Last week I was told I was not worth it. And that I was unreliable.

Today I was told that I'm uninspiring.

I feel hurt. Afraid. Alone.

Two weeks ago, I gave a man a cheque for a little over a thousand rupees. I paid for one meal a day for a schoolchild. For two whole years.

That child will now be sent to school so that it gets at least one meal a day, and its parents don't have to worry about feeding it. And along the way, the kid might get an education. All for the price of a couple of drinks at Skyye.

Makes you wonder, doesn't it?

Today I went through an email from a 40 year old man who has no sight. And is supporting his wife, his in laws, his kids, his sister, and brother on a salary that's, let's face it, laughable in a big city.

Makes me wonder, if I feel like this right now, how do that kid and that guy feel?

In so many words, I've been told I'm not worth it.

After a very long time, this life thing doesn't make any sense.

I'm broken.

Maybe I'm wrong.

Maybe I'm wrong.

The sun beat down through the trees as they walked away from the car. The heat was everywhere. Seeping through their clothes, barely half a minute after they got out of the car. Drawing out the last wisps of cool, airconditioned air from their skin. The heat!

They looked around as they turned to cross over. Just then, one of them was tapped on his arm

"Can you help me cross the road, please?"

An old man. Neatly dressed, his unremarkable shirt tucked into his unremarkable trousers. Holding a tripod cane.

They obliged immediately. As one stopped traffic and guided him with his shoulder, the other held him by the hand and walked him across.

He began to talk to them. As is the wont of old men. He used to be a doctor once.

"Now he'll want some money", one of them thought. "To 'get home' because he 'lost' his wallet."

"I used to treat people, often for free. I must have operated on atleast fifty people. I saved their limbs. I gave them the chance to walk again."

He didn't want anything, except to say what he had to say.

"I have no one today. And I'm paralysed."

He just wanted someone to say it to.

"God has cursed me."

His voice cracked. Tears.

They walked away from him, as the sun beat down through the trees.

"When I find out all the reasons

Maybe I'll find another way
Find another day
With all the changing seasons of my life
Maybe I'll get it right next time
An now that you've been broken down
Got your head out of the clouds
You're back down on the ground
And you don't talk so loud
An you don't walk so proud anymore..."

Expectation is the root cause of all misery.

Why do I care?

I think, therefore I am.

I think, therefore I doubt.

I doubt, therefore I am.

Not?

"And I don't want the world to see me,

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand."

I'm unsure.

Of what exactly I'm unsure, I'm not too sure.

Is that a concentric paradox?

I'm in some sort of a limbo. I've been working so hard over the last month or so, I've lost track of time. I often find myself asking people, in all seriousness, what day it is.

But all this work doesn't seem to be paying off. Or if it does, it's not immediately apparent.

Caged.

It's how I feel. On that last mile, but not knowing if the prize still awaits.

I've been bingeing on that fucker Vir Sanghvi's writing. He's quite good, and since he's India's best food critic, I'm gorging myself while reading his stuff. As a result, I've put on a coupla kilos in the last 3 days. Stupid Gujju.

I only hope it works out.

No, strike that. I know it'll work out. Somehow, deep down inside, I know.

There can be no other way.

"There's something deep inside of me

There's someone else I've got to be..."

I think that maybe, just maybe, I am not very good at being a people person. Maybe.

Maybe I shouldn't think so much.

"We might survive as brothers, yeah

Or perish here as fools..."

It's been coming a while, this want. This need. The craving. The urge to get.

Chinese food.

Flied lice and some remon chicken, maybe?

I've just realised, I've turned into such a whiney bitch.

I've just realised, no one reads this blog anymore.

Which isn't such a bad thing.

Now I'm free to say whatever the fuck I want about whoever I want.

But I pretty much did that anyway.

I think I spend so much of my time worrying about or being annoyed at other people that I don't have much negativity left to write about.

Is that a good thing?

I'm missing something here...

I suspect my thought processes are so fast that I distract myself by branching out randomly. Through the typing of that sentence, I've already (truthfully) linked thoughts, trains of thought, fast trains, random if-train-A-leaves-Delhi-at-1-pm type problems, the TGV, SNCF which is on the TGV's nose, Jay's pics of the bullet train, branches, the banyan tree, the baobab tree, the Yagga tree, James Rollins.

It's no wonder I couldn't concentrate in class. I'm actually surprised I'm even educated. I do remember once falling off a treadmill because I got so absorbed looking at my legs move and trying to calculate my speed by estimating how long my strides were.

Of course, this has little to do with anything else.

Much like everything else.

"Oh well, whatever, nevermind."

Friends. Lovers. Love. Emotion. People. Thoughts. Circumstances. Futures. Pasts. Feelings. Hopes. Sorrows. Anxieties. Desperations.

Why doesn't life have a Del button?

“ Every moment of your life is lived for the future—you go to high school so you can go to college so you can get a good job so you can get a nice house so you can afford to send your kids to college so they can get a good job so they can get a nice house so they can afford to send their kids to college.”

- John Green (Paper Towns)

"Oh how I want to be free baby

Oh how I want to be free

Oh how I want to break free."

I miss my old car. Soon, I'll miss this one.

"I do, however, feel sorry for the machine itself. It’s sitting in its shed now, wondering what it’s done wrong. Why did it not fly yesterday and why is there no sense that it will fly today? Why is nobody tinkering with its engines and vacuuming its carpets?
And what was that last flight all about? Why were so many people taking photographs and why, after 27 years, did every single one of Heathrow’s 30,000 employees turn out to watch it do what it was designed to do?
I like to believe that a machine does have a heart and a soul. I like to think of them as ordinary people think of dogs. They cannot read or write or understand our spoken words. But they understand what we’d like them to do in other ways. Go left. Go right. Go faster. Sit. Lie.
So go ahead. Think of Concorde as a dog that you’ve had in the family for 27 years. Think of the way it has never once let you down. And how thrilled it is when you feed it and pet it and take it out for a walk.
And now try to imagine how that dog would feel if you locked it up one night. And never went back."
Clarkson on Concorde

I feel empty.

There's that hoary chestnut about good guys finishing last. Well, there's a new addition.

This is where the scum of the earth finish.
Bad people with a little good in 'em.
Regular folks, with a dash of evil.
Regular folks, with a dash of good.
Good folks, just a tad bad.
Good guys.



Me.

I am acutely aware that my biological clock is ticking, having observed that I attend weddings of my friends and peers on an alarmingly increased basis. Not to mention welcoming the odd child into this world.

But just look at what the Internet has chosen for me. I mean, WTF?

They say that if you're old enough, you will always remember what you were doing on the 22nd of November, 1963, when you heard.

I will always remember waking up to 2 messages on the morning of June 26th. And rubbing my eyes, hoping they weren't true.


"Will me, thrill me
You can never kill me..."

It's a ridiculous mix of humour and irony. If you were to observe it from a suitable vantage point, your mind would mend at the absolute mockery that is made of all plans and feelings. Predictability? You've got to be kidding. It's just so damn hilarious, it would, as a spectacle of entertainment, wipe out anything invented by man.

Ain't life a bitch?


"...but trust me on the sunscreen."

Trusting. Friendly. Cheerful.

That's what I used to be.

Over the last few years, I've learnt two things. The first is that people aren't what they seem to be. No one is. Not your best friend, not your lover, not your brother. Everyone has their own agenda, and most people will nary bat an eyelid before doing you harm to further it.

The second is more, er, useful. I've learnt that I have a capacity for rage that is disturbing. I can hide and nurse a grudge for months, maybe years, and wait. I suppose this is a good thing.


Romans 12:19

She's gone. He took her away. And I stood and watched her leave.

I used to wonder why everyone refers to automobiles as feminine. Just this one time, I understand.

"...and I miss here now you're gone."

All great tragedies are made of many smaller tragedies. Stories of despair and desperation. And these stories have their opposites. The sterling silver linings to their black clouds. For it is often the worst of times that brings out the best in men.

"The general manager lost his whole family in one of the fires in the building,"
(Ratan) Tata said, referring to Karambir Kang, whose wife and two sons - aged 14
and 5 - were killed. "I went up to him today and told him how sorry I was, and
he said, 'Sir, we are going to beat this. We are going to build this Taj back
into what it was'."

It made me cry.

My life, I have realised, is the pursuit of happiness, riches, and love, probably in that order, though being interrelated, there's no order really. Anything else will take care of itself.

If it doesn't, there's always a jack rod.


"Walking in the race of life
Looking for my own pace
Not always wanting to but I have to
Sometimes feeling like I've bitten off much more than I could chew
But the wind goes though my hair
Lifts me up with ease not a crease
Hair full of grease no weave embracing me
It's you I see
I am you and you are me."

I want to kill someone.

To the hair puller, the white girl with dirty blonde hair, who took great pleasure in bathing in a bucket, and then claiming she would marry a girl.

To the only sibling I talk to, or respect, or listen to, or heed. The only sibling who I defend, and the only one who will ever get to drive my Lamborghini.

Happy birthday!

"Happy birthday to you..."

Today I went back in time.

To an old haunt.

To an old friend.

To another time.

To a restaurant.

To a conversation in a car, outside that same restaurant.

To a moment.

And then, somewhere in the middle of all this, I heard a dead Parsi guy say:


"Oh how I want to be free, baby.
Oh, how I want to be free."

Sometimes I wish I were her.

Sometimes I wish I were her.

Sometimes I wish I were here.

Sometimes I wish I were here.

Sometimes I wish I were free.

Sometimes I wish I were me.


"All we have to do now
Is take these lies and make them true somehow."
All we have to see
Is that I don't belong to you, and you don't belong to me."

Fast cars. Loud music. Alcohol.

Cliches are so much fun.


"You gotta keep pushin' for the fortune and fame.
You know it's, it's all a gamble when it's just a game."

Stairway To Heaven.
Mama I'm Coming Home.
Livin' On A Prayer.
Keep The Faith.
Layla.
Free Fallin'.
Fast Car.
Cocaine.

Pictures capture moments. Songs, songs are different. They capture memories.


"... just memories of a different life.
Some that made us laugh, some that made us cry..."

I have just discovered that my family were the undisputed lords and owners of over 11,000 acres of land. Each of those acres is conservatively valued at 5 lakhs today. To speed your number-crunching up, that's 550 crores, or $ 140 million. And they drank it all away.

It's enough to drive a person to drink.


"Don't forget this fact, you can't get it back; cocaine.
She don't lie, she don't lie, she don't lie; cocaine."

Of all the oxymorons in today's lexicon, and there are many, from thunderous silence to good shit, nothing, and I do mean NOTHING, is quite so disgusting and evil as

Veggie Delite®

Welcome to the new century.

I feel like punching something very hard. It's a great stress-relief mechanism, to shower gratuitous physical violence upon an object or a person. I wish to indulge myself in it.

Actually, maybe I should have some showered on me. Get beaten. To a bloody pulp. Like half-annihilated and almost dead. The sort of violence where the simplest thoughts and actions, such as BREATHE, BLINK, become tasks of great importance and skill. Where you don't so much begin to wish that it were over, because you're beyond pain, but you wish you could figure out what's actually going on. Beaten senseless. So that I look something like


Except with hair. I have nice hair. I'm half Mallu, you know.

I used to know a girl who would cut herself with a blade. She did it because physical pain was preferable to the other kind.

I'm beginning to understand the concept of Fight Club. Maybe we can start one. Disco Pig's Club of Fun Times. No punching on the nose, I'm all sneezy.

This is exactly the sort of behaviour that leads to schizophrenia and DID/MPD.

Remember the first rule?


"Ol' Miss Lucy's dead an' gone,
Left me here to weep and moan."

The last bubble. It's close to bursting. Anytime now.

Coincidentally, this is my 100th post. Very undramatic.

I've noticed that The Beatles' songs contain a lot of wisdom. You have to listen hard, but it's there.

Sometimes I feel like:

"...been torn apart.
Now he's a court jester
With a broken heart.
He said, 'Turn me around
And take me back to the start.
I must be losing my mind.'"

I spend money like a fool. All the alcohol, all the food, and I keep buying ridiculously expensive stuff for cars that I don't own and rarely drive.

But I read this today. And this one comparison of salaries struck me.

Glen Heroy, 45
Hospital clown
New York, N.Y.
$28,000

John Paulson, 52
Hedge-fund manager
New York, N.Y.$
$ 3.5 billion

Maybe I'd rather be Glen.

"Bring Sally up,
I bring Sally down..."

Random memory, in the misremembered and misquoted words of a fat, smelly Gujarati boy:
"You can get her to sing. I've discovered how. You have to catch her off guard. She was in the back of the car and the music was on, and she was singing along with it. Then I turned the music off, and she was singing and she didn't realise. It was beautiful."

I'm addicted to: G'n'R's version of Knockin', the guitar solo from 2:56 onwards. It's like Slash is in me, and my heart is his Fender, and it's SCREAMING.

Deep down inside, I've always had this unshakeable faith. In myself. That it would pan out. That things would be alright.

Now I'm not so sure.

I'm living in some bubble. In fact, I've lived in a series of bubbles, some concentric. One by one, they've burst. Now I'm on my last bubble, and it's going to pop very soon.

This whole straight and narrow thing, there's no point to it really. I've tried hard to do the right thing, as often as possible. Please everyone, be here, be there. Now the point is, you're so busy making everyone happy, you forget about what's happening to you. When it happens, all the people you tried to make happy are so busy being happy, they can't be bothered. Parents, friends, it doesn't really matter. What matters is self, as in selfish. I wish I were.

There was supposed to be a point that I was arriving at. But I can't seem to put my finger on it. Oh well, much like everything else, I've lost track.

Three things strike me. One written by a sometime team-mate and somewhat friend. One written by an American columnist. And one written for Kevin Arnold.

Prashant Iyengar: "Rostom Marker's entire family was killed in that accident. And there's nobody to mourn his death.. nobody to feel his absence. Makes me wonder...if memory is the pillar of existence.. Rostom never existed."

Mary Schmich: "Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's."

Kevin Arnold: "Memory is a way of holding onto... the things you are..."

Four boys meet.

Twelve years on, they meet again.

One of them is a drug dealer. One of them is a failed engineer. One of them is a restaurateur. One of them is an investment banker. One of them is always drunk. One of them builds cars. One of them builds portfolios. One of them bakes cakes. One of them may be gay. One of them may be dead soon.

One of them looks at the others with amusement. One of them envies the others for what they have. One of them envies the others for what they have become. One of them envies the others for what they can be.

One of them is me.


"We've come a long, long way together,
Through the bad times and the good.
I have to celebrate you baby,
I have to praise you like I should."

Happy Holi!

I know what it's like. I used to work with them. You can make that 68.

......

...I hope you're standing.

Memories of a different time. A simpler time. The magic of YouTube and the right search words.

Sweet memories. They sure don't make them like they used to.

"Bathed in blue, the walls of my memory divide..."

Will someone please take the bullseye off my back? I can't seem to reach it.

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."
Clemens, S.L.

Do this: Sit down. Pass the back of your hand near your nose and mouth. You will feel nothing. Now close your eyes and do it again. You will feel the warmth of your hand on your lips. You will smell your hand. You will be able to pinpoint sounds and their sources more accurately.

When you lose your sight, the other senses try to compensate by amplifying themselves. This doesn't happen with any other sense. Maybe that's because sight is the most important.

Right now, the thing I'd like second-to-most is to learn to take good photographs. Pictures are like frozen slices of time, that you can always go back to. Music may bring memories of a time back, but pictures actually take you there.


"Your looks are laughable, unphotographable
Yet you're my favourite work of art."

Closed books are better than open ones. They stay cleaner.

Work is what you're busy doing while life passes you by.

One of the most humbling feelings is to look at your parents, and wish you were them.

So I was looking at my tshirt and wondering.

It's one of those things that your parents bring you in the hope that you'll grow into. My dad lugged it back from DC in the summer of 95, and promptly mothballed it until 2003, whereupon I used it as a rag/mop/bathmat and also wore while doing things to my Herald.

It came out of a 4-pack of them. I asked my dad why on earth he bought 4 tshirts that said Washington DC, and he was like, "Oh there was this Korean family selling them outside the Smithsonian, and it seemed like a bargain". Typical.

Even as a kid, it made me wonder. Selling tshirts outside a museum struck me as the sort of thing poor people did, and at 10 I didn't realise there were poor people in America. I mean, everyone drank Coke and ate burgers, and drove cars.

Then I began to understand. How some people are immigrants. How some people have no choice. How some people give it all up to start afresh, in the hope that things will be better.

It takes guts.

Once in a while, I think about that Korean family. I hope they made it. That their kids went to Harvard or Columbia or MIT, or wherever they wanted to. That they bought their Buick and paid off their mortgage.

It can't be too easy to leave your homeland. They're not particularly good at English, them Koreans. What made them leave the warmth and security of their country, to gamble on a better life thousands of miles away? No knowledge of where they were going, no one to fall back on, no guarantee of success.

Just hope.

It's always hope. Hope that things will get better. Hope that one day, your children will have a better life than you did. Hope that you will have all that you ever wanted. Hope that one day you will find happiness.


"And it’s hope that keeps me holding on
It’s just hope that makes me carry on"

Blah. Bleah. Bleargh.

Snap out of it. Stop moaning.

How?


"When you try and try and you don't succeed..."

Things I've learnt over the last year or so:

- Most people suck.

- You cannot trust anyone.

- Friends are an illusion. Friendship, doubly so. People take what they want, and give what they feel like. If this mutual whoremongering works out, beautiful. Otherwise, fuck off.

- It's your life. No one else cares. Don't expect them to, either.

- It has little to do with how hard you work or strive for something. Shit happens.

- Alcohol never solved anything. But then, neither did milk. So drink as much as you want.

- I'm really bad with money.

- Grab that holiday while you can. You may never get the chance again.

- Grab whatever it is, while you can. You may never get the chance again.

- Nothing lasts forever.

- Driving drunk may be dangerous, but it's fun as hell.

- When faced with a situation, ask yourself 'What's the point?' The right path will become apparent.

- Most people don't suck. They all do.

For teaching me to

Believe. Laugh. Learn. Love. Live. Dance. Listen. Smile. Trust. Think. See. Enjoy. Dream. Cry. Covet. Hold. Touch. Sense. Care. Open my eyes. Take pride in. Believe in myself. Speak my mind. Hold a hand. Lean on someone. Break free. Be brave. Think about myself. Live for today. Live for someone. Believe in someone. Give it all I've got. Give it a shot. Open my eyes. Take joy in. Smell the flowers. Chase the sun.

For teaching me to be me, by being you.

Thank you.

Sadhappy.

To the man who had the vision to change history. Who had the courage to pursue his dream. Who had the faith in his people, and his country, to overcome all odds.

Fifty years from now, they will speak of it in the same breath as the Beetle, and the Model T. And then we will say, yes, we were there. We saw it take shape. We were there.

Ratan Tata, I bow to you.


"A promise is a promise."

Someone wise once said: "The hardest thing you can do is make people believe. To believe in you. To believe in themselves. To believe in the truth."

I startle myself.

The new year resolution is happy, or bust.

So, within a given timeframe, I will be (tick one):
- Happy [ ]
- Bust [ ]

Thing is, I don't know the timeframe.


"C'mon baby, take a chance with us
And meet me at the back of the blue bus
Doin a blue rock
On a blue bus"

I think Bangalore is beautiful.

.

.

"We all live in a yellow submarine"

"You don't win silver, you lose gold."

So this is how it feels to not get what you want.

"Second is first among the losers."

Rage. Blood red rage.

Lots of anger and hate.

"Young at heart and it gets so hard to wait
When no one I know can seem to help me now"

It seems so far away, just like yesterday, an eternity ago, little large heads with big, wide eyes and curly hair. Driving home for the first time, like everytime.

"So nobody ever told us baby
How it was gonna be
So what'll happen to us baby
Guess we'll have to wait and see"

It feels like I've failed this really big exam and now I have to face the consequences. My throat swells up with fear/anxiety, my cheeks flush, my head and eyes ache, all the usual "Erm, Mom and Dad, I didn't do too well..." symptoms. Except they don't go away. For weeks on end.

"When I find out all the reasons
Maybe I'll find another way
Find another day
With all the changing seasons of my life
Maybe I'll get it right next time"

Lots of hate. Lots of love.

Lots of questions.

"Beyond the door
There's peace I'm sure
And I know there'll be no more
Tears in heaven"

"I knew the storm was getting closer
And all my friends said I was high
But everything we've ever known's here
I never wanted it to die "

Ironically,

"Tommy whispers 'Baby it's okay, someday
We've got to hold on to what we've got
It doesnt make a difference
If we make it or not"

In the end, Ozzy is always right...

"You made me cry, you told me lies
But I can't stand to say goodbye
Mama, I'm coming home
I could be right, I could be wrong
It hurts so bad, it's been so long
Mama, I'm coming home"

This has been the worst year ever. I hope I never see another one like it.

Fuck off 2007.

They will perform his last rites tomorrow morning, when children wake up to find their presents.

First it was The Bangalore Torpedo. Then it was Essel. Then hAAthi. Now Sister Bliss has disappeared. The world is shrinking, and it ain't very nice.



In memory of a tale, untitled, written by my own mother Mary.


"And when the broken hearted people living in the world agree, there will be an answer, let it be.
For though they may be parted there is still a chance that they will see, there will be an answer, let it be."

Writing helps. Or atleast, it makes me happy.


"Remember the day
I set you free"

"So let it out and let it in..."

It's like all the constants are disappearing. The familiar and mundane are no more. It's a whole new world, and no one's told me how to live in it.

Guess who's gone?!

And I feel totally youknowwhatted. Six big fat fuckin' drinks at Opus doesn't help. Neither does the fact that I got most of the answers right, but my team-mate forgot to write our table number down.

This made up it for somewhat. I actually kept ahead of him for a bit.


"A wild ride, over stony ground
Such a lust for life, the circus comes to town
We are the hungry ones, on a lightning raid
Just like a river runs, like a fire needs flame"

For some reason, at this moment, I wish I were Shilo.


"...soar to the sun and look down at the sea
And I'd sing, cos I'd know how it feels to be free"

The 14th was one of the worst days of my life.

Cheerupcheerupcheerupchinupcheerup. Whoopdedoo then.

Oh, and the Torpedo & The Other have upped and left. Sex bomb.

When it rains, it fucking comes down like everyone's just pissing all over you. After an all-night drinking session.

And WHY THE FUCK DOES MY WMP ALWAYS PLAY IRIS?! Do I fucking look like I need to hear 'You're the closest to heaven I'll ever be'?!

No fucking song for anyone today. Fuck off.


ps. sounds like Dr Pissed.

What if... a long, long time ago... somebody told you that you would one day live on a beautiful planet, surrounded by stars and mountains and oceans and where almost anything was possible...

What if they told you that you'd have the ability to laugh and sing and love... and that you'd also be met by many interesting, sometimes painful challenges, all of them designed to teach you important lessons you will need for future journeys.

What if somebody told you this hundreds of years ago - before you were even born? Would you have believed them?


"Mother mother, tell your children
That their time has just begun"

Alcohol magnifies.

Everything.


"We don't need no false control."

1. What is your middle name?
I don't have one.

2. How big is your bed?
Big enough for me.

3.What are you listening to right now?
Agnisakshi - Kitna Mushkil Hai.

4. What was the last thing you ate?
One scoop fig 'n' honey, one scoop butterscotch.

5. Last person you hugged?
Teju Auntie. My mom.

6. How is the weather right now?
Cold. Rainy.

7. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone?
I think it was Sreshta.

8. The first thing you notice about the opposite sex?
The way they look?!

9. Favorite type of Food?
Edible. Spicy. Tangy. Tasty. Non-vegetarian. Dessert. Icecream.

10. Do you want children?
Yes. But I can't have them.

11. Have you ever cried over a love lost?
Yes.

12. Last Movie you watched?
Johnny Gaddaar.

13. Do you have any piercings?
None. Needles terrify me.

14. Favorite Movie?
T2: Judgement Day. Blade. I don't know, there are just so many.

15. What were you doing before filling this out?
Random reading.

16. Have you ever loved someone?
Yes.

17. Who would you like to see right now?
Someone who gives me a shitload of money.

18. What color are your bedroom walls?
Cream/off white. Bleah.

19. Have you ever fired a gun?
Yes. Many. Airguns. 9mms. LMGs. MMGs. HMGs.

20. Do you like to travel by plane?
Yes

21. Right-handed or Left-handed?
Right-handed.

22. If you could go to any place right now where would you go?
The past.

23. Are you missing someone?
Yes. No. It's a tough call.

24. Do you still watch cartoons on Saturday mornings?
No, but I wish I did.

25. What is the wallpaper on your cellphone?
Still my bike.

26. Favorite hangout:
Used to be Purple Haze. Then Spinn. In between, a succession of garages and Coffee Days, and a Barista. Now I think it's Sutra.

27. 3 things you can't live without?
Speed. Food. Sleep.

28. Favorite songs?
A lot of Bon Jovi, GNR, I love rock. Some Tupac. Shit man, I listen to a lot of stuff.

29. What are you afraid of?
The future. Myself.

30. Are you a giver or a taker?
I would like to say both, but I suspect it's a bit more of the latter.

31. What are your nicknames?
I don't have any, unless you count fuckshay and viper.

32. What do you sleep in?
Boxers

33. Stuck on a deserted island, and can only bring one thing?
Satellite phone with full network coverage and battery.

34. First thing you'll save in a fire?
People! Myself!!

35. What is your favorite color?
BLUE!!!

36. What are the things you always bring with you?
Phones. Money, if I have any.

37. What did you want to be when you were a kid?
Nothing major. A Harvard MBA. I'm really boring.

38. What do you usually do when the alarm turns on?
Put it off and go back to sleep.

39. What do you think about before you go to bed?
Whether I will fall asleep. How tough it would be to drive an LP640 in Bangalore.


"We can pack up our old dreams
And our old lives
We'll find a place where the sun still shines"

"You have an unusual equipment for success, use it properly." That's what my fortune is today, on orkut.

I'm going to be a porn star.

"Sexy sexy sexy, mujhe log bole
Hi sexy, hello sexy, kyun bole?"

Things that I miss:
Companionship. Someone to take care of me. Someone to call at 3:21 am. Someone to laugh with. Friendship. Laughs. Someone to cry at. Someone to hold. Someone to hold me when I'm drunk. Someone to drive me home. Someone to drive home. Someone to giggle with. Someone who understands me. Someone to write letters to. Someone to hang out with. Someone to be myself wth. Someone to share long drives with. Someone to dance with. Someone to love.

"When the truth is found to be lies
And all the joy within you dies
Don't you want somebody to love?
Don't you need somebody to love?
Wouldn't you love somebody to love?"

I feel like shit.

"And it's hard to hold on
When there's no one to lean on..."

The best things in life.

"My heart's like an open book
For the whole world to read
Sometimes nothing keeps me
Together at the seams

I'm on my way
I'm on my way
Home sweet home"

The wonder of flight is one thing. But this is different. This was paid for.

This, I earned.


"I ain't got no money
I ain't got no car to take you on a date
I can't even buy you flowers..."

Today I'm the person who drops it all for you. Tomorrow I'm just another strange face, in another strange place.

Nothing is more crushing than not being treated the way you treat someone else.

'...but life still goes on..."

Everybody lies. White black pink, they're all there, all the time. It's not lying, it's just your version of the truth.

'Maybe if you just tell me a lie...'

I've never felt more pathetic in my life.

It's a dark and rainy night...



...and I'm looking at someone else's drink!


"Kyun aaj-kal neend kam, khwaab zyaada hai..."

...or how forks are always better to use...


"Forget what we're told..."

A walk. At midnight.
A drive. Along a winding road.
A drink. At the bar.
A movie. On the couch.
A smile. In a faded phototgraph.

A memory. From the past.

"Now your pictures that you left behind
Are just memories of a different life"

"Against my will I stand beside my own reflection
It's haunting how I can't seem... to find myself again
My walls are closing in
Without a sense of confidence and I'm convinced that there's just too much pressure to take
I've felt this way before
So insecure"



"Well I need someone to hold me
But I'll wait for something more
Yes I've gotta have faith..."

I've slept 16 hours straight. I suspect it's because I'm not well. I also suspect that that's just a convenient excuse.