I’d be damned !

I wonder when by the grace of good god will I ever stop writing mush…its painful enough being one and on top of that I make it a point to go all out on it! Boy! Can I do a number on all types and categories of ‘Feelings’ and ‘Emotions’ that exist in the human psyche. I don’t understand why of all the people was I chosen by whosoever controls fate or destiny for an overtly undue exposure to all the damned emotions in this world, so you can’t really blame me for being so blatant about my own.

Sometimes when I review my various attempts at writing the gist of it all or say the reason of or for it all is very simple… I’ve been emoting (rather too much!). People write. And I mean really write about the ‘Green house effect’ and the ‘ Global warming’, ‘Terrorism’ and ‘politics’, ‘poverty’ and ‘hunger’, ‘ideas’ and ‘ideals’, and what do I write? My expertise is mush! I’m the Know-It-all! The queen of mush! Is it that I am intellectually handicapped to write about the various miseries of the world? Or just engrossed in the miseries of my own mind? Or maybe just simply seeing in one direction? (Which is evidently the wrong one).

Does it ever happen to you? Anyone? (Except Danielle Steel of course!)

I really wish I could write something other than chicken soup.

The only excuse for my incapacitated abilities in the words of Carl Sandberg is that

“An expert is a damn fool a long way from home”

Wish upon you

You’ve loved him long,
And maybe still.
I’ve loved a short while,
But always will…

You have the heart,
But there’s a corner I see.
So little, but there,
It belongs to me…

I can’t love the same.
But some different, some more.
You hurt him a little,
But I promise to cure…

The reel goes on,
And no frames I trim.
As I drop a coin,
Just make me win.
Much as he loved you,
A little more,
Let me in…to let love him…

Sometimes I wish I had snapshots of all those moments that mean so much to me…snapshots of all those days when I came back home covered in ketchup prints…of days when I used to cycle as if there was no end to the road… childhood glory … best friends and Barbie dolls…. little frocks and sport shoes… my 13th birthday… skates and band-aids… the tuck shop over Tiffin… white Tee’s and chocolate ice-cream…birthdays with mom and dad…ribbons and pony tails…the bus back home…sitting on the same desk…ha ha…the first heart break…loose change and chocolates…. Overcrowded bathroom mirrors…. Earliest memories of lip gloss and nail paint… pulled down socks and punishment… Time of my life!

I still remember my first day in second grade…boy o boy! How I wish for it to happen all over again!

School…miss it…

There is no class as pitiably and wretched as that which possesses money and nothing else.

- Andrew Carnegie

Money speaks…so they say and so was true for Mark Jenning. Extremely and awfully moneyed at the subtle age of 25, he sure had an entourage of clearly brainless and unmistakably dimwitted shams who were just in it for the more than obvious opulent reasons… and those he called friends… he knew he had no real friends but was gracious and kind enough to those there were at all…he also knew he had no other choice…

With so much to spend, life couldn’t be less controversial…the daily new Yorker, e- buzz, celeb shows, you name it and they all named him…

The easy route to success being heir to one of the richest fortune in the world ironically came with a price…the gruesome price of hypocrisy. Mark could never well deal with the diplomatic demands that came with the job of running an empire. A job most would die or kill for.

However Mark was quite domineering as far as his work was concerned. If you worked for Mark Jennings, you had the best pay and the worst job satisfaction guaranteed.

In a nutshell work was his life and life was incomplete.

That was when Mark met Natasha. As vulnerable as he was at this point in his life, he fell head over heels in love with this striking red head. Not only was she an arresting beauty, she was as wise as a serpent and as clever as a fox. Of course Mark couldn’t see beyond the hazel nut eyes and the ideal display of pseudo affection.

Crafty as she was, she took no time in flaunting off her new found love interest and declaring to the social scoopers that Mark Jenning was no longer *Available.*

Mark in turn was more than happy to finally have someone whom he could trust and confide in. Little did he expect how things would turn out in the end.

Company policy counseled complete confidentiality as far as the matters within the board were concerned and Mark understood this better than anybody else. That is why it piqued his interest when Natasha slyly asked him to include her in the company beneficiaries. Not that it was completely out of place for her to ask, by this time Mark had proposed marriage and everyone who read the papers or watched even a teeny bit of television knew, but when work was concerned Mark knew no exceptions. Of course he would have included her himself but the idea of her asking and taking such a keen interest, two days after he’d proposed seemed kind of strange to him. It was then that the world knew tragedy had struck the newly engaged and most talked about couple in New York City.

Apparently Natasha was in a road accident involving a hit and run. She oddly couldn’t identify either the license plate or even the make and model of the car. She had a hand and a foot in plaster, but not a single scratch on her beautiful face after an almost ‘run over’ mishap. Popularity soared for Mark and Natasha and the whole of New York was sympathizing with the would be weds.

It was in the midst of all this drama and excitement that ‘Jenning Group of Companies’ announced a new member of board and beneficiary.

Natasha and Mark were to be married in two weeks. Preparations and planning were in full swing! The best of everything was how the wedding was being organized. The hype surrounding the ceremony to be was far exceeding the governmental change in New York. The gleaming couple could be seen in all kinds of celebrity shows sharing their excitement about their exuberant future plans and honeymooning destinations.

On the wedding day amongst the festivities, the security of the palatial grounds of the Jennings household was on high alert. The guest list included bigwigs from all fields and turfs. Rock stars, actors, politicians. It seemed more of a who’s who gathering than a wedding party.

As the bride stepped out in her stunning ‘Swarovski Studded Gucci Gown’, a vision in champagne and bronze, every woman’s envy no one was quite noticing Mark have a last word with his head of security.

The ceremony was in progress and just as the priest announced them man and wife, there was a dazzling display of fire crackers. Everyone’s eyes where on the fire filled sky. There was but one guest who quietly slipped away unnoticed, in the middle of the show. The next thing that everyone saw….

Was the champagne coloured gown drenched in red and Mark kneeling down holding a motionless Natasha in his arms. The shock of it all was unbelievable!!!

‘Natasha Jenning’ had been murdered, shot point blank in the head just minutes after she took her vows! The media went ballistic with the news and flashed a traumatized and broken Mark Jennings on all the news channels of the country. Investigation turned out nothing. The murder was as well planned as a Jennings company policy. All the guests at the wedding where held under inquiry but cleared soon after. There was absolutely nothing to look for in the case. It was all over and done with!

Weeks later life resumed back to normal and people seemed to be gagging on to business and politics as usual. Mark was still in the news, but regarding his business rather than his romantic decisions. Jenning group of companies was now merging with the multinational giant Acron, and what everyone was interested to know was that who would be leading the newfound JENCRON Group. It was all a matter of share holding. Acron had infact acquired a fifty percent share holding of the company with the help of some deceiving board member who sold out their shares for promises of more appealing opportunities! Mark had originally owned fifty percent of the company but with the addition of Natasha, the new share holder earlier he had owned forty percent giving ten percent of the company to her.

Tragedy struck, as Mark already was, the last thing people wanted to see was him losing out on his company too. But soon they where glad to know that the company wasn’t being taken over; instead a merger was on its way. Apparently Natasha had died as a Jenning and before her marriage to Mark as a romantic gesture or more of a gesture to make Mark trust her she had signed off her share of the company to him, if the worst came to worst. She obviously didn’t expect for that to happen so soon and obviously not before she sold off her share to Acron.

She was naïve enough to hide the deal papers within the folds of her wedding gown and let mark stumble upon them while he was secretly planting a diamond necklace to go with the dress, a day before the wedding.

So Mark now getting into a merger was not so thrilled about it but at least satisfied about the fact that he didn’t lose the only thing he ever really cherished. In a nutshell work was his life and life was incomplete

TODAY

There are days

There are the good ones,

There are the bad ones

This one’s worse…

You ever have something missing? Something lost?

I guess there are some things you just can’t do without at a point of time.

Some habits you just cant get rid off and even if you do you’re never satisfied.

Sometimes memory takes you back to a place, in a time where you had it all and as cruel as the mind can be it brings you back in a jiffy to now and reality.

So today is not just one of those days. Today is really out of place, out of time and in the middle of nowhere.

Today is worse because it takes me to my happy place. To memories that make me happy and smile and then brings me back to this stupid place, where quite a lot of it is lost and I can’t even cry…

I don’t know quite what it is that I really like about this cover. It just makes me somewhat dreamy and takes me far far away…it might not be so extraordinary but I still really like it…

Potential suicide note.

Ever wondered how it would be like to just slip away one day. Just disappear for everyone, away from yourself and everything around you? Withdraw from all that’s bad, all that’s good, and all that doesn’t matter but we just fuss about it too much. I’m not exactly an escapist or a wuss. Or on second thought, maybe just a little bit of both and it’s just too hard to admit to myself. But I think to an extent all of us are. Shit scared! We try to bell the cat only that there is no cat here and we’re just running around like morons with the damn bell.

So we trip and fall like every now and then, ‘it’s a part of LIFE’ so they say. I say your whole damn life all you’re trying to do is Get up! That first step we take as babies is just an illusion of control. It gets everyone all happy and proud so after that they just leave you on your own mercy and you can never walk again.

I might be sounding cliché angry or pissed. Maybe I just am. Maybe I’m not completely in my senses; sure you must have caught on to THAT by now. And I sure am not proving anything here, having totally lost the point to all of this.

Well I started with slipping away, I’m quite sure I’m gonna do that one day. Just when I gather guts enough, which i just might, sooner than expected. It’s like my moral fiber has totally collapsed for the time being. This, right now is just not my thing.

This, right now doesn’t work for me and I doubt it ever will. And the psychoanalytical bullshit about hanging in there and giving it another try, spare it coz by the time you read this, I’d be through with it.-

P.S- ‘Family & Friends’ I promise to write a longer, better and a more personal one when it actually comes to that.

Tales through time...

It’s funny how people say

"Time doesn’t matter in relationships."

In fact till not so long ago I used to say the same thing. Of course I must have never really thought about it, now that I realize I never really meant it. As a matter of fact I think time does matter. It matters a lot! Take any relationship. Time gives you so much more… more to share, to understand, to realize, to comfort in, to value, to appreciate. And most of all time gives you so many unforgettable memories. Memories that remain etched in the mind, in the heart…

Entranced

A dream of cream,

With a drop of sauce…

Further within

Reveries too close…

A whiff of fruits,

Savoring each bit…

Flavor so smooth

Starting to hit…

Little confusions,

A blur so sheer…

Sweet retributions

Following the clear…

Warm,

almost feverish…


Yet chilly as winter dew

Gentle as fur

A whim comes true…

Sorrys & Thank Yous

“ Every single day I thank You , about how we came all this way
the sleepless nights and the tears you cried it's never too late to make it right
Oh never too late to say sorry!”

Asking forgiveness and showing gratitude, the two most essential qualities a person should possess. But why is it that most people avoid saying both thank-yous and sorrys. Is it to satisfy their egotistical beliefs? Or is it that people totally overlook what they did and what others have done for them?

What’s the hassle in admitting to your faults? Cutting all the nonsense about being a bigger person, just what is so difficult about apologizing? Its one very simple word ‘Sorry’! There you go! That’s it! Is it so hard to say? It’s just ‘Right’ to come clean and own up!

Similarly, has all the gratitude in this world just disappeared? Or is everyone merely thankless! I fail to understand how people forget. How disregardful can one be? And just how selfish! You’re low, you’re upset, you need something and you don’t hesitate even once turning for help. And then you flinch from a simple thank you!

Sometimes you don’t even need to say ‘sorry’ or ‘thanks’. A gesture, a simple act of appreciation says it all… sorrys and thank yous are very important; you don’t want to lose out on someone just because you couldn’t make an apology or you just weren’t grateful enough…

FALSE COMPASSION

Yet again, today was going to be as uneventful a day as everyday. I, as a part of my daily robotic routine, was sitting comfortably in my bed with the air conditioning on full blast, happily at ease with my favorite home cooked meal waiting on me on my bed side table. Meanwhile, merrily chit-chatting with my cell phone in one hand and switching channels with the remote in the other. The feeling, heavenly!

My friend on the other line was doing pretty much the same, enjoying a similar relaxed evening as me, switching channels side by side on the TV.

The conversation, nothing more than the usual. Casual banter of two people at the end of a day. Perfectly effortless.

Then as if on cue to disrupt the calm we switch on to the national news, currently focusing on the earlier happenings of the day in one of India’s biggest and most unpopular, crime prone states.

The state of Uttar Pradesh, where petty violence goes unnoticed and uncounted for on a daily basis, this one was an exception. A new breed of crime, on the part of people who, in the first place claim to provide justice.

The man was as helpless as a deer caught on a wire noose, trapped in between filthy assholes, beaten up mercilessly by the unfeeling bastards. They call themselves men when they are nothing more than sorry excuses of the word. They went on and on tirelessly beating him up. Slapping him, spitting on him, disgracing him, more and more.

They called themselves Lawyers! This happening, outside a court house! This is the justice system of India. One, I’m sure all Indians are not so proud of.

These are the people who’ve been instilled with the license to practice the discipline of law in our country! As outrageous as it sounds it’s true that in India, out of a handful of lawyers only a few understand and have a true sense of responsibility that comes with the job. what a shame!

After all these realizations, I felt both angry and guilty looking at the poor man being ruthlessly trodden in front of me. Angry because of obvious reasons and Guilty because here I was sitting in the comforts of my home, safe in the reassuring presence of my loved ones around me and there he was all alone, an insufficient man with no help, mercilessly trampled, with no way out.

But guilty, also because here I am feeling bad for him, pitying him and doing nothing more about it but writing. Far from delivering him any kind of justice, in a way just wishing for it to be over, expressing my utter sympathy but thanking my stars I’m not in his shoes… and then…

I change the channel…

Psycho Babble

It seems as if my brain works overtime and I’m sure a lot of people would testify to that. And it’s not just me. As I take a closer look in the lives of the people around me, mostly people who I network with on a daily basis I find them on the same plane. Confused.

Question- So why in the first place do we put ourselves in dilemmas?

Let us try to find out…

There are two sides to every coin and for me and most of the others the damn coin would never land flat. Life wants everyone to analyze both sides. And as if this wasn’t enough, you have to pick one of them. Still wonder why it’s not a cake walk?

Whether to choose family over career, this place over that one, this friend over that one, this gesture over that one, ego over surrender, self interest or sacrifice, relationship or single . No matter how much of a diplomat you are you cannot possibly work around such things or in simpler words you can’t afford to mess up here! You gotta pick one (ofcourse you can work around a bit with the relationship part). All of a sudden choosing a dress seems much simpler a task (I’m sure the female readership would gladly agree).

Talking about choices, most of them are self inflicted, in other words most of them are lousy screw ups. We complain when we don’t have a lot of them and complain if there are too many. Again two sides of the silly coin.

If something seems wrong, out of place or in pieces, the brain has a subliminal modus operandi of putting all those pieces together, surfacing an order and developing a perfectly logical and reasonable explanation to make everything fall Right In Place. That just makes it even more complex (in public interest- resisting the temptation to use a six letter adjective though absolutely apt for the description.) So you see anyone can make a good detective, it’s just a matter of channeling the brain in the right direction!

Those were the days when I had to choose between a Dairy Milk and a Mars. The later being the obvious choice. If you are looking for a comparison as to what level of choices I have to make now, well all I can tell you is that the lure and temptation of both in contrast to one another is too high ( keep guessing…) Damn! It’s tough!

The gist of everything being- why cant the damn coin land flat for once! First it spins you wasted and then gives you nothing. No highs, no results, no conclusions, no direction, no decisions.

And then the over worked intelligence asks the same question again…

Question- So why in the first place do we put ourselves in such dilemmas?

Ans- do let me know too, when and if you find out (-;

Castle In The Sky

A hallucinatory expression of love

A delusional denial of deceit

A pretentious acknowledgment of the sweet minutiae

A fantastical existence of passion

A misperception of reality

A phantasmal conviction of perfection

A delirious ecstasy, an all time high

A vivid reverie slowly goes by...

Entranced indulgence

Gratis credence...

An illusion is what I live in

In an illusion I shall die…

And eventually i shall build my castle in the sky…

Eclipse

A try … preeminent

Behind the scenes

A change… prominent

Behind the scenes

A predicament… heeded

Behind the scenes

A dilemma… resolved

Behind the scenes

A Confutation… accepted

Behind the scenes

A promise… assured

Behind the scenes

An absence… fulfilled

Behind the scenes

An existence… anonymous

Behind the scenes

Feelings

Well this is my first poem ever! i remember i was in the fourth grade... i remember, i had picked up a piece of scrap from the floor (because i had no notebook as usual), borowed a pencil from someone (because i had lost mine as usual) and scribled it in a hurry so i could give it to my english teacher (just to impress her.) so here it goes...

FEELINGS

Oh! my feeling,

has no healing...

No care, no one to share,

like a lost child in a fare...

Now i have no doubt,

my tears will come out...

My tears will last in the flowers,

stolen by the nectar thieves...

I suppose only the bees,

would share and care,

and help in healing,

my stupid feeling...

Sometimes I wish I had an alter ego…so I could switch over when I’m hurt and wounded and then switch back when I’m alright…that ways I won’t get reminded of the morose feelings all the time!

Fatal- Femme ‘E.S.P’

Sometimes it so happens that even before a particular episode or incidence occurs, even when an event leading to the incidence ceases to exist, I get an inkling of what’s going to follow and what’s going to come my way. In simpler words I can expect the unexpected! (Which is so not cool sometimes…)

I’m sure all women experience this phenomenon quite often in their lives, and I’m sure all men agree to how strong and alarmingly accurate a woman’s intuition can be! It might not really stand up to scrutiny but in someway or the other this instinct is not merely a hunch.

It’s a premonition. Pleasant or unpleasant is not really a choice. The fact that it’s a portent subjects it to be totally unreasonable and irrational at times but it sure isn’t unnecessary and uncalled for. It’s strange how one can sense something which is not at all deducible. I’m not questioning the male ability to intuit but it’s an unstated truth which needs no proof that women do a better job at it.

It’s no joke, now that researchers are also working out scientific explanation to justify this incredible phenomenon (Researchers being mostly men, threatened because of obvious reasons!) giving it a more convincing name of ‘Women’s interpersonal discernment.’

As an example: I’m sure everyone’s witnessed a mother’s intuition which I might add, for the well-being of my male readers, is much safer than a wife’s or a girlfriend’s intuition.

It’s almost as if we women have some psychic connection with people we choose to be intuitive about. And if you ponder over this you’d be surprised to realize just how much we depend upon our sixth-sense at this mind-hacking game. It’s very rare that this sixth-sense let’s us down. Mostly, this gut-scrunching, bone-clenching feeling is non-debatably true, isn’t it?

You must be wondering why I said above that we have a psychic connection with people we choose to be intuitive about. Well everyone knows how this works! Its funny how our so called ‘Women’s intuition’ acknowledges only few and simply chooses to ignore the rest (for obvious reasons again!).

A very clever and, I must say, adequately astute man once said “It is by logic that we prove, but by intuition that a woman discovers." No need for further elaboration, I guess?

Coming back to the point, the question is how reliable is this intuition? Is it always right to give way to gut-feeling or when should we chose to ignore it? Well, being party to extremely strong intuitive powers myself it’s awfully difficult to answer this question. But what my intuition tells me is that …….

Perpetual ignominy

"Feeling free yeah what about me?Well you gotta give it up coz

I feel love do you know How I feel ?You are my achilles heel"

The words sound familiar not only because they belong to one of Toploader’s brilliant and intensely true compositions, but somehow these lines had been playing in my mind over an over since a long time. The record seemed stuck, so was my life and everything in it.

Potentially leading to downfall, that’s what an achilles heel means. In my case this happened both literally and metaphorically. Sometimes I fail to understand why I kept on pushing myself to be in something which I knew would someday lead to a fall I can never recover from. Though it dosent hurt or upset me anymore but it sure has permanently and eternally impaired me of trust, expectation, hope, belief, u name it!

Blaming another person or a particular relationship wouldn’t be a fair judgement of what, was a self-imposed and self-inflicted transgression. It was a misdemeanor on my own part which cost me my own happiness, cost me my precious time, cost me my zeal, my passion and all that made me the high-spirited person that I was.

It disgusts me now when I recall what a wretched simpleton I was and I pity those who are now trailing on the same path.
Now i regret each and every precious moment I wasted, moments which I once cherished, moments I thought made me happy. Now I just contemplate upon the dreadful state I was in and I hold all those moments in spite. Whatever I say is not enough to potray my penitense. I’m sorry, not for all that I did in vengeance, only sorry that I allowed circumstances which condemned me to do so in the first place.

" Goodbye to the skyI know I can't fly but I feel love do you know How I feel?

You were my achilles heel…"

A Cinderella Story

There is a very thin line between faith and coincidence. For Macy this line didn’t exist, until of course she met Harold peters. Macy’s life never went back on track after her mother, Martha’s death. Not that she was living a dream when Martha was alive, but Martha was her only consolation when she came back from her tiring sales job. Going door to door and selling cheap imitation of port wine wasn’t exactly how she intended to earn money. But with Martha’s illness on one hand and paying house rent on the other, she couldn’t afford a decent education and thus had to compromise with the sales job. She also worked weekends as a waitress at the local diner.

Unlike other girls on her block, who where more interested in wooing boys Macy never had to make an effort. She was beautiful and she knew it. But somehow being beautiful didn’t make a difference to her. At 20 she had never been out on a real date, not because she didn’t want to but she had her share of never ending chores, endless hours of work, and of course regulating Martha’s medicines.

But all of a sudden she felt relieved of all these obligations. She was guilty of thinking this way but she actually felt independent and for once at peace with herself and her life. It was finally over. She missed her mother terribly but somehow found solace in the fact that now the only responsibility that she had was of herself. She no longer had any liabilities towards her job, the landlord and of course Martha.

So she finally decided to move out of the rat-hole apartment, leaving behind all the suffocating memories. She decided to move to New York. While packing she could visualize her mother sitting on her favorite couch and in her monotone, advising her to be careful of the thousands of thugs and muggers of New York. Her mind was playing tricks on her. The hallucination was just her own conscience warning her of the world she was stepping into. A world full of strangers and unfamiliar faces. She was afraid. Afraid of getting lost in the anonymity of the huge city. She was afraid of becoming one of the many others who are attracted to the city’s splendor and glory. She was afraid of getting lost in the crowd. Gulping all the fear down her throat, at 20 she started her journey a journey which later turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

Harold peters was a young and upcoming entrepreneur, inheriting his fathers mining business at the age of 24. He was now in league with some of the biggest names in the industry. For him Work was synonymous to living.

His office was a workaholics dream. A penthouse complete with a personal gym, Jacuzzi bath, sophisticated gadgets, beautiful mahogany file cabinets and a private elevator, was a token of affection from his father on presuming office.

Macy walked in unassumingly, wondering what she was doing there. On arriving to New York the first thing she did was grab the New York Times Classified section looking for an affordable place to live in and a decent job to sustain the rent. With the little that she had saved from her sales job, she rented a small room in one of the many shabby and cramped up localities New York had to offer. She wasn’t exactly expecting a huge apartment but she wasn’t expecting another rat hole either. She could do with the leaking roof and the fact that all the tenants on her floor shared the same restroom; she could even do with the noise and the stink from the fish market right behind the building but what she couldn’t take was the ever interrupting mysterious people walking in and out of the building all day. She was as it is nervous enough with the idea of living alone in such a big city, the last thing she needed was a constant invasion of her privacy and the thought of strangers walking in on her at wee hours of the day. Till now her life was no better than what it had been back in Marysville, Kansas. In fact it was worse because she had no job, a messy apartment, no money plus she was all alone with no friends and no one to rely on. The only person she knew in this gigantic city was her crooked landlady, the last person who would help her if she where in some kind of trouble. The only thing that concerned the selfish old hag was her overpriced rental.

Macy would shudder thinking about the consequences of what she would do if she ran out of money? Would she go back to Kansas? No, she couldn’t even do that. The fare to New York already cost a lot, not that it was expensive but she didn’t have that kind of money to start with
.
Pushing all the frightening thoughts aside Macy tried to focus on the interview ahead of her. She had always dreamt of a fine secretary’s job in a respectable office. Although she wasn’t very well qualified but had a knack for documentation. She had also learnt short-hand typing at the free vocational course held every year during the community week, back in Kansas. Plus she had been keeping accounts since she was 13.
She knew it was a long shot trying for her dream job in such a high-profile company. They probably didn’t even let people without fancy degrees appear for the interviews, leave alone work experience, that too without any credible recommendations. All of a sudden she had the urge to turn back and walk out of the magnificent office which had already started making her feel puny and unwanted. Just as she was about to leave she heard her name being called out as the next candidate to go in for the interview. Seeing no way out of the situation, as the woman in charge of calling out names was standing on her nose, she decided to go in for what she had expected to be a grilling session. She was expecting Harold peters to be a bald and graying man somewhere in his mid forties.

Macy got much more on entering that office, much more than what she had expected. Harold was a bit skeptical at first, hiring someone with no credentials, no experience whatsoever. But as the interview proceeded Macy proved herself far beyond anyone Harold had ever hired. There was an unmistakable air of pride in her voice, which made her stand out in the crowd of cliché Harvard valedictorians. Harold was in awe of this girl from a small city in Kansas, coming from a broken home, a girl who instead of mourning her misfortunate life, was sitting there in front of him knowing her unfathomably feeble chances of making it in the interview, but not an ounce less, of self-confidence, of self-assurance. Proud but not pompous.

Harold was beyond impressed. He was overwhelmed by a strange sentiment, a feeling he couldn’t describe because he’d never felt this way before. He would enjoy watching her working at her desk, so diligently so meticulously. It wasn’t her beauty alone that attracted him to her; she was much more than just a pretty face. Talking to her was like social intercourse.
Macy wasn’t less in awe of Harold herself. She would catch him watching from the corner of her eye and go pink in the face, praying hard he wouldn’t notice. Sometimes she would pass the feeling as a mere infatuation bound to happen to a secretary with an irresistibly attractive boss. But something about the way he looked at her told her this was much more than just a crush.

Sitting in her lonely apartment, on her makeshift bed cum couch, Macy couldn’t help but smile to herself at the thought of how happy she was now. How miraculously her life had turned at a complete 360 degree from where she had started. She was independent and she was settled and she had her dream job, and to top it all she was deeply and madly, in love.

Harold was having difficulty finishing an important report for the next day’s presentation. He was only thinking about Macy and how innocent she looked while engrossed in her files. But the one thing that drew him most towards her was her wisdom. A perception far beyond her age. The fact that her crude past had changed her for the better, the fact that she had not compromised to her circumstances but confronted them and made the most out of them made him like her even more. It’s then when he realized he too was, deeply and much disturbingly in love with Macy Collins.

Macy was sitting on their plush satin feather bed reminiscing upon those golden memories when suddenly her trance was broken by a very thrilled and excited Christina calling out to her from the garden. “Mommy lets play.” Suddenly Macy couldn’t believe her ears. She couldn’t believe she had Tina in her life. She couldn’t believe she was a mother now, just like Martha. She couldn’t believe she had everything that she ever wanted. She couldn’t believe she had Harold….

It sure wasn’t a coincidence. It was meant to happen this way. With all its ups and downs life had finally come to a beautiful and idyllic standstill. She now, understood gods plan. She now, believed…

Explicit Withdrawal

Right now, this very moment, my life is nothing but a quintessence for the word compromise. I am desperately stuck on the middle ground in every possible facet of life. Be it career or relationships, the boat is sinking from both ends. Between dipping a year of college and the ever-deteriorating relationships I’m no less worthless than a puppet that too, with no strings attached.

Life is at a needle tip. Whichever way I go, I’m sure to fall…on more needles. That’s why it’s no surprise that being a hardcore rock lover I can still relate to

‘Needled 24-7, by Children of Bodom.’

I finally get the true essence of the song.

This way I can quote many examples to validate my meaningless existence. But my point here is why in the first place am I not making any observable or even an imperceptible endeavor to change the state of affairs. The answer, not being so tricky is that this is just the way I am. I’ve come to a no negotiation point with my disposition and feelings.

This incurable attitude of giving into situations, people and circumstances comes to me naturally now. The worst part being that I don’t even regret it anymore. I just live with it.

I’m not sure if I can call myself a coward just yet (I might if the status continues to be unaltered). But undoubtedly I’m careless to the core. Lackadaisical, in every sense of the word. I don’t care if I’m getting into a rut, and I don’t care if I’m not. I just go with the flow not appreciating opportunities and brooding my fate.

Can someone ever have such a complete and absolute lack of interest in ones own life! I mean, I know people who have an incessant concern with other people’s lives. And here I am just not bothered as ever.

After reading this conscience-stricken viewpoint, you might assume that I’m depressed, miserable, dejected and unhappy. But the bizarre truth is that I’m actually not feeling any of these despondent emotions at the moment. I’m in fact quite on terms with this way of life. I’m not sorry or disappointed. Cause as said earlier I’ve mastered the art of compromise.

BE HAPPY(-:

This post is especially written for a friend of mine who really needs to know this right now.

In general opinion, happiness is synonymous to gratification. Does being content really mean you are happy? Because if it does then as far is mankind is concerned, no one would ever be happy cause there’s no one in this world who has everything he or she ever wanted in life.

Human wants are never ending. One can never settle for the best things in life cause they are always searching for something better than the best. Which is not wrong or immoral. In very plain and simple words ‘ it’s a never ending need.’

A time comes when you really can’t remember the last time you were genuinely happy. And then one blames the circumstances. But if u actually think of it…the greatest part of our happiness depends on our disposition and not our circumstances. And we ourselves are responsible for our outlook in life.

At times we don’t know what exactly do we want form our lives. Do we act conventionally like everyone expects us to? Or do we go our own way? Make our own choices? Then we think to ourselves “ how can I be so selfish?” and that is where everything goes wrong. Cause If we ourselves are not satisfied with our choices how can we ever make others happy?

If you really want to be happy in life you have to be content within yourself. You have to do things your own way. You have to make your own decisions. You might make a lot of enemies in the process. But again, you can’t make anyone happy if you yourself aren’t a happy person.

Finale

As the whistle blows
I think of the miles
The end’s too close
Its time I rose…

Flashes of moments
Left behind…
As I pick up my bags
They all rewind...

I’m moving so fast
But the pace is nil
With my broken watch
The time stands still…

I see my station
Hoping the wheels turn back
But as I come closer
gradually they slack…

As I get off the train
I start regretting
Pallid reminiscences
I detest forgetting…

It’s my last arrival
I pay my closing fare
My last advent
Cause my journey ends here…

GIFTED

'Count Your Blessings'...these words, of two of my closest and dearest friends have given me a very fresh, new and a much more positive perspective towards my life.

Today for once instead of reckoning the unfortunate series of events happening in my life and constantly battering and blaming fate, I sat down to count my blessings which were not as much in disguise as I had thought. I just never took out the time to perceive…

and now that I’m aware, I’ve realized... that I am ‘Blessed.’

I am blessed…to be born with two hands and two feet.

I am blessed…with two eyes which show me all that there is to see… and much more.

I am blessed… to be healthy and strong…physically and mentally.

I am blessed… to be born in a Home and not a House.

I am blessed…to be the youngest in the family…pampered endlessly.

I am blessed…to have parents who love me to no extent, respecting my eccentricity.

I am blessed…to have a sister who’s always been my guiding light yet never failed her role as my best friend.

I am blessed… to have true friends... friends who are much more than a support system and no less than family.

I am blessed… to have my dogs… who give me a reason to smile whenever I look at them.

I am blessed… to be independent so I can stand on my own two feet.

I am blessed… to have had a past… which made me the tough person that I am today.

I am blessed… to have such a fine present with a promising future.

A lot is lost by the time we realize all this.

But, I am blessed…to have lost so little in discovering so much…

Renegade

Balloons… Thousands of colors and shapes…don’t they look amazing …

free flying…free falling…They can choose any direction they want to go in… they can wander off without telling anyone… it’s so hard to keep them under control…

Agreed they have a short life… but it’s so liberated…boundless… it’s so free.

Wouldn’t it be incredible… to be able to live like that? No strings attached… at least not permanently… to live on your own terms without having someone to determine your actions. Planning your own moves. Living your own life… not a puppets.

Doesn’t it feel great? To be complete as a whole…by yourself…and not looking for excuses for someone else to complete you…?

No matter how unconventional this might sound… wouldn’t you want to be your own boss…your own mentor… your own support…your own critic?

Wouldn’t you want to choose your own rights and wrongs? And break away from the pseudo agreeable existence?

At one point of time it’s not easy and as simple as it sounds to secede. Not that easy to cut loose. But if something or as a matter of fact, if anything feels so obligatory…so binding…why do it at all? Why in the first place put yourself in a situation which you can’t defer?

Not realizing we put ourselves there. We are the only ones to blame if later circumstances turn against us. I would say it’s my bad…its my bad that today I’m not free…that today I am doing exactly the opposite of what I want to…

A renegade …that’s what I am… left behind what I was…in becoming what I don’t intend to…

Look What Youve Done..JET

Take my photo off the wall
If it just won't sing for you
'Cause all that's left has gone away
And there's nothing there for you to prove

Oh, look what you've done
You've made a fool of everyone
Oh well, it seems like such fun
Until you lose what you had won

Give me back my point of view
'Cause I just can't think for you
I can hardly hear you say
What should I do, well you choose

Oh, look what you've done
You've made a fool of everyone
Oh well, it seems like such fun
Until you lose what you had won

Oh, look what you've done
You've made a fool of everyone
A fool of everyone
A fool of everyone

My Best Man

I don’t know why I keep waiting for this ideal guy to come along. There are two kinds of people in this world. One, people for whom a relationship isn’t really indispensable. People who are content with what they have. And two, people who need a constant reassurance of being loved and cared for by someone special.

Fortunately or unfortunately I am one of the latter. I don’t ask for much and I end up giving a lot more. No, according to me giving your best to someone isn’t a mistake. It’s a beautiful feeling when selflessness sets in and u realize just how strong you feel about someone, just how much you can promise someone.

In return the only thing I ask for from someone is a little bit of love. Just a little, not too much.

What I don’t realize is that I can’t make somebody love me. I don’t realize that sometimes things are just not meant to be. I don’t realize that not every person I like deserves to be my best man. And by not realizing all these things I was just fooling myself.

I was just fooling myself to believe in one sided relationships. To believe I have an ability to make someone adore me as much as I adore them.

If I look back … id be just looking back at people who once meant a lot to Me. ill never really know If I ever meant a lot to somebody or anybody for that matter.

But I want to change things. I no longer feel the need to love more than being loved. I no longer want to give more than I receive.

I’m no longer sure if I can ever trust relationships again. But if I do it’ll be PERFECT. With all its imperfections it’ll still be a perfectly balanced relationship.

And someone who can give me all of it, give me more than I deserve, want me more than I want him… will be my Best Man.