Dear Spoilt Brat #15826079,

You have it so easy don't you? With your parents' decades worth of hard-earned money to support you. Wait, was it even hard-earned or did that came easy too, from unscrupulous means and compromised ethics? Well, I'm nobody to judge you, but I do observe you.
You lie in your cushy bed, fiddling with that brand new cellphone that costs more than what some people earn in a lifetime. Exaggerating, am I? No, wake up, look around you. Notice the dire poverty on the other side of town, in the shanties you've only ever seen from a distance yet unconsciously turn a blind eye to? There are people living there too, amid unspeakable filth and squalor. The same people you hire to clean your toilets and scrub your floors, luring them with paltry sums of money that are like spare change in your deep pockets, but seem to be fortunes to those poor underprivileged souls.
You yak into your phone, with people just like you yakking back at the other end. Lunch, movie, dinner; you make plans to enjoy and unwind. You will wear those new jeans, the one you ordered your uncle from America to bring along on his last 'business trip' down to the subcontinent. I wish you would care to check the label sometimes; they're made in India, beleive it or not. Manufactured in pollution-spewing factories that hire people like robots and exploit them in every way, luring them with paltry money, just like you do.
You will sit at your new laptop, the one you've just bought to have a faster computing experience since your old one's too full of movies and photos and music to process up to the mark anymore, and you will surf the internet to decide which new digital camera to purchase. Or ask your dad to purchase for you, rather. You got a 70% on those last exams, you deserve a gift. And that new Nikon with all the fancy features will make you the envy of your clan of friends, namely like-minded rich kids. Moreover, you will impress that guy you have your eye on, he's into all kinds of gadgets and is bound to go gaga over your snazzy new camera that's not even arrived in the Indian market yet. He will ask if he can try it out, and you will gladly agree, striking sexy poses for him to click; photographs which you will then upload on Facebook to receive compliments galore. In the comments, you will accidentally on purpose reveal that HE is the one who captured the shots, and this will make the other girls jealous, and draw more attention to you and your desired guy. You will engage in some public discussions about photography without really knowing what you're saying but sounding super smart because of your unflappable confidence. The same confidence that had helped you flatter and win over that teacher who had then allowed you to cheat on the exams so as to get the 70% and appear 'deserving' of the camera to your parents.
You needn't have gone to all that trouble. You're a rich kid; your parents would buy you anything you want even if you fail the exams or get busted at a rave or take someone's life with that swanky BMW you drive without a license. Your parents are blind to your faults because they can be easily covered up with money, but I wonder how they've come to be deaf to their consciences too?
People say you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth. I don't understand what that means, and I'm sure neither do you, but perhaps those born with spoons, never learn to use their hands. Confused? Yes, I knew you would be but I won't explain. My meaning is implied and it's time you learned to use your brain and 'get' things without having to Google them all the time.
Thank you.

Birthday Boy!

Happy Birthday to HIM!!

His star sign is Pisces. Mine is Scorpio. Both water signs = Made for each other!

His birth number is 7 (25 --> 2+5=7). So is mine! = Made for each other!

His voice makes me weak in the knees. His eyes are adorable, as is his smile.

And boy, can he dance!

I love Shahid! And here's wishing him the happiest birthday ever even though obviously, he doesn't know me.

To share a bit of an embarrassing secret like I'm so good at doing here, I sometimes imagine that when I'm a famous writer, perhaps Shahid Kapoor will one day read my book and praise it during an interview or something. And who knows, we might even end up meeting sometime! And of course, I would blush and giggle and go absolutely nuts over him.

Yes, I know I am crazy, but hey, I'm allowed to dream! Dream of my dream guy. :P

Here's to many more Ishq Vishks, Chup Chup Kes, Jab we Mets, Kismat Konnections, and Kamineys, and not too many Fidas and Shikhars and Fool and Finals.

Cheers to Shahid!

p.s. how I wish he would not date Priyanka. hmfffff! :(

Notes to Myself - 1

Conversations are good.
They lighten your heart and clear your head.
You must make it a point to talk more rather than always turn to the written word.
Rest assured that people are always there to listen if only you speak up.

Until next time,

Your alter ego.

Happy 'Homecoming' to me.

Hot, sticky, scorching summers; messy, mucky, unpredictable rains; harsh winters sucking moisture from my skin; noise everywhere, all the time; deaths of grandparents; financial problems; dreams shattered; confusion, depression, lack of focus; pesky relatives; stupid rules, social norms that make me sick; dizzy free-fall of first love, hitting rock bottom moods; frustration; anxiety; stress; feeling suicidal; listlessness; friendships that save me from gloom; writing; blogging; new dreams; growing up psychologically; silent rebel-in-me being unleashed; being stuck in one place too long with no break; feeling trapped; earning money and realising it can buy me freedom; excitement; plots and plans; more dreams; trying to move on; loving people who don't deserve it; nursing a perpetually broken heart; aching all the time; pretending to be strong; eventually getting strong for real; finding myself; becoming myself; making friends, many many many; lots of movies; lots of books; seeking happiness in the little things; accepting fate but carving destiny.

So much has happened these past five years. Five years of being in India, the 'home' I 'returned' to on 20th February 2006. I've learned to like it, because circumstances can't change but my attitude can. And it has to a great extent.

Movie Recommendation

I just saw the saddest, most heart-wrenching movie ever: Never Let Me Go. It's a delicate love story with a bit of a science-fiction twist, and never has any film moved me so much. It's easily the most original romance I have ever come across and I'm going to watch it over and over again.

A thought-provoking, hauntingly beautiful tale of friendship, science, and human existence, the movie is based on the novel of the same name by celebrated booker-prize winning author, Kazuo Ishiguro. Never Let Me Go was in fact shortlisted for the booker prize too. I've just downloaded the eBook and can't wait to read it because I'm sure that it will prove even better than the film.

If you download movies, you absolutely MUST get it. Trust me, you won't be disappointed. It's become my top favorite and I have a feeling it will stay so for a long, long time. Kudos to the author for coming up with such a brilliant and one-of-a-kind tale that blends romance and science, truth and fiction, with such utter simplicity and sheer eloquence.

Bad Karma

My eyes feel heavy, with the weight of unshed tears

They ache and droop, like I haven't slept in years.

My heart's no better, broken again, in your wake

Why do you always do this - my love forsake?

I didn't want much, just sweet words and time,

but you kept me waiting, waiting in line.

So don't blame me now for the bitter things I say,

Have you honestly left me with any other way?

A bundle of prayers and well wishes galore

that's all I had to give you, nothing less or more.

Yet you turned them down and made me cry,

Didn't you hear my voice crack, when I said goodbye?

You never seem to care how your actions hurt me,

When I break down inside, you're never there to see.

But stop scorning my goodness, for better or for worse.

Don't you know a blessing shunned becomes a curse?

Thoughts

1. Egypt done, now Bahrain. Perhaps its time we Indians too took to the streets, protesting against all the scamsters who have been ripping our country apart for far too long now. They should all be put in slums with no clothes or food or water; that'll teach them a lesson or two. But who would we put in power instead? More scamsters? Perhaps we should elect some of our poorest and most disparate citizens who sure know a thing or two about living economically, spending within their means and surviving in the best way possible with minimum expenditure. An India run TRULY by the people. Amen to that.

2. What is that # sign people are using on FB and IM these days? First it was the *__* thing, then the @s and now #. I'm always last in catching onto all these new fads. Oh well...

3. I wonder whether love can be so sadistic, so grotesque, as to only rejoice in the other person's misery. For it is only when they hurt that they realize how I hurt. There was a time when my happiness lay in theirs, but now, it is when they are sad that I smile, despite feeling sick about it inside. Perhaps it is a sign of my love turning to hate. But no, I cannot hate them, I love them so much. I think I am just bitter and wounded and too wronged. For all I ever wanted was a bit of their time, a bit of their concern, but I got anger and indifference, which has led me to this twisted state.

4. I am beginning to hate Facebook. In fact, I would quit if it weren't such a great tool to promote my writing. Aspiring writers can't afford to be cut off from the virtual world these days, I must build my 'platform' and my 'audience'. Meh.

5. How do people live the same life day-in-day-out? I'm incredibly and most thoroughly bored. I want something new now. I'm going to create a lifestyle wherein every few months, or at least every year, I make some change and do something different. Routine is so not for me. I need adventure! Which is why I'm not really excited for things like marriage. Too much responsibility! I wanna be freeeeeeee..... free as a bird.... la la la la la la la... Okay, time to stop writing now before I begin babbling on and on and scare you away.

Eternal Singledom + Valentine's Day = ??

= A super cheesy, mushy, amusing, but heartfelt love letter to yet-to-be-found, possibly nonexistent dream guy, of course! --->

My Dear Valentine,

It feels strange writing to you when we haven’t met yet, but there’s still a unique charm in it. For I know, with the certainty of a child, that you are out there, seeking me just as I am seeking you. And since we both want the same thing (each other), surely, the entire universe is conspiring to make us meet when the time is just right. I do hope that such a time comes soon, but I know that patience pays and I shouldn’t try to fight fate, instead let destiny unfold in its own magical way. I know that when you come along to light up my dull, mundane life, you will prove totally worth this arduous wait that I have been enduring so long. Gee, I seem full of farfetched, romantic notions, don’t I? well, that’s just the way I am and I have decided that I won’t change, no matter how much heartbreak I experience along the way. For if I lose faith, I will lose everything.

I had thought that this Valentine’s Day, I would write another cynical/skeptical/sarcastic post about how love is all rubbish and never going to happen for me, but somehow, something changed my mind and so I am here, writing to you in the hope that this letter will generate some positive energy and draw us towards each other soon. I think of you everyday, you know, if not everyday than definitely several times a week, usually just before sleep overcomes me at night as I lay in bed and think of all the million things I want in life and how I will go about achieving them. Your thoughts, believe it or not, give me strength and remarkable inspiration. Sometimes, I think of you fondly, anticipating what you will be like and envisioning the many fun times we will have together. Other times, I am more pessimistic, bitter, contemplating whether you will forever remain a figment of my imagination, a dream and desire that will never materialize. But mostly, I just wonder where you are and what you are doing and – most importantly – whether you are thinking of me too. Perhaps I have lost my mind, but then, what’s love without some madness, eh?

Whenever I miss you, which is almost all the time, I remind myself that true love takes time and effort, that my pining is a good thing, because it means that I will know your value when I finally have you, and so won’t take for you granted or let our relationship get ensnared in the usual childish conflicts of clashing egos and misunderstandings that are so abundant in relationships these days. Now, I am sounding like a wizened old granny, but I know you’ll love this philosophical side of me too. I imagine you too will have such a side so that we can engage in long and complex discussions about life and human existence and everything in-between. I imagine your intellect and wit will be what I will most love about you. It’s so difficult to find a smart, sensible, thinking guy these days.

Another quality I know you will possess is understanding. You will understand why I am the way I am – why I find it difficult to talk but am so expressive with the written word, why I shun social occasions like weddings and funerals and religious meets, why I just like to be and don’t like to explain. And you will be perfectly okay with all this, never expecting or wanting me to change. You will understand that I get edgy when I am trying to focus on something and that I HATE to be disturbed when I’m writing, and you will do your best to give me my space and let me do the things I need to do. Of course, the reverse will be true too, and I will just as much oblige your unique eccentricities, whatever they may be.

I hope you will read my writing and give constructive criticism rather than merely liking or disliking it; and I hope you will only ever give me useful presents like stationery or books rather than pointless jewellery and soft toys. You won’t expect me to cook for you everyday, because that is hideously chauvinistic and completely unfair, though we will cook together routinely, perhaps on weekends, coming up with our own recipes made of rich chocolate and butter and other sinful delights. You won’t want me to be model-thin or wear make-up, but I will certainly take time to dress up for you, because looks DO matter. I will wear nice perfume, something which you like, so that I can literally live up to my name and be the Mehak (fragrance) of your life. You will like Bollywood movies - or at least tolerate them for my sake – and similarly, I will put up with the likes of Terminator and X-Men and Star Trek just for you. We will play video games – especially racing ones and fighting ones – for that is something I have loved since I was a kid. And we will go for long walks in the city or the countryside, just to soak in the world around us and marvel at its vibrancy.

Together, we will more than make up for every lost Valentine’s Day and every single year’s worth of lonely evenings spent at home when the rest of the world seemed to be having a ball, and we will wipe out from each other’s minds and hearts all the sad memories and feelings of rejection and pain and inadequacy that we may have suffered before finding each other. Fitting into each other’s lives and souls like missing pieces of a puzzle finally found, we will find our true meaning and life’s purpose. We will be one, in the most natural way, yet never lose our own individuality. And in so doing, at long last, we will be most beautifully, most supremely, most completely, complete.

----

*I've been trying to reply to comments on the last post but for some reason, Blogger won't let me. Thanks everyone who read and commented. I've once again gotten too busy and fallen behind in blog-reading but will catch up soon. Hope you have a good Valentine's Day. Even if you don't believe in it or don't celebrate it, you simply MUST watch this video:

Title-less.

And sometimes, I have no words. Just a furious, seething silence, like a volcano brewing. Bubbling, frothing, getting closer and closer to an explosion that will vanquish all and prove triumphant, without a trace of guilt for wrecking unimaginable havoc.

"Don't push me, 'coz I'm on the edge." These are words that sound in my head, remembered from some long-forgotten song, a tune heard in times that are no more, times that will never return.

If only I could say it out loud. Perhaps they would stop then. Perhaps they would understand. Perhaps they would give me a chance. Perhaps they would not compel me to do something drastic, something brash, something dramatic.

Perhaps.

To all parents out there, please emulate these too-true words by Khalil Gibran. Writers always have a point; if only the world understood it.

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.