NO QUESTIONS PLEASE ... JUST A CONVERSATION

I have a best friend ... A terrible start to this post ... but it’s true... The best thing in all that relationship of love and friendship; one thing that I just came to think of, was that we never had to ask questions to find things about each other. Every unasked question was answered in conversations.

I still wonder how we were able to do that; not having to ask questions. Asking questions is sort of an embarrassing thing; especially in a relationship, it just makes it so mechanical, so planned, so unnatural. The whole idea is to talk about things; have a conversation and not a question & answer session. Don’t rush into things; don’t try to know everything and don’t try to know everything at once. Leave the submission of information at the will of the other person.

Enjoy the time; and enjoy the conversation. You never know how long will it all last....!!!

The Spinning of the Fan...

It is the fan I tell you...The fan, with its wings moving round and round in a haunting rhythm. The fan with its disturbing, unpleasant noise causing the atmosphere to become eerie and causing a chill to run down my spine. Yes, I am sure it’s the fan. Somehow, the fan has always been a symbol of depression for me. The rotation of its wings reminds of the merry-go-round that I fell of as a child. It brings to my mind, the awful memory of the bicycle that I once rode, the rotating wheels of which got out of control, causing me to fall straight into a thorny bush Lying in my bed, on a hot summer afternoon, I stare unwillingly at the detested object, for although I dislike it, yet there is some strange attraction in its spinning. It is like the urge to rebel, even though you know that doing so will only get u in trouble. And it is on such summer afternoon's that my soul, with its eyes shut tight, spins along with the rhythm of the fan and opens those eyes only when it has stepped into a dark corner of the past. A corner where I keep the unpleasant memories of the bygone days. A corner where there is a broken heart, an expression that clearly spells out words like "PAIN" and "BETRAYAL", a lost friendship, a dead ambition and a relationship that never was. Lying around are the pieces of shattered dreams and broken trust. My soul knows better than to collect these pieces and put them together again, for they are the ruins of the past, dead and lifeless and we have to live in the present. We have to move on. But if I really have to then why am I holding on to these memories of the yesterday? Why does my soul still spin into the past? Why doesn't the spinning of the fan stop to haunt me? Because it isn't the fan, a voice inside me says, “It is you. It always was you and it always will be."

The story of a boy...

Let me tell you a story:

I saw a boy. He is but a hollow shell, living each day with struggles. His passion and goal might be pure, but he fails each chance to reach it. Each step he takes forwards takes him back three steps. He sees life run by him, people who come and go, event after event, story of miracles that flow past his ears, but his life is as plain as a blank sheet; nothing famous, not worth anything to others, nothing of great notice. You would think he would just fall down and disappear but after all these years, he never lost hope.

You can see in his eyes, the fire of his work is slowly dying. He can no longer see the future; he can only review the past. Each lost hurts more than the last. First was the pin-prick, now it feels like an impalement for life. The sting hurts the more he walks. You can also see in his eyes, the fire refuses to die. Consciousness fights to maintain his pace, his will backs his aching weakened body, his soul fuels his mind.

Is there someone out there that shares his pain? Is there someone who understands him as an individual? The heart to someone who despite his best always falls short of the best?

How can anyone notice the one who fights back the hardest? Can you see the sweat from head? The bruises he carries? The hollowness in his heart eating his soul, the emptiness filling his being?

His arms grows tired, his mind weary, his body dies, his legs fail, his mouth drops, his voice lost in the winds, his will falters, his eyes clouded. Will you stand by him? Will you arrive to clear his doubt? Will you pull him from six feet under to stand among the living? Will you drag him from defeat and drive hope back into his soul? Will you be the one to help him find his vision, to find his path?

Or

Will you strike him down, ending his eternal torment? Will you be the final stroke that will shatter his will, tear his heart apart, and finally crush his eyes? Will you be the one to bury him in his in-competency, to seal his end with his own actions, unforgiving and un-forgetting?

The story cannot end, the boy still walks. He does not want to see the end, nor does he want to know the end, all he wants is to live his best, giving his best. The world will throw everything at him in years to come, but if the boy wants to live past that, he will need to live past today.

Can you be the candle on his life? Like how someone was a candle to your darkness? Like how someone is the candle for the world? Burn in this boy the meaning to live, to live for others, for the struggle to exist never ends, but to exist for others is to exist nonetheless, so ends the never ending cycle.

Heard enough of the story? Feeling better? No? Well, I’m sorry, this isn’t a fairy tale. The only certainty in life is death and the uncertainty is mankind. I can't tell too many happy stories, because a portion of them would be lies. Happiness and sorrow are created from the same mouth of man.

Well, this marks the end of the story and also the secrecy that was held for several years...though I doubt it will make much difference.

A Man’s Answer To Every Question Woman usually ask..

1. WHY ARE MEN SUCH JERKS?

It’s a testosterone thing. Much similar to your PMS thing, we men suffer from testosterone poisoning. Why do you think the average life span of a male is typically 10 years shorter (and it’s not just from all the bitching and nagging we have to endure)? Hormone modifies behavior. We’re just misunderstood.

2. WHY DO MEN ALWAYS HAVE TO OGLE AT OTHER WOMEN?

Again, this is a testosterone thing. Do you honestly think that all the testosterone just fell out of our bodies the moment we met you? Besides, women do it as well. Women are just much better at not getting caught. I’m fairly certain it’s some sort of photographic memory deal. Women take one quick look and memorize it for later reference. Since men lack this ability, we try to burn it into our memory by staring as much as we can.

3. WHY DO MEN ALWAYS TOUCH THEMSELVES, ESPECIALLY IN PUBLIC?

We occasionally need to adjust “junior” and make him happy. It’s much like adjusting your bra. Being in public is just an added bonus.

4. WHY DO MEN ALWAYS SAY SUCH STUPID THINGS?

We like to. It’s actually a whole lot of fun to see our partner frustrated by a few simple (and well chosen) words.

5. WHY ARE MEN SO UNCOMMUNICATIVE?

You’d learn to keep your big mouth shut too if every time you open it you get into trouble with your partner.

6. WHY DO MEN HAVE TO ACT LIKE SUCH RETARDS?

Well, we don’t actually have to; we do it because we enjoy it. It’s the old fashioned pride in a job well done that’s missing in so much of the world nowadays.

7. WHY CAN’T MEN JUST SHARE THEIR FEELINGS?

Do we look like women to you? Why is it so hard to understand that men and women are different? How are we supposed to share how we feel when we have no idea how we feel? Unless we’re experiencing some extreme emotion like rage, hatred, disgust, or a brick on our foot, we have no idea how we feel. Personally, I get a headache whenever I try to figure out how I feel.

8. WHY CAN’T MEN CUDDLE MORE (I.E. LIE DOWN AND HUG)?

Please… How many hours do you think there is in a day? We oblige you as much as we can, but who the hell (besides women) can stand lying around for hours on end? We men… Men hunters… Need go roam… Starve in cave… Must go find wildebeest…Now sitting on our asses for hours on end on the other hand is a whole other story.

9. HOW CAN MEN SIT ON THEIR ASSES ALL DAY WITHOUT MOVING?

Men have very powerful sets of sitting muscles developed by evolution that enable us to sit for extended periods of time without getting tired. In prehistoric times, it was often necessary to sit in one spot for extended periods of time while hunting for prey. The more successful hunters were able to sit very still for very extended periods of time thereby passing on this ability to their sons. The fidgety types were all gobbled up by saber toothed tigers etc. The end result is that almost all modern men are born with this innate ability.

10. WHY CAN’T MEN JUST SAY “I LOVE YOU?”

Men are taught from a tender young age to be self-sufficient. To say that we love you is equivalent to saying that we need you. Most men consider that a character fault. It’s not easy to admit to one’s own character faults.

11. WHY DO MEN SAY “I LOVE YOU” WHEN THEY HARDLY KNOW ME?

Ho, Ho, Ho… Aren’t you special? Well, some men think it’s a sure fire way to get into your pants. Surprisingly, it actually still works quite well.

12. WHY DOESN’T MY PARTNER EVER ANSWER ME?

We just simply don’t have the energy to answer every single one of your questions. If we think we do not have the answer, or that you will not like the answer, we simply remain quiet and save the energy for other things.

13. WHY WON’T MEN EVER PICK UP AFTER THEMSELVES?

Why should we? It doesn’t really bother us that much. Besides, we know darn well you’ll pick it up.

14. WHAT’S WITH ALL THE BELCHING AND FARTING?

This usually only occurs after months of courting. It’s our way to let you know that we’re comfortable with you. Believe it or not, its actually a sign of affection. Besides, holding it for extended periods of time gives us stomach cramps.

15. WHY DO MEN HATE SHOPPING?

It’s an evolutionary thing. Men hunt. Women gather. We just want to go out, kill it, and bring it back. Who wants to spend hours and hours to look at things we have no intention of killing? Err… buying?

MY SILENCE IS NOT MY SUBMISSION...!!!

It may be a false emotion but at least it’s real. Sometimes you feel as if your soul, your existence has been abandoned by fate. Its not that something bad necessarily has to happen, no; it’s when nothing happens at all, neither good nor bad. There are dry spells in the spinning of fate; complete barren patches that crack up a large chunk of your life. Life ceases its liveliness for sometime. Days go by without fading or glowing. The clock just does a 360 and all you do is watch it doing the 360. I am going through a patch just like that; a phase just as numbing as the arctic itself. Ironically, even more so painfully, I myself am responsible for such depleted and empty life.

I have ceased to be considerate to my own existence; I am not paying attention to my life; just whining about it. Ohh yeah I complain much these days. I complain about every little thing in my immediate surrounding. There is no constraint, no obligation to live the way I am living right now but even then I am here; not moving, not walking away. And walking away or walking out is not a bad thing at all; if others can do it to you, you can do it to yourself as well. I am not an anti-social individual, but social norms are responsible for the extinction of many bright plans. I am not giving into the norms; I am just ignoring them or myself...who knows...!!

* SIGHS *

Some Random thoughts !

Making decisions is very easy.

It's sticking to those decisions that is oh-so-very-very hard for me.

Someday I'll learn how to do that.

Someday soon I hope.

___________________________________

The heart is a silly little thing sometimes isnt it...doesnt always know what it wants and other time wants what it knows that it cannot have! But what can you do, all the reasoning in the world will not make it change its 'mind'.

The brain is such a silly thing sometimes isnt it...just cant find the answer to an insolvable equation and other times chooses scenarios which seem rational but just wont make you happy!

But what can you do, all the feelings in the world wont change the answer to the questions.

Sometimes humans are such silly little things...they want things so badly but cant find a way of obtaining them and other times just cant learn to accept the things that are reality. But what can you do, this is the world that we live in and we dont always end up doing the right thing or being happy!

Defining Moments...

We all look for defining moments in our life. Punctuations in our otherwise continuous survival. Pinpoints. Put up on the refrigerator door to feel good about ourselves. A scrapbook neatly arranged into dates, color-coded and cross-referenced. A neat row of milestones behind us to lull us into the security that life can be written onto a set of greeting cards. That all of it can be arranged into sections, like a shopping mall. Where you can walk into your past and know from the labels just where you need to go...to relive an old incident, to relearn an old lesson or just to look up something you never intended on doing or being. Like a grammatically correct sentence, with the appropriate amount of commas in between, to pause for effect.

And a nice big full stop at the very end for everyone, an exclamation point for the fortunate and the prosperous. The proverbial fulfillment of everything. The answer to the question of Life. We look away at the very mention of the Big White Light being a question mark. That after all this time we still leave with questions unanswered...dreams unfulfilled...thoughts unsaid...moments left behind. That after everything we've been through, we're still lost between the sun and the moon and the almanacs. That after the countless debates, discussions, self-reflections and analysis's, the tombstone lacks the phrase it needs. A whirly mist of overlapping shapes. A shadow play of silhouettes.

And so we look for song lyrics in our existence. Turn to chocolates and shoulders. Stare into the night and think about intersections. Pick up the phone and dont dial. Help the needy and play monopoly. Take annual vacations. Cut ourselves shaving, burn ourselves cooking, wound ourselves trusting. Give names to emotions, titles to streets, and hearts to strangers. Define our lives into little moments that only we can remember. Catalog them neatly into our mind and guard them jealously, in hope that at the very end all the pieces will fit together into one giant jigsaw.

Its all just one big cotton-candy machine. Smeared eye-shadow fading into last night's bruise. A tinge of purple in gray. Broken pieces of the last glass.

In search of Inspiration

Sometimes life is a complete dead end. A writer's block in a blind alley. A series of indelible circumstances that lead you to nothingness. And although we may pride ourselves on finding our way in the more adverse of situations, sometimes the urge to give up overcomes sense and gravity. An overwhelming desire for a shoulder. A desperate need for scotch. A singular attempt to bite the tears back. Its moments such as these that are defining in failure. Like an emotion stretched thin and frayed at the edges. A breath underwater stretched unto infinity.


Its times like these that we are most in need of inspiration. A ray of light, a nudge in the right direction...divine guidance. To make the impossible seem human. And its times like these that we feel most forsaken. Lost, disoriented, helpless...cursed. Our greatest strength rendered useless in a single chess move. God's sleight of hand.


Its surprising how subtle inspiration is. It reveals itself not in a flash of color and blinding light, but rather in a veil of banality, the elusive shades of gray. In the amicable preaching of parents. In the discussion of life with confidantes. In faded journals and conversations. In that photograph when you had short hair. In home-cooked chicken curry, courtesy Mom. In clichéd movies about the impossible. The last pages of a book that made no sense before. An old song rediscovered. A lover's faith. The lonely drive through familiar roads and intimate memories. An evening walk down a rainy path. A second look from a stranger. A helping hand with no name. An implicit trust.

Watch for a twinkle in the eye. A fleeting rainbow. A happy day. The smallest things.