Monday, August 27, 2012

Facade of Announcements

Sometimes I wonder, if people did all these great things and had no one to tell them about.. will it mean less to them? If you went to all the wonderful places in the world and had no pictures to show for it, will that be worth any less?

Why am I asking awkward questions? Well, here's what happened. I loved Twitter, and people on it and comments and all the wonderful wittiness that came along. Then, I got extensively busy in a project and had no time to tweet. Or check or keep tabs at all. The project got over and I went back.

It felt nothing like it used to. I just couldn't fathom how this is happening? I used to love this.. this that I now find irritating, shallow, prejudiced and prude. I used to love these people, those who I now find whiny and groupy-ish.

I find no entertainment in people announcing their being stuck in traffic, or getting new red lipstick, or complaining about Monday, or telling me what they're eating, where they're going, where they've been, who they fuck or that they dont fuck enough.

So bloody irrelevant. Honestly, I liked the liking twitter phase better. Like belonging to something. Having so many people know so much abut my life and opinions. One feels appreciated and even celebrity-ish. Now I feel like an outsider. Like being surrounded by a high school cult that I'm not a part of. But most times, I notice the positives that came out of this and I wouldn't trade them for anything. Like, valuing experiences for what they are and when they are, without feeling the need to let a 1000 unknown people know about it. The blessing of zero distraction. I don't even pick up my phone for anything during the nine hours I'm at work. I get so much done, work related and else. Like keeping things private. And keeping opinions unannounced. Letting go of the organized routine of venting about each and everything I dislike under the sun. I find that I let go much more easily now, and things genuinely bother me less now that I've refrained from #outrage (;) since  a while.

You want to get a perspective on something, step away from it for a bit and you might see it for what it is.

Anyway, I'm looking for new addictions, ideas anyone? :)   

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Re-reading, re-inventing, re-thought and relief.

The post before this. That made me smile so hard. This part:

I could be a hero now, or I could lose it all again, at once. What do I do? Do I do what? I’ll see what I do. I always end up doing something other than the plan anyway. Rights are too romantic. I need some aggression, I yearn some power. Some original game. Feel like the bad guy. Some flak. Or sympathy. Anything other than lucky and blessed, so fucking degrading.
I wasn't a hero, but I did do something. It took a lot of courage and it broke many hearts, but it was the right thing to do. It took this boy, and several other boys, and girls, and stories, and books, and music to do it. I'm glad its over. 

But to think of the other things. I do have some genuinely interesting problems. And plenty aggression, its now giving way to look like spirit and passion to me. It should be?

I've turned to be a terribly vulnerable over-thinking do-gooder. A combination of which will keep you occupied (and sad) for days in a row. And you wont even know why. So Priya told me the other day (like she's said so many times in the past) to please be the bitch that you are. Sly doesn't cut it for Priya, you should know.

My old life sucked ass. And Priya was an anchor. Pulled me together and kept me sane. And loved me unconditionally. And now she's getting married. SHE IS! :) Bas, itna hi kehna tha. That, and that I hadnt written in very long, so that too.

And I do have my own set of brown eyes to stare into. Or are they grey? I dont know. I'm not into eyes so much anymore.They're not important.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

The Boy Who Made Me Think Otherwise

I've only ever deleted a blog post once. I regret it. In fact, that should've been a cue. Re-posting.

Written and originally published: April 27, 2009


My plan was right. Everything was all set. And it looked perfect, ofcourse. It had to, it was afterall set to the minutest details by the people who cared the most about it, my parents. There was a boy in view, it was like one of those postcard perfect cogs. That was what was wrong with it, it was all so right. Something about that never quite fit well with me, and it wasn’t before last night that I had realized what it was. Some holy matrimony, that.

There were no wrongs here, things are so well defined that you have to be insanely blind to make a fall. You can’t even argue with someone like that, they essentially are too understanding. They had to be I guess. It was the setting. I get his sense of humour, sharp one this time. I look up and smirk at you big guy. Nicely done.

So as I feverishly ravished the irony of having all rights done to me and not being given any reasons to rebel out of it. Out of nowhere, the reason came to me. It took some nasty amount of alchohol and a grossly imperfect boy to make me see it, all in one night.

The touch of his fingers at my back was as alien as the thought of being there with him alone. A room full of things I had never seen before, someone I didn’t know a few hours ago, with me, at a distance of less than two fingers.

“You turn me on intellectually”, he said. I don’t even know your last name, boy. “Is it weird that I just want to keep talking to you all night long?” Guess that’s logical, since you really do not know where I’m coming from. “Sometime back, I had a neck injury which sent me straight to bed..” Tune out, tune out, tuning it all out. No shirts, haan. Fuck, that’s beautiful. Quite a work he is. He looks really young. Is it okay to ask his age now? Tune in. “.. and I hope you’d get to meet him, you’d like him”. No, thanks I think I’d pass on this one. I don’t need more problems, I need solutions.

“You have a charm of a little boy”, I said. “It’s starkly pervertish of me to be here I think. Umm, meaning very exhilarating!” Brown eyes, perfect chest, pretty hands, white starchy shirt, brown eyes, brown eyes.  I’m in deep trouble. “I knew that when we were dancing earlier in the club”. The glitter of the lights, your  hands on my waist, I knew all along. “Knew what?” huh? “Umm, that you’re not drunk”.

He spoke with such fervour I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it’s not so simple. And I stared in utter disbelief. And some longing. I sat cross legged and looked on, why can’t I be so lost in life. Why do I need to know everything, anyway. I want to have a distant dream, something so quintessentially outrageous, that it’s scary to ask for it from the world. I need some loud smirks, some cold judgments, some discomforting confrontations, what’s that word they say, motivation, yeah, all that. I’m used to it, that’s the life I’ve known, why change now? Why?

“Is this a one-night stand? Just say yes, it’s kick-y, I’ve never had one.” “Yes, it’s a one night stand”. “SUPER! Haha” Yes, yes.  Super se oopar, Ha Ha. “So how old are you?”

Those perfect hands and the set of perfect eyes had every other imperfection of the suitable boy for me. Some screaming, some moaning later, I’m just as not-so-simple still, just a wee bit more sober than earlier. “It’s not even funny how much control you have over me!”, he said. That’s what I need in life, some grave mistakes that I don’t feel guilty for. Some wrong people who set your vision adrift.

I could be a hero now, or I could lose it all again, at once. What do I do? Do I do what? I’ll see what I do. I always end up doing something other than the plan anyway. Rights are too romantic. I need some aggression, I yearn some power. Some original game. Feel like the bad guy. Some flak. Or sympathy. Anything other than lucky and blessed, so fucking degrading.

“I want to know what’s so complicated, maybe the next one night stand then” “yeah, sure” Turn around, space. Breathe. 5,6 ,7 and go. “Alright I think I’d leave now, long ride back home” It seems going well, oh just say something simple and not promising. “Wait, isn’t the guy supposed to leave first? And feel like a stud?” Now, smile. Look cute, Smile. “You look fabulous in white, or I would’ve taken this shirt with me” Dress quickly, turn around, wink and obscene air kiss. “Alright you, later then”. Hugs. Walks. Walk out.

Just as easy as that. That’s what it took , and the long ride home. I want this. I want some genuinely interesting problems. Some real sins to think of. Some fiercely distinguished stories. Some invigorating, intriguing conversation with random strangers over rum, some whitewashed and renewed sense of freedom every morning. Un-surety. The foolish exhibition of things I don’t have, can’t do.  I so do not want IT all. I want this. And I want it quick and everlasting. Tell me how? Tell me, do. Lie back on the seat, turn Sinatra on. Look away.     

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Being Insatiable

I'm frankly disgusted and appalled by my very mean and selfish spirit that just refuses to be satisfied. I have notions of change when I'm too busy and I cant sit still when I'm free. Its confusing to me and to everyone around me.  I always seem to want more. More is actually a very significant word for me. I do get it a lot from people, I mean, in a way I guess... like - what more do you want? I always reply with a very confident 'I don't know'. Does not end well.

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Yes, Magicbricks, I would of course tell you, why I want to unsubscribe.

Dear Magic Bricks,

Thank you and very kind of you to suggest these lovely sales to me. But unfortunately I will not be able to afford this 3 BHK in Worli you just mailed me about. You see, I'm only 26 and neither my father, nor my mother are from Bombay. Which basically means I will need to live here and earn for 300 years to be able to afford a house I like. That seems like a bit of a tedious plan and so I have decided against it.

I would request you to please stop sending me these mailers. They mock me, even when they're unopened in my mailbox and all I can read is a subject line of "Apartment for Sale". If you can please stop sending me these very depressing reminders of my inability to afford a roof for myself and my loved one, I will most appreciate it.

Thank you.

Very humbly (like there is an option otherwise)

PS: Please also keep me out of the Ghatkopar, Bhayander and Navi Mumbai circles. Why, I would rather just move to Indore then. Zank you zery much.

Friday, January 20, 2012

Of Twitter and Paper Kingdoms

My profile on Twitter exists since January 2009, first few hundreds to be on Twitter in India. But I honestly cannot tell you, how many times, I have joined and rejoined twitter.

I have many problems with the channel and its ardent fans, but the biggest being, that it makes you feel, its more than what it is. It is, just a social networking site. No, do not take an offense, yet.

Twitter's social norms are suffocating, much like the real world. It's filthy the kind of obsession people get for it. But more filthy, is the power trip. Twitter society has mass followers, say aam junta and then there are 'twitteratis' people with more than 3000 followers, round about. And in such scenarios, you will see aamjunta in their non-fruition repeated attempts to interact with these mega twitterers. Its appalling then, when you see these people with so many followers, shun the others, disrespect, make fun of, but mostly just ignore them. Reminds you of anything?

Twitter is a virtual world, much like Second Life. Virtual worlds are interesting social phenomenons for many. Small fry I am, but it interests me. Many people state different reasons for being on Twitter, news, updates, networking, and these are great uses. But it becomes different and skewed when people are on twitter for other needs. Needs such as belonging, of self-esteem, of recognition, and sometimes, even superiority. To understand it right, think of the two topmost slabs of Maslow's Hierarchy theory of needs, Self Actualization and Esteem. However this may sound to you, you might be at the edge of these for all you know. That's because all this is away from your real life. Nothing you say or do there, can affect you in your real life, unless you're a bollywood celebrity or a politician.

Twitter and similar channels give you an opportunity to be surrounded by people, and yet not be civil to them. Like a, "Who's watching?" "What can you do?". I'm not saying that we as people need to need to to chaperoned at all times, but wont you agree that when all of us are not, some intriguing things happen. Like the unannounced (or are they?!) kings and queens on Twitter? Are you too, mistaking followers for fans? Appreciation and interaction for paparazzi? Its sad mostly that these really young people are being made to believe in this farce. For when they behave like this and nothing really happens after that, what it is essentially doing is validating this behavior. Conditioning one to believe that if such psychopathic thoughts (for example) fetch me only more popularity with these 4500 people, well, this is uniquely me and I will continue this, no wait, I'll up the ante tomorrow. You can understand, how this can go very wrong. Twitter gives way to your self-harming sometimes, but most certain self-deluded narcissism. Being more than who you really are.

This is how you are when you feel you are a twitter celebrity. There is more from where this is coming. What happens to people who follow you/notice you when you act like a celebrity. When you feel it is a ridiculously huge achievement that you have so many followers and that factor, in some mysterious way make your viewpoint more right (or left, if you have more radical political views). In highly competitive people it starts a very serious war for followers. Imagine holding a grudge for someone you dont know, will never meet, for a metric which means nothing in your world and will not get you that promotion or the degree you work towards. But it is there, staring you in the face. For many others, their world views are constantly being shaped by these twitterati. And unfortunately, sex and scandal still rule and notions of a dejected minority clustered on one of the dozen social networking channels that exist, is being taken for a mass reality by an assumed total of twelve thousand for each influencer that exists.

An article I read states it best when it says, "Twitter is a like a human art installation!" . Scary isnt it? Well, there is much more to learn here than meets the eye, I reckon. Will write more as I learn. For now, thanks for reading.