Let's

• Let's build a promising past. 
• Let's give breakup a break. 
• Let's face it. Each one of us here is narcissistic.
• Let's fall apart or get lost. Together.
• Let's not be each other's dirty secret.
• Let's not be cool about global warming.
• Let's not think too much. They're never going to call us thinkers.
• Let's assume that there is a song for all types of voices. 
• Let's spare a moment FOR silence.
• Let's hope trying never goes out of fashion.
• Let's face it. We're never going to receive our imaginary dues.
• Let's stop assuming that we're saving the world.
• Let's hack your heart and change its password. 
• Let's wait for nonsense to prevail.
• Let's be dead silly.
• Let's bare our soul. It deserves a better clothing than our body.
• Let's say whatever we like but it doesn't change the fact that we don't know much.
• Let's not get over-emotional about stuff meant for laughing.
• Let's deal with the first resort now. Last resort can wait.
• Let's take a moment to reflect on how time works while we don't.
• Let's pray an idea changes your life the way it changed Abhishek's.
• Let's hope our death doesn't create a scene the way our life did.
• Let's not ruin our relationship by meeting.  
• Let's not put the i in marred and get married. 
• Let's hope climate change never gets a religious angle.
• Let's try to do something less useless with our lives.
• Let's hate all religions equally.
• Let's just say we didn't turn out the way life pictured us.
• Let's go visit a place that would be worth the homesickness.
• Let's hope the stuff that fuels your passion is NOT petrol. 
• Let's touch each others' souls later—bodies first.
• Let's stop arguing for arguments' sake.
• Let's not complicate love by trying to understand it.
• Let's call a spade an out-of-fashion weapon.
• Let's create a better world to die in.

#PassWhale

Far out in the ocean, there was this whale lonely enough to keep swimming. He neither knew where he was heading towards nor preferred to know. So his daily existence was best summed up by the waves he encountered and the coterie of little fish who hanged on to his skin for survival. He didn't mind them—who doesn't like a bit of silent company? After all, he too hanged on to the water hoping not to sink anytime soon. In this manner, life went on for a long while. Unlike other creatures in his vicinity, he appeared content with his wet solitude. There was nothing to seek now or miss later. 

This status quo was about to change. 

Our dear whale, for the first time in his dramaless lifetime, came upon an island right in the middle of the ocean. An island so calm and pristine that he couldn't believe his senses. He had heard rumours of land but this was the first time his tiny eyes actually saw a piece of it. What enchanted him more was the way the island behaved in the strongest of gale or the harshest of sun. It had little to say but so much to share. Hardly anything seemed to disturb its composure. There was an unmistakable halo of green prosperity. Too true to be false. As expected, there was a desire to touch it but he drew better plans. Having found home, he kept encircling the island. Don't know why but for a change, he knew where he was going.

Stainless, shining armour

Many a times, a guy watches way too many action-packed movies only to turn into someone who believes that a damsel is always in distress and needs to be saved anyhow. So he gets to work by either using his words or actions to prove his worth. In the back of his head, he's doing what needs to be done. Without his knowledge, he has become gallingly patronising. However, for some messed up reason, he thinks that's the ultimate parameter of being. For all his noble intentions, the poor man is mistaken. In the grand scheme of things, his foibles account for nothing more than offbeat chauvinism. The damsel is neither in distress nor desires to be saved. She's just confused as she wants something else. More often than not, she doesn't know what. And that's where the reel needs to be pulled. 

Good luck.

Post-marital economics

Did you know that divorces help an economy grow? Neither did i until last week before I stumbled upon an article co-relating the two human aspects. Turns out when a couple decides to leave each other for good, it isn’t entirely bad for the economy. The reason is pretty stark: When two individuals stay together, household budget tends to shrink as savings are in. However, when they go their separate ways, they spend more thus contributing to the fiscal machinery. The term ‘divorce’ itself gets associated with Western culture since it’s generally accepted—with no research to back it—that Westerners divorce as easily as they get married. What one can also state here is the fact that they don’t tolerate bad marriages as earnestly as we Indians do. But that’s seldom the popular perception among us. Going back to the economy, wouldn’t it be convenient to postulate that Western economies thrive because there are relatively more annulments happening in those countries? Well, this thought could have held ground if Cuba wasn’t in the West and had the highest divorce rate in the world with three out of four couples opting for court instead of counselors. And it’s a no-brainer that the Communist country—despite world-class medical care (including free penile enlargement surgeries)—ain’t really an paradise for economics, Michael Moore notwithstanding.

Passing judgements

Since local trains are an integral part of my mundane existence, i come across several young unmarried couples every other day. Some of them look cute while others are mere wannabes heavily influenced by Bollywood chartbusters. I try not to get caught glancing but it's well nigh impossible to ignore two individuals with an aura of genuine comfort between them and that too in a reasonably crowded moving vehicle. Needless to add, i slyly check out their faces because more often than not, they indicate disasters that might unfold in the near future. One can make out that the guy just wants to get laid whereas the girl is bound to end up with a broken heart. In many cases, the girl looks like somebody who'd make sure he ditches the very first woman of his life. And in others, the guy is as good an asshole as she's a bitch. Perfect. If only all matches were like that. Of course, these are my observations. Having said that, seldom do i come across a couple who make me proud of my eyesight. That piece of joy, as of now, lies with those elderly couples holding hands to help each other with their steps. From what i can deduce from these sorry developments is that i should mind my own business and work on my imaginary love life.

Time please!

In about a week's time, two months of 2014 would have lapsed. Just like that. Time indeed appears to travel really fast. But there's one major glitch here: It doesn't. Unless and until you're one of those who don't have a grasp of where their life is heading. In other word, adults. If you ask little kids (well, i did), none of them confirmed this time-on-steroids theory. To them, usual is how everything appeared. Nothing too fast. Nothing too slow. No time for nostalgia. No hurry to grow. 

Conclusion: Like time, grown-ups are cursed to pass away as soon as possible. Unlike time, they seldom do.

Business as usual

There was this forest where a bird sang. No living being ever stopped to listen to its talent but it didn't care. Perhaps it didn't know what else to do with its voice. One afternoon, the sun was right over its head leaving our bird dizzy. Regardless, it kept singing. Too late. Suddenly, it dropped dead from the branch above. As usual, nobody cared. Except the air who felt envious of the soil below.

Maintaining imbalance

He goes to sleep alone only to be surprised by the fact that he wakes up all alone. Scarred by weird dreams. Later, he ponders why certain things culminate in a certain manner. The question "Why" has become his anathema. He seldom gets his head around this peculiar word although he tries his worst. After one such session of trial, it recently occurred to him that not a single person in his entire life has ever disappointed him. Some of the credit goes to him, of course, for preserving down-to-earth expectations. Not even one person could he point out from his annals of miserable co-existence in order accuse them of disappointment. Parents? No way. Friends? Nope. Enemy? Never had any. Strangers? Nice folks. Given the geometry of recorded events here, his life should have been more fruitful. But that ain't the case either as he's busy disappointing others.

Murder tongue

I've been fascinated by Urdu since my secondary school days. While i was at it, Hrithik Roshan entered the scene feigning to learn the language before leaving with a blockbuster debut. I'm still stuck where i was. Barely moved beyond the alif-be-te-se-jim routine and some heavyweight lafz to boot them. As of today, i'm to Urdu what Rafael Nadal is to comfortable shorts. And keeping in line with the tradition of destroying the most beautiful thing to have ever emerged out of military aggression—one day at a time—let me 'paraphrase' a popular piece of shayari for posteriority...

Kabhi kisi ko muqammal jahan nahi milta
Kahin Amreeka toh kahin Afghan nahi milta

Kehne ko toh sabhi chutiye hai 

Kisiko neendh toh kisiko aaraam nahi milta

Wah wah. 

I should go hang myself now.

Serendipity

As species, we might have progressed a lot over the years while some things remain unanswered. Those questions are better left untouched, not because they can't be unraveled but because so many before us—deliberately, if i may presume—failed at it. Questions like, why do we care? Or get hurt by someone's action or even words? Worse still, why do we love somebody or something so much that we reek of bias? People you grew up with, knowing very well their flaws. People whom you haven't even met yet, knowing very well yours. Sometimes, it could be a smartphone or your dog perhaps. Living or dead, they all intrigue your bloodstream in such a manner that they silently command attention. They present you with moments of vulnerability. Scientific temper goes for a toss and your artless life begins to imitate cinema. By bizarre cosmic coincidence, the frames belonging to the big screen enter your everyday regime. Your ego disintegrates. Your mind opens up to a horizon unseen earlier. You gradually understand why Tristan was so abandoned by himself in Legends of the Fall or where was all that anger coming from in the protagonist of I Saw the Devil or who compelled the evil out of Edwin in 12 Years a Slave or which direction was Sergeant William going during the climax of The Hurt Locker or when precisely did a grizzly bear teach Christopher McCandless a lesson in Into the Wild or how a machine is seemingly capable of an emotion humans claim to patent in WALL·E or what sets Varun free in Lootera. While understanding these instances, you submit to the idea of love. Apart from learning why it shouldn't be conquered.

Speechless

I thought i'll let this blog post speak for itself. So i waited for a while. Even tried to cajole it a bit. But it didn't make a sound. 

 Sorry.

Move on

Once upon a time, there was a grasshopper who didn't believe in working hard. He merried around while laughing at ants and bees for being so serious about life. But when that summer got replaced by winter, the grasshopper fully understood the expanse of its folly. The poor Sheldon Cooper-lookalike should have paid attention to the laws of nature. Alas, it was too late now. However, the suicidal insect survived the harsh weather before snow thawed, giving way to sun's nudist glory. And he was back at it again. Another spring of joy went by before autumn came knocking on his wings. This time around, he'd turned wiser. Realizing he was a grasshopper, not a colony being who stores food for crisis, he took an evolutionary decision. After much existential thinking, he left his hometown and moved to India.

Worse than what?

Q: What's worse than being sad? A: Not knowing the reason why you're sad in the first place.
Q: What's worse than being mediocre? A: Getting addicted to mediocrity.
Q: What's worse than a slobbering co-passenger? A: A co-passenger slobbering on your shoulder.
Q: What's worse than religion? A: The use of the word 'major' in front of it.
Q: What's worse than us tweeting from office? A: Lindsay Lohan tweeting outside of rehab.
Q: What's worse than having a beer belly? A: Being a teetotaler.
Q: What's worse than getting out of a crowded train at Kurla? A: Getting into a crowded train at Kurla.  
Q: What's worse than bad breath? A: Being alive.
Q: What's worse than not knowing what to do with your life? A: Knowing exactly what to do but not doing so.
Q: What's worse than finding a lift in a two-storey building? A: People actually using it.
Q: What's worse than this world coming to an end? A: You getting left behind.
Q: What's worse than pointing others' mistakes? A: Failing to notice a few of your own.
Q: What's worse than being with someone who thinks exactly like you do? A: I don't know. 
Q: What's worse than having a chapped lip? A: Chapped lips.
Q: What's worse than feeling sick? A: Being sick.
Q: What's worse than getting stranded at Dadar railway station? A: Nothing, absolutely nothing!

Part-time human, full-time crazy

One of the stupidest acts in our recorded history is our attempt at convincing ourselves that we're not crazy. But the trick is to know—before somebody else does—that you are crazy. The moment you begin to calibrate your sense of acceptance on the societal scale of lunacy, you're sold. And it steals your veneer of craziness while leaving you duped of your individuality. Because the nicest part about these folks is they don't pretend to be somebody else. They say what they want and do as like. 10 out of seven of them are harmless and mathematically challenged. They don't keep their words while trying their best to make up with action. They are the last hope of humanity. The level-headed ones had their chances and they clearly blew most of them. So now it's up to the not-so-sanes to keep the ball rolling. All they need to do is gain power. Time is a witness to the fact that those powerful enough to make a difference haven't been crazy enough. Comparatively speaking, the crazies get things done quickly, not by relying on others but by doing stuff themselves. High time people come out of their crazy closet and own up responsibility. Besides, being different won't do. Making the most of it is a completely different racetrack.

Sit before you think

Nowadays, with no mass movements taking place anywhere close, y'know what's the toughest thing to do? Sitting quietly. Try it. Since thinking is passé, nobody sits down for the heck of it. It's only in a local train that people are prepared for bloodshed to get those few inches to settle their god-knows-tired-of-what butt. Outside, it's the electronic devices—be it TV or PC or smartphone or tablet—that forces us to settle down. Inside, when you stub onto a furniture or bang your head into the wall, you sit and think "WHY THE FUCK DID THAT HAPPEN TO ME!" with no conclusive answers. We are evolving and with the rise of the spine, its gradual decline is imminent as well. Let's hope it's for the better.

Us

*Kindly reed the following in Scottish accent. Thunkyo!*

If there was a tree in the woods,
alone and tired and yet standing,
that'd be me.
If there was a kite in the heaven,
blissful and glad and soaring upwards,
that'd be you.
If there was a word on your lip,
unsure and wise and about to desert,
that'd be me.
If there was a breeze in the sun,
lively and embracing and momentous,
that'd be you.
If there was a book in the shelf,
dusty and precious and composed,
that'd be me.
If there was a plate on the table,
full and yummy and unshareable,
that'd be you.
If there was a parrot in the cage,
talkative and moody and trivial,
that'd be me.
If there was a kiss in the picture,
sensual and caring and exposed,
that'd be you.
If there was a painting on the wall,
mysterious and hazy and questionable,
that'd be me.
If there was a boat in the ocean,
lost and battered but moving nevertheless,
that'd be you.
If there was an excuse in my heart,
criminal yet lazy and unprepared,
that'd be me.
If there was a prisoner on the run,
bedeviled but innocent and kind,
that'd be you.
If there was a song in a movie,
deep and memorable and unheroic,
that'd be me.
If there was a chocolate in a box,
untimely and shapeless yet sweet,
that'd be you.
If there was a simile on a page,
indifferent and lonely and dazed, that'd be us.

*You ought to practise on your accent!*

Caught between now and then

1. Every now and then, it's OK to get screwed by life.
2. The past stares right into the future but every now and then, it blinks out of exhaustion, AND that's when the present takes place.
3. Given a choice between now and then, the procrastinators would make a choice later. After all, in the battle between now and then, procrastination always wins. 
4. Gmail goes down every now and then just to remind us how important it is. The same was apparently true about Monica Lewinsky.
5. Every now and then, i’m struck with an intense notion that i was supposed to be stuck on Kon-Tiki, not in office. 
6. Heroes lead a dignified life followed by a dignified death followed by a dignified legacy with a sweet touch of editing every now and then.
7. The trouble with people like me is that we let people like them go o_O every now and then.
8. Did you know aliens check out our planet every now and then just to fix the site for their next set of pyramids?
9. Every now and then, we celebrate grammar's funeral and the birth of nonsense.
10. May our pride take a bungee-jump every now and then.
11. We're made up of hardened mush that melts every now and then. 
12. Every now and then, we need somebody to remind us how glad they are to have us in their life. And maybe that's why we're SO fucked up.
13. Blessed are those few who realize the difference between now and then—and what lies in between.

First, at last

Two little kids, miles away from the ambiguous world of attachments and vocabularies, are about to learn a few things about each other. And love. After a race.

Boy: "If i win, i get to kiss you."

Girl: "That's not going to happen."

Boy: "We'll see."

Girl: "OK. And what if i win?"

Boy: "Then you get to kiss me."

For the record, nobody won that race. 

A matter of choice

I'd be fucking disappointed if i die and don't get to meet those who passed away during my lifetime. What's the point of dying if you can't catch up later with your loved as well as not-so-loved ones? Those whom you shed tears for and kept alive in your uncertain memory. Who knows? Anything can happen after one's demise. And what if there is a quota system in place where you're allowed to meet just one person? If that would be so, then i'd choose my maternal grandma. Goes without reasoning. However, if i end up in hell, it has to be our good ol' cat that once licked the wheals on my back.

When they got laid

In all probability, pigeons were put on this planet to remind migrants how exactly they behave in public. Full of pomposity. Full of lust. Full of pirouette. Full of oneself. Full of homelessness. And oh yea, full of shit. But your perception about them changes the moment they decide to build a nest in your gallery on the very pot which once housed a suicidal rose plant. Although it takes two to build a home, you see a pair of pigeons basically doing none of the hardwork sparrows put into their shabby abode. These pigeons in our story barely move a twig. As if Mr. Pigeon is saying "Fuhget it, just lay those goddamn eggs into that dry carpet of grass there. It's warm enough." To which the Mrs. Pigeon retorts, "True that, love," before proceeding to spread her legs...well..contour for that final push. Boom! Out comes three eggs. In related news, Mrs P ain't getting laid anytime soon. This rule doesn't apply to Mr P though. From the very first day itself, it becomes apparent that she's a far better dedicated parent. The poor lady, however, took some time to realise that Mr P has ditched her. He's not coming back. Let's hope he got caught in an orgy instead of some electrical short circuit. So she has to hatch on her own every once in a while leaving her fruits of labour exposed to the crows. As misfortune would have it, she returns one afternoon to witness an egg missing. We can guess who did it but being weak in math, she remains ignorant. Being an arithmetically-challenged single mother had never proved more blissful. As we speak, she's on duty protecting her would-be-kids from invisible harm. My camera being one of them.