bicycleI saw her she saw him he saw me and we all saw more people who saw us and other people. We all kept seeing each other and walking at the same time. We almost smiled, almost. But we did not, almost none of us.

Saturday mornings with heavy hangovers and coffee cups that barely fit in hands.
Saturday mornings as light as the feather of an unknown bird, that saw other unknown birds who saw other unknown birds. Some of which pooped on some of us. Lucky birds wasted no time ever. Or worried about clean underwear.

A familiar face in the crowd makes almost half a heart beat skip. What kind of familiar? No idea.

Did we get paid yesterday? Shit yes. Still don’t want to check bank account. Don’t want to do things that make it sad.
How about some Beatles and tea? That’s a happy thought. Like lazy bicycles and their shadows.

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My Story Book

Have you been scared, excited, happy, upset, on the verge of crying all at the same time? I am that right now. I have a story to share with the world. To write it out, shape it up, and give it everything that I can. It struck me three days ago when I was dead sleepy. I was too tired to even open my eyes, let alone get up, look for a pen in my stupid messy room, and write it down on a piece of paper after searching for that too. I was not scared about forgetting about it the next day though. I am mighty absent-minded and forgetful, but I remembered it, and now I can’t stop thinking about it.

Not sure how many days, months, or years it will take me to finish it up and give it a final form. But I have to keep having faith in it. Not sure if the happenings in my life will force me to change its vision, which I will resist. It will depress me on the days I can’t contribute to it. Depress me and make me bleak. But I have to keep going. Never give up. It’s been conceived. I have to commit to it now, and give it all the nurturing and love it needs. It’s going to be a story of dreams. But more than that, it’s going to be a story of love. I will make it happen, and this is where I will keep coming back to, when I need a kick 🙂

story

Life of Pi – Shortest Review

When you wrap up tragedy with some jokes, and top those jokes with tragedy, and keep doing that till you lose track of what you are doing (in a nice way), you get a masterpiece like “Life of Pi”.

It’s rich; Yann Martel has beautiful words for his beautiful story, which don’t simply stand there as words but, stem from the need for expressing the emotions. Especially those of a 16 year old religious Indian boy who is beyond his age, and yet very innocent. Like a flower that sways in strong wind, not breaking. I mention Indian because the way of telling the story is very unmistakably Indian. Like really a 16 year old religious Indian boy would tell it.

The story was so excruciatingly painful at different points that I had to put the book away for the day at those times. Two nights when I was running a fever I had dreams about it. Never-ending dreams. The story itself is so tiring (in a nice way), that it left me wondering what really being on the lifeboat would have been like for Pi.

That being said, I am now grateful to every morsel of food I eat, and every gulp of divine water that goes down my throat. I don’t think it’s the effect of reading this book, but I have never felt so humble, and so grateful towards my people, as I have been feeling in the past two days. I think it’s a mixture of the book, Doctor Who, meeting a friend, falling sick, and all of that.

This book is phenomenal. I am going to watch the movie tonight, hoping good justice is done. Also, I will keep myself from reading a book for a few days, to let this one assimilate into me properly.

Don’t you bully me with your politeness! Love is hard to believe, ask any lover. Life is hard to believe, ask any scientist. God is hard to believe, ask any believer. What is your problem with hard to believe? – Piscine Molitor Patel, Life of Pi

Silly Billy Not So Much

I should not take days off from work. Really, I should not. But then, I should.

Today I also managed to figure out a plan for my near future. I am not much of a planner. But I am a helluva backup planner.

If I get my work visa in the USA, I travel around here and South America and Europe with all the dollars I earn. After two years, I quit my job, or go on a sabbatical for about three months. Backpacking to all of South America. Alone. After that, start with a new job, and if I have found a way to join my favourite subjects together, research in that. In the meanwhile, paint and refresh French and learn Spanish.

If my work visa does not work out, I go back to India with a grander plan. Find a job in Goa if I don’t have money or just to Leh and Ladakh and then north east of India, on a vacation for at least two months. If circumstances permit, live in the north of India among the best people for a year. I’ll know what to do after that.

Right now, I am sustaining my chocolate-covered almond cravings and watching a lot of Doctor Who. Rory died in the episode I just watched. But the ring he had given to Amy was in Tardis, and Doctor found a piece of Tardis from the crack. Which means, the crack has absorbed the Tardis at some point but it’s still there, and also, the hungry time continuum could not wipe off every thing of Rory’s history. The ring was saved (I am guessing) because it was in the Tardis. Which means Rory can come back. If I am right, either of my above plans has to work. Makes no sense? Of course it doesn’t.

Sunday

Sleepy groggy yawn

Guitars and coffee cups

Restless hands, listless eyes

Movies, primetime, and unclean laundry

Monday blues through TGIFs

Same old same old

Never-ending countdown…

Soft blanket and heavy brunch

Sun, grass, curls, smiles

Food and vodka (yuck!)

Backseat and bubble wraps

Lazy Sunday, I hate you

Same old same old

Never-ending countdown…