.Like a child who gets down from a free ride, shows her drawing to you and you appreciate it, she claps, and you smile, her mother gets down, not acknowledging your presence and then she walks off. You take the ride to your destination. You stare at faces in the train, sadness, anger, a daze. A journey is mere contemplation, a reflection on the thoughts of idiosyncrasies, weird as they are but very individual and itchy. At times, they move you, at times they ennervate. I am here now, I am happy now. The world is moving on.

Things change, people move. And in their hearts they are still the same. You watch a movie, it takes you in on a life's secret. A peepshow, A gossip column for you to later elaborate on, as a review or as a recommendation. An act that is completely natural. You listen to Beethovan and you dream, you move with the rhythm and you beg it to not stop. Just one more time.

Don't you just love to run, run wild, amok? I like to run. It's freedom, when I would run in school I would do it because I wanted to win, I now want to run because it makes me feel better, maybe I want to remember what it was like...

I observed a sparrow, Passer Domesticus, I observed how quaint they are, chirping away, so cute indeed, and I wondered that they would be the most free birds in India today besides the crow. So free. Indians believe crows to be freespirits of those who have left us for the heavens and it is such a beautiful notion that besides the stork and the hawk, a domestic bird lives a free life. Now as more and more concrete buildings come up, the numbers diminish. Maybe the crow will live, for it is well fed by the orthodox society. But the poor lil sparrow will vanish, as she finds that the cities have begun to ignore them. I remember an old poem in Marathi which went, chimni bai chimni bai kuthey jaata ghai ghai?

Hey Sparrow lady , Hey Sparrow lady, where are you off to?

Well, in a few years, that poem will diminish too.

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Children of Heaven

I saw the movie Children of Heaven; here's my review on it:

http://www.mouthshut.com/review/Children_of_Heaven-137321-1.html

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A new leaf!

Agra's Taj Mahal is real and beautiful.
Saw some pics mom got from her trip will be posting one of em here. She had the flash on, even after the one hour training I gave her. hehe, she'll catch on.But I am so glad, her pics look just as beautiful as the Taj. My Mom the real Mumtaz, for in her world, she is really the greatest :)

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When you close your eyes, and listen closely to Dido's voice, it sounds like you are sitting by the shore, and soaking in the songs of the waves. It's like your conscience is singing. It's your inner self.Even if it's not yours. She is surely singing mine. :)

New songs, eh?
It's Hard Sun, by Eddie Vedder, powerful and exotic, and the voice of Vedder has the same power and the passion.Simply fabulous.Makes you weak in the knees, and the intellectual brain takes a rest, or rather gets invigorated at the most creative approach to life. The guitaring is simple strumming and the breeze moves with a force that baffles you, and you simply gape in awe.

My favorite part of the lyrics :

Once I built an ivory tower
so I could worship from above
when I climb down to be set free
she took me in again

Vedder rocks!


Listening to the new album by Collective soul : Afterwords

New vibration and a couple of songs are really beautiful. NV is reminiscent of Heavy, but Heavy rocks forever. But NV is a good feel, its a fresh feel of Heavy and its always great to be hearing collective soul again!

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Advertising is crazy, makes you THINK!

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Salman Rushdie, I know him since 40 pages. He is quite a writer, only because I can picture him talking and jumping from one topic to the other. But I cannot see him. He gets lost in a minute. I have to yet discover him.

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Che Guevera sits on my shoulder, it's a tattoo I got my bag, and now many more will follow. If not motorcycle diaries, then it will be something I yearn for and find. One day, I will have it.The search is definitely on.

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Ok one important news is that Shreeja is finally going to be a part of the Kanoria family. A perfect consummation, to a perfect start.
P.S : Shreejey, Me loves ya very much!

Astalavista!

On the other side of 30

It's been a while I have posted here. What shall I write? Where shall I begin? Past few days, I've had them all to myself. Though dreamily waking up only with spasms of cough that i leap to my feet, and instead of welcoming the beauty of the blue sky, I am unable to smile because of the sadness within. Getting lost, minute by minute. For a while I know where I am. Know what I am doing. Happy with my work. But there is always something missing. Losing my youth? Is it alrite?

But am I learning more about being old. About, sadness. About the loss of youth in my youth. The reflections. Yes, I am learning that. I have seen someone swallow his sadness in coming to terms of old age, someone agree disbelievingly, with tightly shut eyes, that youth does, really does go away, leaving that little finger only for another little finger to grab hold of that one, a child's little finger. Saw men, struggle with existence of some. Curb their enthusiasm because of someone's dictatorship. Listen to someone else's songs as they soothe them, while others wring their hands in agony, and always wondering, and expecting, of a new day to come.Maybe being 30 is about compromises, coming close to one another despite misunderstandings, being young forever in the hearts,but still being the same person. Is it possible? Intrinsically. When you meet them at the right time at the right place. At that right moment, when that beautiful note hits them. They probably know where they are going, carrying that stash, and hungrily grabbing at it,while they sulk in one of their cubicles, wondering about life.

oh here's something i have been wanting to send as my resume! :)

myoclonus within my synapse

Listening now to whimpering and crooning sounds of maroon 5 and james blunt. breaking the clutter with screams and howls..no one can reach the radiohead, no one can fathom the betrayal of pearl jam. no one can understand this, now. the present.Weaving happiness all around you, becoming mystical now, my hand moving at a rhythmical pace, or is it mechanical. online friends, type , smiles..haha...oh cheesy, cheeky, sly...eventually, eventually...a death..creeping death..evil mind...reaching down...to the abyss, where my heart lies...now its cold, so cold, i feel it inside me..the lacerations, bearing fruit, unfathomable spirit, breaks down into a million pieces, gonna get up, wake up to the menace, say no, say no...now you can't do anything about it. drop the gamble, feel me, hear me out.

its out in the open, an earthquake, brings forth your spirit, and you soar, you sacrifice and no one realises, what you've actually given up, a part of me , a part of you. Excuses take form of addiction and well, they become you...walk away, again, don't turn around, statue!

you've turned to stone, told ya not to turn around.

scream, scorned.

no one's listening to the grief within.

breathe. slowly. now, its coming inside.

l...i...f...e....

Ask yourself. Do you really belong. such an effort. is it worth it?

Maybe, we should just say a goodbye, and get over with it, guitar riffs we never unduzzstood. we dont seem to care of the snares or the drums...bio rhythms..uncanny souls, a dip into the sea...to neverland. No more quietness will be heard. No one cares.
Caught up in the web. Struggle has been fruitless..given up. no more now.

Reminiscings

walking in the abyss. a forked path, take the one less travelled. get lost in the abyss. going furthur down. meet hellraisers. send me up. I float, pushed down into the fire. Burn, burn, burn. to ashes. Maxim, the first name on the cross,you see as you enter the graveyard. smell of dried fish. something, dead. something decayed. soul. now equals to ether. the passion reads off the lips of a sufi saint. A passion understood by two souls, not recognised by one as love. A distance of time doesn't separate two souls, indifference does. A feeling, morbid, a feeling distant. A never ending search. A search found by a man in a woman. The most beautiful gift, they both receive in the form of love, friendship and passion.

walking away now, for these thoughts torment me. My years of gravel have cemented these thoughts, and now the soul can do without the physical, the memories are themselves wholesome beings. I have empowered them.

I weep at the thought.

I was reduced to, by the prejudices.

Its hard to keep an open mind, we try. But its hard to keep an open mind.

Amen

Time has passed into oblivion, and upturned that stone, and now the stone has molded, it is now a pebble.

People who are subjected to hurt, n' number of times. Do you think they ever feel the kindness that comes later in their life or do they stop loving god. Or do they take their life as a mere existence and continue to live. Like you. Like me.
Life goes on. But, for whom, for that lifeless soul. And it waits on them, who take their own time to get back to life, and its pleasures.

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A chinese song has its own soft -pop melody, maybe south asians truly know the meaning of love, and are not inflicted by circumstantial lesbianism/gayism. That's how I'd like to term it. The songs, mostly like their love songs seem like they are sung, while walking on water, lucid, smooth and indepth.

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Work being approved is like a blessing, that has the power to raise your confidence from the abyss, to a comforting cushion, where you have time to nurse those wounds, which you received when you took that plunge.


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Advertising world is crazy.

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UP bhaiyas or Uttar hindustanis, oh yeah, 35 lakh in Mumbai city alone.And most of them are those rickshawalas. Well, they'll know one thing for sure, while their first month in bombay; their customers love to have a conversation. Talking about the pathetic state of things in the city, is the best topic, to have them converse in.

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Reading is a good habit. Only when nothing else is interesting.

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Exercise is when you start to sweat, and strolling in the park is not called an exercise!!

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Obituary: Venkatesh Gdwr
You had a lot of love inside you, which you even showed, to your family, and those who came to visit you.

But you taught one important lesson: If you don't save. You die a merciless death.