...and to you, who are wonderful, magical, and amazing...

Time just goes by without me paying any attention to this and, suddenly, it's six months later and I am overcome with the sudden realization of the changes I've undergone. There are people who may be saddened by this lack of self-awareness, but me? I get a little kick off it. Making my way through pouring rain, one fine day, I realize that I don't notice the smell of rain anymore like I used to. I don't scrunch up my eyes, look up and smile at the clouds either. The person responsible for bringing almost all of these changes about is a man. Him of the virtually complete control over my consciousness.


This man has taken all my actions, decisions & opinions and put them through the wringer, leaving me questioning every single thought of my own and while all this is coming off as quite sorrowful, let me show you how it's not. Sorrow has no place in my life as it is now.


In all these years, there's a lot of small pieces of junk I picked up in form of thoughts. I'm a hoarder by nature, so people just kept throwing them my way and I just kept stacking them haphazardly one after another. He's shown me I don't have to do that anymore. That uncluttering your mind is the best thing to do, no matter how attached you've gotten to the chaos you've organized.


He has this power not because of some perennially-joyful life we lead. The fights between us probably outnumber the fights between every couple I've ever known put together and their intensity will make you scream. I hate changes and he makes me hate myself for changing, but once the metamorphosis is complete, I have to bite back all my arguments and just concede to being defeated. The changes make me better.


So, now when I do smile at the rain, I'll do it like I mean it.


P.S. I don't know if any of what I wrote above make any sense at all to anyone apart from me, but that doubt isn't reason enough for me to not write it. However, the next post shall be more in my usual style, so if you don't get this one, just hit your mental 'ignore' button, okay? Or, busy yourself with these 'Everything is Sunny' bloopers.


P.P.S The number of times I used 'any' in the sentence above is CRAZY, man.


P.P.P.S. Also, uncluttering isn't a word? Is this a joke?

Why are your libraries full of tears?

I read. It's good thing. Scratch that; it's the best thing I can do with my time till I learn how to write something worth reading myself, so I'll choose and pick bones with everyone who claims to 'not have the time'. Balls, I say. I get through a 9-hours workday + 4 hours' travel + my second job that you guys know nothing of (actually, you know zilch of my first job, come to think of it) + the requisite amount of social life a person's required to have in order to be classified 'normal' and guess what? I still find time to get through one book per day. So, please:


1) Do not whine to me about the lack of time: The only people I know that don't read books are the ones with the most time on their hands. There's a term for people like that - 'vella'. Go on, look it up. It's what I used to be until recently.


2) Do not tell me you read books & then list 'Da Vinci Code' as your 'favoritest' book ever: I mean, that's just disgusting. It's as if you aren't even trying to wise up to the fact that even though some books make for thrilling one-time reads, they aren't the only ones of their kinds. It may be a great read, but unless it resonates with you completely, it's not favorite-book material.


3) Do not try to get away by watching the movie and claiming to have read the book: Because, I mean, that's just you branding yourself the lamest person ever. Right next to the guy in high-school who raved of his sexual escapades, but was, in fact, a virgin till you last saw him. Probably, still is.


4) Do not, once you start reading, turn into a book-snob: Only because you've read Proust's works a bazillion times does not give you the right to proclaim that you wouldn't touch a modern writer's piece or a more contemporary work with a ten-foot pole. You're not fooling any one by one-upping someone by citing  the books you've read. All they have to do to get even is, you know, just go read the book. It's simpler that you might think. And seriously? I read Albert Camus and Chuck Palahniuk at the same time, so really, screw you.


5) Do not attempt to try to fight with me about this over the internet: Because, really, what are you gonna do? Caps Lock me to death?


You CAN however now reach me on my shiny-new (okay, not so new, however, now frequently updated) Twitter handle to tell me how much you missed me or just diss me.

For the love of EDM

Why people get labeled 'loser', but whoa, the new Blogger dashboard's so shiny and hey, all of Blogger's so damn shiny, probably has been for months now and this is an insight into how fucking sporadically I blog and, wait... what was I talking about again?

Yep. The title could be a book. Get over it.


Until about a few months ago, my reaction all acts of stupidity of any degree was a seething insult, because, you know, no one has the right to be stupid. I understand lack of interest, but lack of intellect - not so much, because don't all of us have more or less the same equipment to get on with?


 I mean, really, what in the name of all that is ghastly is this?





And I'm glad to report that the stance hasn't changed one bit.


Also, Mr. Weather, sir? Will you just stop mucking about what with the ooh-it's-gonna-rain and hah-fooled-ya attitude already? I need some heavy precipitation to get my thoughts in order and write a blog that is bigger than a Tweet. Or one where at least the post is marginally bigger than the damn title.


Seriously.


(And there I go blaming my lack of absolute cohesion on the rain.)

Why do you smile that way? l never know if you’re judging me, absolving me or mocking me.

Delhi's like a lover I've had for nine straight years. A lover I've guarded extremely jealously. If I had a penny for every time I've gotten into a spat defending Delhi, I'd be cruising in a Bentley right about now. Okay, maybe not. But I would have had enough for an extravagantly sumptuous three-course meal. It's like the younger brother I never had, but fiercely defended.

But I've been bad, lately. Really, really bad. December last year saw me visiting Lucknow after an incredible 17 years. That's long, okay. That's so long that the only memory I had of having been there was of me walking the market streets with mom and realizing about 2 kilometers later that the woman holding my hand wasn't mom.


Yeaaaaaaah, about that. I was walking with a total stranger for 20 minutes and didn't have the slightest idea that something was wrong. Don't judge 4 year old me. 4 year old me was very easily distracted. Which reminds that I'm talking of Lucknow now. (Re)Discovering Lucknow was like finding a shoebox full of old pictures I thought I'd lost. Imagine a friend standing you up for a date. Then, imagine a friend from what seems like a long lost life turning up, a friend whose name you forgot, but filed away the face unconsciously because of the beautiful smile on that face. You see that smile, now a thousand times more brilliant and your heart leaps a little.


And you don't even know why.


But, Delhi, I'm not doing this to get back at you for all the nights I had to shake some pervert off my tail, or for the ones when I shouted myself hoarse bargaining for things to what they're really worth. I don't count the innumerable losses, some not so important, some that tore away a little bit of my heart with them. It's just that you're confusing me with your abrupt indifference. You haven't exactly turned away from me, but it's like you just wont look me in the eye.


I love you, Delhi, because of the nights you tended to my broken heart. The days you followed me with the your splendid summers, warming my insides just so.


I know this will pass, Delhi, don't let us fall slowly apart.