Failure to Communicate:

Dreams they say, are the mirrors of our souls.
Our secrets are revealed in our dreams and nowhere else. In a way, dreams are our subconscious' attempt to have a conversation with us. Sometimes they happen to be ludicrously meaningless, at others they are unbelievably lucid.
Then there are those other times when, we wake up covered up in cold sweat. With absolutely no idea of what exactly it was that we were dreaming about, yet scared. At times even crying.
Of course there also are those that think that dreams are not important. That they are just some type of a mental apparatus, a cleaning mechanism of some type. I was one of them. That however was before I had The Dream. The dream of a lifetime. The kind of dream that is a once in a lifetime experience.

You must be curious as to who I am, why I am. And most importantly, why must you have to listen to this story. All in good time friend. All in good time.
I can call you my friend? Can't I?
Well since we are having a conversation, we must be friends. To tell you the truth, I do not have a lot of friends. I am often lonely, I feel as if no one cares for me. I feel rejected. But then lets not talk about the bad things in this world.
Life is short, lets enjoy it while we can. My father used to say that. He worked at a construction-site. Then one day, a few months before my birth, a beam fell over him. I sometimes wonder what he was like. I dream about him sometimes, but in my dreams, I think he was a king or the richest man in the world.
I was brought up by my mother, but she had AIDS and she died before I turned ten. Finally, it was up to my drunk uncle and his diseased wife to bring me up. No one really liked my uncle, but I hated the aunt a lot more. She would just sit around all day coughing. When she was not coughing, she would be asleep and snoring loudly. My uncle on the other hand, would come home late at night and pass-out immediately.
I was not very good at studies. I was hardly interested in sports. The only reason I joined up for swimming classes was because I got to ogle at the rich girls.
In my school there were two kinds of girls. The rich and the poor. Of course these are the only two kinds of girls. I believe that even the ugliest of girls are very attractive and beautiful on the inside. But hey, that's just me. If you don't agree I'll totally understand. Freedom of thought and everything.
So anyways I was saying, the rich girls were so different from the poor girls it was like they were totally a different species. Their skin was so smooth, and their fragrance. Ah! those days. If I can only go back.
I was but a fool then. There was this guy, I do not remember the name. He had a very cool looking paper-cutter. I can still imagine myself holding it. It had a sticker of Spiderman who is like the coolest superhero ever.
So one day the guy drops the paper cutter on his way to school. The next day I find it and keep it for myself. Spiderman is so cool. Wow. He can bloody swing. In fact he can totally defeat anyone else. Well, only Wolverine is cooler than him. What with those retractable claws of his and that amazing regeneration ability. Night-crawler I think has the coolest powers. He can teleport to any place he can see. He is amazing. He would have been my favourite, but I hate his looks. He looks like a blue alien monster and totally uncool.

So anyways, I was foolish enough to bring the paper cutter to the school. I thought since I had found it, it was mine. But he would have none of it. He was too adamant. We fought for it the whole day.
Finally we were fighting over it after school was over. The sonofa bit me in the hand. I was very angry, I remember still. I get angry just by remembering the moment. So I stabbed him with the knife once twice thrice, I lost count at around forty.
He had already stopped struggling at around twenty. But I kept going on just for the heck of it. I have always found the act of stabbing to be an excellent stress buster. You should also give it a try.

However, now that I have grown up, not a day goes by when I don't regret that. It was a foolish childish act, I should acted more maturedly.
Now that I have grown up and become more intelligent, I think if I get another chance, I'll do it different.
I should never have taken the papercutter to school.

Anyways everyone found out about the paper cutter incident. I did hide the body in the school well. But the problem was that I was too poor. I think that no one should be poor. God really hates the poor. Sometimes I wonder how can there be a God when there is so much injustice in the world. Or is this just His sense of humor? He can bloody well do what he pleases.

To tell you the truth,my uncle was not that poor as he was miser. Unless he was spending on his drinks. We might not have had food to eat every night, but he just had to have his scotch, gin and tonic every night. And then some more. I just had a single set of school dress. I had to wear it for 5 days then, I'll wash it on Saturday and wear it again from Monday.
It was now covered in blood on a Wednesday I think it was. No Thursday, because I remember wishing the whole time that why was it not Friday. Just one day. Just one day extra.
I could not wash off the blood and I spent the whole night and the whole supply of detergents trying to do that.
Anyways what happened next is the same old boring story. I got caught, sent to a mental hospital and came out of it a lunatic.
Or that is what everyone likes to believe. I believe I was born there.
You know that how we all go about our lives day after day, without ever knowing who we are. What our purpose in life is?
I discovered mine there.
I am Justice. I am infallible. I am the only truth in this world of lies and deception. I am a spider. I am equality.
Now don't be scared. Don't try anything foolish. Let me explain to you what will happen now.
I will bring you freedom. I will release you from the circle of pain that life is. I will conclude you. Do not cry, do not cry, there is nothing to fear. Everything to gain. God loves you. He will care for you.
This is all a dream, your Dream. The one that will change your life.
See I will slash your wrist right here. Purge you of the unclean blood of your heretic father and whore of a mother. See the blood oozing out? There is no pain, right. This is sweet release. This is mercy. Now i will slash your jugular. Hahah! Let it all flow out. Doesn't it feel good? See they were wrong. There is no pain. There is only release. Now now, don't struggle. Close your eyes, friend close your eyes.
Isn't this what friends are for? Relieving our sufferings. See, didn't I tell you that stabbing is a great for killing stress? I already feel happy. I have this amazing glow inside me. I feel like a newborn. Or what I imagine newborns would feel like. The blood see. It is leaving you, purifying you. From the inside.
Now friend. Can't you stay any longer? I see, you have to go.
What is wrong with everyone? I try to make friends, they all leave me. Everyone leaves me. No one stays.
It was nice knowing you.

Human Interactions:
Anagraphy of a somewhat Autistic, probably Bipolar and mostly Introvert chronic loner
I am finally sure that I am not capable of interacting with the others of my species.
Here is something that happened today.
I have a friend, lets not name him. I notice that he has a shaved head. Which in India implies that someone in the family has expired.
Normally, I would have minded my own business but for some odious reason that I can't for the life of me remember, I ask him... Who expired? So he says my baba. I mishear it as my papa. I think I reacted a bit too loudly. So he corrects me, gently, grandfather not father. Now this is where the conversation should have ended. Information transaction being already complete. But I didn't let that happen. I now ask. How old was he. Foolish foolish naive question, my head screams. But its too late, the words are already out there. 80 he replied. And here is what I said, reproduced verbatim: Cool, waah. Then I smiled like a fool.
I can not even begin to understand why I have to be such a huge dumb log.

MY WORLD

I stare at the blank page with blank thoughts in my head.
It is dark and there is no one around for miles.
Or maybe I'm trapped in a crowd in an alien land where I know no one.
What difference does that make?
I choose to see what I want to see.
And I hear only the words echoing in my mind.
I wonder. Would I just die one day? Would my heart one day, just refuse to beat? I can neither comprehend this nor can I believe this. So what if people die? So what if everyone I cared about is no longer around to hear my silly thoughts. I choose to believe that everyone is still around. Maybe not near me. But definitely not dead. I remember the story my mother used to tell me. When people die they become stars in the sky. Hence it is night for me. Despite the cold mocking sun that shines so brightly. It is night and I can see all my loved ones. They are here. Looking upon me from afar. Twinkling in the night. Or maybe I am blind and can see nothing despite how much I want to. So I just create the images that I want to see in my head. I may be blind but I still can see in my mind. Even if what I see is what I want to see. It is probably better this way. This way I am not alone. As long as I can think, I am alive and with the people I love the most. I choose not to accept the so called realities. This is my conscious decision. This is my free will. Let me give an example. Suppose I jumped from a high rise. Would I die? Of course not. How can I? There is no way I can die. This is because I am more than a random jumble of organic molecules. Gestalt if you will. I am also a viewpoint and a thought stream. As long as my thoughts survive, I will live. They are indestructible. They are changeable. Like a chameleon or a shape-shifter, but they remain. Wait isn't that some conservation law?
Now let me ask a question. What is the proof that I am alive? Aw that was a rhetorical question. But let me answer that. There can absolutely be no proof. Maybe I am just a figment of someone else's imagination. But by the same logic, that someone is also a figment of my imagination. Hence we all are defined recursively. Each and every person's existence depends on the existence of every other person.
Hence if a person stops to exist, that is to say, dies. Everyone else dies. Thus we all are already dead. And every dead person is alive. Which is so to say, no one is either dead or alive.
As countless philosophers have said before, the world is hence just a myth. Or I am just a schizophrenic deluded bastard. What difference does that make?
I just claimed that I have free will. But do I really? Why do I exist in this space and time? And in this ridiculous form? If I really had free will, would I not have chosen a perfecter world for my existence? Or maybe this is why I have free will. I had the will to chose an imperfect world for my existence. That is a choice I made by myself. Thus, even though I do not know my reasons, I exist in this world. Also, I can claim, that by choosing this existence, I created this world. Thus, I cannot die. Because if I die the existence of this space becomes naught. It is hence a prerequisite for the existence of this space, that I must exist. Maybe a bullet in my head will relieve me of my sufferings. That however won't kill me.
It is cold. I am numb with the cold. Or maybe I am cold-blooded. A reptile. Hidden in the shadows. Crawling around. Maybe I am just sick and tired. Tired of my tedious existence. Tired of just existing. Tired of having to breathe, day in and day out.
I close my eyes and I see. A new world. The same, that I see with my eyes open. If it has changed, I cannot discern. I decide that I exist in the same world as everyone else. The same laws govern me as everyone else. But I find that to be a ludicrous argument. There is a barrier around me that separates me from the rest of them.
Love, I say the word out loud. Love mysterious. Love eternal. I remember what someone told me a long time ago. I am in love not with any person, but with the idea of being in love. Love for me is the state of being wanted. That way my existence is not superfluous. There exists a person for whom my existence is necessary. Thus as long as the person exists, I am bound to exist. Love relieves me of the misery that my life is and allows me to romanticize my own existence. Love literally makes my world go round.
All my life I have been searching for ways to define myself. If I can define who I am. I will know myself. And why the infatuation with my own person? I believe it does not make me a narcissist. I believe there are things in this world that I will never know. I am however with myself all the time. I will be satisfied just to know myself. That way the world will be a bit less of a mystery for me.
For now however, let me talk about my world. It is a bright and gloomy place. The sun shines too brightly and everything glows. I cannot hide from it. I feel as if I am always being watched. Which is probably true. Even my darkest thoughts are laid out bare for everyone to see. It is as if I exist in a comic. When I think little balloons appear over my head that everyone who cares to see can read. But I being trapped in this 2 dimensional world can't comprehend that. I keep my doors closed and blinds drawn . Yet I feel naked and violated. Like a laboratory mice under observation and every time I do something unexpected, an old senile man with bifocals will jot it down in his notebook with a wry smile. A smile not warm and comforting for having achieved something new. But a smile of sneer and derision. As if every thing I do is no big deal. For it has already been done. Even when it hasn't been, hey I am just a laboratory rat, I am nothing of any consequence.
Today I feel like ants are crawling all over my body. Exploring my darkest deepest secrets. Secrets that even I don't know myself. I feel dead. I feel dead, thats it. I feel like I am in hell. Like God decided to send me to Hell for all my sins. I want to tell Him, No you're making a wrong judgment. Like I was framed by Destiny. There is no peace. There just is emptiness. I do not hunger, I do not tire. I do not sleep. I do not feel. Unless it is pain. Lots of it. I have no passion. I do not exist. I am not alive. I feel the ants crawling over my dead skin. Maybe I am buried. That will explain why it always is dark. I am in my own grave. I probably dug it myself.
I try fitting into the world, smile at the ready. But it no longer works like it used to, before. I got through most of my life pretending to be happy. Smiling for the pictures. It somehow no longer works anymore. Come to think of it, I never posed for that many pictures. I think that I did not even have 50 pictures taken of me. That is bad, right? I have always avoided meeting people. I am not very sure why I did that. But that is how I have always been.
Never in my life did I know that love would be so painful. For all I know, that is the only reason I can think of for the pathetic existence I lead. Love unfulfilled. Love unreciprocated. Love burning me inside out. Sometimes I cry, without tears. For no reason that I can discern. I wanted pain. It has proved to be my death-wish. I am selfish. I do not want to carry this burden. I cannot. There is no way I can. I am tired of it. I loathe it. I hate myself. I hate my thoughts. Why can't I be normal? Why can't I be happy? Why can't I be at peace?
No, there is always a multitude of voices in my head. I am sure of three voices at least. They exist because I wanted them to. I created them. Now they own me. They control me. When I created them, it seemed like a good decision. You'll never be alone, I told myself, if you talk to yourself. Now I don't know how to turn them off. They are always arguing. I don't know which one of them is me. I don't know whom to listen too. Talk about having a coterie of inept advisers. I just want to tell these guys, the following words, Fuck off. Maybe I did tell them already, but they always come back. They frigging never leave me alone. At any moment. When I do something right, I am mocked, it was no big deal. It was nothing special. When I do something wrong, they become condescending, I am only human. To err is human, after all.
It is gets harder and harder to put up a brave front, when your life is shit. That is so to say, despite all the machismo, my armies have been completely routed. Or like Germany won the frigging god-damned war. I question everyone else's existence. Do they feel like me? Do they have this much pain hiding in them? Are they in penance? Are they already in Hell? Do they know they do not exist. I have a way of making everyone else seem insignificant compared to my person. But the truth is probably the other way round. I feel I am a bad influence on other people, I am no one's hero. No one's idol. Which kinda sucks, because, it means, I won't be remembered, when I am dead. And since I am already dead, no one knows me.
I feel like a detective at my death scene. Going over small nuances, trying to recreate someone who no longer exists. Putting together scraps of information. Like listening to the songs I am listening to. But it is not actually me who is listening to them, as if it is the detective instead. Looking at the pen on my table, the unmade bed, the cigarette butts in my dustbin, the candy wrappers. My writings. My thoughts. It is as if he is on a visit to my place and I am showing around my place and telling him, hey this is me. The real me. Not the one with a fake smile who opened the door to let you in. That one has been dead so long, his body doesn't exist no more. But his thoughts live on. He exists in the piece of curled up paper, the half-drank cup of coffee, the half-burnt toast. How did I die? I like to imagine, very peacefully. In my sleep. Maybe overdosed on sleeping pills. Or I just refused to breathe one fine day. But I have this fear, that even this little wish, my last wish won't come true. Trust me I have imagined a lot of more gruesome endings for me. Maybe I have actually died every time I imagined myself dying. Every time botching up my attempt. Just trying to find the perfect way to go. Never quite getting it.
I am restless. I cannot sleep. I cannot rest. With the constant din in my mind, I wonder how I used to sleep earlier.
Every day I question myself. Why today? Why must I exist? Why must I breathe? Why must I eat? I can not answer that. I eat to exist. Food has lost all taste. I have no cravings for eating anything special. No food exists I feel, that I'll binge on. There was a time, I remember, when I loved to eat. Almost everything was my favorite. Whatever happened to that. When did I change? I do not know. It happened very slowly. I could never feel it coming. I kept deluding myself that I am the same as always. Until one day, I looked at the mirror and didn't know who was staring back. I don't know why I changed. I was happy the way I was. I was satisfied. I never wanted anything more. I was in comfort. I was protected.
I cannot fend for myself. I don't even know where to turn. All that I think, remain useless ideas. In my head. I cannot concentrate on anything at all. It is like I am being pulled in a million different directions at the same time. Like the frigging big bang actually took place in my goddamn mind.
I have lucid dreams. I now try to think of a time when I fell to the bed, tired, exhausted and happy for all that I had done in the day. But I cannot remember the last time that happened. Now when I sleep, it is no different from when I am awake, I am aware of what I am dreaming. It is like I am pretending to be sleep. From a lack of sleep comes a huge problem. I have more time on my hands than most people. Normal humans spend a third of their lives asleep. So it is like I am living longer. Hence I am getting older sooner. I have so much time, I don't know what to do with all of it. 24 hours are too many for me. So I just keep wasting time, staring at the clock. Trying to make it tick a little faster. A hour lesser to spend.
I am becoming the person that I feared I'll. What disturbs me is that, somewhere deep inside me, this is what I want to be. Dark and mysterious. Chaotic. Unfeeling and stoic.
Like I am a child's unfinished crayon drawing. That I am something the child thinks is a human. But being a child he can't draw a human. So from a very casual view, or from a far off distance, I might look human. But on a closer inspection, I am revealed to be a jumble of mis-matched cris-crossing lines and shaky curves.
How does this story end? I like to imagine. On a dark night. I am not alone. I am in someone else's arms. Finally I am happy. Finally I am whole. Finally I am alive. Then I can look back at my reflection and say. I exist.
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Now playing: The Beatles - Michelle
via FoxyTunes

The Doctor, the Patient, the Shaman, his Parents and Everyone Else: Episode One

I went to his room. There was a commotion already in place. "What happened?" I inquired. "He refuses to wake up." I was told. I was surprised. "What do you mean he refuses to wake up?"
He is not getting up, his mother told me. He has been asleep for a week now. Frantic activity all around me. Doctors, nurses, excited whispers, a few guffaws. How can a person not get up? I picked up the glass of water lying there on the table. Hasn't ate or drunk since then. I flung the glass of water on his face. A collective gasp went up, I was a barbarian. But from the guy, not the slightest twitch. "Is he dead?" I asked the important looking doctor. She huffed and puffed. "No he is breathing. All EEG readings point to a REM sleep." REM as in the band, I like their songs. I stupidly inquired. "No," she rolled her eyes. "REM as in Rapid Eye Movement" she said with considerable stress on Movement. He is perfectly normal. "So he is hibernating basically." I smiled a smiled that was not shared by anyone in the room. His mother was already crying. I took a cigarette from my pocket and started to smoke. The doctor wrested it from my lips and stubbed it out, pointing to him. "What?" I was flabbergasted. "A he is not sick B he is a SMOKER. I am sure he misses the smoke."
"Get out," she howled. I ignored that. Please don't act like I am not concerned, I said, I don't know what to do, same as you. Can't think of anything else. "Are you a friend of his?" his mother asked me. I thought for a moment. I believe I am. Who is a friend by the way? I thought. Is he drugged. I know he does coke. I told the doctor. No, this is not a symptom of coke, or any other drug, this is unlike anything that is known. No coma even. "You were hoping that he was in a coma." I asked her. I could probably have cured his coma, she replied, but I don't know what to do now. Healthy males don't suddenly lose control of their motor systems.
I looked at the saline drip that was keeping him alive. The steady whir of the dialysis machine. The silently sobbing mother. The bustling crowd gathered to see a miracle. He has taken a samadhi his father suddenly announced, excitedly. I am proud of him. There were tears in his eyes. I slapped him hard and punched him in the face. It became ugly. People suddenly grabbed me and formed a defensive wall around him. Like it was frigging Troy.
His mother tapped me lightly on the shoulder after the people had let me go. His father was eyeing me warily and continued shedding tears like a defective tap, I thought.

"Please don't mind him. He is trying to cope with the loss of his only son."
" But he is not dead. He is just refusing to be awake. I tried to point out.
She smiled. I hope so it is. "Is that because you don't have enough savings and he had a paying job? Who will support you now?"
I wish it was that simple she said. We are already dead. He should live on. He has a long life ahead. Yeah but he could have had an accident and then he would be really dead. I interjected. She stifled a sob. Yeah that would have been bad, but this is no better now, is it?
The way I look at it, I told his mother, he is just refusing to wake up. There has to be a cure for that. Say if we suddenly put lots of ice-cubes on his stomach and at the same time bring a candle near his feet, the pain will wake him up. It'll be like Pasteurization.
" Are you a monster? You barbarian shaman," the doctor asked me visibly disgusted by my idea. "Well you seem to have a better idea," I told her. She looked at me. Deep in thought. This is not what I got a degree in medicine for. She replied. Hmm... But I believe you got a degree so that you can cure people. I told her. She looked at me surprised. As if I was really a barbarian not capable of sensitive thinking. Okay we'll give it a try, she said with much difficulty. I smiled, "Okay leave it to me."
I got in midst of all the congegration. I clapped my hands to get everyone's attention. Okay everyone, thanks for being here. So long. I have an announcement to make. The patient has been diagnosed with the extremely rare sleeping sickness, which is highly contagious. So will you all please get the fuck out of here. And I mean now. The room was empty before I completed the sentence. Now only remained the Doctor, the parents and the shaman. Which was high praise according to me, only the most intelligent and brutally clever guys became Shamans in their tribes and were like the leaders behind the throne. Ensured of my place in history... I took my position with a lighted candle as the doctor brought a pack of ice-cubes.

A God's Lament

Should I just obliterate all existence and be done with all the charades? I am after all a God left at the mercy of whimsical beings. Is the capacity to bear infinite pain my omnipotence? Why did I create when I knew that this day will come? Am not I above errors? Then why is my reflection not blemish free?
Why can't the fountains of Heaven quench my thirst? Where did I go wrong? How could I go wrong? Why won't the blood come off of my sleeves? This isn't what I planned. This is exactly what I imagined. Who do I seek forgiveness from? Who do I pray to? Where is my Messiah? Cornered and wounded. I was. I am. I will be. The power to create. The power to sustain. The power to annihilate. And much worse, the power to remain. A passive observer to an experiment gone horrendously wrong. Witness to the pain and grief of a decaying civilization. A dying world. A voiceless potrait. An image to be afraid of. To be revered, yet never to be understood. Omnipresent and yet blinded.

Inside every heart yet doomed to be alone. Who decided my fortune?

The shimmering haze. The merciless sun. Everyday the same. A victim of my own ire. The humble vassal. The noble slave. The priest and the renegade.

The sinner and the scion. The god amongst men.

Words and meanings. Objects and intentions.
Life and death. To understand and to be understood.

To try and to fail. To fall and to get up again. The biting cold, the searing pain.
Tears drop like rain. Won't see you again, but miss you all the same.

The tick tock of the clock. The sound of pages being torn. The beat of the heart and the poisoned dart. The singing drum and the exploding bomb.

To kill and to die.

Right now all can think about is all the gruesome deaths that would end my life. So why haven't I ended my life. Okay makes no sense to me. Drivel. All of the above. Maybe, maybe not. What do I live for? Audioslave has disbanded and there last album was not even a millionth as a good as their first. So basically what is the point in living? Well Gears of War comes for PC this Christmas. So I might wanna hang around till New Year. Then what will be my raison d'etre? If I mispronounced sorry, I am not French. Anyways I mean what is the reason of my existence? What will I do? Anyways I thought that I had risen above the self-deploring death-begging pessimistic inhuman existence that I had been leading, but things rarely go according to plan right? Damn I hate optimists and their happiness. As someone wisely said you need pain to understand the true worth of happiness or something like that. Yeah if you have been following my writings. You'd have guessed it right. Quiz tomorrow. I am quite unprepared also. So 2+2 =4.
Anyways I am happy to announce that I am no longer that concerned about being happy or anything. It doesn't really matter I think. All that matters in my life is a good MTech CPI and a fat paying job. See I changed my priorities. I will probably now become an investment banker. So sorry world I am not inventing the fusion reactor anymore. What do you guys care? Happy enough with gasolene that you are. So the new plan is IB and then a fat sum of money. See happiness is for the mundane, it truly doesn't matter. Of course I am not going as far as Van Gough who cut an ear of his and made a self-potrait. As far as I am concerned happiness can go rot in Hell for all my sins.
So here is the complete list of things I have decided I won't be needing 10 years from now: Happiness, Friends, Relationships, Parents(a wee bit undecided here, blame my upbringing, but I believe they'll be better of without me), Religion, India(along with any residual feeling of patriotism left in me Good Riddance), Hindi Movies( I downloaded Chak de but I won't watch it, I have decided, ever), in fact movies of any kind or language, faded denims( good bye old friend been nice being with you), Family, MotoSLVR L7 (Good for now won't want to be hanging on to a piece of junk 10 years from now), Hindi(written or spoken), Sandals and boots, Tropical Summers, Monsoons(which means Australia won't be my eventual abode, never liked them anyways), Newspapers(already given them up for years), News from any media(what is the big great urgent need anyways, except my gizmo feeds and gaming news you need to stay with the times after-all where it matters), Health(I don't fall sick anymore, not even fevers or colds and I hate that completely), Cable connection/Dish TV(or whatever replaces that 10 years from now), Congegrations and crowds(I get claustrophobic, crowds are worse than caves) Sunlight(manage to avoid it mostly alreay). Memories(Hard drives get better once all the clutter is removed, but I know not a way) Whew exhaustive but maybe not complete.
Now the things I need: Money, Money, Money. Everything else follows. See money buys stuff. Stuff brings contentment. Contentment brings happiness. Quod erat demonstrandum. Oh and also my brother(what would be the point of living if we can't meet at least every now and then?) God(I know he exists, my birth was no accident :P).
Also I have decided that 50 is a ripe old age to die(thankfully I didn't grow up watching football or I would have been satisfied with a couple). 50 is 30 more than what I have lived. Which is more than all the time I have existed for. And I have been alive as far back as I can remember so that is a lot of time. I can do without all the added burdens of old age thank you very much. All I want are a couple of thrills. And 30 years are long enough to have them.
So its not I am not scared of death. Well scratch that. Infact I am not afraid of death. I can look anyone in the eye and say that. Even myself. Why should I be afraid of death? Next I would be expected to be afraid of the Sun. I am sorry but I am not going the way ape-men went millions of years ago. I am not conforming. That is for sure. That doesn't mean I am not scared of dying. I am scared because it is supposedly very painful. Death is infact the one last suspense. Pain I know of. See basically if I can be guaranteed that I won't feel a thing I won't mind dying. Not suicide though. Suicides I don't like. Maybe because a few of my friends went that way. Also suicides are notorious for failing. Suppose I survive the fall and get paralysed neck down. That would suck. And all the fuss that is made about death. See death is a word with a very negative connotation. Conclusion is such a better word for what actually happens. A chapter concludes with a life. It is a given. If you're born you'll die. Even the Colossus of Rhodes fell and was destroyed. So was the Titanic. It is something that we must expect. Death can't be wiped out. Maybe it can be delayed indefinitely or our existences recycled in the crude forms of souls or something similar but still death will strike. If you don't wanna die probably you should not have been born. So. Anyways as I was saying, Death is but the conclusion of a book or a song.
I don't know if I'll be welcoming it with open arms but it is worth waiting for.
So I got distracted and out poured a rant. But I believe the above few lines are the only meaningful ones in this whole article.
My grandfather died when I was in a very impressionable age. I was like barely teen-aged. So it had a very huge affect on me. Not suddenly. But over time. I don't recollect being sad at his death. After all we had always been told that one should not be sad when someone passes away, because they've went to a much better place. I don't really remember what he looked like anyways. But I remember that he had to use a stick to walk ever since he was very young.
I had been told that he fell of a horse when he was a kid. But now I think maybe it was because of polio or something. But you can't really explain that to a kid now. He might get scared. But say granpa fell off a horse and he is awed. So anyways, I did not cry instatly, but finally I did. I did that when I say everyone was crying. Even my dad, and I have never seen him cry. So that was huge. I remember saying to my aunt that I am not crying. I hugged her and then started crying. Or maybe it was after I saw my brother crying that I thought that I should be crying. One of the two or both. I am sorry about the inaccuracy. But it is not the kind of memory that my brain would strive to preserve.
With all this said I am killing this article. I mean concluding this article. I hope that gives everyone who reads this some food for thought. You are welcome to have my share of happiness if you offer me your salary. I am satisfied with playing Ghost Recon Advanced Warfighter 2 at the moment. Say is happiness in anyway like the feeling I had when I killed 2 AI characters with a single sniper bullet?

A Tale of Two Lives:First Tale

My mouth was full of the bitter distaste of grim reality. It didn't matter at that time whether I existed or not. Inches from death, laughing at my misfortunes. And why not? What better time there could be than such?

A little longer and I will be dead. Then I can look back at a life wasted and try to comprehend what went wrong. I had no doubts that such a time will surely follow. Far below where I stood, waves clashed against the rocks. Growling like hungry predators baying for the foul blood that reeked in my veins. Or probably the beasts awaited below while my tired brain conjured images of the waves to overcome the fear. Biding their time, waiting to tear me down pieces. I laughed at them, if I jumped I will be dead before I hit the ground.

What had drove me to the top of a cliff in a fairy-tale forest I can't remember. Maybe the tax collectors. In fact I hoped it were the tax collectors. Any other reason would expose the misfortune that my existence really had been. The climb to the top had been extremely tiring. Maybe I had been climbing all my life. Facing everything that had come along the way. Here I was now right at the top. But I didn't had that on the top feeling at all. On the contrary I was full of dread. At the impending doom that was getting nearer. The beasts had started climbing up, jumping and fighting amongst themselves. Taking only a fraction of the time it had taken me. Maybe it were the waves that were rising. With the tides. Owing to the pull of the moon. The Newton's apple. My mind informed me. The genius that had destroyed my life, with sufficient self-satisfaction.

Nothing good comes out of recounting the deepest secrets of one's life. Some memories there are that can only be taken to the grave. There are others which merit a pack of hungry beasts. Clearly I was a sinner to have landed right into Death's jaws in such a singularly spectacular fashion. But who had been the one to decide that? And whatever I had wronged, would that sort itself out once I had been ripped to shreds? Would I be destroyed once those blood thirsty jaws touched me? There is much pleasure to be had in dying I mused. Isn't death the unending orgasm of bitter-sweet memories? I smiled at the notion.

Sharpened claws that glowed in the full moon.
Ending my life might not be that bad an idea.
They were getting closer.
Maybe I would have loved to have lived a little longer.
The lunging beasts getting closer.
Every heart beat was one lesser.
Their howls that pierce my skin.
There is so much I never did.
Their breath that I can feel.
Where was the sylvan night breeze?
Their parched throats.
Not a drop of my blood will be left.
Their saliva on my naked skin.
If I crouched I might live a second longer.
Their teeth shred my flesh.
Was I just an origami puppet?
I will never know.
Their eyes tell me that my end will be a swift and painless.
I don't want to die.

There was a time I was a huge fan of U2, in my third semester and while Vikram was cleaning up his room, this song, yeah thats right song surfaced, that I am going to publish right now. I have an exam tomorrow for which I am definitely unprepared but that is obviously a trifle matter compared to this. According to the note I have with this poem, I would like it sung by Bob Dylan to a melody that is somewhat like the song "Like a Rolling Stone" and oh yeah this baby rhymes yippee.

ALL THAT YOU CAN'T LEAVE BEHIND IN A MILLION DOLLAR HOTEL

You're rich, spending your nights
in a million dollar hotel.
you've many friends and lotsa homes,
but you keep coming back
to the million dollar hotel.

You live a life of luxury,
more clothes than you care to count,
servants you fire at will,
Yeah, still you spend your nights in the million dollar hotel.

Life's cool, life's chic
Gucci boots and designer sticks,
People know you where you go,
yet you keep coming back to the million dollar hotel,
Yeah, you spend your nights in the million dollar hotel.

You buy your clothes,
you leave them here,
You make friends,
you forget them here,
Is that why you keep coming back to the million dollar hotel,
Yeah you spend your nights at the million dollar hotel.

You met her here,
held her for the first time.
Then she left you
and left your love,
behind in the million dollar hotel,
while you spend your life, here in the million dollar hotel.

Someday you'll take your clothes,
leave the memories behind.
Remember the friends, you
forget all the time.

But Oh My Dear Sonny Jim, there's a lot you
can leave behind in the million dollar hotel.
And there's all that you can't leave behind in a Million Dollar Hotel.

-----
As the note attached with this says.... BEST CREATION EVER
Also I am sticking to the no more crappy shitty poems very much.
This one ain't crappy shitty, this one is pure genius :)

This is something I wrote some time ago but did not publish maybe because it is a bit too personal. But like most of the times I don't really care much anyways. Also there is the unwritten rule that I follow of publishing my thoughts hence I will publish this. If I feel like it I'll add to it. Just maybe. It is rather sardonic. Whatever that means. I was way too smoked when I first wrote this and I am in that vicinity right now so it doesn't really matter. Why do I write a blog that no one reads? I think because that it is the proof of the fact that I once existed. I hope what I write survives long after I am dead. Why do I have these thoughts anyways? For once I wish I was just having normal teenage thoughts and not such stuff. But I guess this is the price you pay for solitary confinement. Right now where I am there is no one else. Okay not totally true. This is iTech after all. Like iPod and iPhone see. But really there is no one on my whole frigging floor. There are 15 vacant rooms but nothing else. Since I am no great fan of the teaching system I am hardly ever in the Lecture Hall that means I am in here 24x7. So Vikram does have the room next to me. But he is almost never here. He works too hard I think. I am jealous. I have nothing to take my mind off from my thoughts. After all your thoughts never leave you alone now. After reading this I as well as you will realize that I have great faith in God. But frankly I am not religious. So that is just one of the contradictions I have been living with. Thankfully I have the anthropic principle to save the day.
Anthropic principle is wonderful. Also just like ice cream it comes in many flavors. I prefer the strong anthropic principle. From my understanding it means that the universe exists because I do. Though it generally means that a universe must exist because there is someone who can observe it and think about it all the same.
Anyways by now everyone would be wondering what is it now?
Well endsems are just round the corner(aren't they always lurking in shadows and hoping to catch you unaware and succeeding every frigging time. GOD HOW I HATE THEM).
For alas thats not all in my woebegone life. I also have received an Academic Warning for ahem poor academic performance. So i have to sign this undertaking which isn't really long but a point is noteworthy that I'll reproduce verbatim....
" and also refrain from any extra-curricular activity or activities that tend to distract from this purpose."
With this academic warning I have almost completed the Grand Slam of woes that you can win here at your stay in IITK. The others being academic probation and termination of academic pogrom... I meant program. I only missed the Disciplinary Probation which is lovingly referred to as DP. I think I can't win that one, being by nature meek and non-violent friends tend to call me lazy, if only they understood.
Anyways I don't really comprehend the extracurricular activities bit. Am I allowed to eat in a canteen? Am I allowed to talk to my friends? Am I allowed to breathe? Surely none of these activities do any good to my curricula. Can I post on this blog? Orkut has been banned. So how am I supposed to keep in touch with my friends from ages past?
Shit I hate them dastard Nazis all of them. Why aren't our professors put on some type of warning if they teach bad or do no research whatsoever. Instead they win shiny new awards everyday. I've had enough with this place. Somehow I'll survive. I hope.
Anyways here is what I wrote sometime ago. Beware at some places I sound like an old frigid catholic nun.

How God Feels and other musings:

There are times when I feel abandoned by God. Like I am unsheltered, vulnerable and lonely, I wish there was a single word to describe the feeling. Right now there are like a million insects in my room and they serve absolutely no purpose in calming my soul.
I am trying to think but I just can't concentrate on a single thought for any length of time. It is a very frustrating feeling. I want to think something good, anything. But the thoughts are just not there. Maybe its because of the quiz that I have tomorrow, for which I have absolutely not prepared. I don't care and its not the point anyways.
There are just so many thoughts flitting around in my head from the mundane to the romantic I don't know which to concentrate on.
That got me thinking. Funny how I do that.
Maybe its the same with God. It maybe isn't the case that he has abandoned me. Maybe, he has so much to take care of, and we can all agree that it sure is quite a lot that even he is confused at the moment. Maybe he just doesn't have the time to pay attention on me right now.
Maybe he is just caught up in the moment at hand, maybe creating a supernova(which must be a very beautiful sight to see from up close) and witnessing the miracle happen that he has forgotten about me. Which is just as well because even if I die, I am just a human, one who probably would be forgotten promptly anyways once he is no more. I am not being critical, its just that memories fade. It is the way of the world.
Just because I don't want to accept it doesn't mean it won't happen. After all how long is my expectancy? A passing moment in his eyes.
Yet I don't hate him. I miss him. His guiding hand. The serenity of being in his care.
I guess that makes me lonely. That also makes me miss my girlfriend. Though it is still a manner of speaking I guess. I miss my family. I miss my friends. Okay went a bit overboard there.
Somehow I don't really care for friends. I think that they are expendable. New ones always replace the company you had previously. Maybe this is a result of being in a family that keeps getting frequent transfers and the fact that I changed so many schools. Don't get me wrong, I tend to mix very easily when I want. Especially so till a few years back.
It is easy for me to establish friendships but very excruciating to maintain anything in the long run.
Well now my head has settled a bit. I have thought some stuff, if only briefly.
What can I say, maybe I am too much of an attention craver after all.
I get so lonely that even my soul feels cold. That makes me reject the people around me who care for me. I can be a real ass I think. I end up causing everyone so much pain.
The light at the end of the tunnel. There is. Maybe.
Should I publish this? Maybe, not that it matters... only I read my blog after all. I wonder why I put so much effort into it. I also wonder why don't I don't do this all the time.
I suffer from education is my conclusion. Nothing good has come out yet so far out of my quest for higher education. I feel stifled and choked here. I know rather remember that I praised this place. I still do so sporadically.
But mostly I am just pissed with where I am and what I am doing right now. I am a failure in all aspects.
The funny thing is despite comprehending this I still manage to be cheerful. It is because of a single belief that I have. That has only solidified with the passage of time.
"This too will pass." It is probably my motto. The only reason why I can smile at the monitor while typing drivel.
I believe rather that I would prefer to be left alone with my thoughts only. They are like the only best friend I have always had. Even so they tend to get on my nerves. Right now my head is on fire with pain. I don't know what to do and have no intention of doing anything whatsoever.
Despite I am dragged in a world of competition with all the jungle rules of perish or evolve and stuff.
I don't know. There is a haze beyond which my vision of the future is clouded and distorted. I don't know what I want from life either.

The pain in my head is growing, can't take anymore o f it. I need to sleep. Sometimes I don't wanna wake up. But it would be too lame to leave without leaving behind some sort of proof that I existed. The problem is I don't know what to write when the moment comes.
God I ned you. Guide me please. Some sign. Any sign.
I am willing to make amends if you show me the way.
So please please help me out. I am your people who are dying everywhere and they are in pain. Help me.
Please.

------
Oh and update, I do miss my friends. At least now in this place. I really wouldn't have survived for three years here had it not been for them. Frankly. So this post is mostly drivel. I hope no one gets offended. But then no one will read this so I guess it'll be alright.

Do Photons Wear Watches?

Every time I see that damn scene of the atom bomb exploding I am filled with a feverish excitement. I get filled with emotions like, wow this thing can totally annihilate me in less than a second. Eradicate me from this planet like I have never existed.
Of course if somebody wants to kill me he won't have to go that extreme, from my experience playing Counter Strike I know that a single bullet to the head would be more than sufficient.
So how did I get to this death filled rant? I had an image in my mind just now and as happens normally, it got me thinking.
So let me describe you the details. The idea is that I am on a warfield with my comrades(in a strictly non-communist sense, but that is an argument for some other time.) and I am talking to some one, who I think is my friend, there is a stalemate on the field and no one is firing. Though I don't know what we were talking about, it was something friendly. I believe.
Then suddenly without warning a bullet and I see it coming Matrix style in Slo-Mo. It hits him in the head on the left side just above his ear and just below his helmet. His head splatters out blood like I punctured a water balloon. And I get drenched in blood, his. My hands are covered with it and so is my face and my eyes. I see everything through bloodied eyes. He limps down rather crumples down to the ground in a slow second, his face still grinning like it was a moment ago. I know I sound like some maniac sadist but it was beautiful. Awesomely. He died before his brain could register the fact or his face contort with the pain that he must have felt. Or did he? Did his pain even register?
In a second he was no more than baggage. The place erupts in chaos. Firing on all sides. Explosions. Heat. Blood. Adrenaline.
Maybe I should stop playing Call of Duty. Maybe not. It was beautiful yes. Scary too. Scary as heaven.
N.B. from Wiki:

Aristotle said that good similes give an "effect of brilliance", but he preferred the use of metaphor, as it was shorter, and therefore more attractive in creative usage.

And hence I like using new similies and metaphors, really how many people have used Scary as hell? I hope they all rot in hell. Scary as heaven, I'll explain. Because you'll dead when in Heaven. Go figure. If the Koran is to be believed if you're in heaven then you were also a Muslim. Which definitely ups the scary part. Despite all the beautiful virgins you get for dying. 72 I think the number was. Just a query... umm God... when the 72 beautiful virgins are no longer virgins do we get a resupply? What, you think that I am unfeeling and made of stone? Well having said that I'll still get to go to Heaven because I am a Muslim. How's that for arrogance? You can go sulk in a corner all you want. God has a pit all for you in the lowest circle of Hell. I believe it is especially hot there. Anyways resuming back after this rant.

Scary because it might have been me who took the bullet and he who would have been writing this blog. So okay I create civilizations in my thoughts which might just be my hobby. And I destroy them. At least in my thoughts I am omnipotent. But I can do worse, I can forget forever the colonies that I create in my mind. And the ones I create are absolutely fantastic. Some revere science and some are mystical as the word magic itself. But I forget about them.
What happens to the worlds I create in my mind, to the ones I journey when I am bored with the lectures and half-asleep?
There are obviously no coordinates where they exist. But yet they exist in my mind. If only fleetingly. Are they in any way inferior to the world I inhabit?
If I create a world where lets say All Knowledge is revealed and there is no suffering no poverty, would it still be inferior to this world that I inhabit, with all its and mine imperfections? Despite all its imperfections and inferiority this is the world that exists. Why is that so?
I'll cite facts I have picked up recently. A third of all amphibians are close to extinction. So are the reptiles the mammals the fishes the this and the that. Most of the world's rain-forests have been cleared up. The polar bears are being pushed to farther reaches of the Arctic or have started to hunt Walruses. Just saw that in a documentary. Trust me you don't want to hunt a walrus. Their breeding grounds have thousands of them together and they're huge. A few million years more and they might have been some kind of whales themselves. They're that huge.
Why is that the world just can't seem to move beyond petrol and coal as fuels despite all the research that is going into the alternative fuels. How can a man explode an atom bomb over another human's head? That it is a war of justice just doesn't justify the means.

Whoa I just tend to forget what I was talking and get tugged in a totally different direction anyways resuming from earlier... I know that I am not a scientist and my scientific knowledge is much limited. So my viewpoints are rather naive in some ways. But still I always the feeling that something does not add up.
I'll explain. And cite some famous examples too if I remember them in time.
First there is thing called the Arecibo message.

I'll even put in a picture here and you can follow the wiki link if you end up reading this and you are not me. First I have read it one time too many and second if you are reading this, I feel sorry for you. Maybe you have NOTHING better to do. Maybe you are sorry with your life and the way its gone. Maybe you are just Pagaria. Or Meesum. Sorry couldn't resist the impulse to put in an inside joke. This one was for my friends here at I-Tech(sounds way cooler than IITK anyways, I think). Anyways whatever be your reasons I will try my best to see to it that you keep coming back for more. While you are at it why not refresh the page a few more times so that the hit counter gets a bit higher. It won't do you any good but it would soothe my ego. Ok you'll get a really hot girl, now please be nice and reload the damn page.
Enough with the pleasantries I guess.
Anyways the Arecibo message was transmitted to the globular star cluster that is 25000 light-years away from Earth in the days ET was the rage so that some sentient extra-terrestrial race who will decipher it and will be friends forever. Or something like that.
25000 light years as you know, unless you grew up in a cave or in Kanpur is the distance that light travels in 25000 standard earth years. Take a calculator and you will soon find that the distance in question is 2.634E20 i.e those many zeros. Now let me ask the reverse question, how much time would light take to travel 25000 light-years? Suffice to say I don't know the answer. It could be 25000 but I have an argument which prevents me from believing this. That is because after some point Newtonian mechanics and hence common sense fails. Relativity takes over. See the thing is that there is no absolute time. Really no absoolute time. Don't make me repeat myself no absolute time.
I absolutely intend that you don't get comfortable of the idea. No absolute time. You can be happy and tell this to your project administrator for all the good it would do.
I'll explain. There is something called time-dilation. And unlike pupil-dilation it is absolutely horrible, I couldn't even solve the one time-dilation question that came on my PHY101 exam. It is that horrible.
So it basically means clocks slow down when your speed increases with respect to the frame of reference.
Frame of reference is another thing that gets many people (including me) all tied up in knots. no wonder only three people in all Europe can understand Relativity when Einstein first published his paper.
What is a frame of reference? It can be anything. Really. Wherever you put the origin of your coordinates is the frame of reference. I am still not very clear. Is the origin the frame of reference? Or is the whole universe in study the frame of reference? Don't complain I got a C on the course and that was because I found all this stuff boring. I can understand if you also do so.
What is the physical manifestation of a frame of reference? I don' know no one taught me that. Whatever I picked up has been my own effort. That after studying in what is the BEST Engineering college in all of India according to a magazine survey in India. Ostensibly they are also ranked the Best in Student Care. Despite the record of one Suicide every semester. Yep that's true one suicide every year. Plus at least one or two failed attempts in every semester. Mama Papa rejoice your son is being taken good care of here. My bride don't shed tears if I don't get out of here alive, after all people always die over time. Really there are so many insects here that I might just have been living in a Rain forest for all I know. And the attitude of people sometimes make me feel that I am in some kind of a native tribe of hunter- gatherers praying pagan pseudo-human gods called Lecturers.
Anyways i fiddled a little with the Calculator while working a little thought experiment(bear with me I am trying to sound nerdy).
Assume a craft that flies at 1000 m/s which is like the average shuttle anyways and a frame of reference fixed at the center of galaxy. This basically means I do all my calculations assuming that the center of galaxy to be at rest. Which is wrong if Big Bang is right.
It takes 2.634E17 seconds to travel this distance. Trust me you don't want to know how many years that is.
Now you have a ship that does a cool C/3 i.e one third the speed of light. Wow rocks you might think. You'll still take 2.485E12 seconds(assuming no calculation error on my part) to reach the cluster. In this amount of time homo erectus became homo sapiens. So maybe you'll wanna take those 72 virgins along with you so that some of your DNA reaches the aliens. Now since every of your child recieves half of your genes, thus assuming a new generation starts every 20 years( I am being practical with all those sorry cases of cases of teenage pregnancies) it means an infinitesimal amount of your DNA would reach ET sorry can't cite a number, my calculator is not that precise it displays 0.000 E00.
But how much time did it take the message to get there?
It was transmitted by radio waves which are photons that can't be seen by our eyes. Thus assume for a moment that you're a photon. Rejoice you're indestructible. You'll survive an eternity. Now how much time did it take you? Well how do we measure that? I send another light beam next to you on which I am riding. Okay I have a miniscule camera. No way I can fit on a photon which is a point. So as you travel you find that you reach instantaneously to the cluster. Thats it. So what does that mean? It takes 25000 years and it is also instantaneous at the same time.
There you go I hate Physics more than ever. So from the viewpoint of a photon this whole universe is contained in an instant. Maybe thats what it really is. From Creation to Destruction in a moment. Instantly.
The thing with paradoxes is that suck the blood out of me. This is so counterintuitive. On par with the Schroedinger's cat. Man those guys were brilliant. They don't make them like that anymore.
Since we are doing thought experiments here is another in fact it is not really a thought experiment but would be rather boring to do in reality and you must be a real retard to do it really though you are welcome to try it out in your backward under parental guidance. Just for the kicks.
The idea is to stare at your watch at your clock for a 15 minutes not more not less.
The point you say. Well its your shot at immortality so go ahead and try. Okay I admit it is not very scientific, it is somewhat underhanded as are my arguments.
The idea is basically those 15 minutes are your minutes. Try it with a friend. They would probably hate you forever after this. But give it a try though. After those 15 painstaking minutes ask your this question. Are the 15 minutes of you and your friend the same? No they aren't.
Let me explain. This is the point we leave science and take refuge in something nauseatingly akin to metaphysics. Everyone perceives the world in a certain way. Ergo the thought you and your friend had in the period the things you looked the number of times you breathed etc etc would all be in general different. Okay this would seem like a rather crummy explanation. You can claim that firstly we can look at the whole world together encompass every thought every human has, every time a bacteria replicates, every time someone sneezed, every leaf that fell and so on and hence create an absolute 15 minutes that encompasses all that happened in those 15 minutes.
Thus you would create an absolute 15 minutes that we all experienced together the subsets of which are the experiences of human being. But this isn't sufficient, assume that this friend of yours was actually in the C/3 space craft that you made. Then? On a reference frame fixed to Earth when 15 minutes of your time pass it is actually15.91 minutes that pass for your friend. His 15 minutes would respectively be your 15.91 minutes. Thus when you try to create those 15 minutes you fail horribly. You're welcome to curse Physics horribly. I'm for one on your side.
But that will not change the fact where did those 54.6 seconds come from. Now if you and your friend systematically start reading the word-list in from a dictionary at the same rate say one word every 2 seconds then you would manage to speak450 words while your friend manages 27 more words than you. Thus the 15 minutes that you had previously would be incompatible with these 15 minutes. Of course that's because of a craft that doesn't exist in a thought experiment no one has done. Regardless moving on since we have been discussing time let me ask a very general question. What is time? Okay that was a rhetorical question. The real question is this. How long is a second? Well one view would be to claim that one second is one second. The other seemingly intelligent answer would be that it is the time light takes to travel 1/c meters.
Ask these intelligent guys what is a meter? It is the distance light travels in 1/C seconds. Ergo you have exposed the hoax of the intellectuals. Time to feel proud. Call your parents and cry if you want. You'd have deserved it.
Which brings me back to to the same question again. How long is a second? If like me in school you said one second is a second because you did not remember what was the speed of light then you can be happy even more so. You were right. There is no way to quantify a second.
Hence my axiom, a second lasts infinitely. A second is forever. It is also instantaneous. Maybe it would be called Ahmad's Paradox. But I don't care I am working on my Nobel acceptance speech already. Arigato miina-saama. Yeah I would give it in Japanese. Not in the least because Ninjas are so cool. Also because a samurai can totally pwn an Army of Paladins without breaking a sweat.
Really I hate the Heavy armor types. How did they even move in all those armor. And their stupid big Claymores. You can only do two things with a Claymore. One stab your opponent, two swing it around like a fool. Now wielding a katana that's finesse. Infact there is Iaidō a katana fighting technique in which the sword is drawn from the scabbard(called Saya, related to the Hindi Saya meaning shadow?), the opponent is cut and the blood removed(by a motion similar to dusting somewhat) and the sword placed back in the scabbard in one fluid motion. It hardly takes a second in the hands of a seasoned practitioner. Thus while the knight would swing his sword the Samurai would easily evade him. Then while the weight of the sword gives so much momentum to the Knight that he'll stagger forward the Samurai would Iaido-decapitate the Knight. Too easily in fact. I can see it in my mind. Beautiful too beautiful. I should have been in a Shogunate.
Ergo if you run into a Samurai I suggest you be extra nice and if they get pissed run as fast and as far. You would never run into a Ninja. That's how cool they're. Also they can back flip. Ah sorry got distracted. Where ever I was this ends episode one.
Check this site for goodies. They'll be there when I feel like it.

It is how that what I write has a certain emo feel to it. Now that is not right because that is not true. That would be because a friend once pointed out I am primarily an epicurean in hedonistic moods. Phew. Point is it is sort of lame to be writing the same kind of poems over and over again just because the quiz didn't go well or because i again got decapitated by the chainsaw freaks while playing Resident Evil 4.
It is plain wrong anyways.
So much for the emo poems, and the point is no one really reads my blog except the occasional friend as the newly installed hits counter on my blog would readily testify.
But the point is that this is a long term project and its not like once I grow old I would grow a beard and pray 5 times a day and stop blogging, quite the contrary.
I am quite sure that I am going to burn in hell. Resigned to the fact I am. Unless God is in a particularly jolly mood on Judgement Day and I go like Hey God know that one about the hooker the priest and the leprechuan who enter the Latino bar, and he goes no way Basit I have no idea, and I come up with the best one liner in all of human history, my fate is already clear to me. If only because God knows everything so he knows my perfect one liner already. Even if I do tell him, it'd be like Shut up I heard that one years ago. To his Governors in Hell he then says Double the brime temperature Ye! Make sure his bottoms are cooked raw. Or something like that. But that doesn't really scare me. To me it is all because of my end semester exams. I end up not studying and I know that I am on the borderline of failing so I tell myself not to worry not to worry, Jab hoga dekha jayega. So I have the same to say about what the future has in store for me.
Anyways the idea of a wrathful god and to look upon him as someone to be feared is something I have never really managed to grasp. Call me names all you will the so called defenders of the faith, but I am not scared of God, and why should I be. I doubt if David was ever scared of Michaelangelo or Mona Lisa of Vinci. Or for the sake of argument I wonder if dynamite ever get scared of Alfred Nobel. Okay not quite the point anyways.
What bothers me are the profusion of pages that litter the net and are little more than garbage yet have millions of hits unlike my petty blog. I am specifically referring to all the dumb CAPSLOCK or aLtCaPs blondes on Myspace or such who actually are fat greasy nerds or their fatter greasier and hairier fathers who need to desperately get a life. If only I had a chainsaw.... I would have had my sweet sweet revenge.
Anyways, I had a chat yesterday with a junior of mine and we were reminiscening the good old valuable innocent days. He mentioned about me as someone who always spoke the truth and had drooping eyes with girls falling for them all over.
So let me clarify I still retain those sexy drooping eyes and once I have had a smoke or two to go with it lemme tell you babe that they get all the more enchanting. So the fact that I don't have a girlfriend completely defies all logic. Anyways that might just change in the near future so we'll see what happens then. About the good innocent boy I once was. RIP.
Unfortunately he wasn't built for the trials and tribulations of life. It was anyways a high maintainance model that would only drink mineral water to mention a fact. The current attitude suits me mighty fine but I would adapt again if I need to. If only because of natural selection.
I never know how to end something. Goes for my answers also. I don't really have the capacity to end something I started to say. So generally I let it drift with the issues hanging in cold air.
I am so doing that right now.
In fact just now here.
This is it.
The End.
Goodbye.

My new poem, I was composing when I should be studying, God!!!111!!!


MAN SIZED RINGS OF SMOKE

Buried in my tub with
eyes full of smoke.
I cough, its the proof that I am alive.
Life was a nuisance,
death ain't no better.
I guess I'm bored.
My back hurts so do my knees.
Is it real, or all just in my head.
Tonight I die, take you with me.
Is it a ride that you want?
Gouge out my eyes, ease the pain.
Take my life, its all I got anyways.
There is so much light I can't see,
All the air, I can't breathe.
I desire the darkness.
No one to bother me except my thoughts.
And the voices they whisper in my ears,
tall claims and false lies.
Take me somewhere I can't hear them.
And if it all fails,
take my life away.
I have been dead so long,
unnoticed and unmourned.
I speak the words they put in my head,
see only what they show.
They tell me life is but a dream.
Pry my eyes open, please
Wake me up.

How do I live?

I just close my eyes
and blow man sized rings of smoke.

A message for the One they call God

If its a painless death that you offer,
I am willing to take it.
I fear pain and not death.
I am ready to move on.
I'm bored with this world,
with having to work,
with trying not to work.

I am bored with my life
and your's too.
Why was I made?
if only to be stuck here?
I don't wanna live anymore.
Not many thoughts I have anyways.
I have listened to all the music I wanted.
Played all the games.
have cried all I must
and pondered on everything I thought worth thinking.
There is nothing more left for me in this world.

Maybe love, maybe hope, but I exist without and will
do so forever.
I can't take pain anymore.
No poems can I write anyways.
not that I am much of a writer either.

Don't know my own thoughts,
can't see my own thoughts can't see my own dreams,
can't hear my own voice.

I don't seek solace
nor to be comforted,
only to be understood.
which is quite hard
and the poem quite emo I know.
Can't put my head into anything anyways
if there is a problem I just disintegrate.
Why must responsibility be forced onto me?

I smoke,
I hope I die a quick painful death.
Not that it'll change the world anyways.

I 'm totally ineffective as is
my thoughts are best left unsaud
my aspirations none.
I'm counting the days of my life left.

I have seen my futures and can't say I await them.
I just sleep and hope I never wake up.

So in the end nothing much, but these days I have my hands full with work all those courses n meanie profs, I'll lucky to get outta here alive n in One Piece. Anyways till later then :P

A collection of poems(mostly love themed, and quite similiar also, wrote them some time in my first year)

The Songwriter
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
1)
I write a poem,
a beautiful poem about you
on a piece of paper
and throw it away.
There it goes,
with it my heart
through the same twists and turns,
slow and fast,
to where the breeze carries it
it strikes the ground,
it doesn't, but my heart shatters,
into a million fragments.
This is an Ode to you,
O My Love,
as you go with the man you love.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

2)
Glass shatters and hearts break,
winds howl, the tides grow and ebb.
The fire burns and the sheets burn
As in some hearts, love smoulders on
whatever happens, will happen
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
yeah these make no sense even to me.

SAUNTERING TO SCHOOL

Sauntering to school, I see
a wretched beggar shivering with cold
his clothes are tattered
I wonder if there are more patches or fabric
He gracefully covers himself with
torn linen

Someone might have used it to wipe dry his shoes
to comfort him, I approach
Wiping tears, shrugging himself
he tries his best to smile
instead of words he
puts the bowl between his and my hearts



Proof that I really have changed despite maintianing a facade that I am the same as I ever was :P
One of my most beautiful and probably really sorrowful poems, me thinks.
Not only because of the theme, but because I really have changed.
I really meant what I wrote about beggars, now I think of them as a nuisance, I don't feel for the poor anymore, maybe because I have grown up. Maybe this is the price of growing up.

An update maybe this is.
Havn't posted for quite some time now.
Basically I hav been away from my computer for quite some time now.
But anyways today I was missing it a lot, my fingers were aching to write and I was sorta in the mood( as I often get, when I wanna write) but couldn't think of a single thing to write.
Anyways I found this amazing( for only me, but then that is what this blog is all about :D) collection of poems the first of which dates wayy back to my eight class. Anyways will publish some of them rite now.