Incoherence

I see absurdities and confusion all around me,
But the slapstick of life fails to make me laugh,
All around me people thirst for mercy,
But they don't know where to go, whom to ask,
Because everyone else is waiting for deliverance as well,
So misery pervades, no rain to wash it away,
No sun to dry it off and bask.

Portents of pleasure misguide and humiliate,
They are but sadistic and cruel jokes,
That get played out in this world every moment, Bait
For guilty and innocent alike, deceits and hoax,
Reasoning with the mind that it does not need reason,
That the crutches of delusion and blind faith are enough,
To tide over every hour, every day, every season.

I see people supporting leaders that will destroy them,
Parents praying to a God who is killing their children,
Disasters laughed away as something to balance the world,
Murders overlooked as some perverse test of faith,
Until we all just look away and turn blind, even those who don't believe,
Until the mind is reduced to a memory, a ghost, a wraith.

Why doesn't anyone see? Why can't they hear?
Perhaps reality is blindingly stark and the bedlam of misery too loud,
Perhaps we choose to see and hear what does not hurt us,
Perhaps we choose to be emasculated by ourselves,
Perhaps we choose to take comfort in the history books,
Forgetting the same gutless people live in library shelves.

How do you sympathise with murderers and not innocents?
How do you even try to justify their acts?
Does sharing the same religion alleviate the horror?
Does sharing the same race change any of the facts?
The rot has grown so deep inside your beings you aren't even aware
How red floods of guilt flow out of your cataracts.

We choose the problem though the solution is in reach,
It's pulling us, getting closer to us everyday,
But we push it away, take the mandatory two steps back,
Back to the life we've gotten used to, where we have no say,
Back to being puppets of invisible imaginary strings,
Revelling in our problems, ugly orgies where we surrender and we pray.

Less poem, more ramblings of a mind which is currently a bit disturbed and irritated by the world at large.

When Angry, Type....

As I'm writing this post, I feel angrier than I've been in a long long time and I really do need an outlet now, unless I do something stupid. And I hope after this post I have some idea of what the point of all this is? What is the point of all this? What what WHAT what WHAT WHAT what??? NOTHING. Not one stupid inconsequential retarded thing.

What is the point of obedience and honesty? What exactly is the point when you know it isn't worth anything, when you know you will be accused and questioned at periodical whims of paranoia? Why be good when there's absolutely no appreciation for you being good. Appreciation be damned, I'd be content with silence, just stay quiet and I'll be happy. Why try and provoke a response when everything is going well and as it should be? What is the point?

What is the point in denying your friends when they offer you a puff of cigarette (among other things) or a glass of alcohol? What is the point of respecting a few boundaries, I mean, it's not even like any of my parent's money is being spent on the stuff, it's for bloody free? Why not just say "yes" the next time there's a booze party and all of your friends are there? What is the point of being the only sober person within a 20 metre radius? What is the point?

What is the point of being transparent and truthful when everyone else lies? It would make my life so much easier and there is no human way to catch me lying? Why not just hide the truth like everyone else does? Surely that is to be expected? I am a student, that's what I do, fudge the truth, lie and manipulate. So why don't I? What is the point?

That is all out now and no I'm not really anywhere near as good as I made myself sound, but those three paragraphs and Mr. Tambourine Man have served their purpose and not so angry now, just annoyed, disappointed.

P for Pretentious

This perfection that has pervaded my perversions presently, is putrid and pernicious, but provided by the passive populace, preaching and poaching on my present and my past and the perception that positive participation will protect my person, a priori, paying no heed to my pitiful protests, parting me from my placidity and panache and possibly producing a posse who are party to my perish - patient, pleased and poised

Inspired by the film, V for Vendetta. And I think it does make sense, in some ways...

Haze

I see you through the haze,
Every moment of every eternity,
For everything else my sight fails,
But you grow clearer,
Luminescent, afire, a shower of hails.

You put the fog around you on fire,
Burning, brilliant, scorching the air,
I sit here in dreams and fantasies,
Of dark mornings and dense forests of your hair,
Silent, scared and enraptured, I'm lost,
I should leave, wake up, but I don't dare.

You bring chaos with your presence,
Riots start with every breath you take,
But calmness decorates your forehead, placid,
I'm getting sucked in, no matter how much I fake.

Let me go, release me from the stranglehold
Of your eyes that choke me through the smoke,
Your face clear, every detail lucid, bold,
Drowned in your aura, I'm destitute, I'm broke.

Your visions have become more vivid than reality,
A terrific beautiful hell of pristine destruction and flawless pain,
Tempting me away from my scattered, rotting heaven,
Of occupations and aspirations, overwhelming loss and gain,
Highlighting how bleak, my existence, how odd, how even.

And as the haze descends, I'm helpless in it's embrace,
Demented, senile, tormented by the motions,
That rack my brains, leaving me in a daze,
Petrified, enamoured with you, my devotions,
Where I stand, in despair weeping, my Lady of the Haze.

Almost entirely a result of how mind-numbingly boring I find Signals and Systems classes...

From Noida to Guwahati While Sleeping

This is a whatever number of steps process -

1. Have an exam the day before. Obviously you did not sleep the whole previous day and night.

2. Go shopping at Palika on bikes soon afterwards even though you'd rather be sleeping.

3. Make plans for an all-night computer lan gaming party. And ofcourse go to the party. And play. And not sleep.

4. Have the plane take-off next morning.

5. Get on the metro at 6.30 am after not having a wink of sleep in 2.5 days.

6. Fall asleep leaning on your guitar. No worries because you're getting off at the last stop. Wake up just in time to get down.

7. Get an auto to the airport and fall asleep inside. Not the best plan as auto driver may take advantage and deliberately waste time as he sees you sleeping. As a precaution, tell him to get you there 30 mins before you need to be.

8. Make the driver wake you up when you reach there. Get inside, go through security, have some ridiculously overpriced sandwiches for breakfast and get on the bus which takes you to the plane. Lean on your trusty guitar and fall asleep.

9. Someone will wake you up when you reach the plane. Get down blearily, try and look the best you can to the pretty lady getting up behind you, even though drooling when asleep probably makes everything irrelevant.

10. Get to your seat and sleep. You don't remember the take-off, the cruising or the landing. As far as you're concerned they may well have used a particle transporter thingy from Star Wars (or is it Star Trek, oh yeah, Beam me up, Scotty). You just know the scene outside your window changed from Palam to home.

11. Get your luggage and get on your car. Fall asleep in the car (no, not if you're driving). Many unconscious but hot and uncomfortable minutes later land up at home.

12. Get something to eat, find the nearest bed and fall asleep again.

That makes it 12 steps. Sweet.

Light

I saw you gazing at the sky yesterday,
And I thought "what does she see?",
In the black clouds and the drops of rain,
That touch your face and scatter, disappear,
And I realised I thought, I thought in vain.

Because I realised, I realised I did not want to know,
As I saw your face light up the dark clouds,
I found out the meaning of a silver lining,
So clear, so apparent, so obvious, so true,
The silver lining is your smile, shining.

You saw me transfixed, and you blinked,
Your smile wavered for a second, I weaken,
Thirsty, needy, desperate, my eyes plead,
And you comply, and light floods,
And I realise, I realise that is all I need.

So I gaze,
So you smile
And the raindrops,
They touch, scatter,
Disappear.

The Last Metro - Revisited

Why, why is it that, just when you try and sit down to study, you find other so much better things to do, addictions you didn't know you had. Like news. Why do I need to know what's on the news when Advanced Engineering Mathematics is in my hands? Can't I do it when I'm free? What catastrophy am I expecting that may somehow make studying maths unnecessary? It's a bloody conspiracy, a great elaborate plan ( a parting gift from the Nazis probably). Even the metro just started conveniently just before our exams. Coincidence you say, I don't think so! I just can't figure out the motive. What kind of a sadist takes pleasure from torturing innocent young hopeful students, out to make a mark, taking the shine out of their eyes

Take another example - I hate coffee. But put me in front of VHDL Primer and I start craving it. At 10 pm at night. I have to have it, and not just from any roadside stall, no sir, me and my friends just have to go to Nirula's at Connaught Place. At 10.40 pm. So we take the metro (yes, the one and the same evil Delhi Metro), a day before VHDL practical end semester examinations, and land in CP.

We go to Nirula's, gorge on Ice-cream soda (suddenly cappucino doesn't sound so good, after all it's 10.50 pm) and Nutty Buddy Ice-cream (which was delicious by the way, recommend it), which a friend insisted on eating only after we cleared of all the nuts. It's nutty buddy. It has an exorbitant price only because of the nuts. I mean what's the point? Might as well eat plain vanilla. Anyways, we spent almost all our money. Meh what do we care? We've got the Metro Smart Card. Think Smart, Travel Smart. Except the Metro's smart timings have the last train for Noida leaving at 10.55 from Rajiv Chowk. Not so smart.

We walk in to the metro station at 11.15 politely asking Enquiry when the next train to Noida comes in. Shock. Horror. Stranded. No bus. No metro. We were smartly too late. And with less than Rs.100 between the three of us. One of us asks an auto-wallah how much to go to Noida. Answer - Rs. 250. We all laugh in his face, hoping he'll somehow be enraged enough to take us there for free, or at least for less than Rs. 100. Didn't work out all that well. We got out of there before either side became too abusive.

Empty streets. No place to go, and no way to go back home, we start walking in general direction east (Noida is east of Delhi, or atleast I think it is), ready to call everywhere hoping some friend would be good enough to take us in for the night. And then we see a Kwality Walls ice cream guy and ask him if he knew some cheap way to go back to Noida at midnight. Long shot but it paid off. He told us to wait in front of Barakhamba station, lots and lots of cabs going to Noida for as little as Rs. 10 per person, call centre duty. Would have bought a whole months supply of ice cream from him then and there we were so happy, if we had the money that is. So long live call centres it was as far as we were concerned.

Got a cab as soon as we hit Barakhamba Road, didn't even have to go as far as the metro station. Got in, only the three of us in an Indica, with a fat-ish and bald driver, with a considerable moustache - about all I remember. He asked for Rs. 20 per head and even then, cheapstakes that we were, we got it down to Rs.15. And so he got going, and get going he did spectacularly. There were 15 near misses in the next 15 minutes, as I was reduced to quietly hoping that the guy doesn't hit something today, he can happily go back to crashing as soon as he drops us off. So atlast he screeches to a stop at a red light somewhere near Pragati Maidan, and one of my friends passes around his mobile, in which it's written, "The guy is drunk". That was about all that we needed to make it perfect. So we start humming the songs in the radio at full volume, afraid that he may fall asleep, as he continued playing with his and everyone's life for the next 30 minutes.

And then the gates to Noida. The Buddha statue looked like a very dear and long lost friend, the stupid hoardings of the MP almost making us grateful enough to then and there sign up for the BSP. We get off as soon as we reach familiar grounds. We were Kings now, there's no worry anymore, we were in Noida. Our place, our backyard.

But there was still some distance to our homes. So we took another cab. This one had a shifty guy driving it, which prompted one of my friends to tell the one who hailed the cab that he was going to kill him, if the driver turned out to be a mass murdering psycho. No such luck. We were back, and I gave my exams the next day.

But that is a horror story for another day.