The strongest emotion of all

 

 

I know someone who killed themselves
Not one, but quite a few
What terrible chances in their life
Did they so depressingly rue
That celebrity, who made you laugh
That friend, who joked, you thought
That unexpected person next door
Wonder what against he fought
What horrible demons did
Each of them everyday slew
I know someone who killed themselves
Not one, but quite a few

Loneliness sometimes hits hard. It often follows periods of frustration. Most likely when you are worried about things not happening your way. That’s when you get all philosophical. You ponder about the purpose of your life. You don’t see any. We all are going to die one day, why not now then? Endless failures look to cripple you. And more often than not you seem to be chasing the success that conveniently seems to elude you. You may have thought about it. Maybe not as dramatically as holding a kitchen knife to your wrist but you wonder just the same. What it is to slash open your wrist? To hang yourself from the ceiling fan? To jump from a tall building? To electrocute yourself in the bath? To lie down on the railway track? To gulp an uncharacteristic amount of sleeping pills? The methods are endless. The internet a handy source, the television a gateway into easy life-taking lessons. But most of us stop right there. Because we still, maybe deep down, but we still believe that better days are around the corner. And they are.

Just before the darkness swallows us whole, that tiny ray of light pulls us into the sunshine. We realize we are lucky. We are surrounded by our loved ones. That each failure was just a stepping stone to success. And we thank god for everything that is still ours. That time must have robbed us of countless possessions but it still spared us a few. We rue about all our dreams not getting fulfilled but aren’t we glad all our nightmares have not materialized either? Truth is for most of us, even when our life is staring down at the end of the barrel, we find in ourselves the strength to get back on our feet. Easier said than done, perhaps, but it comes to pass.

Now imagine all the darkest times in your life? When you have felt lonely even when loved ones surround you? Remember the scary moments and imagine being stuck in them for what seems like an eon. What is it to stare right in the face of the tiny ray of hope but yet being blind to the light on the other side? What is it to be enveloped in the arms of a loved one but not feeling the emotion? What is it to listen to the soothing words of encouragement whispered into the ear yet not being able to hear them? What it is to be perpetually frightened of our own shadow?

We read in books, we watch in movies and for ages we have been hearing that Love is the strongest emotion of all. We have experienced it in form of gentle scolding from our father, from the warm embrace of our mother, from the naughty smile of our child, from the friendly banter with our siblings, from the mock laughter of our friends, from the affectionate glance of our spouse. We cannot imagine a world in which they don’t exist. But we dread a world in which they do exist yet are unable to reach out to us.

We brand them cowards. Suicide, did you say? Why did he/she do it? They had so much to live for? Did not even think about his/her parents? kids? friends? family? We opine that lack of courage drives them to such an extreme step. But in reality, damn if it isn’t the most courageous thing you have heard of! What kind of exceptional strength does it take to denigrate our own life? When we come out of our occasional mood swings, we realize how trivial our problems actually were. It is only when we observe our life from a third person point of view, the silliness of our (in)action sinks in. But what if we ever lose the ability to observe it?

We are literate enough to know how a mental illness can be severely debilitating than a physical one. How stress and tension corrodes the body and mind. How significantly our psychological state can affect even the ones around us. How fleeting life really is. Did you now the pretty young girl, who used to stay around the corner, she did it! Did you know the smiling grandpa, who lived two stories below, he did it! Did you know the mischievous kid, who used to wave at you from across the park, he did it! We all have to sink into the oblivion one day but what if some around us have already sunk so low while alive that there seems to be absolutely no difference between life and death for them? Is depression the strongest emotion of all?

 

(If you find yourselves in a hopeless situation or you know someone who might be suffering from depression, don’t hesitate to get help. Talk it out. Don’t keep it bottled inside. There a lot of NGOs and help centers. If you don’t prefer them, reach out to a trusted friend. Remember, while taking your own life, in the process, you are destroying those of your loved ones too)

Roommates from Hell

“Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I’m not sure about the universe.”

                                                                                                                                                                                                -Albert Einstein 

I am sure you have read my blog post over a year ago – The roommate from Dumb-land, about the most stupidest girl I ever met. I was new then, just a couple of months away from home, still new to the concept of how idiotic people can be. But now, believe me…….after staying away from home for over 18 months, the number of colourful characters that I have met has just hit the roof. When Dumb roomie No. 1 left, I thought there would be no one who could match the amount of absurdity she displayed. I was so wrong. Since then, I have had to deal with people who have driven me to the edge of insanity.

Well let me begin with the ‘Super Geek’. I have literally never in my life seen someone studying so much. Never remember her being without a book ever. All she used to do is sit on her bed and study. When I used to open my eyes in the morning, she would be studying. Even while sleeping, the last image I used to see before closing my eyes was her lean frame bent over a book that probably weighed more than her. She used whip out a book from the bag, the moment she entered the room.I will be genuinely surprised if she doesn’t end up a CEO of some big-shot company!

Then came the ‘Slow One’. Everything she did was a zillion times slower. for example, she used to take nearly 20 mins just to get food on her plate. How much time went in consuming it, don’t ask. I used to feel sleepy even by looking at her. I could complete a leisurely power nap in the pause between the sentences she spoke. I swear I have seen turtles who are faster than her.

She was followed by one I call ‘The Skeleton‘. If you are thinking the name represents her physical appearance, you are not entirely wrong but it was much more than that. Picture this: You are lying on your bed. It is past midnight. Only a dim zero watt bulb is shining. You are not able to sleep so you decide to watch a movie on your phablet. Suddenly you hear a sound that makes you look up…..and…you see all horror in the world. I find her sitting on her bed, staring at me with big red eyes, laughing, moving her head sideways and singing a sentence over and over again in a language I did not understand. Her back is bent, her arms and legs twisted at an awkward angle (would have even put ‘Linda Blair of The Exorcist’ fame to shame). It did not take even a second for me to run out of the room and bang on my neighbour’s door. After accumulating all the courage I could gather I returned back to my room only to witness this scary spectacle twice more in the same night. Needless to say I spent the entire night sitting on my bed, too scared to even lie down and (believe it or not) chanting the Hanuman chalisa (A Hindu devotional hymn) over and over again! Whether she was actually possessed I know not. Although I am surprised I didn’t went running down the road to the local church and demanding the priest to perform an exorcism.

Thankfully my ordeal lasted only for 2 days. I had sufficiently spooked my landlady to show this girl the door. I was now hoping for some normal person to come to stay. But instead I got ‘The Question Mark'(Miss QM)! The name says it all. She painfully reminds of Dumb Roomie No. 1 from the original post….Only she is a 1000 times worse. The day she came to stay, she began unpacking her stuff at 10 pm in the night and then proceeded to show me every single item she took out of the bag followed by the question, ‘Where shall I keep this?’ EVERY SINGLE ITEM (you all are sane enough to know what that might include). Imagine being shown about 50-60 random things in quick succession accompanied by an annoyingly shrill voice. All this because, she has never stayed away from home and does not know where stuff goes. (Has she ever heard of something called Shelf or a Cupboard? I doubt).

 

She is also apparently obsessed with hair – What shampoo do you use? What conditioner do you use? What hair oil do you use? Why are your hair so silky? What hair-cut is this? How do you make your hair grow? (WTF). Luckily I am not the only one who suffers. She asks this question to every girl in the building. She even asks me how much each of my things costs and proceeds to make a not of them in her book. Like, how much does your phone cost? How much do your iPod cost? How much does your laptop cost? 

Then, her knowledge about facts is even more bizarre. For example, she thinks Sherlock Holmes was created by Agatha Christie! (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle must be laughing his ass off in the writer’s heaven). Explaining cricket to an American or a person who has spent his entire life in Antarctica, would be more easier than explaining it to her. Or for that matter, any sport.

Every morning and night, she learns multiplication tables! Yep, you read that right! It begins with 2 times 1 is 2, 2 times 2 is 4, 2 times 3 is 6. So on and so forth. And by the way, she is 24 not 8! (Girl, what the heck where you doing in the first grade??)

I could go on and on but my depleted brain cells do not allow too much stress these days. In last 18 months, I have had 10 different roommates and apart from a couple of genuinely sensible ones, the others have all been bimbos. Like literally. I will end this blog with the explanation Miss. QM gives for her short height:-

(In her own words): “You know why height is short? When I was young, I was very very fat. Even my parents used to make fun of me. So, I began dieting from age 10. I began eating less and less food. So my body did not get any nutrients and my height never increased.”

The roommate from Dumb-land

Bad to worse

I am all for stupid and dumb. I sincerely believe these people improve the quality of life and enrich the world with their presence. I, myself have been called a dumb blonde on several occasions on twitter by people who possess the sense of humour of a wet sponge and unable to gauge the difference between a sarcastic comment and an actual one.

I know people usually have a problem with their roommates on the factor of cleanliness and believe me, I was the one that believed that yes, it is indeed the worst possible difficulty to deal with….until I came across ‘dumbness’, which let me assure you drives me up against the wall at all times.

On the exterior, if I say my roommate is calm and sweet…..I would, definitely be lying because she is not. And every day I have to listen to the gyaan that can pretty much confound even the best of scientists and give scholars of the world a heart-attack. For example, Did you know that ‘Calcium is the deficiency of protein‘? Yes, this is only the beginning of what I am subjected to. And my years of scientific education suffers a massive blow.

Then she proceeds to tell me that Testicular cancer affects women! I seriously doubt her anatomy at this point and begin researching articles on google of whether any science teacher from her home-town has committed suicide in the recent past.

If that was not enough, I am told that looking your face in the mirror at night and in the morning can lead to it’s disfigurement, which has made me write ‘mask’ as the number one commodity I am supposed to buy in the list of items I have compiled for weekend shopping. I mean seriously, if people consider me cute now….I must be extra-ordinarily stunning 25 years back but ruined my face over the years as I continued looking in the mirror.

If you thought the statements she makes are tolerable, wait till you hear the questions she asks. And every time when she does indeed opens her loud mouth to ask, I silently curse God for giving me the self-restraint that makes me impossible to strangle her and shut her up. So with a brave smile on my face & my evil heart planning her downfall, I listen in mock attention as she asks my advice on matters which even 6 year olds will consider stupid.

Should I drink milk first or have breakfast first? – A question on which she ponders for a minimum of 50 minutes and asks me 5 times, after which she proceeds to call her mom, dad, uncles, aunts and grandparents as the family together tries to solve this perplexing mystery that has chided humanity for ages. At this point, I am certain – stupidity indeed does run in the family.

If the entire family finally reaches the consensus of having milk first, I get asked another question – How many tablespoons of Bournvita should I add to the milk? I tell ‘One’ and then proceed to tell her of how more than one tablespoon of Bournvita can cause mental retardation in the long run. This answer is greeted by genuine horror on her face. (I cackle with laughter inside over a small victory, which in reality is very short-lived).

She claims she follows cricket but has absolutely no idea who Shikhar Dhawan or Sir Jadeja is. She has never heard of Dilshan and Jayawardene, thinks Vettori still leads the Kiwis and when I talk about Cook, she actually believes he is some real cook that travels with the English team to cook their meals (Haven’t told her about Buttler or Broad yet).

I swear my brain-cells commit mass-suicide every day and my grey matter is depleting at an alarming rate. By the end of this year, I will only need to color my hair yellow to suit the part of a dumb blonde. Each time I enter the house, I dread the statement/question that will rob my brain cells of their innocence and take me one step closer to becoming an imbecile. I cover my ears with ear-phones to listen to songs as I cower in fear of getting attacked by this barrage of nonsense. But morons have been granted the super-power as her obnoxiously loud voice filters in asking me whether she can put glue on her laptop to make it stick to the laptop stand as she doesn’t like to remove it everyday. My eyes un-focused and quite resembling to that of a murderer continue to stare ahead pretending not to hear. My teeth grind in frustration and my hands curl up in fists waiting to deliver the sucker punch.

Pray for me fellow internet addicts, as I fight for my sanity…..every day, every hour, every minute…..until I am asked just like now even when I am writing this down – What happens to people born on February 29th? Do get they get stuck on being one-year olds until four years past? (FacePalm).

Note: This post is neither made-up nor make-believe. By the end of this year when I finally start tweeting/blogging/facebooking such equally idiotic rubbish, it will be proved. I have very little time left….until then, all I can say is – Did you know that the fruit orange was actually named after the color orange and they refused to name apples red because they come in green too and…..hmmmmm…shucks…I forgot, what she said about the watermelons……

REGRET

He sits by the table, his back to the window staring at the solitary candle flickering with the gentle cool breeze. The wall in front of him is bare, illuminated with the dim light of the candle and a canvas for strange shadows dancing on it. He gets up and walks to the window and peers into the darkness outside. The storm has subsided, he can hear only the the gentle pitter-patter of the rain now. The wind has died down and all is quiet except for the distant howling of the dogs. But it doesn’t looks like the electricity is going to be restored soon. I don’t think anyone bothers about it. It is a small suburb on the outskirts of a major city, quaint and dull. The townsfolk themselves are used to be being ignored at all times. It is OK for him though. He likes the anonymity this town offers. Here he doesn’t have to pull any masks over his face. He is content, living in this one-storey small bungalow surrounded by hills and trees. And anyways, he is here for a specific purpose which he intends to fulfill tonight.

He looks back and glances at the room. There is a a huge bed on one side, a dresser with a full length mirror and a writing table with a chair at the opposite end. The walls are bare. It is a strictly impersonal room with no sign of an individual attached to it. He presses his back against the window and gets lost in watching the flickering flame of the candle again. Beside it, there is a piece of paper and a pen, a small clock reading 22:30 in green color, a glass of water and a bottle of sleeping pills. 

He is snapped back into reality with a flash of lightening. The rain is gaining momentum again. It is going to be a long night. Long and wet. The drizzle has changed to a full-fledged downpour within seconds. He hastily closes the window and walks back to the chair. Sitting on it, he rests his elbow on the arm of the chair and supports his head. The cell phone in his right-hand pocket starts buzzing incessantly. He watches the name splashed across the screen and ignores it. Finally when the phone stops ringing, he checks the notifications – 6 missed calls, 11 messages! He doesn’t want to talk to anybody right now – no friends, no family. He has come here to get away from all. He wants to be alone. He needs to be alone. 

Completely bored and utterly unsure of what to do next, he begins to skim through his phone’s photo gallery. A sad smile spreads on his face as he looks fondly at those memories. Lost amidst those scores of pictures, he suddenly finds the one he wanted to avoid. It’s her! He is confused. He had thought that he deleted every single one of her pics. But apparently, this escaped attention. It is a group photo with her at the corner, hand carelessly draped over his shoulder. He feels a sudden surge of pain in his heart and his body goes rigid. And then the tears come. He quietly buries his head in his hands and weeps silently. After what seems like hours, he looks up; wipes the un-dried tears with the back of his hand and leans backwards. He closes his eyes and gets lost in that beautiful memory that once…..was his life!

She giggles and shakes her head. Her long raven hair cascading down her shoulders shining in the pleasant winter sunlight. Her eyes, large and brown like a doe twinkling with mischief, always amused, always curious. Her laughter like a warm spring breeze. She is small and lovely, incredibly cute. Not beautiful, not gorgeous, not sexy but there is something undeniably attractive about her. It’s like- all the sweet and innocent things of the world are wrapped up in that tiny frame. 

He jerks back into reality, half-expecting her to run her hands through his hair, half-expecting to melt in her arms, half-expecting her to kiss him with her soft lips. But it is over! There is no hope left. It’s been over a year and he still cannot forget those times. The past comes haunting him. He can’t concentrate and just can’t bear to go on living in such a dismal way. Nothing has gone right since the day she……nothing…..agghhhh…he lets out a sigh of frustration….and tears at his hair. He is sure he is going to go crazy. The sleeping pills- they are his only option right now! He wants to welcome death, get rid of this everyday despair. 

One word – REGRET! We all face it; every moment of the day. Regret for so many things- for a lost love, a lost hope, a lost cause, a lost opportunity, a lost life….

It is a long journey this life, a long road of trials and tribulations with joys and happiness only sprinkled around. Achieving those smiles is not easy too, we have to work at it. Always faced with numerous choices, we find ourselves constantly debating about which path to take. And it seems like everything around us is against us. We hate more than we love and that we love, we don’t keep. We make mistakes, repeat them and end up completely disoriented and dis-illusioned about life. Some- continue to battle on with a broken spirit while Others succumb and finally give up!

He uncorks the bottle and empties it in his right palm. He picks up the glass of water in the other and screams at the top of his lungs. He is babbling incoherently now like a madman, a glazy look in his eyes. Thats it! Now is the time! He gobbles the pills in one swift motion and gulps the entire contents of the glass. The panic has passed now as he silently eases back. The candle is in the dying stages now. The light has gone even dimmer. He is feeling sleepy now but quite tranquil and at peace. There will be repercussions of this act but in some other reality; not here, not now. For now, there is just serenity around. The last thing he sees as he closes his eyes is the piece of paper fluttering on the desk. There is a single sentence written right in the middle of it – I don’t regret my life, I regret the way I lived it… 

And the candle suddenly burns bright and goes off to plunge its surrounding into an impenetrable darkness. What life didn’t do, death does- it embraces the body of that young man as he slowly sinks into oblivion….

NEVER LET THEM DIE

(Dreams – Only being on the brink of fulfilling one, isn’t enough! They must be nurtured & allowed to grow, they must be fed & watered to give a meaning to life. It is a constant struggle to achieve them, and there will be so many to spoil the party. People who aren’t gracious enough to accept your genius, insecure ones who  will try everything to watch you fail miserably. Fight them. Fight for what you believe in. Dreams do come true, so make an effort to turn them into something so beautiful that the world takes notice & gives your talent the respect it deserves…)

 

She sits by the window sill, staring into the space

A turmoil raging inside her, shadowed by the calmness of her face

She gathers all her wits with might, to allow herself a smile

A true genuine happiness, that had been missing for a while.

A dream she thought was impossible, an unbelievable wish, you see

Of a door she locked long ago and threw away the key

 

In an desperate attempt to fit in, she had compromised her life

Resigned to a monotony of usual existence & an everyday stressful strife

But, struggle molded her to the strong person what she is now

The hard-work all paid off, she still doesn’t know how

 

She knows not now a care in the world

Her life has just begun

Expectations that will soon dwarf even the moon & the sun

Laughter & smiles & everything nice, no tears left to cry

With new hope & new life, she will soon give a confident try

 

Though still with melancholy does sorrow shades her face

When people shatter her dreams & forgo all the grace

True smiles are pretty few & indifference plenty to show

How she doesn’t deserve the honor that life did bestow

 

She longs for for words of encouragement & lots of love and hope

Instead, aloofness & uncertainty is with what she is left to cope

With low self-esteem & still carrying, a burden of frustration inside

The gap between her confidence & beliefs, keeps on growing wide

Discouraged & disturbed, the stress builds up on her mind

So much that she sometimes wishes, to put life on rewind

 

Whats scary is  that she longs for, the usual normal ways

Long, boring, dull & stupid, yesteryear days

An uncharacteristic existence, of rats running through a maze

To be one among millions & drown in the common daze.

Whats scary is that she almost wishes

to settle for much less than she deserves

Her talents long forgotten.

Her genius in reserves…

 

Just standing at an open door of opportunity, is not going to get her far

Now the real fight begins, when she battles with the hour

Endures all discouragement & still manages to hold her hope

Secure all her ambitions tightly, with a sturdy rope

 

True genius doesn’t hide, it rises against all will

Even when cynical predators, move in to make their kill

With self-doubt cast aside, she accepts her uncertain fate

To stick to what is right & bide time to patiently wait

 

She gathers strength in her tiny limbs

And prepares for the final flight

Even when they tie her legs

And set her wings alight

She just soars straight high

To burn the never-ending sky

To not give up & believe in her dreams

AND NEVER LET THEM DIE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Letting God go – A fan’s heartfelt letter

My Dear Sachin,

They say, people rise and people fall but life goes on. That everything in life is temporary – all failures & even the successes. No man can remain on top forever; fame has its price; even life has an expiry date. Everything begun knows an end. The star that shines brighter even than the brightest of sun’s rays; slowly sinks into oblivion some day. The bright that pierces darkness, gets engulfed by it eventually. There comes a time, when you have to let go of all that you once held close.

The love for cricket, I first developed at a very young age refuses to go away. It’s still very much there & it’s more like a drug now that gets me on high! And, I am not even a player! I cannot even begin to understand, how difficult it must be for you to let go of something which has made you what you are today – a legend. Somebody told me once that if there is something in your life that makes you happy, you should fight to keep it in your life forever. Pure unadulterated joy is so rare and in this fake world, what struggle we go through to keep the one thing attached to us that brightens our life.

People hellbent on your retirement have probably forgotten one thing – that it is eventual! You have been playing for over 20 years and that is not natural. People are afraid of such things. They think it’s not healthy in the interests of young generation that you have “blocked” one spot on the team. Deep down, insecure in their own worlds, they find themselves  in fear of your achievements. But, they still forget – it’s eventual! As a die-hard fan, I, definitely don’t want you to leave. But, I know I have to let go. And the time is near, so near that I get this unsettling feeling every time India plays.

Every player, be it a legend or a rookie has to retire someday. And, no, it’s not easy for any of them. It’s like making a truce with your body and finally calling it a day. But, your retirement has become more of a national issue. Everybody wants to have a say. People who barely understand the game, are protesting vehemently over your place in the team.

It doesn’t feel that we are just letting you go; more than that, it feels as if we are letting go of an era. An era that was imprinted in our minds by players who built the 1990s; and even the early 2000s. We have said goodbye to almost all of those gems. You are like a final link that still tugs on our memories of those days.

I was 11-12, when I first fell in love with you, nearly 15 years ago. “Retirement” and “Sachin”, were never synonymous words, then. I thought, by the time I grow old enough to see you go, I would have fallen out of love; cricket would be just a time-pass thing. While that has been the case for most of my friends, it doesn’t describe me! I have went ahead and fallen so madly in love with every great player and more so with the game that it’s difficult to imagine life without any of this.

Ricky Ponting will say goodbye in a couple of days time and it is sad to let him go too. I have not been a huge Ponting fan but I cannot deny the treat I got every time I watched him play; his flawless technique & his brilliant captaincy that really took Australia to the very top and remain there for as long as anyone could remember; that made them invincible for a really long time.

Such a fine player and what does it happen when he announces retirement? Here in India, where we cover even US elections, in all their glory; we got to see a 30 min news segment on Ponting followed by 30 hours of debate on why it’s time for Sachin to retire! It’s so pathetic, it’s funny!

Just a couple of mornings back, I saw this huge debate on a popular news channel – “Should Shahrukh & Sachin retire?” I mean, what the heck? At 7 a.m. in the morning, five distinguished looking gentlemen who had nothing to do with cricket or even the film industry, for that matter, were discussing how you and Shahrukh are both a burden now in your respective fields for having remained there so long. Wow, I mean, I have better ways to spend my mornings than barking over things that do not directly concern me. And, what does Shahrukh has to do with you? At least, he looks his age, you don’t! 😛

Jokes apart! Why should anyone, who does not even know cricket or films that well, has the right to poke his/her nose in a someone elses’ personal quest. Doesn’t it sound ridiculous?

I know you have not performed and people asking questions are justified. As a fan, even I have waited quite a long time for you to click. It hurts not to see you performing and seeing you as a mere shadow of a player you were once. But, deep in my heart, every single time, you come on the field, I pray so diligently for a 100. Even when you don’t get it, when you whip the ball straight into the ropes, it seems like Diwali & Christmas all rolled into one. After all these years, it’s still magical.

People who are pressing you to turn your bat in, do not know the void that will be created thereafter. Every person I know, is ready to quote the scores of your last 10 innings & mock your genius. Sachin is getting bowled so many times, he has lost his touch! When Dravid got bowled so many times in Australia, they said the Wall had holes! He was made fun of, very mercilessly so. But,  few months later when he announced retirement, suddenly, no body wanted him to go!

So, if it is about scores, why talk about the last 10 innings. Why not talk about 90 innings previous to that? Why stop at last 90, why not go beyond that? I am no clairvoyant and I don’t know whether you will play in Kolkata test or the Nagpur one. But, whatever the outcome, it won’t stop me believing in you!

When you walk off the field, one last time, into the sunset; not only will you leave behind broken hearts but also unforgettable memories. An era will end, a legend will cease. Will the world stop turning? Will the earth die? Perhaps not.

Because for every fan, whose life you touched, you will leave behind a legacy. A legacy of humility, of strength of character, of sheer genius, of hard-work, of always giving your best, of never quitting, of battling inner & outer demons, above all of being you!

Everybody grows old and has to stop at some point. When your body sends out that message, how much ever agile or swift your mind may be, you have to pause slowly and then stop.

If you ask me what things make me happy? Let me tell you, there are very few and one of them, is YOU! And the other is something that you gifted me unknowingly – the love for cricket! Am I letting go either of them? Probably not! I am mature enough to understand, your era nears the end but cricket will remain!

I am no cricket pundit but I say, once again, that your retirement is eventual. So, why sit on your head and hammer into your brain that you are no good. Why not enjoy these remaining days and celebrate your every inning? Why not be happy in these little things instead of pondering over serious issues? Why not clap gleefully on your every boundary and sixer? Why not be a 90s kid again & rejoice in your glory?

Or lets just be hopeful & wait for December 21, 2012; when the world will end and shut those fools up! 🙂

 

With lots of admiration, respect, awe & love,

A fan who owes you too much

A Goodbye That Lasts Forever…

(Some Goodbyes last forever. We only do not know this soon. We just continue hoping for things that will never happen, dreaming dreams that only have the potential to remain as dreams. Reality is much harder and it hits even bad. All that you hoped for, wished for, can crashing down around you in an instant. It’s only a matter of time before you are forced to say goodbye to the one person you thought would never leave you…..)

What could be worse than this

I always used to wonder so

Life could be much more pain

I just however did not know

As long as hope lived

As long as the day came

As long as his voice was there

As long as he remained

I had not a care in this world

I had this crazy belief

Everything would be alright

It’s only a matter of time

There would, soon be relief

But slowly the brightness consumes

The day that never ends

There is no tomorrow here

A way to meet these ends

The finality of today

Is hitting hard just now

The camouflage that hid this despair

Is falling apart right now

And it’s a goodbye, a goodbye

One final farewell to him

And it’s a goodbye, a goodbye

One final farewell to us

It’s dying, it’s dying

The beautiful dream is dying

Quit trying, quit trying

I’m soon gonna quit trying

A Goodbye that lasts forever

With no hope of amend

A Goodbye that stretches forever

With shattered soul that won’t mend

You build these castles in the air

They sit atop a lonely cloud

Ans as the sky clears around

They tumble for crying out loud

I can’t remember the tone of his voice

I can’t remember the memories

I can’t remember his thoughts & words

I can’t remember when to cease

I can’t even say kill me

‘coz everyday I die anyways

I look for a way out

As i run blindly thru’ this maze

Does my life have a meaning?

Now that I don’t cross your path

Does my living has a reason?

A flame for every moth

If Love hasn’t hurt you yet

You are probably doing it wrong

Deep inside every heart

There resides a broken song

So goodbye, goodbye

A final farewell to you

Goodbye, goodbye forever

The sorrow beckons anew

This is the goodbye that will last forever

With absolutely no hope of amend

This is the goodbye that will stretch forever

With a shattered soul

With a shattered dream

With a shattered heart

With a shattered goal

….that will not ever mend

…that will not ever mend

No Heroes or Villains, Only Mortal Men cloaked in Grey…

I sit with “It’s not about the bike” in my right hand, with my left one wrapped tightly over a recently read copy of “Every second counts”. I frown as I keep turning both the books and see the man on both covers; he is smiling. I am not.

I sit thinking, deeply disturbed about the USADA’s decision to strip Lance Armstrong (follow @lancearmstrong) of his 7 Tour de France titles and ban him for life. And why shouldn’t it be disturbing? It’s not easy seeing the man you admire caught up in a controversy that embarrassing. It breaks my heart. This is not how I want to see my hero – frustrated, tired & finally giving up without a fight! He refused to give in to cancer, then why the hell is he refusing to fight now? Some, feel for him. Others think, his refusal to contest against the USADA’s decision is a testimony of his guilt. By now, in 2 days, you might have seen several of these stories doing rounds. The world is understandably divided. Fans are supporting him, critics are demeaning him while others on the sideline are just going with the flow. I don’t know whether Lance Armstrong is guilty or not. It’s a question that will be best answered by him. People might speculate a thousand things but in the end what we feel for him in our hearts is not going to change. Can you erase the memories of all the times he won those titles? Can you erase those smiles he put on peoples’ faces? Can you erase every word you read from his books? And can you forget what his foundation Livestrong represents?

This isn’t a stigma on a normal sportsperson. It is a stigma on a hero, on the sport and above all on the rosy picture we create around ourselves. So, suddenly, is Lance Armstrong the villain now? The cheat, The bad egg, The liar?

You have seen this cricket’s bad boy number of times. But as all bad boys, there is something irresistibly sexy about him – the tattooed arms, lean body, messy haircut and smoldering hot attitude. And although he would not be the guy you would normally like to bring home to meet your parents; he certainly is the one for late night bike rides. Kevin Pietersen (follow @kevinpp4) is all that and much more. Lately, he has been under a lot of flak from the ECB, team-mates, coaches for sending smses to his South African counterparts. Makes you wonder, since when did sending smses became such an unpardonable crime.

2011 was the year of the English cricket team. They created records, topped rankings, won cups and Pietersen had a large role to play in England’s rise. In the recent series against South Africa, England lost and had to give up their “No.1 team” title. However, that didn’t discourage them from sending KP packing off in wake of the final test. England lost, as expected. The one dayers’ also are not their best bet. South Africa just have to win one match to topple the rankings once more. And so they will, as expected. And although, England does have a lot of quality players in their side, it will be a miracle if they are able to defend the T20 Championship title next month.

Some say, KP’s career is over. Some say, he still has an outside chance. Some say, the ECB will keep him out of the team long enough to teach him a lesson & then take him back. But, who is an expert on the English pride? KP did make a sincere video apologizing for his behavior. But, bad boys never look the part of a “meek apologizer”. Who would expect that of them? For the authoritarian English people, this certainly must have sounded hollow & phony. It is difficult being a bad boy!

From purely cricketing point-of-view, keeping all the moralities aside, you would be a fool if you don’t admit the fact that when you have seen Mr. Kevin Pietersen batting, you have seen one of the best batsmen batting on the current international scene. As a fan, this fiasco deeply saddens me again. There will always be this looming dread that we might never see KP bat again for England. (Thanking IPL at this point). KP’s switch-hit – it became a rage earlier this year in IPL, KP’s sixes – something to die for, KP’s effortless batting – a treat to watch. The way he carries his 6 foot 4 inches frame, proudly flaunting his biceps, that cool look on his face, that cocky ‘too-sure’ attitude suits him perfectly right down to the confident swagger of his walk. You never want to be on the opposite team when KP’s batting. You just want to gaze from afar and be mesmerized. A hero or a villain? A hooligan, you say…

Two larger than life Heroes. People I have looked up to. For different reasons, yet for the same purpose – inspiration!

Even if you keep the cancer part apart, Lance Armstrong’s story in itself is a perfect storybook material. An ordinary boy with extra-ordinary talent went on to win 7 Tour de France titles and became the master of cycling. You come across thousands of such examples. People from a humble background making it big on the basis of their unquestionable determination and talent.

Now add to it the fact that, here was a guy who got testicular cancer that had metastasized to his brain & lungs at the young age of 25, he fought it, emerged victorious, came back to race again and win Tour de France. With this, the story has the making of an international bestseller. It is a story that makes you cry, that makes you smile, a story that tells you hope’s never lost. A story that gets etched on you brain and on your heart without any extra effort.

Cancer is not only a disease, it is also a curse. A curse so profound that it drags the person suffering from it to the depths of hell, while still alive. A curse so profound, that it condemns not only the unfortunate person, but also his or her loved ones as well. Cancer attacks one person, but destroys families! Still, many people fight it and survive. But Lance Armstrong was your no ordinary survivor, he was a ‘winner’ – through & through. His foundation – Livestrong today inspires and uplifts so many cancer affected people. In him, we found a hero who was much worthy of genuine accolades & love than the mere on-screen ones.

KP’s story still does not have a concrete ending. It is left to hang in uncertainly, poised in between unsure & undecided. A South African who felt intimidated by the quota system back home, migrated to England and earned a place in the national squad. Relinquished captaincy for a short while, faced critics audaciously, yet never compromised his game. Who cares if KP is not a team player? Who cares what he is as a person? One thing is true, what he is – is right there out in the front. No pretenses! He doesn’t wear those fake masks. Do you believe every other person in the English dressing room is a saint of magnanimous proportions? Or for that matter – are all players currently playing the game, crusaders of kindness, virtue & morality?

There are so many good players all over the world today. But, KP is something that only a few of them are – Entertaining!!! His batting can best be summed up as hypnotizing. OK, so we don’t have a hero with the best attitude in the world but we do have one with an attractive reckless streak.

The problem with us is that we always have believed that world could be divided into good and bad, right and wrong, yes and no. We, who are swathed into blankets of everyday frustrations search for heroic figures to look up to. Pure genius they say is something bestowed upon few. God might be generous in squandering talent around but when it comes to giving the brains & a hardworking will to utilize those talents, God is cruelly stingy. So, some of us, who are the unlucky lot look up to the one’s in the lucky lot.

Ever since humanity came into existence, it has taken upon ‘worship’ as it’s ultimate redemption tool. Any person, however conceited needs an idol to look up to. A seemingly perfect figure that serves as a benchmark for attesting self-achievements. A revelation, a motivation, an influence.

But, blind are we to the faults of the ones we deem as great. We do not realize that these people are mortals like us, living breathing mortals who drink & eat to live. When I wrote, Heroes are People too 3 years back, I expressed similar sentiments regarding the unusual predicament common people always find themselves in.

Heroes are people with their own past – none too different from your own. A past; that has regrets, embarrassing situations, mistakes, lies and secrets.

I have a friend who is allergic to eggs. Now you know as a general fact, that eggs are a rich source of proteins. Doctors, health professionals will recommend it as a part of our daily diet. Yet, if a person allergic to them happens to ingest some, they could be life-threatening. Are the eggs bad then???

How do we decide what’s good or bad? Based on the age-old moral values that we have been following all life? How do we know for a fact what is true and what is false? What is right or what is wrong?

Should we condemn Lance Armstrong now if tomorrow he admits his guilt? Should we abhor KP, just because he isn’t a team player?

Will we ever realize that people cannot be divided as Heroes or Villains? Will we ever realize that we cannot categorize every person between two extremes of black or white?

Will we ever realize that the best of men, famous or infamous, are always cloaked in subtle shades of grey…

 

 

(This is a personal account with no intention of causing harm. It is my view on two people that I greatly respect & like. For further insight into my life, I can be followed on twitter here @pillya)

ALIVE

(Sometimes there is no reason for existence, no reason to thrive, absolutely no reason to survive and in the journey towards death, living until the end – a challenge that seems impossible)

She and her indifferent ways

Ways I cannot fathom, neither can others

Others they point fingers, laugh at her

And she laughs back at them

Not a flicker of pain passes over her face

Her hurts are buried deep within layers of inscrutability

I am puzzled by her behavior

For she is carrying upon herself, an unquestionable burden

An unnecessary encumbrance

No, she is not a celebrity

Not someone even remotely famous

Perhaps, she is very ordinary

Perhaps, she is a nobody

A self-proclaimed martyr

I don’t think she is meant for others to understand

She will go away from this world as easily and effortlessly she came into

Thousands won’t mourn her death

But she will leave a void in lives of some people that will never be filled

Yet she has a sole purpose

To guide me forward

No, she is not a philosopher

I do not learn the mysteries of universe from her

But she keeps me sane

She makes me believe

Makes me believe in a bigger picture

A better future

As I navigate through an uncertain present

She shows me the unearthed good in the past I buried long ago

When I cry, when I hurt; She doesn’t wipe my tears

She amplifies my endurance

When all seems lost & the ground I walk on trembles

She becomes the crutches that help me to stand

When I jump from a cliff, she doesn’t catch me

Instead gives me wings so that I can navigate my own flight

When I am drowning, she is not the ship that rescues me

Instead she teaches me to swim against the tide

Deep down I know she is my wellwisher

Though usually I never fathom her ways

She is not the answer to my every question

Instead she creates more questions than I can answer

Yet she makes me who I am

Yet she holds me up when I am down

;

People call her a bitch, so do I

People call her difficult, so do I

People call her strange, so do I

And all those tags are justified

When I see my closed ones suffering

When I cannot salvage any hope

When I am sick and tired, wounded and hurt

When I am carrying the burden of broken relationships

When I am too afraid to trust & too scared to move forward

Then in all fairness, She becomes UNFAIR

She still smiles at me

Mocks at my innonence

And though she longs to hug me & say its alright

At difficult times, even she is the servant of circumstance

But sometimes, She is lovely

Fresh as the spring breeze

Warm as the summer sun

Pure as the snowy white

And pleasant as the drizzling rain

And so…

People call her sweet, so do I

People call her love, so do I

People call her a blessing, so do I

And all those tags are justified

When laughter surrounds my near & dear

When the one I love makes my day

When friends are my biggest strength

When genuine smiles are not far away

In a world, in which, every single day

I make efforts & efforts to SURVIVE

The more you obtain, only when you learn to GIVE

As I struggle everyday just to THRIVE

She shows me what’s it to LIVE

WHO IS SHE?

She is ME

She is WE

She is MY BODY, MY SOUL

She is a PART

She is a PIECE

She is a HALF

Even the WHOLE

She is EVERY BREATH I TAKE

Every IMPULSE I GENERATE

And Every feeling that I STOLE

You know who she is

Yet you deny

‘coz your innocence evaporated

With the youth

You surround yourselves with lies & deception

And move farther away from the truth

Her going away is not in her hands either

And she is scared for us, you know

When we fail to appreciate the little things

And just give up & don’t grow

She is afraid that she will have to leave early

Even before she makes you understand

And alone, you will get stranded in the darkness

Sinking helplessly in the quicksand

Embrace her before it’s too late

‘coz trust me, even animals SURVIVE

But it takes lot of courage

To break the chains

And admit that you are ALIVE

With joys & happiness in PLENTY

And sorrows that are RIFE

She is that invisible GOD

For she is…………….LIFE

A NEW YEAR’S BEGINNING

(Never say “This can’t happen to me”, ‘coz Life has a funny way of proving us right. We begin the New Year with lots of positive energy and enthusiasm but as the year grows old we succumb to its everyday frustrations & squabbles. We fall prey to the constant depressions and the year we thought to be great, turns out a disaster. Truth is, at any given point of our lives, we are capable of making the required changes & live our lives to the fullest…a change in the day or month or even a year does not make a difference. But, man is so psychologically dependent on external factors that a move like this is justifiable in situations when we are trying to embark on a new beginning…when we are willing to accept change and also willing to make it. When we are willing to overlook the hurts & pains of all yesterdays and willing to face life with all its troubles. When minor wounds don’t matter and the biggest blows just test the level of our endurance….when death is nothing to be afraid of  and life, a dream to live……)

 

I stand in front of the mirror

And see what only I can see

Me, covered with bruises & burns

And wounds that were meant to be

I have been pushed & kicked…stoned & hurt

Yet I try to stand my way

As I support unsteadily my broken body

I know I will be okay

Those are the hurts I suffered for long

Those disappointments that left me sad

The pain that ripped open my heart

Those moments that brought out my bad

And although the moments of happiness are scarce

A smile gets inscribed on my lips

As I count the days of true love & care

They barely cover my fingertips

Our memory is such a fickle friend

It makes us remember the things we’d rather miss

It forces us to see our failings o many

The hell’s poison & the death’s kiss

Yet I am amazed, how I survived the past year

Where from the hell this strength I got?

Why didn’t my trust rot?

Why hope my heart does crave?

Why is it that I only emerged stronger?

How could I be so brave?

How could I have survived this longer?

On the night of the last day of the year

I came to terms with this life

The year that broke me down

The incidents that left me shaken

And the people who made me frown

The love that I lost & never regained

The relationships that I killed

The opportunities I let go off so easily

And never did as I willed

Acceptance is the first step towards freedom they say

As I accept my fate as it is

Forgiveness of thyself is the first right they say

As i forgive myself as it is

The more I accept; the more I forgive

I can see the wounds healing

The bruises slowly vanish away

The scars keep disappearing

My body is regaining its lost vigor

The burns get cold

My innocence takes a steady hold

And as the new year kicks in the trigger

With hope I stare right at the sun

With faith I leap off this train

Chuck all the old baggage of the past

I leave it behind with disdain

I know not what tears will the new year hold

How much more can I contain?

I know not how can my heart patch up

How much more my efforts shall go in vain?

Could I ever hope for true joy?

For someone to unconditionally love

For being the reason for someone’s smile

A relation formed in heavens above

For a day without tension

For dreams to become real

For helping hand to offer

A world so surreal

Yet I don’t have a choice

But to move on

To lead or to follow

Till my time comes

For a single purpose I will to live

To fall & falter

To stumble & to gather

For a single purpose I will to live

I stand in front of the  mirror again

With a clear face & strong body

Is this the person I once knew I think

Or was it else somebody?

And as the new year progresses

This body will get old to see

The strength will seem to be weak

A reflection of broken me

When the first bruise appears

And splits open my heart real bad

As I bleed like crazy

And the blood soaks my skin & bones

My vision turns sad n sad

In a not-so-distant future

When I shall stand like this

To welcome another year

I hope I will have fewer regrets

And few disappointments to bear

The tears would be of happiness

 Of a year that was well spent

Of so much promise for life to come

Of memories that came & went

So hit me life

With all that you have got

I will fight u

Till my last breath

In the setting sun

I will replenish

As with open arms

I welcome death