Tuesday, 22 October 2024

Unfinished




FOREWORD



Cowardice, a simple English word that has a very simple meaning- to not be courageous.
But the interpretation of This one simple word, has turned many heads, i think.

The Cowardice of a kid while facing his school bullies, his cowardice is seen when he flinches his hands back when the math tutor tries to thrash him for not doing his home-work. His cowardice is also seen when he isnt ready to face his father when he dumps a paper at school. Well Cowardice, for a long time remains an implication of Absence of Courage. Until you turn into an Adult

While the world claims, we are all successful, sophisticated and Civilised Men and Women, everyone isnt unaware of the glaring truth that all we are, are Failed Adults.
For the world, we are tough, Suited, Civilised "Men and women" but only the loved know how pathetically Dismal our lives are.
The glassy offices and cars with glossy finishes do put in their efforts to make us look presentable and pretty to the  feighning bunch of dingleberries around us, but the vulnerable side, the raw and the unfiltered side of ours, knows how sore of losers we all are.

This story is of Sid, and his love. Of his Purity and Perverse. and much importantly, his Cowardice.
A charmer with his words, but a terrible pre diabetic with nothing much to look at other than the giant tummy he tucks carefully in the perfectly fit clothes, with a residing hairline and an exponentially increasing debt and Blood Pressure, Sid is any other Fat Indian guy with a terrible luck with women.
The only two women this short story focuses on, are Shivi and Vaidhehi.











chapter 1: Parking Lot

Sid and Vaidhehi Meet, Two giggling friends of Vaidhehi, Vaidhehi's sister at a distance.

Parking Lot, 2:30pm, 9th February 2020.

Sid and Vaidhehi exchange glances, probably for the last time, as few of their batchmates take selfies around the Parking lot, as a memory of the lovely school they have been a part of.
This was their farewell, an end to the happiest days of their lives. As Vaidhehi and her elder sister murmer in themselves, an explosion of feelings take place in Sid's Heart. An explosion similar to how the Shatabdi runs or maybe like the Adrenaline Rush that the teenagers have while kissing their partners.
Usually a charmer with his words, Sid had a commendable reputation amongst the People around for his oratory skills, but today, his voice seems to have gone to a vacation, his confidence, a trip to the furthermost point underground and his brain, to maybe Feed on some hay.
He was not able to speak. The reasons were many, but prominent were the tears. 

"But why am I sobbing?"he thinks to himsef, and there exists no specific answer. 
The girl was quite patient, but ofcourse was a pretty lady afterall. How would she confess?
Why would she, easily the most prettiest lady in the school, confess to this sore loser who has lost his words, just as their eyes meet?
Irrespective of her having feelings, why would she make the first move?
And as Sid stood there staring at her Hopeful pretty eyes, she silently withdraws.
Little did he know, that there wont be another meeting, there wont be another chance, another evening when he shall meet her, and finally confess as they were barely aware of the Disaster they were about to face.

He lost. And the flood of questions start in his head, "what if this was onto something?"
"What if She actually liked me?" "What if she was waiting for me to confess my feelings to her, and i just wasted all this time and a lot more?". 
This teenage fat guy was rather Optimistic. Optimistic beyond expectations, some would say. Or simply put in internet language "Delulu".
After the initial wave of Optimistic cursing self, self doubt and disgust on the "cowardice" of onself, A bigger wave of reinforcing Rationalising thoughts strike his teeny tiny brain.
"What if there was actually nothing"? "What if she was waiting for me to confess so that she could reject me to satisfy her ego, afterall she actually is the prettiest in her peers"?
"Why would she even love me?"
"Why did I love her"? and the biggest question where the Sharpest minds stumble,
"Am i even Lovable"?


June 3, 2016.

A little fat boy, incompletely dressed, though decent. Late to the school, as usual and hurriedly entering the class, 9th D. 
Well this was almost around 2 days past the new academic year started, but this was the day all of this started.
The first hour was of Science class, and the teacher, alsmost like all the other science teachers, was not someone who would let students enter the class late.
While the teacher was shouting at Sid, with a squeaky voice that would always irritate to hear, and words that were reallly really insulting with some shots of Freshly baked personal judgments of how the student was, by his looks, The student wasnt there to take any of this.
He stood there, at the door, and saw this one girl, which he actually knew before, since his 4th grade, but never seen the face of, or if seen, never noticed.

Boy she was pretty. Her smile though was more of a laugh here on the latecomer being insulted, was so pretty. Her eyes had the energy to pull a heavyweight champion this guy was. they had this wierd sparkle whenever she smiled. Her smile started from the left corner of her mouth and extended to the right, which was, back then something unusual to this wild boar of a guy who never observed people smile.
She had this sort of a grace that she Carried with her. Almost malnourished, this girl was exactly the opposite of Sid.
And then, the bollywoodia Subconcscious declared this as his first infatuation. A crush that would have been a good memory, if this coward didnt do what he was upto.
A crush, that wasnt quite a crush, had a full scope of becoming a love story. But never became one.

well the story doesnt begin- its a common mistake- while we think the story begins with a definite incident or moment- stories, specifically about love.. or Love- doesnt have a definite beginning..
but its all the omens that have a backstory- this love has a backstory to their days in class 6th- well a long before though.. but a recognisable moment of sprawling love is always when the kids and their voices start to creak- when Vaidehi an Sid enter their adolescence..

A very fictionally typical backbencher- with a heavyset body and a premiscous reputation of "getting his things done, no matter how", Sid sat in the last bench.. the heaven of a backbencher and the safest space for an introvert. Teachers wont expect you to be bright so the class interaction is low- peers dont expect you to be smart so there is minimal personal interaction and the school definitely doesnt expect a very active student- so bare minimum discipline is expected.
sticked to his seat, Sid was struggling with his own self- science wasnt a cup of his tea, well never was- the sixth grade kid would argue about "okay what do i do by knowing this?" but the teacher- would never entertain the reasons and reasonabilities of the subject.. and then this not so hyper active student would easily lose his interests in science as early as the third class of the science subject- molecules it read, the textbook- not a single hoot given.

The fun part about real life is that there is no bollywood.. there is no "maula mere maula mere" playing in the background- there are no white girls dancing around you- no kailash kher singing the songs of first loves and romances- its all Vanilla and a lot of shades of vannila.
Popular, smart, abundantly beautiful and reluctantly frontbencher type- Vaidehi was a heck of a lady- with a new found love for curls- might be the first time she tried making them, looked like- with the naturally curly but forced curls, falling on her forehead and her beautiful eyes, she sat in the middle most bench a class would ever have- middle row, middle seat, third bench. well.. who thought she might be the centre of attraction, eh?

Surprising part however is the fact that Sid didnt knew this is the lady he has been correcting poems of- oh yeah poetry and cricket an unusual combination- but true nevertheless. 
Sid had always had a good hand at poetries and fiction and Vaidehi was an introvert who would participate in competitions that would not require her participation physically- usually the poetry submissions to schools yearbook or these poetry competitions.. but she had a little problem with the schemes or to say she had a problem with the "urge to follow a scheme". Sid however was someone who would see a poem in the simplest forms- you dont have to rhyme to make sense, you just have to provoke a thought and that you shall do with the simplest of the words- he would say.. 
the thing here was sid was having this extensive relationships with faculty and the student representatives that these poetries after getting submitted, once got to his hand- he did read and liked vaidehis poetry.. she had beautifully related "love" and water- a pretty simple analogy but something to ponder upon a class six student i guess. 
he did read her poetries- did his corrections and submitted them back- getting her accolades, quite a few times.. but never did he read the name of the submission writer- Vaidehi Gundapalli.

Sid was so inattentive in his class and eccentric as an introvert who would just find comfort in sitting at the back and silently passing the time, that it took one whole grade- grade six to even know there was one Vaidehi in the class he attends daily!
it was only in grade 7, that he knew this girl and by knowing we mean falling for her.

well, falling for her would be an extravagant exxageration- would a class 7 kid know whats "falling for someone"? but the liking and observing this girl- well that starts here.

Scribble



Do we really move on from the past or

Do we still have remnants of it, which we carry wherever we go?

While it does seem that my world has changed, or simply as put by many,
I have become an adult.
But I still have the remains of what I was once, and strangely enough,
I want to be what I actually was.

As Doetskovesky says, humans are irrational, Human, I am and all I desire is self agency that everything's going on perfectly, even though I know it is a lie.

Even if this is the moment of "perfect happiness" and today's me is probably the best version of mine, I need, after all this shit I've gone through called Adulting is just one moment.

A moment of happiness where I'm with the people I once loved.
A magic wand that would let me spend a little more time with all these friends, my family and everyone I love.
It is that one Moment of serenity I crave,
where I am with my people, happily enjoying our precious time.

While it does look like I did come a long way, only to long the very thing I went away from.
It is this one lucid dream, I badly want to recreate.
It's still that one moment of peace ,
Of laughs and love, with our people, that I crave.

#Subaran

3 AM Bliss

 I've not travveled much, 

Maybe because when destinations are predecided, the journeys become predictable,
Or maybe because the destinations are much more exciting when the journey is unknown.
And that sums up my love for 3 AM journeys.

Unpredictable, exciting and introspective.
As I walk through the empty roads, memories run past,
as the roads seem to be never-ending just like the beauty.

The sweet smells of the wallflowers along with the smells of night jasmine and moonflowers fill my heart.
As i gaze at the pulchritudinous night sky,
I find little moments of joy,
that do make an impact

The little odd roads that i took,
does ask me to look back,
at the perplexing journey I've had, and also at the joy of the journey.

While i wonder about the wearisome roads ,
about the tremendously huge parts of the sky, unexplored,
I do realise the beautiful bliss of undergoing the process of life, overcoming the impediments of the journey.

As i stand on the terrace, the leaves of the trees start to settle their shadows on my hollow skins,
The night sky appeals to be gazed upon,and the sweet breezes of the empty lanes, bring me the nostalgia.

And the bliss of the 3 AM journeys.

You

 

You

 You were that one dream

I would always crave to be true
That one memory that I could have as a treasure
That one sad song I would love to listen to on loop.
If I had a Gramaphone, you would be the only song that plays,
If I had a Dvd player, you would be the only video that'd be watched
If I had a Palace, the name would be yours,
If I had the power to make something immortal, it definitely would be your memories in my heart.

You were the pain that I would always enjoy
That one small piece of Jigsaw Puzzle that would complete me.

You were exquisite,
like some fine piece of art
and I was nothing but a novice art lover, unaware of you
My world stops when I think of your eyes
My feet stop whenever I walk past your street,
My eyes wait with a longing desire and a faint hope of getting a glimpse of yours.

You, were all what I wanted
I would've done something,
Could've confessed my heart's sinful desire of being with you..
But I kept staring,
having no idea how long will it last,
wishing these were not the last moments
longing for something i can't put into words
craving something mad and sinful.
But all I did was stare: capturing a moment of immortality.

All I could do was to stare
Like a homeless man staring at people living in mansions
Like a poor kid staring at other kids at a Candy shop
Like a thirsty man staring at a waterpark

All I wanted was that one moment
Of Our togetherness
That one moment to pity on melancholy
That one moment to fill my heart.

But all I could do was stare.


Confessions of a Stupid

 Stargirl

Well, not another poem, but this would be a simple rant on how foolish i can be and how complicated feelings can actually be.

Stargirl, was the name i gave to the girl i loved Back in my teenage. I called her with the name, though she never Recognised but when she finally did, it was when she saw her contact with the same name in my phone,
My explanation was simple, she was my stargirl, because she was my star. she made school interesting, she made art, understandable and she made me, a better person, merely by her existence.
Well, things didnt know how i planned they would, in my delusive thoughts, and we didnt become what i wished we would be.
Her beautiful eyes always stumped me, her smile made me speechless and her beauty, made me inferior.
yes, inferior, might not be  a very demure word to use, but i am not a poet with a lot of words.
she was beautiful and i never confessed, though partly only through my poems, i did express my feelings towards her, but ofcourse she opined i wasnt the best fit for her.

As time passes, the love though existing gets meaningless apart from poems that would just be mere coping mechanisms from any average boring/tired/frustrating day of my life.

And then enters this girl, and exposes how shallow I actually am.
I am nothing but a fat loser, i have always opined. But this girl made me realise, i was wrong.
Apart from being a fat loser, i was also a person who lost his love and the ability to love.
it just took me months to reconfirm my feelings towards her. How pathetic is that for a lover like me?
How cowardly is it for a man like me? 
This time around, monsoons seemed a little different for me. I realised I fell again, might not be harder than the first one, but this fall was different.
The first one, was a brat, an expressive lover who failed only because of his own inferiority.
That Brat was young, stupid, carefree and madly in love
This one isnt.

This one is fully grown man, not feeling inferior but simply waiting for the right time.}
An adult, with adult feelings. A man who was genuinely in love.
Might not be as expressive and carefree like his younger self, but in love.
As I failed to recognise, time has shown its wrath. The right time, just never arrived 
and the person became somebody else's.

And the worst thing is, this one is different.
The first one, was never my friend, was always the girl i wanted to be mine. 
This one, however has been a dear friend, dear ofcourse due to the lack of Friends, or Maybe due to the feelings I have for her.
I talk to her everyday, every night, Social media ofcourse makes it easier but also makes every effort to move on over her, a lot more Worser a fight.
Should i be a good friend and help her have a healthy relationship, with her loved one, which ofcourse i dreamt of being?
Ofcourse, thats what friends do!. But what about me, as a lover?
i know my feelings are genuine, theres no perverse in having feelings on a caring, cute and stupendously talented woman, is there any?
She tells me about how her boyfriend is so cute, sends me their cute chats, i see them moving around as the new couple around the campus, their friends discussing about their wedding at Udaipur Palace.
And trust me when i say, everytime i see them, my sinful brain, imagines the same scene, only with me besides her.
How do i tell her, when she reads my poems online and replies "oho whos this girl?", that is HER!
How do i tell her my poems are for her, about her and around the delusion i have been feeling, about "us"?
How do i tell her, that with every little detail she tells about how her day went, a tear rolls down my cheeks and i blame myself for being late, once again.
The right time, shall arrive i guess.
Or maybe the right time never Arrives.
Maybe ill once again write another blog, like now, i turned up here after 4 years.
Maybe, Feelings are actually more precious than whatever we do, whatever we aspire to do, and whatever we have done till date.
Love, as i read somewhere, isnt the base emotion that we Attribute it to be. It is something that makes a human, a human, any living being, Living. If not for love, is life even worth living?
The closure was less complicated the first time around,i was madly in love and she was never.
She wasnt my friend, though i was always one.
This time around, the closure is complicated. If i confess, ill lose a dear friend of mine, and if i dont, ill end up exactly the way i was, like a kid.

This one's special, she makes me feel special. Not by mere existence but by actually caring about me.

This girl, literally and functionally is the only friend that cares for me. I have not many friends as I said, it's just two of my School-time nincompoops and this beautiful lady.

I am a Female-Repellent and everybody knows it, but this girl, this girls different.

But alas, I have been late, as always.

She found a love, truer and more-senior than mine (I'm not sure, but ofcourse I know their acquaintance is longer than mine, so I assume)...

I take pride in being an emotionless man, but how can I belittle love?

I got hurt when somebody belittled mine, I'm sure I can if I try, but I won't.


But do i want to end up like the previous time? Hell no. 
What should this stupid do?
I have zero idea, and it hurts me that ive become such stupid.


Friday, 31 July 2020

Dying hopes

Yeah we have been dying
Dying to make a life
Dying to find some love

Yeah we've been falling and rising
Yeah we've been cheated by ourselves
We all are sorry for something
Sorry for being what we were,
Sorry for not being what we wanted to be

Racing through the lanes
Lanes of the lonely life
Deserting ourselves from the skies,
We all are lost in our imagination
We all are lost in our hearts
Hearts broken, hearts kept alive
Hearts made of love, few made of stone.
Now let's breathe easy,
Lets sit down in our places,
Let's chill down our minds
And make a cup of coffee for our souls

Lets let the air bring all the sweet smells through the windows, smoke of the roasting peanuts and the smell of the twilight and the smell of the corn burning.
Lets just calm down, and forget our worries and all the bruised cruises of our oceans
Lets play our favourite music
And make a cup of coffee for our souls
For the aroma of coffee shall bring us a bliss
Of a new poem
Of our first loves
yeah we all are broken
But it's better to be not okey,
Than to pretend
Yeah we all are torn apart
But it's better to collect our pieces and stick them back
And take a break for a coffee
And then go back to the rat-race.

Friday, 10 July 2020

mortals and their transient feet

Immaterial mortals hid under the material masks of friendships, never tend to move, never tend to love, what they feed upon is mere plastic smiles, with dread-filled in hearts. 
Hearts, sensitive as the petals.
Hearts, stupid as middle
school kid
Under a mask of a smile untorn, they hide their faces dreadful.

Under the night sky, they groan like the little kids.
Under the blanket of hardcore plastic smiles, they hid their truest emotions,
and through the doors of starry charming roads, that they chose without their choice 
They hide their own understanding of life
Do you realize who are they?
You won't 
Neither do they,
The modern world teens

My pen fumbles while writing this,
and the fumbling of the pen aptly shows our life.
As the ink made of hope spills sometimes and sometimes does not flow.

Unfinished

FOREWORD Cowardice, a simple English word that has a very simple meaning- to not be courageous. But the interpretation of This one simple wo...