It’s all the game…

Take it too seriously and you will fuck up again and again and again.

This I think is the lesson I learnt today. It doesn’t sum up to something great, however, it makes life simpler for me.
This part here is the fork in the road. It is part where I start a discourse or shut up because the point has been made.

I choose the latter.

I want!

There are those who tell me they seek adventure and there are others who demand peace. I’ve been both these people and neither side feels like a breeze. Just for the record, as of today I seek peace. I think I have understood why we, or at least I keep chasing that elusive something.

We are the TV generation, we, how much ever we hate to admit it, lack imagination. Most of my definition of a good life was based on sitcoms. Sitting in Central Perk, or working in that high paid corporate where I make money that doesn’t ever get taxed, living it large without bothering about rent or maintenance, obviously there would be none of those nasty bills for electricity, phone, broadband and whatever else I need to be fantastic. The food would be ready just as I wake up, or there’s always that restaurant on the way, of course there was none of that trans-fats. So no matter what I did, life would be FANTASTIC!

Life has an odd little habit, she likes to take your delusions and shatter them, hard. So, in time I got that job, yes it paid well, but it didn’t seem enough. There was no after work life, there were no BFFs made in the work place and there was always the matter of bills, responsibilities and taxes. Being upset became the norm. Life isn’t fair I thought, I don’t have what I want. Everyone else does. She is not as old as I, she’s married, she’s got a better job, better yet everyone loves her, not to mention the iPhone/iPad/MacBook or all of the above! Now these are different hers and sometimes the same. These are just hypothetical targets that my mind would be happy to bash up on request.

A mind, if bestowed with some rationality, questions. Mine did, and am I glad it did. The question was very simple, “what the hell is up here?” Inclined to answer, a mental journey was embarked upon. The journey was long and laboured and didn’t really get anywhere. It just came back to several blanks before I heard the F.R.I.E.N.D.S sound track and I struck gold! I wanted what they told me I should have. I wanted the shiny sitcom life. I wanted to have the million dollar body, the zillion dollar job, friends who would be loyal and affectionate and pick me up from every mess I make. Alas, I wanted the whole nine yards. Unfortunately, everyone I knew also wanted the same things.

When this understanding dawned, I wanted to ban TV and the million sitcoms. I wanted to yell atop roofs or at least tweet about what this damned idiot box had done to me. Then I realised, I was hooked to the hope of someone rescuing me. There shone brilliantly yet another symptom of the sitcom infested mind, nothing was ever my fault, I was the do-gooder victim again. No more, I vowed. Entertainment was escape, but escape isn’t life. 

My pace is slower now, I don't really want all those things, they do start a little stir, I confess. However, now I can walk past them. Life isn't all that bad, just a little more real than that on TV.

I am infiniti

I am opinionated, this is a fact that I openly admit today. However, there was a time when I couldn’t. I thought it to be wrong, selfish and worst of all, I thought it was necessary to fit in! I agreed, I nodded at the right times, I gave in because it quite simply avoided conflict. But over time (and I am glad that it was a short period) I realized I hate it. All it did was keep me cocooned and safe, but there wasn’t any life.

This lack of life, rather lack of me took me onto a path of self-immolation. There was no me, just parts of me that were scathed, burnt, chaffed and scabbed with the many versions of what I thought others wanted to see. This meant that there was a best friend me, putting up with all the underhanded BS that was labeled just for fun, there was the good student me who studied what she was expected to rather than what she wanted to, there was the daughter me who yes mumed and yes daded till kingdom come. There was the metal chick me, who head-banged to every death double base beat that ever was. There was also the girlfriend me who agreed and adjusted till it hurt. What does it really get me? A big fat nothing!

People who are at the happy end of this adjustment, the people who receive, who are adjusted for don’t know that it is being done. There is no blaming them; it was I who wanted to fit in. This is just a fair warning to all those who chose to be like someone else, please someone else and fit in. Pretense just works for so long before it begins to hurt. Today I speak freely, dress in my own hobo way, I pair floaters with formals and add ketchup to everything. I do this because of only one very simple reason, I want to.

This I want to bit has its own cons though. No one can be blamed for who I am, no one to take the fall for the stupid decision made, no one to imitate without a conscious thought, life is back on full manual, no more auto focus, no more pre-destined arrangements. But then I am okay with it, at least, it is my life. 

Life is difficult.

That is it. That is the key to all there is; was and ever will be. Accept it and living automatically becomes simple. Most of my life was spent thinking, ‘it will get better’, ‘things will change’, and every other form of placebo I was willing to give myself and be happy. 

No one really told me that making life easy is not just difficult, it is impossible. Life gets tougher with each moment that passes. Just like a game, the next level is tougher, you plough on, you get through and another level is right there waiting for you.

So yes, the money is never going to be enough, the friends won’t ever be as cool as you want them to be, your mother will never understand you. Your great idea will get rejected again and again; the diligent budgeting will eventually die a terrible death when an emergency or a want takes precedence. There will be those who seem to have everything and others who seem forever lost. I feel both and at times I feel both at the same instant. But that is just me, just who I am, unique just like everyone else suffering the human condition.

Today my eyes were stuck open, today I believe I see a little more clearly. I see that none of this, nothing at all matters. If I can go to sleep smiling and wake up with the strength to fight on, I am more successful that most people I know. The bank balance can be made, the clothes can be bought, the body can be sculpted provided I really want to. However, want alone does nothing. Positive thinking only keeps one positive. Living like there is no tomorrow and acceptance of all there is at least gives a realistic view of what is.

This view for me today is that life is difficult. I accept it.

The Plan

The Devil’s got a plan for you…
To conquer the world, and own it too!
Have everything women, oil and gold
A face lift when you get old

What a thought! What a wish!
You thought you came up with this dish
Think again if you can,
These seeds were planted by another man!

Success you think is a chain of gold
A diamond encrusted dream
Amass it all that is the way to win
Happiness you think, made of things

Their opinions matter a voice says
Win it and you will get it right
You work for it all your life
Brush aside your children, your wife

Climb the ladder head held down
All that matters is how high you get
I got it you think… I am above it all
I have the money, what more can I want?

You look up to grinning that faces mock you
The ladder is longer still, there are many above you
The irony smites you, there is another ladder to get to
There is no rest for the greed in you

Clamour, you run to it
Climbing it with all your might
Devouring everything in your way
You are on top again

The ground below crumbles away
The plan now falls in place
You own the world, you have it all
Not a word you have to say

Empty and rich you burn away
Wishing you had your past again
But, the Devil has a plan for you
Yes you…

Anguish lit!

Talking of righteousness
Purity they oft preach
Perched on high horses
Their thoughts in filth seep

Why care about another?
Feelings matter not
Behind by millennia
They remain filled with dearth

“How can I have his land?”
“I want that money to keep”
Material thoughts possess these minds
Wisdom from holy books they speak

“He was born low
How dare he fraternise!
In the house of this god
Only we can make the choice”

“She isn’t white enough
Who cares for her thoughts?
She could be one of us
Only if she questions naught”

“Of my caste I stand proud
I was born pure as milk
It’s not thought, nor deed or action
It is just this god’s will”

Blind they are to reason
Blind for choose not to see
Why am I to reason?
I will just simply be me

Insane ramblings

Sometimes it is so easy to give up, to fail,
to crawl under a rock and pretend to be dead

How nice it would be, I wonder when I am gone
All my worries, my anxieties will leave me alone

Forget the bills; skip the EMIs, no more commitments to bother
Fix that light, that leaky pipe, did the fridge stop cooling again?

I wish I’d run away, take a different path or pick another way,
How should I go? Should I walk, run or simply let my mind stray

Should I pretend to be weaker or stupider for someone to care?
Should I give up who I am and live a lie that seems to others as fair?

It’s amazing how weakness brings out the sympathy!
Why anyone ever works is simply beyond me?!

Am I fat; am I ugly, should I be more like her?
Should I stoop? should I cower? Men seem to prefer a timid girl

How did I manage to get this way? Where did that happy child go?
How did I turn into this insecure adult when the child in me was so pure?

Now my friends too I have to garner with care,
it’s not ‘bout me but about those who stare

An image apparently I have to maintain
a do-gooder girl with no thought train

Sadder still the fact remains, I can’t live up to this brilliant fantasy
I seem insane, in a pretend-sane world of picket fences and fake grins

By the woods

The girl sat alone by the wooded realms,
Day dreaming, she numbed her senses to rest.
She heard slow movements of creatures’ unseen,
As she rested her feet on the grass green…

Slowly the clouds drifted across the sky,
Strange visions they brought to her mind.
Far and near her thoughts were set adrift,
Oh what a joy was it to simply sit!

No worries, no thoughts, naught bothered her now,
All that mattered were leaves and swaying boughs…
She felt the sun caress her hair,
For once, she let go of all that despair…

Horror stories!

Vanish behind that curtain,
Run up those stairs…
It’s the time for scary stories
Look, who’s creeping there!

Finely woven as threads of silk,
These stories are set to amaze.
Transport you to another world they do,
Your deepest fears they raise!

Forget ghosts and haunting poltergeists,
Leave the psychotic killers behind.
Even animals their farms shan’t leave,
Just open up your mind…

Let loose those fears of loneliness,
Watch your pride take centre stage.
Notice your hungry eyes lust upon someone,
Don’t bother with the moral parade.

What then will happen to that mask of yours?
Who’d want to see your face?
Find the truth about your crumbling flesh,
Awaiting time’s decay…

Horror stories aren’t made of evil ghosts,
Nor they are of spirits unkind,
Horror stories are just a human condition,
Escaping the human mind…

Living the dream

What is our constant need to live a lie?
To live the dream that others seek
To cloak our sorrows in a lucid smile
To deny ourselves our very lives

'He lived the dream' they proudly said
Yet they coveted his every breath
A happy face he forever portrayed
Damning them all to death

This man they thought ‘he has it all’
They followed his every move
A stagger and they brought him down with a thud
His life was theirs to bleed

'He made his money from lies' they said
'He cheated on his wife'
'Oh look at his many flaws' they laughed
'He was never so perfect indeed'

They laughed him off, their ex-hero
The spoils were theirs to lavish
Another hero will soon ascend
It’s all about the better trick

Alas, then comes along an honest soul
Confused like the few before
'This is not my dream' he said
'I want not a billion dollars nor bars of gold'

He wished to live his life his way
To see the world anew
To think his own and make his place
His terms were disapproved

‘Rebel, hunt him down!’ they screamed
Yet each his courage sought
They wondered how he broke free
When all of them could not

Hope floats

A destitute past 18 in the train
She’s got her wares to sell
A few toys and a plastic dream
To escape the nightmare in which she dwells
She wails and bargains a price
While she soothes her baby ill

He is all of four with flowing nose
No thought for his tattered clothes
He bears a perturbing smell
His hair’s in curls matted with dirt
His nails covered with grime
Yet each day he learns a new nursery rhyme

To dust my life is shattered
The young mother thinks
Tough my life is, so be it
But I'll never let him sink
Her stubborn hope holds her on
Her sleeping baby and a rattling sound

Kids!

Fold a napkin - you’ve got a train
A floating cloud - a bunny makes
A starry night - a set stage
And you’ll never know what else they’ll make!

We too were them not so long ago
Our wheels did spin and our wings did soar
Across the river and above the sky
Another dream we all lived by

Then one day we thought it cool to grow
To hold the brief case and drive to and fro
All the money would buy so much
We could party, there would be no homework

Now grown up, that kid waits alone
In a dim lit corner within our soul
He rises up with every moon
And makes you think, why did I grow up so soon?

An amazing insanity

There is something amazing about the insanity of faith. An insanity about those who follow their heart, their dreams knowing fully well that it will be easier to do what others do, to follow the oft tread path, to simply comply and conform. Yet they go against the tide, work against the grain and simply step out and excel.
They don’t run the world and they don’t care who does. They are out of it, apart from it and walk this earth exploring things anew. They don’t set trends for others to follow, neither do they wait on accolades, commendations or prizes. They do what they do only because it is all that they know how to.

I stand in awe of them, inspired and overwhelmed. I thank them for who they are, shakti, hozefa and all who are unlike others.

Who am I, really?

Of late with work pressures mounting and quality ready for its untimely decline I wonder who am I? Am I fine with letting go of the quality that I've been boasting about for most of my working life - all of 3 years and joining the ranks of corporate conformity - 'Client ko jo chahiye, dedo.' Easier said than done if you are the proud owner of an ego with a conscience to boot. Then there are those times when 'enough' is well past at 6 p.m. and you are still at work past 12 watching a good concept float down the drain... Ah the vagaries of 21st century work!

I find myself hunting my phone book, looking out for numbers, for people who I can talk to, people who would have something nice to say. No, not the rant I hate my effing workplace, the point is that everyone does. Just about a good day, a stray dog, a hi I missed you the other day or lets meet up but alas no one would remain awake at this ungodly hour. Just the few weird men at dadar station who despite all their good intentions just seem up to no good past 12 in the a.m. staring at a lone copywriter with her red bag, lost yet awake waiting for the rattling approach of the last train. When did I, a dreamer get here, I will never know. But someday, it would be a different train, a different plane, someday soon.

Wandering thoughts

United we stand, divided we fall…

Yet another lie to rest us all

False pretenses, hidden facades

Heroes found amongst unknown faces

Stories live, as the fires burn

Millions watch unconcerned

The press hums to the beat

As the unclaimed lay on the street

Jarred lives, riddled with bullet holes

Breaking families remain un-consoled

Homage paid, candles lit

Forgotten dead, mere graves to dig

In fear we all run and hide

An effort to avoid that sad demise

Far from that burning train

Away from that shady lane

Sad still remains the fact

Death always finds its way back

Still fear they choose over a fight

To die as victims not warriors bright

Thoughts Unbound…

A love undying as the green blade of grass…
Passion that of the ocean swells
Thoughts such as the ever imminent moon
Minds with dark visions quell

I live 'tween a hermit and a bounty fiend
With shifts like the reign of wind
Flowing uncharted, unbound and free
In search of a reason that feigns to live

A scribe, I write, words the life blood replace
Growing beyond the sea and shore
Visions unbound, oft new realities found
My verve strengthened as it grows!

Born not of a mighty blood or creed
Nor from a warrior who in the battle bled
From an unknown past I rise unhindered
To an unknown future I flee unheeded

The future, a dark dawn I see
Built by drones of the human need
Feeding off morals that once raised the world
Now the demise of humanity

The bleak future an oracle shan't predict
Nor can this scribe be held true
But past remains uncharted, unknown
Old mistakes are committed anew!

In awe I stand of the human reign…
The plush society and the Champagne glass
The opulent lives and the many deeds
Yet in dust they may breathe their last!

Abound with pathos this mortal meek
A being of the carnal lust
Yet guises of ethics remain
The corrupt soul runs-a-muck

Who am I to question or care?
How can I a judgment pass?
Though in my mind a different thought reflects
Yet I am cloaked in the very cast!

Avenger

The setting sun, a crimson sky
The dusk is born, another day dies…
It approaches dark, as the fear sinks in
The known is gone, unknown begins!

Bringer of darkness, a pale moon shines
Afraid of the dark, meek creatures whine
Out comes Kreator, the darkness grows
Shrouds the world, another dream sours

Visions of shadows, the keepers of Anathema
Lost secrets all revived…
To the known universe a parallel born
Claming the skies, his reign prolongs!

Spilled blood, dark slivers,
Despot monsters night creatures all
Defiled living, untamed demons
Escape their earthly forms

True faces, grotesque smiles…
Unraveled by night, earthly masks, they fall!
Rituals, rites by night performed,
A pyre fostered for the innocuous ones

Gashed remains from the pyre dealt
A funeral of the innocent held
Appeasing the powers that be
Another soul into the darkness melts

Bring forth the Kreator, a siren sings
Another meal for his ghastly whims
Scalding screams, escape, unflattering sounds
A scrumptious meal, for a nightly count

Another dusk, so begins
Souring sights abundant seen
Despised, abhorred many fears grow
Little ones cower, mothers in tow

The reign so prolonged,
His oppression out performed,
Fear and hate bred his fate
As foretold by the sirens song

A lonely babe of a land lost,
The son of a father slain
Bred in treachery and guise
He grew to stake the claim

Erred not the siren when she the future told…
Rose a slayer of the shrouding hand
Born of a blood mighty, untamed
With wrath, the world proclaimed!

Selfish, unsympathetic, a passion dwells
In vagrant needs one does not quell
Conquer he shall the world he claimed
Un-flinched, untainted by emotions he remained

The dusk deepened, the darkness grew
A sharpened sense of verve brewed
All beings their days safely kept
Away from the watchful eye the warrior crept…

Into his domain he walked unseen,
Unknown his corruption began
Kreator breathed easy still
The day of his doom was at hand…

There lay Kreator,
Midst of his mighty work
Chaos engulfed the once green earth
Quelled all in fear and in rage, well ripened for his taste