A Storm I Can't Escape

A few minutes ago it had been a clear sunny day and there was even a slight breeze. It was perfect picnic weather. In a matter of seconds the stormy clouds had taken over what they believed was once rightfully theirs. They had captured the skies and slain the sunshine; the brightness was all but gone.

It was a torrential downpour and the rain refused to stop, much like my thoughts. I looked out of the glass doors and I could barely see a thing. Normally if you looked out you could always see the winding roads, the houses and offices that were dwarfed by this building and a few dozen people in the alley. But today, today you couldn’t see a thing. The rain was in a way blinding. It clouded your vision, your judgment and you could just barely make out the outlines. You couldn’t see what lay within. Not a soul could be seen outside and even the animals and birds had fled, as if they knew of what was to come. The sound- the thundering pitter patter, the deafening war-cry, the roar of the thunder took over as the soundtrack as the rain continued to pelt down steadfastly.

This rain, was like you, like your love- blinding me.

You infuriate me. You make me angry, drive me mad and leave me just flustered and confused. And while I do believe that I have fallen in love with you, I just wish you would leave. Because it's easier to live without you than go through this everyday.

This rain, was like you, like your love- blinding me.
And I was like a deer frozen in the headlights- simply stuck, magnetized or maybe just awestruck. I couldn’t look away and I couldn’t not think. And this one thought took over my mind- How did life change so suddenly? It wasn’t exactly fair. How did things go from being so spectacularly awesome, so unbelievable beautiful to so utterly heartbreaking? How? Just how?

- TUCS

Growing Up

I have a new life philosophy- There's nothing I can do about it.
Actually it's the old one only- You can't fight Fate. Whatever happens, happens.
But this new one I think just makes it more clear. Because it spells out the fact that you simply CANNOT do anything.
I still don't have all the answers I want, but if there's anything I've learnt in the past two days its that life goes on. It just does. And you don't have a choice in this matter. And Life honestly doesn't give a damn if you agree or diasgree or if you're happy and content or not.
It's going to go where it has to. So you might as well pick yourself up and get on with it, because the end, like always, will come. And it isn't in your hands.
So maybe it doesn't matter, maybe it's a good thing, great even, that all those questions are unanswered. Time as usual will tell.
And if the end isn't happy, well, that's when you go kill everyone who told you it would be a happy one right?
And another tragic truth that I realise today- I'm growing up. I'm turning into a left-brain person (sheesh) and somehow there's nothing I can do about it.

Happy Endings is just a Bollywood Thing

There were a lot of things on my mind today that I wanted to write about, and this wasn't one of them but life is like that no? Largely unexpected and annoyingly unpredictable.
Bombay Duck is a Fish is not a book I ever want to read again. But I know I will. I will read it several times.
I'm a sucker for romance, for witty writing and even then its not at all easy to get me hooked to a book. I have to really believe in it, connect with someone, something or even one line. And if I do, then I literally live the book. The characters are my best friends and I live with them. I see bits of me, or bits of others in their quirks and little habits, in their eccentricities and their pain, in their hopes and their heartbreak.
And this one had no romance, only heartbreak. No wit, only the irony of life. But it also had Bombay, Bollywood, SRK. And somehow, beyond all logical reasoning, I liked the protagonist. And even though the story was rather morbid right from the start, I hoped for a bollywood ending. And I guess my point here is that it doesn't happen right? In real life.
Happy endings- do they exist?
I know SRK says they do, and with every movie of his he makes me believe in them. And they say art, cinema especially mirrors real life. But how, how can happy endings possibly exist?

To A New Beginning

We FINALLY, after the zillion bandhs had the COFEE investiture today. And hesitant and unsure as I was initially to apply, today I'm so grateful I did. Because it makes me look at college in a way I never would and that famous college spirit- oh I never thought I would say this, but yes, I'm actually glad to be a part of college! Because when you do the things you like, its not that bad. :) And I'm grateful that I finally got that chance to look at college this way, because its my last year here, and these are supposed to be the best years of our lives right?! So we might as well live it up!
COFEE 2011-12 It's going to be EPIC!

Why Don't They Just Rename Sundays Already?

Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi is by far one of the crappiest, most clichéd and just unbelievably stupid movies that I’ve seen. And while I can accept this on days when I’m in a slightly agreeable mood, I cannot stand anyone else in the world sharing my opinion. And despite actually accepting that on a scale of one to ten, rationally (not emotionally, I can’t help it if I’m a right-brain person) I’d give it a negative score, I still sat around watching it. On television, nonetheless. With never-ending ad breaks that had all the extended nonsensical ads revolving around rabbits playing in the grass and fridges and penguins and washing machines. (Okay fine, one rather nonsensical ad. The others were just annoying. But really, penguins need to wash clothes? I’m sorry I must have missed the class where they taught us that.) Yes, so I sat around like a stupid grinning idiot the entire time, watching RNBDJ even though I had several other, extremely important and urgent, like top in the priority list kinda things to do. Why? The answer is as simple as the question, and it’s a three lettered word too. (No prizes for guessing!) Obviously~ SRK.

I don’t know what it is, I simply can’t put a finger on it and say that it’s this one thing that makes me love, adore, worship, idolize (and every other synonym of these four words) SRK. I wish I knew. Because it would go a long way in proving my sanity. Because you know there has to be an explanation for the hysteria he causes all over the world. It doesn’t matter if you’re in Bombay or Canada, Delhi or Egypt, Germany or Hyderabad. It doesn’t matter if you’re 15 or 55, man or woman- you can’t not love this man, or you can’t not hate him. Because there’s simply no one else quite like him. I’ve NEVER met a person who is divided on their opinion, never met someone who has said ‘Oh, he’s alright’ and simply shrugged their shoulders nonchalantly. Mention his name and either you witness someone blush a deep beetroot red and get that twinkling dreamy filled look in their eyes, or get a murderous aghast look and an ‘I’m going to kill him and then you’ glare. It’s always one of two extremes, proving my point that there is something about him, something quite spectacular.

October 26th and December 23rd~ Hurry up already!

One Grammatically Incorrect Sentence to Celebrate the Freedom!

So I officially no longer care or give a damn about the gramatical correctness of this sentence and this entire post. And yes, I also do not care if the information provided by me is sufficient enough for you or if it does or does not solve your problems or if it actually lets the reader comprehend the passage by not essentially being an unending string of words and longwinded sentences that have no meaning in the end. It may just be that you have to read every single thing that I've read in the last two weeks to actually just get this post but oh well that certainly isn't my problem and no amount of logical or critical reasoning that you use will change my mind so you might as well give up. Your issues with this post and arguments that you might set forth really dont matter anymore.

Also, I don't know why I bother to crib about change- because two days after my last post, I went back to absolutely detesting and hating the place I rather tragically call college.  

P.S. My apologies to the readers. This is what studying and not writing MY book when I really really want to does to me.

The End?

For the longest time now, despite my many attempts, I've had absolutely nothing to say- nothing whatseover to write about. I can't think of any topic that I want to write on which is a shame really especially because I have been thinking so much. And maybe its because I can only write when I'm annoyed which again isn't a very good thing if I want to seriously pursue this as a career. Because what am I supposed to say- I missed a deadline because no one annoyed me to the right extent at the right time? Really?

Does this as a fact completely scare me? The answer is an absolute yes. What if I've written every single thing that I am supposed to, and there will be nothing more. (Well nothing good in any case, because I am quite the expert at writing utter rubbish as this post does prove.) What if this is it? What if I never finish TUCS? While it would certainly explain why I go back to writing the same thing again and again in a different way in my book, I'd rather be clueless and writing, than aware and not writing. This inability to write something worth reading, something that actually makes me happy and stupidly proud, is terrifying. Because I can't help wondering if it is really the end. And I know its probably just writers block (again!) and it will go away eventually because its stubborn as hell and there is nothing I can do about it, I can't not worry.

And all of this brings me to yet another question. What happens at the end? We all know that there is an end to everything, nothing really lasts. And no, I'm not talking of death here, but the peaks and the decline. There will be a day, I don't know if that is today, or a few years down the line- where I really will have nothing to write about. When my writing will not be what it is today. And that's a part of life right? So what happens then? What happens when you're done with what you love doing best? What happens after the end?