Consumed by wanderlust

.................and this is what prompted me to convey my thoughts..


There is a sea, infinite and everlasting in it’s true form and there is a road, endless and stretched beyond the constraints of time leading to nowhere which passes through this infinity and divides it in two constituent. At one side lies the very element that a man deemed worthy of leading a comfortable and secure life is subjected to and which he believes to be the fundamental laws of nature to which he must oblige: family, respect, success, responsibilities, friends, love, luxury and comfort. Though it isn’t vicious in nature but it’s imperative. It restricts a man from looking beyond the perspectives of his own understanding of this composite world and holds him against the greater indulgent into himself. It directs and controls his every move and evaluates his every action.

The other side of this sea is owned by those elements which a man ever longs to achieve: a lust to get lost into this forgotten wilderness and somewhere into that wilderness an eternal craving to discover himself and his true purpose. The spirit of adventure, freedom of soul, unshackled constructs of mind, discovering the unknown are the elements which sum together to build a perpetuity that  exists beyond every concept of good and bad, right doings and wrong doings. It is enlightened and liberated in it’s nature rather than being authoritative but is it the factual approach one is making or is it just casting him away from the ground reality is a question that is a doubtful entity in itself surrounded by uncertainty. It scares a man, grips him with extreme fear of what may follow once he descends into this liberated part. He fears the great forces which he may unleash and might go beyond his control if he fails to manipulate the shear intensity and dominance.

Fear is known to man from the beginning of time. Every biological unit born in this universe struggles against his personal fears and it is a constant endeavour a man undertakes to overcome it. But as soon as he frees himself of one he is clutched by another. It is just an odd circle that will last throughout his lifetime. Fear like water does not exist in one state. It could take many forms and it could be anything that you want. It could either be a digresser or it could be a motivator. It could either lead you towards an impending doom or either it could unlock new trails. Both these worlds is filled with their own unknown fears. And in between the fears and anonymity of these imperative and uncertain halves of infinity, a man rides his motorcycle on the road which does not stray or turn. It is just a long narrow highway which keeps a man suspended between these two worlds. It keeps him balanced ideally and it will continue to do so. But no matter how discreetly that road serves its purpose it is like a thin string held between two loose ends which lie beyond the origin but still remains connected and ever if a man tries to wander off from his road he will end up in unfathomable depth of insanity and profundity of thoughtless void no matter what side he falls.

And motorcycle is what keeps him well- balanced between these worlds. It is his instrument of liberation. An excuse to shed the unnecessary burden he is carrying. It’s an escape route which he takes to flee away from the common hardships of the human existence to gather his wits and guts and continue his journey ahead.

.....and it's weird how i can survive the day fighting with you, but not a moment when you decide to be silent.

Out of nowhere

I strongly believe you need to build an impulsive hatred or ultimate passion towards anything or anyone to write a prolific and profound piece of literature. For it is only in those times, the true emotions can be reflected in your writings. You literally need to bleed your heart out in your writing and not suffer the pain by concealing them inside and letting it devour you and cause you aggravation.

Everything that matters: Life in a collage

Fragments of a dismal imagination: a night with the damned mouse

It was about to end tonight. For the last 3 days, I had been struggling to catch the bastard that had eaten into paper works and bills, the little nuisance which had grown over my nerves in past 3 days and reflected no intention to surrender and run away from my home. But after a long struggle for 2 hours tonight I am tired as a worn out shoe and my enemy is finally into the trap I laid for him. He had nowhere to run now and it was clear he was all but near his end. The mouse was caught and now I had a terrible feeling of retribution and despise constructing in my heart with utter malevolence and spitefulness against this puny creature which had caused me hours of mental and physical strain.

The mouse was trapped inside the cage. There was no way it could free itself from that vicious rat-trap. When I bought the trap, the salesman clearly specified that it is fool-proof. There was a strong resentment growing against this mouse and I had every intention to put his puny life to a tragic end. But there was something strange in his struggle to free himself from that trap. It was midnight. I was way too tired but something that had kept me fascinated throughout the night. I lost the track of time as I was keen on observing and kept staring at this little creature that was caught in this trap but it showed no intent to give up. It kept on trying and trying valiantly, putting those tiny and fragile arms through every crack and corner. It grew restless and impatient, I could sense it but I believe it was this feeling that kept it struggling to break away from the trap I had laid for him so strategically. I could also sense a growing connection between the two of us as if my mind was connected to his by some telepathic means which made me aware of every emotion this mouse was struggling with. Of course, I could have ended his life in just one stroke of a mop but there was a strange feeling which restricted me from doing so. An eccentric air of conflict and moral obligation had filled my room by now. But I figured that it was these mixed emotions and conflicts between these two different attributes which had kept me from killing this creature till now. This was a conflict between two contradicting myself, one which was scornful and full of vengeance and would seldom get reflected at the shell, out of shear desperation and compulsion, there was another character residing which was very scientific, rational and philosophical in its approach. There was a face which immediately wanted to put an end to the futile struggle of this mouse calling it justice for the loss I had suffered, the other face was more compassionate in its approach and was growing fascinated by observing the struggle of the mouse. I would dub the former as an evil one for there would be time when I had lost my control over it and was it was a side I had always been afraid to bring forth, the latter was something I perceived to believe in and the side that I was more comfortable with. I was my own version of Dr. Jekyll and Hyde. But of everything I had learned from, I knew it wasn’t in my authority to decide what is right or wrong and to deliver a judgement which I could deem as just and fair. I was an admirer of Batman and I no matter how much I felt the compulsion of killing this mouse I knew I couldn’t let Harvey Dent inside me to take over. And all this while my own thoughts battled across my skull, the fate of this was mouse hanging between the two ridges by a single, worn out thread. My eyes grew heavy with every passing moment. The Glenlivet I had poured into my glass was finally hitting me and I could feel my head going all dizzy now. But I still persisted to stay awake and hoped to get through the night doing nothing but watching this rat and deciding on his fate.

“Little mouse, such a tiny creature you are in the eye of man and yet an exquisite creation of god who acknowledge all of us equal. You and I are evolved through the same link over the course of time which in some way makes us part of the same universal family and yet here you lay now trapped and still not withstanding to surrender to your fate. Little mouse, I could release you from this struggle in two ways, either I could kill you in a single hit and save you from pain and saving you from the desperate struggle to free or I could just let you go, placing my hope in some misplaced belief that you will never bother me again.. One that grant you a collective freedom from every suffering of this cruel world or the one which lets you escape in the same world I fear you will end up in and commit all that again I caught you for. Either way you will be tasting freedom. But I don’t know what it should be. Be it freedom of your body or your soul?”

I would have been heavily drunk for I was trying to have a conversation with a mouse and even though by some psychic means he would understand what I was speaking it was evident from his struggle that he wouldn’t reply back to me. He was too concerned with his escape and he knew I was just blabbering. I thought I could get through the night talking to the little mouse but I couldn’t and then with a slow and intense sip I hit my pillow and the next moment I knew I am out like a light. I could still hear the some sort of sound like something scratching against the metal and tiny squeaks but I decide to ignore it as something of trivial importance.

At about 2 in the morning I get up from my sleep and suddenly rush towards the windows which I had closed to keep the blood-suckers out. I open them wide and let the gust of fresh air in as it flows across my head. I gasp heavily and find an immediate relief as I breathe into the spring air of that starry night. Of all things I had feared, this was the most haunting experience I had ever witnessed and even the thought of dying in my sleep would send chills down my spine and was enough for me to wet my bed. In some way it wasn’t exactly claustrophobia but I regarded it as some kind of illness that I might be suffering from. It wasn’t exactly physical in its sense but more of a psychological disorder which I believe made it more troublesome in my case. By then my concentration shifts towards the small metal trap I slept observing and now my mind shifts towards a more revealing insight. I see the mouse trapped in it was no more struggling but was laying still as if it had finally surrendered to its fate. It appeared like it had finally decided to give up on every effort it could put forth against this trap and had made peace with his destiny. He could have sensed the end he approaching. I wiggle the trap just to figure out if the mouse was still alive. I could see it breathing but it hardly moved. I felt guilty. I knew that the life of this creature was nothing I should be concerned about but now my conscience had began to question me over my acts and my virtues. I couldn’t stand the sight of this creature’s life-less body caught in a death-trap that had been planted by my own hands and proclaim myself as an executioner in the name of justice and some mistaken belief that is to be considered as righteousness. And without anymore thought to ponder over the issue I pick up the cage and walks towards outside on the street. I open the small trap door and shrug the mouse out of it. The mouse which looked bewildered remain still for quite some time staring at me in utter astonishment and humiliating way and I could do nothing but stare back at him with more humiliation in my own eyes. Somehow in that one moment we had developed a mutual understanding which tells me I put forth a right decision.

“Run along my little friend. You are free to go. Farewell and Godspeed”, I said to him.

It turns around and runs away disappearing into the darkness at the corner of the street. I put the trap into the garbage can and go back to sleep. Somehow my heart is feeling as if relieved of some heavy ache.

Literary opinions and good time with Shreya

I don’t really consider myself as a person with strong will. Actually I always need some kind of inspiration, some impulse or any external stimulus to get my ass down to do something. It’s just weird how I spend hours browsing through internet to find the right stuff to read and listen or watch and then stack them like I am preparing for some god damn apocalypse but never or hardly I ever take a second look at them. For instance, I am having my whole disk stacked with movies I wanted to watch, my favourite comics, PDF files of some of the most legendary poets and my favourite music. But all I do is download them. I wouldn’t take a look at them until someone inquire me about my music and movies and it is then I realise I should have watched it just so to give a clear review upon it. So when I decided to read Salinger’s “A catcher in the rye”, I knew it was an outcome of frustration and monotony I was facing during my college break. Because no matter how much I despise going over to that place, it had kind of grown over me and I couldn’t resist myself visiting again. Even for the sake of just beating the shit out of some morons and carrying out my foolish pranks and poking fun at most of the faculty, that place gives me a reason to keep myself occupied enough to get me going.

It was only 2 days I started reading the book and I was almost half way through. I sometimes find it funny that how could I get myself so badly absorbed in a book that I can’t just disengage myself from it until I get it finished. Because you see I am not really much of a reader. I’m not among those folks who would take pride in reading the scores of literature and then discuss shear comical facts in public pretending like if they had gain the entire wealth of universal knowledge disposed into their footsteps. I don’t know if that makes them a genuinely bright or are they plain stupid. Moreover I don’t think people who read and hail Twilight Saga or 50 shades of grey as to be “shear classics” are clearly to be considered to possess intellectual mind. I haven’t read any of those books besides some extracts but I believe sometimes you could judge a book by just looking at the kind of people who actually highlights their interest in them. It just works in a reverse order same way as you would judge a person by the kind of book he reads but it indeed gives a clear insight. Well if you are really interested about me, I would rather say I haven’t read more than a dozen of books till now, enough to count of fingers. My first book was The Swiss Family by Robison Crusoe and as far as I remember I finished that book within 2 days. I would have been like in 3^rd grade or something back then. I think the concept of short novels is what that fascinates me. I can’t carry a book with myself for long. It tends to become just droning after some time. I prefer to have variations in my reading, not too frequent but at a significant phase. Plus from what I had read till now, I drew a conclusion that you don’t really need to put up with extensive and outstanding grammatical proficiency like one has poured the entire bloody dictionary into writing one speck of paragraph that even the likes of Charles Hamilton and Chanakya would find alien to decipher. Crazy and blind inspirations drawn from Leo Tolstoy and Ayn Rand. I think as long as the message is conveyed you don’t need to put crap into your writing. It’s not like someone is going to kill you or mock you if you don’t write in a particular way. There have been many authors who didn’t have English as their native language but has produced literary work that are now considered among the very best.

Think about people like Sam Walton who delivered newspaper and took care of his family by milking cows, the man who has a net worth of $23 million and is the founder of Walmart. Maria Das Gracas collected can and papers to make extra money but went on to become the CEO of Petrobas-Petroleo Brazil. Dhirubhai Ambani started with a mere 1 rupee in his hand and worked as the petrol pump attendant in Yemen before moving back to India to set up the second largest holding company by revenue in India amounting to $73.10 billion(2013) and a Fortune 500 listed corporation, Reliance Industries.  Agatha Christie is self confessed terrible at writing and spelling.  Jane Austin, Ernest Hemingway, Andrew Jackson, Albert Einstein and Scott Fitzgerald are few names I can recollect who were never great at writing but still went on to create the historic and most read writings. What I mean to say is certain drawbacks and shortcomings never restrain you from achieving what you are deemed to be capable of. All it takes is a strong heart and a great mind to express oneself to the world. And therefore my likings for J.D. Salinger, Mitch Albom and many others have grown over the years. But they write simple yet intense work for which you don’t need a Ph.D in literature to appreciate.

Anyways the point of my writing today was partly inspired from the book I was reading and partly because I haven’t scribbled anything from a long time and so I thought maybe I should describe something or someone from my life. A thing or may be a person. How about telling you about this girl I really liked during my high school. Yeah, maybe I should write about her. Shreya was her name and she is just one person I haven’t been able to get the hell out of my brain until now. Just my genuine intimation towards her and some stupid thing I said to her some day and she made sure to despise me for the rest of her life, it’s all about her.

I had just got into the high school when the social networking era had just begun to revolutionize as per my view and the prime subjugator of this period was just Orkut. It had literally opened the gateways for people from countries like India, Brazil, Philippines and other Asian sub-continent to connect with the outside world. Of course Myspace and Netscape existed before that but the thing with something like Orkut was it led into the lives of millions of strangers who were literally willing to share and lie about everything to you. When I think of that now, all I could picture is bunch of assholes and   mental retards mindlessly sending friend request across the globe and putting up with very decisiveness that couldn’t bear to uphold in reality. I will never deny it. I was one of them and I had been doing exactly the same as everyone else back then. It was plain and crude form to start up a relationship, to just drop a request and hope for that hot chick on the other hand to accept it, whom you would never be speaking to because she wouldn’t be replying you shit. It was all that one could expect. But what was indeed unexpected was that one of these smearing lies regarding my true identity would eventually lead to meet that one person I believe I could never get out of my damn mind. Shreya.

The moment I send her a request all I did is check through her profile. She was a Raphaelite and somehow her profile appeared to be genuine among the heap of crooks and lady-boys who maintain a fake profile to because they think it sort of fun to screw around with people. Crazy bastards got no standard in pranks and even in their own miserable lives. Anyhow she did accept my request and we started speaking on regular basis. Only till one day, my childhood friend Ashu came back from Pune back to the city. He wasn’t really familiar with the routes once he left Indore and when he called me to his parental home I was way too excited to go. After all I was about to meet my mate almost after a gap of 6 years. What this excitement was soon going to turn into a freakish disclosure was about the most unexpected stuff I had ever encountered. Before all this happened, let’s rewind back the reel a bit and have a little insight of this tale.

I met Shreya through the only acceptable social networking site, Orkut. During those high school days, when facebook was still trying to spread it’s foothold in the Indian sub-continent, Orkut dominated undisputedly. So one day just it would happen back then, I accidently came across her profile and dropped her request. She did eventually accept it but we didn’t talk to each other for a long time. Then one day, while just horsing around, which I often do when I am bored, I send her a “Hi”. It took almost ages for her to return back the reply but the important part was she did. It was peculiarly unexpected to receive back a reply on shoddy website such as Orkut from a high school girl who is responding to a text from a complete stranger. But it seem to bother me much, as her profile was very genuine in it’s content and character. We hit the chord soon and began chatting to her on regular basis. She sounded like a pretty girl, she was in fact pretty. She had a kind of look which wasn’t strongly seducing or striking but there was some kind of childishness and cheerfulness at her face. She did look too young for her age, she still do. She had a timid and delicate build like someone had taken extra precautions while moulding her sculpture just to make sure she is unharmed. She had a tiny voice too, just to compliment her looks and like most of the Marathi chicks she had these big round eyes on her peach shaped face which looked like a two sparkling beads which will leave you mesmerising ever if you looked at her. She would keep her hair tied back but she wasn’t really kind who cared much about them. They were not straight but a bit wavy and dense and there would always be a strand or two which would bounce across her face. I remember when Ashu was at her home and I just went to pick him up there, I saw him walking with Shreya from a distance and she looked like a small girl walking with her elder brother. I almost laughed at her face as this thought hit me when she came close, standing in front of me and she gave me that perplexed look as if she had just seen a lunatic. She used to listen to some Punk bands back then but then developed love for Alternate Rock and some Metal too, a quality which made me to fall for her more than anything else. Things were pretty good and easy between us but I still never dared to ask her out for a date. Maybe I was just too stupid and retarded to comprehend any hints she would have dropped me as a sign of her interest. So we continued with our usual talks, without ever telling her how I felt about her. And often those talks with her would end the next morning at 4am. One day, I spotted her in the parking of a shopping mall but I was still confused if it was her. She kept on staring at me, maybe expecting from me to wave at her or smile but I didn’t. It wasn’t until I came out of there I realised and when I collected all her characteristic features in my brain I realised it was indeed her. In the meantime, I had just made a regretful and shameful mistake by asking Heeral out. She was just a girl from one of those tuitions I went during my 11^th grade. I cannot still think of a reason why I even dared to ask her and what the heck was going through my head back then. But the funny thing was, after spending 10 cheeky minutes with her, she did say “yes”. Boy, I wish she would have just rejected me back then. I wouldn’t have even mind it if she had abused me and rang my balls to even dare to ask her out. Because I would still be having Shreya to whom I had always carried genuine care for and the only person who would come to my rescue and that was at least I had hoped for. But it never happened that way because Heeral said yes to my offer and I knew the moment I can never back out.

I don’t know why I felt like it, but unlike the mystic aura that surrounds almost every girl it was a very different scene in case of her. She reflected obscurity in herself that you would ever expect a girl to maintain. May be she was legitimately different. Her parents have been great scholars and had graduated from the top institutes of the country. Moreover her brother later went to study in one of those IIT’s. Maybe this academically excelling environment had impacted her in some way which gave her this characteristic. But I never saw her as a very studious of the lot. She went to a very common undergrad. College of the city and had a basic degree in commerce while both her parents belonged to technical background. But she was intellectual and mature enough for her age. So when I had my first fight with Heeral and told her I can no longer continue with her, it was Shreya whom I would spend my time talking to. During this time it happened one day that Shreya actually revealed her feelings towards me. Not explicitly but unintentionally. I was a bit taken back but there was some part of me which actually wanted her to say that. But then in my utter sense of self-respect and my shear brainless act to sound a gentleman I said something so obtuse and shallow that would make her to despise me for the rest of her life. She was dropping me hints from the same day I told her I had a fight with Heeral but my mind was so badly obscured by the thoughts of Heeral’s betrayal that I could not decipher any of those signals. It wasn’t until I decided to go for a run with Ekansh and also talking to Shreya I realised what she was actually trying to convey. And I asked her, what she always wanted me to say or what she was feeling but could not say.

“You do like me. Don’t you?” I shoot at her straight.

It took another age for her to reply back to that throw. I guess she was with some friend of her. But ultimately she did text back.

“Yes, I do.” She replied.

“But how can you expect me to be in relation with you when you are aware of the fact that I just ended up with a relationship”. I replied.

And now unless you are a dim-witted rascal like me, I need not to explain you what it would have actually meant. This one statement inflicted the havoc on earth and that’s how folks, my story ended with Shreya.

Although I apologised a lot, once I realised what I had said, it made no difference. I had just proven myself to be the most stupid and retarded person ever to be born on the face of earth and I could see my entire existence reduced to a self-pitying mockery of my shallowness and immaturity. I did try to get back in contact with her but she was reluctant. She did spoke to me but never the same way. There was a sure sign of ignorance in her texts and in her voice and in the pattern she replied back to my messages which eventually led me to give up on her. A few years back I did spotted her at complex where my dad’s office was, with her mom when I was there with Anshul but I couldn’t gather enough guts to walk to her and greet them. All I did is stand there with my head held down in a desperate attempt to hide from her and whispering to Anshul about her presence while her mom remained standing in front of me.

I still never understood what could be the exact reason that caused her to spurn me for rest of her life as I never dared to ask her. Maybe she never meant it that way when she said she likes me and she was just trying to be nice. Maybe I was delusional. Maybe some of her friend had replied me back just to play out some bloody prank on me in her absence and Shreya read the text back that I like her too and other horsecrap.  But even to this day, when I believe she is probably in relation with some other guy, I could just not let her escape from my mind. She still occupies a corner in my heart which often thinks about her. I know I sound stupid often when I talk about her to Ishaan because whenever I am high I never forget to mention her. She is always there as an admiration and as a constant reminder of my stupidity. And then I console myself with my own degraded thoughts about her and me together and what would I have made her to go through in the coming years when I went through my academic fall. I knew I could never let her suffer for my mistakes. I could never be selfish towards her and although she would have been the perfect image of the kind of girl I ever wanted to be with I would have let her go by then because all I wanted her is to be happy. But then, a secondary thought runs parallel through my mind, “Would I really had to go through those hard times and failures if Shreya was with me?”  I just happen to know what would it be but how much does it matter now she is gone away. And all I am left with is the reminiscences of her and the time we spent etched in my brain and her timid voice echoing through my skull. Gosh, I never thought I would miss her so much. There isn’t any love struck feeling or suicidal tendencies but just memories and regret.