Jealous

Two girls walked hand in hand by the side of the road. Neither seemed in any hurry. They were talking incessantly - of course, what else do you expect - while enjoying their icecream. I felt a twinge of jealousy, and dunno why, began to follow them, keeping myself slow and as inconspicuous as possible. The evening breeze was pleasant, the hour largely unhurried, and I wanted to hear what they talked about. I got within earshot, and kept the pace, amused at first at their animated reactions to what seemed like distant minor, almost irrelevant, issues.

But they seemed happy - rather despite the whining, they seemed content, at peace. They switched topics fairly quickly and randomly, and I struggled to follow the full import. Then it struck me, there isn't always a point to what and why you're saying.

I felt another twinge of jealousy, this time at their ability to stay at peace without searching for meaning in everything. They didn't pound every moment to death with an intellectual curiosity absolutely pointless and self-defeating in the first place anyway. At that point, something in my rebutted with a snide remark on how petty, irrelevant and inconsequential their talks were.

I halted.

As I watched them past away, the jealousy returned as pain. I was at least as inconsequential and had had nobody to talk to as carefreely.
And I was walking alone.

Over rated

That's what being nice is.

Being humble, polite, considerate, sensitive, liberal, respectful. Not saying things you feel in the heat of the moment because they are mean, exaggerated and not fully true.

All of it, is simply over-rated.

Being who you should be, is over rated.

SO mad at myself.

UPDATE: Comments are back. Still mad at google.

...

Duniya mein tumhari jagah bana nahi paye
Is duniya mein jagah rakh kar kya karenge
Parchhaiyon ke peechhe bhag rahe the ab tak
Ab sirf andhera baki hai, bhag kar ke kya karenge

I.Miss.Having.Someone.To.Talk.To.

Anyone. Someone I want to talk to.

Duty

Shikha didn't know what she was angry about. Just that she was seething. She deserved better, yet she knew it was as much her fault as anybody else's. Her life had become an endless wait - the yawning emptiness of waiting between each moment and the next was eating her up. And yet, on the outside, she was her perectly normal cheerful self going about her duties. Dutifully she'd keep calling up the children daily without complaining about the calls they never made and the bunchful from her they'd never take. Dutifully she'd stress about every modulation of their voise that hinted something was amiss, something hadn't gone well. Dutifully she'd go about her job nobody appreciated her for, at least it paid her bills and helped her kill some time. Dutifully she'd thank God everyday for the wonderful world he'd created without asking why did he not create anyone to help her loneliness. She was angry at herself, and the pointlessness of her existence.

But she didn't know that. She just felt like she would explode. Then, like everyday, she hid her weeping ace in the pillow and went off to sleep.

Promise

I couldn't wipe every tear
I couldn't always lend an ear
I couldn't kill every fear
I did not bring you cheer
every time, like I promised

I know I did not
I tried, I could not
I'm sorry I forgot
I tried and I fought
and I will, like I promised

On why google is evil

We have always known it's a bad thing one big fat company's servers hold so many bits and pieces of our life stashed with them, and a few clicks by someone somewhere could affect us unjustifiably, still until it happens to you, it feels like cynicism and some more. Now, after suffering a virtual homicide of some sorts in blogosphere, I'm forced to wonder - is it time for an un-google-ification. Here's what happened - all the comments I've ever made across blogs, including on my own, have vanished. Without as much as a trace (or an email). Sucks!

That's more than 5 years worth of comments. Did I have no right on them at all? Or the people on whose blogs they were made (like him). I've posted a complaint and stuff, but don't see any help forthcoming. What next - tomorrow this blog can just vanish in thin air? Or, horror of horrors, my gmail account? Makes me furious.

Do I need to prove to google I'm not a spamming bot but a real person - has the world come to this already?

Google is evil.