We watch.We wait.

When is the end?
Everyone faces trials.Trials test people,and reward them with pure unadulaterated joy at the end.The survivor is crowned and all is forgotten as he catches up with long sought peace.
The question is : How long do these trials last?

All of us pay.Pay for our foolishness.Pay for our sins.Pay for our "free" lunches.Pay in exchange for any small glory.No more.I'm broke.I can't pay anymore.

I want to know where my redemption is ,and when it will come find me.

I want to know when the present will become the past and rest ,closed, as an unceremonious chapter in history,forgotten in the wake of a great new beginning.I wait for the day my trial ends,and the jury acknowledges my survival and makes suitable compensation.I don't want to consider the possibility that this day will never come,for hope ..I must.

Hope is all that I have.How pitiful it is that I hope,even as the night fades into a cold dreary morning.Cold mornings are pretty only in Jane Austen's novels and in books about hiking expeditions to Antarctica.Sunshine is what I want for my life.

I want to go ashore,or sink in the deluge.Staying afloat amidst the currents can be very tiring.
Watching and waiting as of now,is passe,and how we all hate anything passe.

Thought for the day #1

Well,this is not so much my thought as it is Stephan Gellet's.I remember seeing this on a poster just outside the Headmistress's office of my old school.It came back to me today out of nowhere and I just had to post it.

"I expect to pass through this world but once. Any good, therefore, that I
can do or any kindness I can show to any fellow creature, let me do it now. Let
me not defer or neglect it for I shall not pass this way again"

It is a lovely thought,one which prompts lovely action!:)

Alright,that's all for today.Breakfast awaits.

Toodles !Have a good day :)

Pretence.Not a fan.

All of us,at one time or another,have faced double standards.And doled them out too.While people may have reason to mask their real feelings from time to time,constant pretence is just...annoying,

Sometimes,I wish people would tell me what exactly they think of me.However,they never do that,so I have to play mind reader and lemme tell you;it's really hard to filter out true emotion from all the socializing crap;
but a part of me wonders if I'll be able to handle the truth.Dependent creature that I am,I don't really know if I'll be able to digest the idea that a friend or a loved one prefers not having me around.

Sure,no one can hope for universal popularity,to borrow a phrase from Dumbledore.All one can hope for is a little honesty,some patience,and a tinge of reality in the farce that are some relationships today.

Ah hope!

P. S : I almost forgot...HAPPY NEW YEAR folks!Keep your spirit soaring and make 2010 your best year yet :)

Incomplete is a bad thing.

So I was idling my time away online as usual.I logged into Blogger as per routine,and accidentally navigated to the drafts section of the posts.Intriguing titles and dangling phrases led me to take a closer look,and I unwittingly stole a few glances at the past me.

I found a couple of unfinished poems.They weren't anything the world would miss(or even things I would miss for that matter,...naah!I'd be lying if I said that.I am narcissistic enough to miss my own verse,anyway,that's quite besides the point,isn't it?).I really couldn't tell what I was trying to say through the poems though.Somewhere,I think I was on the verge of getting hold of the soul of the poem.With sweet irony though,that beginning brought with it the end.Poof.Draft over.

I also observed a gradual change in my writing style.My older posts were more formal sounding,with attention to grammar,attempts to pay attention to punctuation,with proper and non silly sounding words.With time,I have begun to shy away from attempting poetry,and have stuck to writing post after post about my mundane life sparing the occasional bursts into melancholy,because I'm ashamed to rhyme,afraid to break out,and too busy to spare a few minutes for pondering.

I wonder if micro blogging sites like Twitter, and Facebook updates,have anything to do with my.....impatience.No other word for it.I try to return to my old self,at least when it comes to thought patterns,but it's impossible.That was me then.This is me now.I can't really seek out a past identity of mine and hide beneath it when I'm definitely not the same person underneath anymore.It would be like effectively making null and void whatever's happened to me in the last few months,like erasing a sizeable chunk of my experiences in life.And that's not what I intend to do.

The second best thing I can think of then,is to have a record of what I was like earlier,so that I can look back at some old memories and paint a picture of things as they used to be.Then,in bitter times,I can live on a bit of borrowed sentiment from the past.And that's where old post come in.To me,they are the key to unlocking my younger self.

That's why the sight of unfinished drafts frustrate me.The leave me wondering about what exactly I was thinking then.Sometimes,I remember the circumstances in which I penned a draft,but I do not remember my reactions to that situation.How unfair is that?!

That's why I 'm going to take this moment to remind you all to finish your thoughts.At least whilst you're on Blogger.You might not feel like writing just then,but endeavor to make your thoughts a little more lucid,so you can always come back to it later.Don't deceive yourself :your mind isn't an impenetrable bank,time gets through to everything.You eventually will forget.You might lose a moment of your life in the sense that you will not be able to remember what that moment revolved around.

Sorry if I sound half crazed,but I just want to impress upon you that your identity is the most important thing you can ever own,and so, a ManU vs. Arsenal showdown definitely does not justify leaving your thoughts unfinished.

I'll talk more when I'm not being strange rambling girl (which is what many of you must have begun to call me in your head,I'm sure).

'K bye!

Not your typical musical night

My semester has come to an end.You know what that means--->end semester exams.Sob!Anyway,I was about to tell you that I have my linear algebra paper tomorrow and that I began preparations in earnest last night,hoping to appease the rather stuck up gods that control the fates of all victims of mathematics.

Despite the honorable intentions,I fared miserably in my attempt to study.Deciding music would help clear my mind,I fetched my CD player and plugged it in(no,I do not like listening to music on a pod or mp3 or any other device which requires me to use headphones,earphones or anything of the like).I got further pissed when I couldn't locate my CD collection.Going with the desperation the hour demanded,I hit play,resigning myself to listening to whatever was in the blasted thing.

Imagine my pleasant surprise when some lovely Hindustani music notes filled the air!Frankly,I don't listen to much classical music myself.That's not to say that I don;t enjoy it,it's just not my first choice.The music was slow.Non distracting.It remained in the background.Mightily please,I went about my cramming.Every now and then however,I couldn't help but devote my attention completely to the music.There was some soulful raag alaap before every song.I particularly enjoyed the one set to the raaga Hamsadhwani. Some of you Carnatic music enthusiasts may know of the raaga Kaanada,it's my favourite,coz it inherently seems like a twang of melancholy.Last night,I discovered my second favourite--Bhoop. :) I couldn't help but digress,and spent some happy moments humming along with the CD.

It's true what they say,isn't it,about classaical music being one of the purest forms of music?My mother says that is among the few forms of music that can manage to pull anyone away from what they're doing(not that my case counts,coz almost anything manages to pull me away from math...still).

The tunes;they rose,they fell,they meandered,and they never failed to amaze.Aw shucks,I'm rambling here.I wouldn't know.

What I do know is that last evening,I got some good studying done.This might even be the first time in living memory that I enjoyed algebra,and that definitely is something to celebrate!

Alright,I've got some nasty exams lined up for me.Till later,then. :)

Q&A

Q.How foolish it is to want something very badly and then push it away,not knowing whether it would ever be in your reach again?
A.Very foolish.
Thunk.Thunk.That's me whacking meself on the head (like that's going to help) . :

Masquerade

I am never thankful for a few moments of silence.Strangely,that morning was one of consequence.

Morose and unseeing eyes rode up and down the black roads,staring,as if to wrangle answers to everyday sorrows out of the black tar.

Pause.Rewind.They wound back to a puddle on which floated a fleet of a most curious sort.

A pretty and tattered shoe with rhinestone edges headed this parade.

It had laced the delicate feet of the bar dancer last night,I whimsically imagined.She must have run away in the pitch of the night.Do not interrupt and ask me to fathom why she ran,not when what we do in most of our spare time is run away from realities.

Not keen to return to the mundane bus stop,I moved on to the next oddity in the puddle.

A tie stuffed into a cola can.

I could almost see the snot faced kid that had celebrated his afternoon after school with the school boyish gesture of discarding his tie.Not having found a suitable dispenser,the kid had decided to stuff the tie into the nearest object in sight.

Who said kids weren't resourceful?

Masquerading third in the puddle was a dirty scrap of paper.

A page out of a phone book,yet another slice of someone else's life.

10 digits repeated themselves over and over again;keys to a stranger's obsession,maybe that of a lovestruck lad's ,nursing his first heartbreak.

His lady had refused to answer his call,he'd vented his desperation and tossed the scrap away after overcoming it.

I laughed a little sadly at this boy's (?) plight,and then decided to make things better.After all,stories need happy endings,don't they?
Yes,our boy must have bumped into our running bar dancer wearing one pretty rhinestone shoe,and the two would have shared coffee and a good laugh over the craziness of their encounter.

Sighing wistfully,I shut the book that lay open on my lap.

Later,Mr.Maupassant.

I had other stories to know of.

My eyes left the queer masquerade on the eventful puddle.Once again,they moved up and down the black roads,only this time they weren't wrangling the tar for answers to everyday sorrows.

It was storytime,yes indeedy.