The one that wasn’t meant to be

I ran, wondering if I could make it,

My instincts weren't sound enough,

I'd given up sleep for this and I admit,

I did not foresee the bluff

I hadn't a clue why I was taking it,

As I entered the cramming was on,

So was the last minute lifesaving shit,

Dint bother me, my moment was gone

I walked in uneasy; I'd made my peace,

I was just gonna let it pass,

Said he, the tall fat guy, 'Shut up please

Relax, no test today, I dismiss this class'

The death of the PPT

Ah, what would life be without the PPT,
Empty audi and an emptier high tea,
With them done, life wouldn't be the same again,
The oh so lovely monologues of mck, bcg n bain

And the placecommer; spare him a thought,
This ain't what the disciplinarian had sought,
No one to order around, nobody to fine,
Blasphemy he cried, when the PGP1 dared to opine

As he sat back and recollected his spoils of yore
The pride, the 'audacity', the fcuk he kept in check before,
The harried PGP1s, their schedules, their mindspace,
Wonderful were those PPTs, sweet were the times of Place

These roses…

These roses under my window make no reference to former roses or to better ones;

they are for what they are;

they exist with God to-day.

There is no time to them.

There is simply the rose;

it is perfect in every moment of its existence.

Before a leaf-bud has burst, its whole life acts;

in the full-blown flower there is no more;

in the leafless root there is no less.

Its nature is satisfied, and it satisfies nature, in all moments alike.

But man postpones or remembers;

he does not live in the present, but with reverted eye laments the past, or, heedless of the riches that surround him, stands on tiptoe to foresee the future.

He cannot be happy and strong until he too lives with nature in the present, above time.

Self Reliance by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Blogging from Word!

Another of those things that mankind should be grateful to Microsoft for (the others being windows/excel!)

I am writing this from the comfort of my word processor window! Nice J

But I have three projects and a BGS presentation tomorrow morning! and that aint nice!

Confessions of a comatose classmate

Once upon a time in Bangalore,

Was a guy who just couldn’t sleep at night,

With projects, presentations and an ass so sore,

He’d gotten used to his sorry plight

Every night he'd lie and stare,

At the walls, around him and online,

And to think of it life's not fair,

Some classes were at 8! not fine!

He tossed and turned and you know what,

He tried every position he knew,

He even tried to exhaust himself,

And cut down on strong brew

And so he would tell himself, Dude!

I am gonna stay up through class today,

He'd fight it hard and still hit the desk

Coma, his nick, was damned to stay!

And on a not-so-fine day there was a PPT,

It sounded cool and he took notice,

But when they got to the boring slides, you see,

He napped a sec, but the placecommer just wouldnt miss

Life went on and so did he,

Another bunch of endterms at IIMB,

A vision then told him 'Its okay to classnap

Life is not all about classes, you see!'

He was last seen enjoying his nap,

Through some monologue or mindless yap,

No more struggles, no resistance anymore,

Life's fulfilling when you sleep through a bore!

My last thought

I lied. Lied to everybody I knew. Until one fine day when I no longer remembered what the truth was. The truth, buried within people who could only be exhumed. People who had been brutally murdered. People who had once trusted me with their lives.

I am from the city of joy. The city couldn't afford me any, but I derived mine from my daughters. Everyday I watched them grow, it felt like a part of me was returning to the normalcy it had been starved of. I tried hard to give them a life they would’ve cherished. And harder to make them feel loved. I failed sometimes, for I had no idea how it was done. I was inclined to believe that I wasn’t meant to be a father. Yet, I never gave in to such thoughts of fate and destiny.

Often I try to remind myself of what I have been through, and I fail. Fail because I cannot withstand closures with myself anymore. Often I dream of the times that have been and the ones that weren’t meant to be. Places I now dread and people long gone. I feel time warps around me, only to let me experience what I have been through, again. Time was supposed to heal, but it has conspired in making every bit of me shudder in sheer despair as I unfold another of my hidden fears. I have given up on trying to beat the forces around me and confront the ones within.

I sometimes fool myself into believing that I’m happy now. I had loved those times when I suspended my disbelief and played with my girls, fed them, kissed them, held them like there was no tomorrow. But it is not tomorrow that scares me. It is my past that is holding me hostage.

Sometimes when I wake up in the nights, I feel I’m chained by invisible ties of blood and emotion. Ties that pull me down and choke me till I’m left gasping for thought. I feel the world passing me by and I cannot influence it. I experience the pain and I cannot shout. The only moments when I really wish someone would bail me out of my misery. I feel around for my mother’s warmth and I sense it for a second that fleets so swiftly that it leaves me miles behind. I am not sure if every passing day is helping me.

Life has been cruel to many people. I am not the only one and I am not complaining. I hoped to come out of the clutches of my past someday and live a life I had dreamt of, devoid of all the voids that fill my heart and bleed it. But the last bit of humanness seems to have ebbed out of me. I see no purpose, nor pain or pleasure. I can see myself losing it. The rest of the world seems to have left me behind. And I don’t think I can catch up in this lifetime.

In some other life, maybe...

The Summer Day

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

- Mary Oliver

iRamble

Had my IIMB interview last week. Realized last night that if I dint document it, it'd soon be lost like most moments in my life which I dint bother making notes of, mental/physical/electronic!

But then I'm too lazy to type out the whole thing now cuz I've gone through it so many times already that recollecting it does not make me feel good anymore(unlike it did then and unlike iimb interviews are supposed to make you feel). The two and a half hours I spent waiting for my turn werent all that bad at all. Had quite a few laughs and almost everybody felt good after his/her interview, so no consoling. Mine was the last in my batch and I guess that explained my short interview. They just asked me questions and let me respond.No stress though I was a tad too prompt in replying to them, in hindsight. Should have assimilated a little more. Any which way, I got a fairly fair shot.

The campus is quite nice and feels a degree or two cooler than outside. The buildings are lovely with the creepers covering so many of the walls that you wonder who got there first. But then you get closer to them and they look like unfinished structures that are waiting endlessly in their pursuit of distemper and paint.