1.34pm

The only reason why I'm compelled to write this is because no one has the patience to hear me out otherwise. Maybe this is a waste of time and maybe I'm going to make absolutely no sense, but what matters is that I make sense to myself.

So I don't know if it was the alcohol talking, or would I have got the same reaction even if we were all sober. All that I do know is that the four of us (three plus one) did end up having the most serious conversation in the 4-5months I've known them.

What were we talking about- if it's OK to take one's life.
(This is sort of irrelevant but this started because I said something to the effect of  "I'm glad the guy who jumped on the track died. Would have been miserable if he had survived"- regarding this.)

Well, is it?

Yes. Why not? I mean all the time we're giving everyone a lot of crap about how its "our life", and only "we" get to make all the decisions regarding it. And we do this all the time- in front of parents (specially them; it's sort of become a trend to not agree with them. I see it happening all around me; I do it myself.), friends (actually, they mostly fall in the same bracket), siblings (who interfere in everything you do, wear, eat-everything! Mine does, all the time!), random aunties who think it's their moral obligation to tell you what (not) to wear, relatives who will tell you when and to whom should you get married, teachers who will decide when you can watch porn, or kiss, or have sex... Everyone has a say, in every thing that you do. And you don't like it!

So it's just simple logic. If you say "It's my life", I will (only logically) tell you "you have the right to take it."

There is this theory (I don't really know if it's a theory out there, but it's there in my head). So, the theory is that life is given to you, and no one has the right to take it (or something along those lines). Not even you yourself-because?

I don't know. I never found the answer.
Even if I did, it never seemed satisfactory.
Maybe that's why I don't retain it.

Just randomly at 1am last night, had nothing better to do (that's obviously a lie. I could have read, slept, anything but THIS!!)

Inspired from the poem (otherwise fictitious) that Julia Stiles reads in the end for Heath Ledger in "10 Things I Hate About You".

{ I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme. I hate it, I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.}

This is what my version is like:

I hate you for the fact that you know me so well,

I hate to think of the moment for you when I fell.

I hate to cry whenever I think of you,

I hate that with each other, we no longer have anything to do.

I hate the paths that I now have to travel alone,

I hate to admit that from my life you're gone.

I hate everything that reminds me of you,

I hate the fact that I don't really hate them too.

I hate to see how you just don't care,

I hate to know there is nothing we anymore share.

I hate to dream all day (and night) about you,

I hate the fact that you still just see through.

I hate how you threw me out of you life,

I hate the fact, that without you it's so hard to survive.

I hate to come up with excuses so that we can meet,

I hate that without you, I feel so incomplete.

I hate to be always giving you a thought,

I hate it so much because you still mean hell a lot.

I hate it when out of the blue I get your text,

I hate it when I spend hours thinking-what next?

I hate the fact that I can hate you never,

Because loving you once, now means loving you forever!!

P.S.: No (questioning) comments, please!

Moving On!!

I took a decision yesterday,
I'm not too sure how right, or how wrong,
All I know is that I'm the middle of this ocean, whose shore is not in my vicinity,
Just hoping that the tides, would sway me along.

I knew it would be hard,
But it's harder than I thought.
Becuase you still remain in my memory,
A memory that I thought I long back forgot.

You are my past, and this is my present,
This is a fact, to terms with which I have to come.
But like every other failed attempt to move away from you,
This might also be easier said than done!

I'll give in my everything to make this work,
I want to give in my heart and soul.
But feelings for you that have been supressed for long,
Will undoubtedly be very difficult to control!

On the Path of Self- Realisation:

On the Path of Self- Realisation:

I take the same route to college and back everyday. For the past few months, I have noticed a very troubled looking woman living on the pavement in a miserably shabby condition and tattered clothes. She sits alone all day, I have come to know from the nearby vendors, and is continuously talking and smiling to herself. Onlookers call her crazy and maybe a witch, while children from the nearby slums derive enormous pleasure out of this ‘entertainment package’. Last week, I noticed a huge crowd around her on my way back. I stopped the rickshaw and got down to find about what had happened. On enquiring, I was told that this was all due to some trivial fight which sort of went out of hand. They were accusing the ‘mad woman’ of throwing stones as passerby’s.
This incident really bothered me for a long time. I finally decided to go and find out about how she became what she had. When I proposed this in front of people who had seen her, I was ridiculed and made fun off. I had seen this coming and therefore took no offence. There were others who told me to be careful and that she could be dangerous, but no one offered to come along.
I went on a week later. In fact I just stopped on my way back from college. Once I was there, I thought I was being rather foolish, standing there without informing anyone but before I could let my thoughts pull me out of this, I waved and smiled at the lady. She smiled back, but did not wave. I took this as a signal to go and sit besides her. I tried talking to her but words, that made sense, just refused to come out of her mouth. She was constantly blabbering without making any sense! I strived for around half an hour but finally gave up. I was about to leave when she spoke some word that made me stop and take my place again. I can’t quote what she said because her speech was broken but I’ll try to put it in my own words without losing the essence.

“I lost my girl when she was two. I have no family. They left me on the roads because I was mad. I have no one to live for. I live alone over here but somehow these people want me to react to everything. I don’t want to.” When I asked her about what had happened previously, she said “ladka patthar maar raha tha. Maine bhi maar diya.” (The boy pelted stones at me, so I hit him back).

I left at that moment, because she refused to speak after that and continued with her smiles and laughs and her talks with herself. “How insensitive can people be?” This was the only question I have been asking myself after that brief encounter. We don’t want to accept the fact but it is true that many of us derive sadistic pleasure out of hurting the innocent, or people who cannot do anything. We thrive for ‘entertainment’ from such insensitive acts and it hurts immensely when u see something like this happening, yet cant do anything about it.