Tacit, Interrupted.

Three make a quartet today,
But two is still a crime.
Out of a dire puzzle arose,
This subtle piece of rhyme.

It's Been A While.

And my sabbatical from Blogspot may be attributed to a few random occurrences. The little things that happen during the course of our existence, only to remind us that speedbreakers are a reality, and that traffic jams can be strangely illuminating, only if you take a peak out of your window and observe. So I did.

1. The college fest season dragged the hyperactive, overperforming and bossy me out of hibernation. The event was a tremendous success, and also a lot of fun. Anything involving an eclectic mix of people, junk, ideas and money is, by definition, fun.

2. It also brought out the brute in me. Which I demonstrated publicly by almost turning into Hulk, going green, and hurling stuff at someone. I do not care to offer an explanation, except that "someone" was a jackass.

3. I learnt that I can manage to write poetry that isn't as utterly atrocious as I believed. In fact, it is appreciated. But then, they let me pour out my morbidity in torrents and pools. It HAD to be good! XPRESSIONS '09 was a good thing to have happened to a wednesday.

4. Someone close to me decided to get married. And the wedding was decided upon, planned and executed in 48 hours flat! And here, I speak of The Big Fat "Punjabi" Indian Wedding. That alone, speaks plenty. Volumes of personal inferences would be followed up in carefully disguised abstractions.

Exam season begins again in 4 days. Hence, expect a torrential downpour of inanity. The aforementioned observations to be interspersed as well.
Cheerio.

An Ode to Eris.

An old journal entry, written during my board exams two years ago :

Chaos is absolutely necessary to modern life. In today's day and age, an individual who can perform under utopian circumstances is thoroughly inadequate. In order to attain a high degree of competence, it is necessary that one be capable of crisis management and dealing with demanding deadlines.
Therefore, I shall continue to while away time like a hopeless invalid, muse ceaselessly about the egg-came-before-the-chicken hypothesis, and save Quantum Physics for the day before the exam. Amen.

Conclusion : I find myself very hard to argue with.

*Eris, aka Discordia, is the Greek goddess of Chaos.

Quantized Lunacy.

Q : What is the difference between a man who jumps from the 2nd floor of a building, and one who jumps from the 10th?

A : Former goes - Dhish!!! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa......
Later goes - AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...... DHISHHhhhhhhhhh!

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Sadism is a bitter pleasure.

My apologies, fair folk. Full-moon nights make me go cuckoo.
I'm grinning like an idiot just about now.

Of Man, Machines, and Me.

Ideally, I would take this moment in time, in and around 4:30 AM on the 9th day of oh-so-springily-sweet March, to write about recession, the ongoing socio-political crisis in the Indian-subcontinent, the Bilderberg conference(just for kicks) or the pathway to Zen. But as fate(or your bad luck) would have it, I'm in the mood to ramble about myself and my distorted convictions. Exactly like my narcissistic, evil self had been doing so. So I shall do precisely that, and quantize my ideas into a stream of 0's and 1's, to be shuffled to and fro in a warped world with warped concepts of space and time. A tout le monde.
Bear with me, dear world, for someday my sermons will bring enlightenment to mankind. Or at least, end up being a sterling tribute to Aleister Crowly. *evil laughter, for effect*

Though this should have begun with what is next to follow, I don't care enough to care. You see, this blog has been dormant and comatose for a while, as I have been feeling like a wimp. Oh yes, a bona fide wimp who feels sorry for herself and asks for reasons to crawl out of bed and smell the coffee. A wimp who trudges around like a troll, grunts like a pig, screeches like that rusty iron hinge in need of oil, and instantly depresses everything she touches- animate or not. Not quite the Midas touch, but then, what do you expect from a troll-pig-rusty iron, 5 feet 8 inch thingamajig anyway? Oh, and sadly, the aforementioned thingamajig is very much alive and breathing, and happens to have legs to walk on. Talk about crappy, eh?

It's crappier. And you know it's crappier when your mom tells you to freakin' get a boyfriend to waste your time on. Yes. That happened.
It's also pretty crappy when you bang your fist into a stone wall for no good reason, and as a result, find yourself peeling the skin off your knuckles for amusement later. It's worse when the person you were aiming at, and who had the reflexes to duck right in time, acts smug about it.
But what really takes the cake is when you yell at your sardonically authoritative lecturer to shut the fuck up.
And because such ironies amuse me :

Stalin-in-a-sari : What do you mean you didn't mean to say that?
Me-all goth : I thought you were someone else. You can't blame me. You sound like a teenager anyway.
Stalin-in-a-sari : Of course I can blame you. You should be able to recognize my voice by now.
Me-all goth : I would, had I attended any classes.

All of this, while the person I was actually addressing laughed her insides out.

It is best if I end it at that, and conclude by saying that since that day, not a single assignment I've submitted has been "satisfactory" enough. You may fill in the blanks.
Also, at about a 2 month-rewind from this particular rendezvous, the same woman mistook me for a lecturer and let me enter class 30 minutes late, in her continued state of oblivion.

...........................................................................................

Didn't they tell you that things come around a full circle?
Yeah.. I always knew.
My life is a pinball machine for the irony gods up there. Gloat. Gloat all you want. And then go swat flies. Just to piss you off, I shall gloat with you. Unlike the wimp who needs a reason to crawl out of bed. I just wish I had a personal drill sergeant to kill me everyday. It's always harder to do it to yourself. Minus the masochistic gratification.

Twisted.

See, that's the tough part. Being human is the tough part. If it was always 0's and 1's, thing would be so very different. Being a machine would not only eliminate the possibility of turning into a wimp, it would negate the reasons to feel like one. Emotional detachment won't have to be a behavioral issue. Borderline, wouldn't be a personality disorder. The world would be based on logic, and logic alone. Squarer than square is. With sharp edges, as opposed to rugged ledges. Faith wouldn't mean placing your happiness in things beyond your control.

I think I'm jealous of my P-4, double-processor computer.
I also think I'm going to be brand new tomorrow. Not a wimp. Not a troll. Not a creaky hinge.
But the woman who dreams of ruling the world someday. And she will.

A Brief Soliloquy.

Battlegrounds stand witness to mere trivialities. The real war is always on the inside.

It's all in the mind. Is,was..and always will be.

Another Disconnected Inference.

Sometimes, the only way to be better,
Is to take yourself apart.
And start building all over again.

Memoirs of an Almost-Techie.

The Pigeonhole Principle

"This principle states that if there are more pigeons than pigeon-holes, then there must be at least one pigeonhole with at least two pigeons in it."

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The tome that transcribes the above mentioned illation, goes on to annotate the same with visually descriptive diagrams and mathematical proof, not to mention, study of possible corollaries. In excruciating detail.

My message to whoever decides upon what makes us "engineers" is:
1. What exactly are you trying to do?
2. Is this a world-wide conspiracy against bright minds?
3. This does not negate the deterioration of the human brain, caused by ceaselessly mulling over Quantum mechanics and the nuances of the Fourier transform.
4. You have a sadistic sense of humor.

Catharsis.

Last night, I dreamt that the world was ending.

And believe me when I say, words cannot describe how beautiful it was. There were fireworks in the sky, and things erupting into light, sound, fire and ice. Only, you couldn't tell what was which, or whether it made any difference at all. It was beautiful.

People, for those few moments, became exactly like themselves, and not what they had become. Everything was settled. Everyone was real. Because all the doubts, fears and things they had traded their lives out to, didn't matter anymore. I looked around and saw that no one, absolutely no one was scared, or sad. It shocked me, though it shouldn't have. I now see how perfectly natural it would be.

I reveled. Till a creeping horror sunk in. And suddenly, I was desperate to speak. To say all of the things I never did, to all of the people who would now probably never know. I looked around helplessly.. for people, or a cellphone at least. Anything. I had so much to say. And I didn't have the time.

I woke up at 2 P.M., to the sun shining at me through a dusty window. And the sound of raucous crows. I scouted around blindly for my phone, and saw 7 missed calls, which I wouldn't have answered anyway.
Irony bites.
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Afternote: This was right after I got done with my exams, watched Dev D, sauntered home at a marginally unacceptable hour. Called A to say to him that I never have any meaningful dreams. And promptly proceeded to pass out in my "coffee-induced" drunkenness.
Irony bites again.

Of Mint-Coffees...

... and unregretted regrets
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I see a world in your eyes.

A world more real,

than the one,

I have to live in.

Your world is made

Of thoughts and things,

unheard of, unimaginable..

Of people and places,

so far and many.

But I still live

in the paracosm I’ve made around me,

where thoughts alone are things..

And they are centered around you.

Another season just went by.

And I still stood and stared,

at how I stand where I stood,

Years ago, when I first knew you.

I’ve known you so many times since,

and waited for a day when I finally do.

Your silence deafens me,

It’s too loud, and I yearn for peace.

For I dream too much to tell,

What’s real and what was fantasy.

Remember the streets

we once walked on?

No.. The ones you walked on

and I followed.

Much may have changed,

But I’m still the same..

Only I wish..

I had been walking

Beside you.

I hate you because

you make me forget myself.

And all that I see,

is that world in your eyes.

The one I’m not a part of.

And perhaps, never will be.

Everything is hanging.

By threads.

Threads and cobwebs.

Tries so hard, not to fall apart

But it does.

Every second, every day..and every year.

Look..another knot came undone.

But I’ll fix it again, and wait for it to hurt.

Your silence always says so much.

Much more than you ever did.

So many things, that you never said,

And even if you did,

The ones I never would have heard.

Your whispers, after all,

Were lost somewhere in the void.

The millions of miles,

That separate us.

But your world still haunts me,

The world I saw in your eyes.

The days when love was not just a word,

And faith was not just a lie.

To today, when beliefs are few..

When I’m running out of reasons to try.

She tells me,

Confucius does his crosswords

With a pen.

I know, but I wish

I was that sure.

It’s hard to believe, when things are such,

That you never know

What lies ahead.

Or tomorrow, or today, or tonight.

Time is a strange thing.

You see, it’s even relative.

Your nights are my days,

And my days, your nights.

But twilight is a strange relief,

For such little separates dawn from dusk.

I hear songs..

Songs that echo all around.

Never thought Richard Marx

Would begin to haunt.

Or that mint-coffee would

Be so bitter.

Just because of you,

Or the you that is not there.

But I still stood,

And I looked,

At the sound of your voice.

Yes, I looked. And I heard,

The touch of your hand,

On mine, and I tasted,

The warmth of your embrace.

Of course, that too was all in a dream,

Reality has never been that kind.

But I'm still the same.

And I stand right where I was

When love wasn’t just a word,

And faith wasn’t just a lie.

You would think that I,

Am saying too much.

You may wonder why

I speak so.

But the whys I cannot answer,

So I never ask.

I have too many questions of my own

To trouble you with yours.

But that’s a lie. You know that too.

For somewhere it’s just about a me,

Who is afraid of your answers.

And I am still the same,

as I used to be.

For you see, today I walked

down those streets again.

Alone.

And realized,

they wouldn’t take me anywhere.

Bad Poetry - Volume 2.

Delusional Contentment...

..and similar absurdities

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I don't know how I want things to be,
But I know this isn't it.
I no longer know what to wish for,
Just something very different from this.

If such is the scene,
What comes next, you may ask.
And I would say to you,
That I don't see this moment last.

The inconvenience of truth,
The tyranny of chance.
Or tinted glasses,
And primrose dalliance.

Our beginnings may be beginnings,
But they never know our ends.
This story, you see,
Comes with breaks and bends.

One, however, is left to wonder,
How far really is the end?

A Post of NO Significance.

...of absolutely no significance at all.

Today I learnt the names of the following in Hindi/Sanskrit :

1. Thumb - Angushtha - अन्गुष्ठः
2. Index Finger - Tarjini - तर्जिनी
3. Middle Finger - Madhyamika - मध्यमिका
4. Ring Finger - Anamika - अनामिका
5. "The Pinky" - Kanishthika - कनिष्ठिका

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So now, thanks to this thoroughly pointless morsel of information, we can all be exceedingly creative with our insults, pinky-promises and most importantly, primitive hand-gestures for declaring a need to pee.

Also :
"The ring finger is the only British finger on your hand, which means it always follows its biggest ally, the most powerful finger, the one finger, the little finger. The ring you often see encircling the ring finger is a fancy leash made by the little finger to drag it around. After years and years of dragging, the ring finger has already lost its own sense, sadly."

Source : Uncyclopedia.
Clickety-click <--THIS link. Really! Do it. And discover my version of Narnia. Ha.

I feel an irrepressible urge...

...to adopt the life of a tree-hugging hippie.

No explanations offered.

A Valentine Concoction.

Ingredients :
1 ripe super-stinky durian
2 tablespoons rancid cod liver oil
3 beheaded male mantises
1 lizard's tail
200 ml. of H₂SO₄
2 teaspoons wormwood
*A precision-shot Magnum 5.0 for good measure

Throw first 6 ingredients into boiling cauldron and curse, in the choicest of expletives, the idiot who prayed for his jailer's daughter and the Hallmark dudes who dished out this commercialized, gag-worthy, ribbon-laced nonsense.
*POOF*

Go out. Wield THE Magnum and shoot every loathsome display of inanity.
Death to cupid, all things pink/red/mushy, the retardedly emo lovesongs and fascist shiv/ram sena monkeys.
Gaaaah!

Disclaimer.

(An oddly placed one)

An ongoing spate of perennial exams is to be blamed for the very evident and revolting lack of content in the preceding blog-posts, and those to come.
It is with great regret that I announce that my brain, after attempting to commit "self-righteous" suicide by jumping out the window, has gone into a comatose, vegetative state. It is expected to return to its neurotic, hyperactive self on the 22nd of February. Until then, enjoy your slow deaths.

The inconvenience is highly regretted.
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