I want to be

I want to be whoever I deserve to be - after I've tried to be whatever and whoever I want to be.

To live a simple, happy life

To live a simple happy life

you need to perfect

one of two arts

either learn how not to want much

or learn how not to hurt much

It's not so easy, however,

because you'd likely not get what you truly want

unless you want it bad

and unless it hurts bad

but then I am assuming

that to live a simple happy life

without much pain or heady exhilaration

You dont even need to get much.

Sometimes I wonder

looking around where I am

how I got here

The people around me

I'm not like them

or maybe I am?

Am I what I see in the crowd

or what I think I see in the mirror

or what I think I think I am

Maybe it is just who I am

when I do what I do

without even thinking or wanting

to do what I do

I'm not that shallow

or maybe I am?

Sometimes I wonder

which way I am going

why noone feels like a companion

why nothing feels like a goal

I'm not really that lost

or maybe I am?

Kasoor

Mausam ke sang badal gayi hain agar
Chahatein tumhare dil ki
Rang to akhirkar jahaan mein kayi hai
Tumhara kasoor kya hai
Rang jeewan mein sab ko hain pasand
Aur chahaton pe zor chalta nahi
Chahatein to mann mein har pal umadti hain nayi
Tumhara kasoor kuch bhi to nahi
Par yoon to na dekho nafrat se mujhe
Main to khadi hoon aaj bhi wahin
Bhula sakte ho kya har pal har ehsaas ko
Patjhad ka purana mausam hi sahi
Shayad asaan hai ateet ko bhul jana
Par mere to aaj mein ab tak ho tum hi
Maine to bas ek mohabbat hi ki hai
Mera kasoor kya hai

Confusion

First up, apologies for the few who have missed updates on this page the last 3 weeks or so. And apologies to everyone who is looking for a follow-up of the fairly confusing previous posts -I promise there's a story to tell, and I promise to complete the Camouflage drafts currently lying on blogger, on my phone and in my head. But not now, not today.

Today is the day to ramble and wonder without much purpose. This whole purpose and meaning quest is an overhyped one, methinks. "Be yourself and follow your dreams" is great to hear and probably great to do, but what do you do when you don't really know who you are and what your dream is. And since you're a confused, lost soul scampering about for some elusive meaning, and that's who you're also encouraged to be, there's bound to come a point where you go whatthehell. Read this for more. Anyway, what choice do we have sirji.

So anyway, my own wandering and questioning took me last month from consulting to investing. For a while it felt like nothing had changed. There I was, on a morning flight to Mumbai, talking about same old stuff with someone I've known for more than 6 years now. Cribbing about morning flights and airline service. Looking for the driver at the airport holding a placard of my name. Only this time, the company name was different. And since then, it has been starting from scratch all over again. Finding my place. Finding new people. Being judged. Finding comfort in my own skin. Trying. And wondering whether I like it. Wondering where I'd end up. Wondering how. 

Life makes me want to live in a limbo. 

It's too early to look for answers anyway. I'm only looking for questions. And hoping. 

Camouflage-III

Back in those days, I lived under one such dark camouflage. Bright and sunny by the sunlight, like a many-hued everyday-happy story but a simmering grey under the moon-light, one which varied in intensity depending on the lunar cycle, depending on how closely you went to look at.

Those nights I felt like a sinner, one who had been marked for life, repentance or no repentance. I did live as if in penance, at least in my mind, but it wasn't helping my guilt. I looked around and wondered how nobody else could see it in my eyes and find out who I was. A killer, a murderer. Some nights I felt justified about my actions; my mind argued for hours the rationale, the defense. Some nights, the weight of my deeds crushed my soul and tears couldn't wash away the uncontrollable pain. Most of all there was the weight of what I had hoped and expected myself to be, and what I now thought I had become.

There were moments when I felt grateful to be free, uncaught, yet sometimes all I could wish for was to be able to confess to someone, for someone to find out and kill me. I had taken more than one life - I couldn't be the same person I used to be any longer. Emotionally, I was scarred.

And yet, I managed to survive the phase perfectly well under my camouflage. It seems remarkable how my old self became my camouflage that kept the world at bay, that kept the mornings boring till the phase - and the war inside me - ended. Back in those days...

Who am I kidding - fact is I still live under a camouflage. Probably always have. So much that I don't know if there is a real me at all after all these years hiding somewhere beneath the multiple layers.

[[To be continued]]

Camouflage-II

It is misleading, how they liken happiness to multiple bright colors. While we may be conditioned enough to always associate palates of bright colors like rainbows and spring gardens with joy, the fact is, all joys have the same hue. Every fear and every pain, however, has its own hue, a different shade, a unique intensity. Notwithstanding the ancient labelers of the human civilization, if you looked close enough you would see that there is only one VIBGYOR and many many blacks; that all happy stories sounded the same and each tragedy was unique.

Happiness and sorrow, much like us, live in this world in a camouflage.

[[To be continued]]

Camouflage-I

It rained often those days. Actually, that wasn't true. It never rained during the days - only in the nights, as if the nights really needed to be cleansed. As if some kind of a sin sneaked in under the cover of darkness every night that needed to be dissolved, or at least hidden, so the morning could be bright and sunny for the world to see. It rained every night so that one could sob in the pillow and not be heard over the din of the drops of water lashing at the window, screeching to be let in, to dissolve the dirtiness inside. But I never opened the window. If I had, I'd probably have jumped off it as well.
I wish I had.

In a blink

I blink
And I forget
The passage of time
The pungence of lime
The long nights
And tearful sights
The tortuous streak
Feeling weak
Pain. Insane.
I forget.

Till I look at the scars.
Till I talk to the stars.
Till I notice how light I feel
Till I watch the layers peel
And I remember.
The promise I made
And the farewell I bade
Not wiping a tear
Letting go of fear
Overcoming desire
Dousing some of the fire
Fighting, losing, living, dying
Waking, working, smiling, lying
I remember.

I smile and rub my eyes.
A phoenix never dies.
Slowly, steadily
I clear the dirt
Piece by piece
I heal the hurt.
I make friends
with the pain.
Then I blink.
And I forget.
And life is good again.

W for Woman

I wonder what you wonder
And what you wonder I wonder about
And I wonder what the secret is after all
With you life itself was a wonderful wonder throughout

I wander in the wastelands, wondering why
I wander where we wandered together without clue
I wander in the wish of finding you again
In the wanderlust to wander lusciously inside you

I wither in the wait of wanting you whenever
I wither in the wuthering winds of withering weather
I wonder whether I'd ever stop wondering, wandering, withering
I wail in the wisdom of knowing this is forever